What the Statement Said

The statement said that she had "decided to continue in politics because of pressure from her party workers. The note that she was returning to party to prevent suicide attempts by party youths.

Behind the apparent well-planned melodrama lay a shrewd political gambit. The party rank and file is in disarray with their hopes of "capturing power" in the state having been aborted by the defeat of AIADMK's ally, the Congress Party, at the Center in the recent general elections. The party cadre had been reportedly promised during the elections that "as soon as Rajiv Gandhi government is returned at the Center, the DMK government in Tamil Nadu would be dismissed and fresh elections held enabling the AIADMK-Congress combine to ascend the throne in Madras."

But the defeat of the Congress in the national elections has upset AIADMK's apple cart. Party workers are becoming increasingly impatient now that they have to wait in the wings for another four years before hoping to "capture power". A section of the party is also said to be demanding snapping of connections with the Congress.

Jayalalitha's resignation episode was obviously aimed at the telling the party-men that she will stay in the organization on her terms. She gambled, as she had done once earlier, threatening to "quit" with predictable results.

Ever since the demise of the party founder and Chief Minister M.G. Ramachandran, Jayalalitha has time and again demonstrated that she is the "boss" of the organization.

Jayalalitha's Political Theater

It had all the elements of a Tamil box-office hit: sobbing men, wailing women, lungi-clad youths consuming bug poison and a "heroine" afflicted with arthritis.

The sequence of events unfolded along very predictable lines. The "heroine" does the "disappearing act" at dusk. Crowds gather under a star-lit sky seeking her "return". The heroine responds. The following evening she is back on the stage. And with it the curtain came down on yet another act of what could be termed as childish prank that has now become part of Tamil Nadu politics, according to observes.

All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam General Secretary Jayalalitha has a natural talent for acting, matched only by her alleged insatiable appetite for power. Whenever she finds herself in a politically uncomfortable situation she seems to simply "quit public life," but make a gallant comeback the very next day "under pressure from party workers."

This time around Jayalalitha did it on Dec. 18. She summoned the press to her residence in the evening and read out a prepared statement announcing her "retirement from public life." Citing her bone ailment as the "reason" for her decision, the AIADMK leader said that she had resigned from the position of the party's General Secretary and was "leaving station immediately" for an undisclosed destination.

Far from leaving Madras, Jayalalitha reportedly spent the night in the cozy comforts of her air-conditioned bedroom while crowds gathered outside demanding her "return to public life". Party stalwarts, including several former ministers, arrived at her residence late in the night only to be chased away by the watchmen who had been given "strict instructions not to allow anyone inside the house."

The following morning, hundreds of party faithfuls assembled at her house and began a "hunger strike" seeking her "return to politics." There were reports of youths consuming bug poison "unable to bear the shocking news" of her departure from public life. One youth attempted to set fire to himself outside her residence while another emptied a bottle of "bug poison." For some strange reason the youth who consumed the bug poison was said to have been found soon in an inebriated state and was taken to hospital.

Party "stalwarts," led by Deputy General Secretary S.D. Somasundaram, pleaded with a defiant watchman to let them in. Eventually Jayalalitha "relented." The party leaders were allowed to have a "darshan" of her late in the afternoon and were told that she had "agreed" to reverse her decision. It was nearing dusk when newsmen were again summoned to her house and a statement signed by her was read out to the press by Somasundaram.

MLAs to star in Nova Scotia television

Traditionally the dog days of summer mark the silly season in politics. But thanks to a long-running debate here on whether to allow TV in the provincial legislature Nova Scotians have been entertained this holiday season by new twists and turns in the saga. To outsiders it may seem like a simple problem. Ottawa and several other provinces have already proven that television coverage of debates can easily be arranged.

Premier John Buchanan, however, remains opposed. He's often gone on record with worries that hot lights and cameras would somehow alter the cherished nature of Province House, a Nova Scotian heritage building. That argument has lost effectiveness with the advent of smaller video cameras that utilize existing light sources.

So now the government has turned to new tactics - cost and decorum.

Though the issue has been studied to death the legislature's rules committee looked at it again this month. After some thought the government majority on the committee decided that yes, TV was possible, but it would cost $1.5 million.

Driven by a sudden reluctance to spend taxpayers' money the speaker, Arthur Donahoe, announced the government would ask local TV stations to help pay the cost.

That's a doubly ironic twist because two of the stations, CBC and the Irving family-owned MITV, launched a suit in November to gain access for their cameras. Named as defendants were all 52 members of the legislature.

TRIP WAS COSTLY

As to the issue of spending taxpayers' money, few MLAs seemed concerned when the rules committee jetted off to London to study the new TV system in the British House of Commons earlier in the month. That junket, costing close to $35,000, drew angry reaction in the letters section of newspapers.

It's no wonder. The MLAs were hard-pressed to defend a trip to one of the world's most expensive cities when a trip to Ottawa would have accomplished the same.

Perhaps the government's reluctance for TV was most honestly expressed with a bit of candor from a backbencher with a propensity for quotable quotes.

Al Mosher, a Tory from the province's south shore, said allowing TV stations free rein in the legislature would only embarrass the members.

He said camera operators might zoom in on some member "dozing off in one of the seats."

Most members of the legislative press gallery would probably agree that, on many days, such events would be more newsworthy than the debates.

Three weeks ago in this space, I wrote about a proposal being studied that would have seen the Technical University of Nova Scotia move its campus adjacent to Dalhousie University in Halifax.

The cost of the move, which would have eliminated the 15 minutes to 20 minutes it now takes to walk from one school to another, was priced at $150 million. That figure was expected to be reduced, however, by the sale of the existing TUNS campus.

After a week of almost universal condemnation of the proposal from commentators, municipal politicians and residents who faced possible expropriation of their homes, Technical University President Peter Adams killed the study.

He said the proposal needed community support to be feasible, something it obviously wasn't going to get.