The Brampton Files

 

Pic credit: Forum Novelties

I’ve always been intimidated by the crowds at the Toronto Union Station during peak hours. I arrived along with the peak hour traffic, was almost swept up by the robotic humans leaving the station and was propelled towards my destination. After a 10 minute walk, I arrived at the 9th floor office, just in time for my appointment.

There was no name outside the suite. There was an old fashioned, decorative button I could press to announce my arrival. The door opened in a few seconds.

The well-dressed receptionist gave me a half-smile, confirmed my identity by looking at my driver’s license, and asked me to take a seat. Her voice was a confidential whisper. There were only two chairs at the reception, suggesting that my host saw only a person or two at a time. The receptionist smoothly glided out of the room, reminding me of Wodehouse’s descriptions of Jeeves’ movements. 

I looked around. The reception was furnished tastefully. There were two abstract sculptures, but no pictures. There was nothing that might provide a clue on the personality of my host. I could see the King Street traffic through the floor-to-roof windows. Well-dressed office workers were marching purposefully. With so many purposeful people showing such urgency, it's a miracle that Canada is not yet a superpower, I thought. Inside the office, it was eerily quiet. I could hear no sound from all the rush outside. It made me wonder if the office had any special soundproofing done, as a spy agency might have. 

The receptionist apparated into the room and with a hint of a smile, said, ‘Mr. Stokes is ready for you, Mr. Swaminathan!’.

I was momentarily distracted by her perfect pronunciation of my name. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand as I walked into the spacious office. There was a large table in the middle. Mr. Stokes greeted me with a firm handshake, and showed me to one of the two chairs in front of his table. His expression was serious. His tone was friendly, but he did not smile.

All this made me a bit nervous. He seemed to give me a few seconds to settle down, and asked, 'Mr. Swaminathan - is that your last name?’

‘Actually, it’s my dad’s given name. My name is Arunan. You can call me Arun.’

‘Yes, I’m aware that many south Indians use their father’s given name as the last name’. He disregarded the first name offer, and resumed, ‘Mr. Swaminathan, I understand that you were referred to us by Dr. Wheeler, the political science professor. How do you know Dr. Wheeler?’

‘He is..er..he was my father’s friend’. After a pause, I added,  ‘My father passed away recently’.

‘Please accept my condolences. Dr. Wheeler gave me a gist of your request. But can you please tell me in your words how we may be of service?’

‘Of course! As you may have heard, my father owned a number of businesses and was independently wealthy. He had unfulfilled ambitions in politics. In fact, he had run for a parliamentary seat, provincial parliament seat, and the mayor of Brampton at various points. He was unsuccessful. His last wish was that I should carry the torch and build a career in politics!’.

He nodded. ‘As you may have heard Mr. Swaminathan, we're very choosy on the advisory engagements we accept. I may need to ask more questions to confirm that we can indeed help your campaign. First, please tell me your background and tell me about your political convictions’.

‘I studied economics, and wanted to teach economics. My political views are conservative, in the financial sense.’

He seemed to wait for more. I was quiet, as I was not really sure that I had any convictions on many themes in politics. He prompted me with themes like environment, relationship with the U.S., religion and immigration. I gave what I thought were unconvincing, vague answers. He did not seem disappointed. As I answered his questions, he seemed to be making notes on a very large poster on his desk that had rows and columns. He selectively filled some cells on the sheet, highlighting a few words as he went along.

‘Would you consider joining one of the major political parties?’

‘Frankly, I dislike all of them’, I said, realizing as I spoke that the language was undiplomatic. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

‘Yes, I can see that your views don’t align with any party’s. That may be a good thing!’.

I didn’t know why that would be a good thing, but I didn’t voice the question.

He resumed, ‘You said you wanted to teach economics. Have you taught anywhere?’

‘No, not really’. 

We spoke for another half an hour. From his questions, I could not tell what he thought of my chances in politics. But he seemed genuinely interested. He asked many clarifying questions. In fact, I was able to think more clearly as to my own convictions as I answered his questions.

He smiled for the first time at the conclusion of the interview, and said, ‘Mr. Swaminathan. I think we will be able to assist in your campaign. You may know that we have helped in several mayoral, federal and state campaigns in the U.S. I'm confident that we can define a clear and distinct platform for your beliefs’.

I thanked him and looked to leave. He continued. ‘We charge for our services on a retainer basis, plus fees for special projects. Can we meet twice a week for the next month? I can ask Cindy to fix a convenient time and place for the recurring meetings’.

I glanced at the one page engagement letter that he gave to sign. My eyes almost popped out on seeing the retainer fee. Remembering dad’s last wishes, I steeled myself and signed.

