Ponnivalavan's bellowing voice belies his modest stature as it reverberates throughout the vehicle he guides across Thiruvallur's rugged countryside. Educated till the eighth standard, Ponni is the gregarious personal assistant to VCK General Secretary D. Ravikumar during his 2014 parliamentary bid. While the candidate campaigns in an open-air jeep flanked by DMK district leaders and a bevy of coalition allies, Ponni tails them as closely as possible. He juggles three cell phones throughout the day while frequently running between vehicles at intermittent stops to ferry water, information, and campaign supplies to the party brass. Initially cheerful, Ponni becomes increasingly riled as the campaign progresses. Despite being Ravikumar's personal assistant, his car is frequently pressed to the tail end of the convoy. He chastises the cavalier demeanor of DMK bigwigs, whose new polished Toyota SUVs blaze past the candidate's aged Mahindra Scorpio, mimicking their penchant for waxing poetic about Ravikumar. One day, Ponni turns to me with a smug grin and states: “Michael, you should ask them: You are always introducing Ravikumar as the ‘DMK coalition candidate’ and declaring publicly: ‘He is [DMK Chairman] Kalaignar's candidate! He is [DMK Treasurer] Stalin's candidate!’ If he really is your candidate, why have you only given [figure redacted] rupees? You should give more [money]!” Visibly entertained by this proposition, Ponni cackles aloud and repeats the joke for emphasis.

When the campaign vehicle's PA system dies just before noon, the convoy stops at a nearby hotel for an early lunch, allowing time for technicians to acquire parts and resolve the glitch. While party workers eat rice meals in the attached restaurant, Ponni leads me to an air-conditioned room where DMK district leaders, eager to make up for lost time, discuss changes to the day's itinerary. Once the logistics were settled, they turned to me to inquire about my impressions of the campaign and underscore the generosity of their party executive for giving two seats to a “small, Dalit party.” Abruptly, an elbow begins to needle my ribs and Ponni mutters under his breath: “Ask them, Michael!” When I fail to act on his cue, Ponni broaches the subject himself.