Narendra Modi took oath for a record third time as Indian PM; his cabinet looked democratic and dressed down but not diverse. Fewer women in the cabinet this time and not a single Muslim

If you must make a TikTok-y reel out of the swearing-in ceremony of the third-time Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, here is a tip. Zoom into the photos of Jyotiraditya Scindia, Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) star MP from Madhya Pradesh, actor-turned-politician Kangana Ranaut, former Union minister Smriti Irani and the suave Chirag Paswan from the Lok Janshakti Party (LJP). 

Bharatiya Janta Party leader Jyotiraditya Scindia wearing a Fez-like cap.

Money Sharma/AFP.

Scindia for wearing the most captivating accessory of the evening—an almost Moroccan Fez-like cap. It was curiously dissimilar to the many multi-hued Rajasthani pagdis he has been wearing for his political appearances over the years. Ranaut in a cream and gold sari with kundan-polki jewellery, hair rolled outwards in a low bun—not our TikTok candidate for turning up pretty and elegant but for looking like a cat who had licked the cream. 

Irani in a brick-coloured Anavila linen sari for her inability to disguise how upset she was. (She lost the election to the Congress candidate Kishori Lal Sharma from Amethi.) And finally Paswan in a dapper black bandhgala with gold buttons and black trousers, dressed to dial up the debate. The young man has climbed up the ranks to become a first-time Union minister. 

Actor-turned-politician Kangana Ranaut in a gold and cream sari with actor Anupam Kher.

Our fascination for clothes and accessories, smiles and sulks, body language and the gift of the gab—all markers of status, party and political loyalty—is not a passing reference. It is the timbre of this story. 

Back to the Beginning 

But let’s start where stories like this must. At the beginning. 

The beginning which heralded the end of the BJP’s absolute majority in the recently held general elections. The beginning, also of new political innings, a National Democratic Alliance (NDA) coalition government led by Modi, but marinated in the determined decision of the ordinary Indian voter. Who saw through communalism, caste politics, the insular pride of the ruling party and its tall leader. Who returned a bona fide opposition to the Lok Sabha that had long been mired by the deepening orange of autocracy. 

June 9, 2024, will thus be written into the history of Indian politics. It was the third time Narendra Modi took his oath as Prime Minister. Only the second political leader after Pt Jawaharlal Nehru to get the honour and the mandate thrice. 

Prime Minister Narendra Modi in an azure blue jacket.

Modi’s swearing-in ceremony, in the forecourt of the Rashtrapati Bhavan, the famous Lutyens’ building of New Delhi. Once emblematic of the British Raj and now the seat of the world’s largest parliamentary democracy, the Rashtrapati Bhavan saw some of the most known names from politics, society, cinema and arts in attendance on Sunday. Following the PM’s oath, a 72-member cabinet of the NDA coalition was sworn in by President Draupadi Murmu, the first female tribal head of the country. The sweltering Delhi evening and the enticingly lit Rashtrapati Bhavan offered many cues of identity, posturing, appearance and the democracy of dressing. Let us not overlook the fact that there are fewer women in this cabinet than Modi’s previous one and not a single Muslim.

The Democracy of Dressing Down

PM Modi retains his position among India’s best dressed politicians uncontested. He is also the best groomed male political leader in the history of independent India. His facial wellness rituals and attention to grooming is the stuff of conversations in Delhi’s power corridors. The PM wore a white kurta-pyjama, with an azure blue “Modi Jacket” in textured fabric. Not a Nehru jacket, regardless of what India’s costume historians might say because this blue was never Pt Nehru’s colour. The PM looked faultlessly turned out. Not exceptional. 

Our fascination for clothes and accessories, smiles and sulks, body language and the gift of the gab—all markers of status, party and political loyalty—is not a passing reference.

This writer who has been paying a great deal of attention to the well-cut, well-proportioned starched, white kurta sets of Rajnath Singh, the former Defence Minister and also the deputy leader of the Lok Sabha until recently, was disappointed that he arrived without a stole, a summer shawl, half a drape or scarf folded and placed like a piece de resistance over his black, half bandhgala—the style he has endorsed now and then. Nevertheless, if you are keen on decoding the charm of political tailoring, do look up Singh’s ensembles through the last few years. 

Swearing by The Sari 

President Murmu, whose choice of saris has witnessed a visible aesthetic ascendance since the time she took over as India’s first lady, wore a cream and magenta Kanjeevaram sari with a double bordered separation between the two colours. It suited her sedate presence, never a smile out of place. It also worked for her complexion and her stature. If you have been noticing, Murmu favours temple border designs including in the tussars from her home state. A short history of her saris since her time in office (try me, do a Google search) would be quite an ode to the architectural temple borders on saris especially of South India.  

President Draupadi Murmu in a Kanjeevaram sari.

Money Sharma/AFP

White, gold, cream and ivory are the colours of the Delhi summer and many attendees chose them for their saris—from Ranaut who looked rather pleased with herself to Nirmala Sitharaman, Union minister of finance until lately, and very much in Modi’s core cabinet again. Sitharaman wore what looked like a white-gold handwoven Venkatagiri sari with a printed Kalamkari blouse. Both from her home state. No details have been circulated, this writer has tried to identify the sari and blouse from their appearance. The gold on Sitharaman’s sari border had the distinct luxuriousness of Indian handlooms. 

Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman in a white-gold handwoven sari.

If the cameras kept returning to the ravishing actor Raveena Tandon in a gold-ivory sari, hair tied back, decorated with mogra gajras, they must have loved her. Nobody among the ladies though stood out for what they wore, or how they wore it. 

Chirag Paswan in a dapper black bandhgala.

Then Came the Men

This time, it was the male politicians who aced the look-at-me game. Paswan, who sits in our TikTok list for his natty black bandhgala, was joined by Jayant Chaudhary of Rashtriya Lok Dal (RLD)—the earthy-in-look-and-speech grandson of former Indian PM Chaudhary Charan Singh. Jayant has been sending out sartorial messages for a while now but the media seldom pays heed. He often wears stoles and pagdis in green, the colour of fertile, monsoon-happy farms, twirled around his head and even ikat kurtas and bandis sometimes. At the swearing-in where Jayant was among the NDA cabinet ministers, he wore his favourite forest green stole over a white kurta ensemble. We cheered. Consistency is identity. 

Actors Shahrukh Khan and Akshay Kumar attired in chic but not outstanding formal wear sauntered in, like big stars do. They smiled gamely, obliging selfie takers and pleasers, while the guest list remained breathless for a real showstopper. 

Which is why we are back to Jyotiraditya Scindia’s Moroccan-style cap in peach fuzz. Worn over a deep blue silk kurta topped by a black bandi, it stood out. Scindia looked focussed without grinning in triumph. Scion of Rajasthan’s erstwhile royal family and the son of the late Congress stalwart Madhavrao Scindia, he is no newbie to the politics of appearance. He clearly didn’t want to look like a Rajasthani pop culture artiste. He did not want to look like a saffron-clad BJP leader either. He is no longer about regional politics, said his clothes. 

Jayant Chaudhary of Rashtriya Lok Dal.

Money Sharma/AFP

That’s where the cookie crumbles. Most politicians seen at Modi’s third swearing-in avoided loud proclamations of party, caste, region and tribe through attire. They tried to blend in. They dressed down. They looked more like ordinary citizens of India, eager if a tad uncertain about the new tidings. 

Which is why we missed Didi Mamata Banerjee of the Trinamool Congress in her Mother Teresa white sari with a smartwatch on her wrist. At least she is certain that she will be king or kingmaker one day.