The next two weeks were a blur. Cindy kept me occupied with requests for information and sent me various custom-made surveys, population segmentation reports and the like. One morning, she phoned, said Stokes had a draft campaign strategy for me, and invited me to the office to review it.

I took the train again to downtown Toronto, joined the human zombies in marching out of the Union station, and arrived at the office. Cindy gave me a full smile in greeting, and ushered me in. 

Stokes came to the point without much ado. ‘Mr. Swaminathan, you had indicated a wish to contest the upcoming parliamentary election from Brampton. We think it is a good idea. My recommendation is that you contest as an independent candidate. Our job is to get the word of mouth going, and familiarize Ontarians with your background. We have reviewed the demographics of Brampton, and Ontario in general. “Swaminathan” does not exactly scream out as a Punjabi name. That may be ok. In any case, we need an identity for you aside from your ethnic background. An identity that makes you stand out from the rest. We believe that your unique trait is that you’re vegetarian!’.

‘Vegetarian? That’s supposed to get me votes?’, I asked, thinking how eating meat is part of Canadian identity. 

‘That is just to separate you from the crowd. From our research, it's clear that there are firm support bases for various ideas such as a ban on killing baby seals, ethics of industrial production of meat, veganism and the environmental impact of producing meat. We will run a campaign that will knit these groups into a vote base, while also appealing to the wider audience. We believe that your support for these causes will enhance your likeability among meat eaters too!’.

He also explained that minority groups based on skin color, sexual orientation and religion tend to vote together. The only minority group that hasn’t found a collective voice was vegetarians. 

I must have looked doubtful. He showed me a set of slides with lots of charts that showed how undecided voters are weary of the main election issues that all candidates usually talk about. He showed similar features from Ralph Nader’s runs for American presidency, and a profile of his voters in those elections.

I left the office with a large green binder that had the details. I read the binder in detail, and was impressed by the idea. 

Stokes was true to his word. I announced my entry into politics about six months before the election. There was a series of interviews that I was well prepped for. Old documentaries on seal hunting, vegetarianism and environmental footprint of animal farming were re-run on local channels without any mention of my campaign. 

The election was called, and I announced my candidature. I hired a small support team. I got unsolicited donations from the Vegetarian Society, and various religious organizations that supported vegetarianism. My campaign team gratefully accepted the donations, knowing how expensive the campaign would be.

The conservative and the liberal candidates were busy attacking each other. A month before the polling date, a bumper sticker with the instruction ‘Eat Meat!’ in big letters,  subtitled ‘The Meat Producers’ Association of Punjab’ surfaced in Brampton. Jagmeet Singh, who has never met a Punjabi cause that he didn’t like, gave an interview on the virtues of eating meat, and the need to stand with our brothers whose livelihood depended on meat eaters. The interviewer never asked him how the issue was relevant to the impending Canadian Federal elections. Video clips from the interview were tweeted and retweeted. My rival from the NDP tweeted the video, and also claimed many poor meat producers from Punjab had phoned him to get his support.

A few days later, someone pointed out that there is no organization called The Meat Producers’ Association of Punjab. While the politicians hastily deleted their tweets, several newly created twitter handles mocked them by posting the offending videos and screenshots of old tweets. 

I suspected that Stokes organized the whole sequence, but never asked him. Something told me he wouldn’t like to discuss the topic, even inside his secret office.

That seemed to be the watershed moment. All polls put me firmly in the lead. Stokes asked me to stop giving interviews, to keep the audience hungry. I was told to limit the political campaign meetings too.

I had started secretly  drafting my victory speech. I would start by mentioning my father, of course.

Bertie Wooster paraphrases Shakespeare - “It's always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that fate sneaks up behind him with a bit of lead piping.” In my case, fate yelled 'boo' in my ear, a week before the polling day. Adele, my campaign manager, phoned unusually early in the morning. She seemed quite agitated. All I could gather was that she wanted me to tune into a certain TV news channel. I switched the TV on. The floor seemed to slip beneath my feet.

The rolling banner at the bottom screamed in large font, “The Trudeaus turn vegetarian!”

The video was catchy too. The Trudeau family was dressed as vegetables. The Prime Minister himself was a carrot. His children were dressed as Broccolis. Sophie Trudeau was dressed as a Turnip. They were singing a song, 

‘Eat your greens for a healthy life

Healthy life! Healthy life!

Good for the planet, good for the purse!

In filling the plate, you could do worse.”

I thought the lines were awful, but the crowd seemed to love them. They sang along for a second, third time. 

That seemed concerning. My concern turned into alarm as the camera panned. It was my riding!! My opponent from the Liberal Party was dressed as corn on the cob. 

I’ll spare you the detailed sob story. The polls got indecisive. In the end, I lost by a mere thirty four votes.

Stokes has offered to run the campaign for my next election. Tempting!