Having consciously kept track of the fact that Krishnan has recently been on TV almost every single day, I would err on the side of the latter. There is a certain likeable plainness about her, a Smita Patil-ness if you will. Her hair is carelessly tied back in a loose bun and she wears regular salwar kameezes; no glossy orange lipstick, no fiddling with jewellery or clothes while speaking. She is young but her mould is of the old school feminist. In fact, in the first few days after the gangrape when the rebellion was at its peak, Krishnan was seen on TV with the same shawl around her neck, the only change being the variety of arguments she brought to the table. New perhaps to TV as a game of one-upmanship but seasoned as a grassroots level worker, (she was a student activist helping campus groups to fight against sexual harassment), she manages to make a point without getting screechy or preachy. She has a resolute and articulate manner and tries to balance her comments with facts and figures. As a result, you move on beyond her shawl quickly, realizing why in this sharply visual Mahabharata of opinions, Krishnan’s disregard for polished poise is as powerful as Shobhaa De’s sophisticated trendiness. Add veteran feminist Madhu Kishwar, editor of Manushi who isn’t completely immune to the charms of dressing up and accessorizes carefully; Ranjana Kumari of the Centre for Social Research (CSR) with her gold beaded necklace and jewel-toned saris, Brinda Karat of the CPM in handloom drapes and large red bindis and you have a pantheon of firebrands worth musing about.

As someone who makes a living out of writing on “dented and painted Indians”, I have to admit that Krishnan’s text book-ish persona woke me up to her soft power. So when she wore a white wool stole with a vermillion red kurta for a recent appearance on NDTV to debate Mohan Bhagwat’s India vs. Bharat assumptions, I missed her first “protest” shawl. It could be her election symbol if she ever contests.