As anyone living in Delhi will tell you, relatives and acquaintances from Punjab were curious about the “Delhi Model” pioneered by Kejriwal. “Who even talks of schools, clinics and public transport in today’s politics?” was a rhetorical question thrown at contrarians saying “models” of faraway states only looked greener from the other side. “Even if Delhi’s transformation is rosier in advertisements than on the ground, it’s safe to say there’s work in the right direction. We want that.”

The AAP’s pitch has been clean, corruption-free administration responsive to people’s concerns, but its appeal in Punjab has always been aspirational. The Indira Gandhi International Airport, Delhi, is a regular port of call for the well-travelled Punjabi and the development of urban infrastructure in the Capital has been staggering over the past couple of decades to the outside viewer. Not all of it is thanks to the AAP, of course, but exposure to Delhi raised the profile of the incumbent government immensely in the eyes of non-partisan visitors.

More than anything, the AAP’s constant focus on governance was the decisive factor in Punjab. “We have altered the political discourse to the extent that when it comes to Delhi even the BJP is forced to talk about schools and hospitals. Their Hindu-Muslim [discourse] doesn’t work here,” Kejriwal said at the Hindustan Times Leadership Summit, 2019. From the average Punjabi’s perspective, he’s not off the mark at all.

The careful emphasis on governance over ideology hasn’t gone unnoticed either. Many have tried to project it as the AAP’s weakness that it sits on the fence on key ideological issues such as the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), the protest against it at Shaheen Bagh or the communal riots in northeast Delhi. The Punjab voter, however, views it as Kejriwal’s deft evasion of the bait thrown by the BJP and his refusal to be drawn into the rules of the game set by that party. Competing on who’s the bigger educator or health care provider has proved to be an effective electoral strategy rather than competing over whose ideological hard line is closer to the bone.

The AAP seemed well on course to forming the government in Punjab in 2017 itself before opponents’ accusations of Kejriwal hobnobbing with Khalistanis derailed the march. To be sure, a last-ditch attempt was made again this time as friend-turned-foe Kumar Vishwas levelled wild allegations that Kejriwal was essentially a separatist.

But Kejriwal, having burnt his fingers once, did not get pushed on to the back foot, doubling down on counter punches — “Which terrorist builds 12,000 classrooms” to plain and simple “I’m not a terrorist” — before and after the victory.

A big difference over the 2017 polls this time was how emotionally charged the state’s polity was in the run-up to the elections. In their year-long mass movement, farmers’ organisations did not allow a single political leader from Punjab to take the stage at any of the venues, such was the anger against established parties in the state. The AAP tapped that resentment well, by first lending support through free Wi-Fi and langar contributions at the protest sites and later by opening talks with prominent farmer leader Balbir Singh Rajewal as the possible chief ministerial face of the party.

That convinced rural voters of the party’s good intentions vis-a-vis agrarian issues, as opposed to the Congress and the Akalis despite one dumping an incumbent CM (Captain Amarinder Singh) and the other breaking up with the pre-eminent national party of this era (the BJP). Having created a favourable mood, the AAP smartly dropped the negotiations with Rajewal and went with one of its own, Bhagwant Mann. The selection, done through a purported phone-in poll, was mocked by other parties but got much traction on the ground. The party’s “Ik mauka Kejriwal nu” (one chance to Kejriwal) campaign leveraged the Delhi CM’s personal appeal and resonated with voters, resulting in a one-sided victory.

The Congress’s desperate attempt to cover lost ground by ousting Captain Amarinder Singh was seen as too little, too late by voters who grew tired of the Grand Old Party’s endless internal bickering. The high command’s dithering in dealing with Amarinder’s intransigence and the subsequent inclination to divide its eggs into two baskets — Channi and Sidhu — backfired spectacularly. The Akalis lost even their core support base to the AAP over a perceived lack of sincerity towards panthic issues and a break up with the BJP that was as opportunistic in voters’ eyes as the tie-up in the first place. Both the Congress and the Akalis, however, have a strong ground-level organisation in the state and cannot be written off. But the road ahead will be tough.

The AAP government itself will have a lot on its plate from the get go, as shambolic state finances, rising unemployment, stagnant farm incomes, widespread drug abuse and the younger generation’s single-minded pursuit of overseas prospects by abandoning any residual faith in domestic projects do not make for a good inheritance on day one in office.

The poetically inclined Mann, a former satirist known for his love of drink, will understand this better than anyone, lest he be quoted to by a rambunctious Punjabi voter: “Kahin aisa na ho yaan bhi wohi kaafir sanam nikle”.

The views expressed are personal