The internet’s obsession with ‘pookie’ politicians

Gentle, stylish, and disturbingly relatable: meet the pookie politicians

As the new year rang in, Zohran Mamdani was sworn in as the Mayor of New York City. A few months ago, I would have had to explain who Zohran was, why his politics mattered, and why women across the internet seemed to be collectively going crazy over him.

Now, thanks to the internet and an endless supply of Zohran Mamdani reels, everyone and their grandmother knows who he is. Mira Nair, it turns out, really did give us a “suitable boy”, and it feels deeply unfair that we didn’t get to appreciate him sooner.

As Zohran sets out to conquer more than just hearts, I find myself thinking about the politicians who are more “pookie” than petrifying, who occupy space in our minds not only because of policy discussions, but because of how they carry themselves.

To be clear, pookie is not just about good looks, it’s also about carrying oneself. Everyone has their own version of what makes a politician pookie. For some, it’s the rough-and-tough “bad boy” image of figures like young Shamim Osman or Lutfozzaman Babar. For others like me, it’s the soft-spoken leader who listens, who doesn’t confuse aggression with strength. In a political world built on shouting matches and chest-thumping masculinity, this softness begins to feel almost radically comforting.

This is how Rahul Gandhi quietly entered my orbit. For years, I knew him only as Indira Gandhi’s grandson who didn’t quite live up to the family myth, forever reduced to “Pappu” by opponents and punchlines by comedians I watched while procrastinating during exam season.

I watched an interview during his Bharat Jodo Yatra where he spoke about food, memories, and grief, without being performative. Then followed clips of him and his mother making fruit jam at home, the kind of domestic, almost tender detail that felt wildly out of place in sub-continental politics. As my algorithm took the hint, I noticed his resilience. Years of mockery, relentless bullying, and political humiliation, met simply with a stubborn, slightly awkward smile.

Somewhere between following Lalu Prasad Yadav and his sons for their brain-rot antics and watching Rahul argue for electoral fairness and inclusivity, half of Indian Gen-Z seemed to board the same bus as me. My feed flooded with pookie RaGa edits: Bhojpuri love songs rewritten in his name, soft smiles, and, dare I admit, his six-pack abs in the rain.

I first stumbled across Zohran through his campaign videos and assumed it was just another PR stunt by some New York politician who doesn’t even concern me. After all, Zohran looks every bit the professional in his everyday suit and tie. But as I looked closer, it’s the silver rings that gave him away, small flashes of personality that tell me he isn’t here to sand down his edges just to fit the job. And now, after all is said and done, watching him with his wife gives me the same warm, tingly feeling I pretend not to enjoy while watching Hallmark movies.

Closer to home, I remember how Sheikh Tonmoy’s first election had the entire country spiralling. From aunties to classmates, everyone noticed Awami League rolling out its best-looking asset to boost female voter turnout in Bagerhat. Politics aside, it was impossible to ignore the polls becoming a nationalised popularity contest for Tonmoy.

Pookie-ness isn’t exclusive to young politicians, either. My colleague Bristy is obsessed with BNP’s Salahuddin Ahmed, only reinforced by the political articles she has to write about him daily. And I don’t blame her. Salahuddin’s clean tailoring, rimless glasses, and occasional scarf evoke old Hollywood charm, but more importantly, he exudes quiet authority, something almost non-existent in Bangladeshi politics today.

Then there’s Shashi Tharoor. Not a pookie in the conventional sense, but an honourary member through sheer intellectual rizz. Watching him chatting with Supriya Sule while completely ignoring Farooq Abdullah’s speech makes me think this is how I want to be listened to, whether I’m discussing constitutional reform or my increasingly elaborate alien abduction theories. His elite vocabulary and fondness for history give off internet uncle energy, someone whose stories I could listen to all day.

Not all softness is sincere, though. Rishi Sunak’s rehearsed softness reads less like a pookie and more like a corporate email that opens with “Hope this finds you well” before quietly cutting your benefits.

Still, I find myself drawn to politicians who don’t mistake masculinity for muscle. Maybe it says more about me than them. Maybe it’s the kind of politics I want to grow old with, one where gentleness isn’t naïveté, and care isn’t weakness.

For now, while my more unrealistic daydreams are reserved for movie dates with Shariful Razz or candlelit dinners with Arjun Rampal, there’s a separate shelf in my imagination for pookie politicians. Call it an occupational hazard, but I’ll gladly lose two work hours to Rahul Gandhi montages for the sake of “research”. And now, at least, I have this story to show for it.