Its perplexing indeed as to why Modi, by now probably entirely sure about his core vote, still feels he needs to relentlessly mobilise his core voters.

Pollsters and journalists are agreed that a desire for “change” is sweeping the land. On my 30-day-30 show odyssey through India in the course of the CNN-IBN election show Open Mike , I sensed hard headed calculation and a realistic appraisal of available choices on the part of voters, rather than any euphoria, high emotion or the hysterical mood that the media is reporting.

There seems to be no doubt that Narendra Modi is the front runner in an election that is largely a referendum around his personality. There is massive enthusiasm for Modi, The Change, but somewhat muted enthusiasm for Modi, the individual. Yet with so much of a tailwind, with the force of aspiration and middle class –and in some parts of rural--support behind him, the question arises: why is Narendra Modi still sounding so angry?

Modi has poured scorn on Mamata Banerjee’s paintings and alluded to their rising cost. He repeatedly derides the Gandhi family as the mother-son government. He has vented his rage against 2G, CWG, Damaadji and Shehzada and lately "namuna". He has mocked the "baap beta" government of UP. He has asserted that "the country does not want a deaf, dumb and handicapped government", a remark that has been seen as insulting to people with disabilities. He has called journalists "news traders", an epithet duly echoed in chorus by Modi bhaktas on the internet.

He has journeyed to the land where Dravida politics has deep roots to declare in a sweeping generalisation that people are caught between the "old tricks" of DMK and AIADMK. He has hurled accusations at Nitish Kumar, calling him an opportunist and a betrayer of Jaiprakah Narayan’s ideals. He has called Arvind Kejriwal AK 49, dubbed the defence minister as another AK, similar to an AK 47, which is helping Pakistan. He has said he will make arrangements for JDS leader Deve Gowda to stay in an old age home.

Undoubtedly, horrendous and unacceptable epithets like “butcher” and "chaiwallah" have also been flung at Modi, but neither Derek O'Brien or Mani Shankar Aiyar are apparently highly popular prime ministerial candidates readying to shoulder national responsibility, while Modi is. Why then is a prime ministerial candidate, someone supposedly riding the wave of popularity at this moment, someone on whom the hopes of corporate India, aspirational India, upwardly mobile India, appear to rest, failing to make the transition from street-fighter to statesman?

Practical Joke Week is a long tradition in St Stephen’s College. PJ Week is a week when students get to prank their teachers in a spirit of boundless mischief. Mohammad Amin, the ever-droll, constantly irreverent veteran History professor at St Stephen’s once explained the phenomenon –and necessity--of Practical Joke Week to freshers.

“Why do we celebrate Practical Joke Week?” we asked. “So that you learn that for a joke to be really good,” counselled Amin Sahab, “it must always be practical.”

The secret of great humour is always affection, a joke is never a joke if it is cruel and abusive, the fight is only fun when there is a healthy respect for the rival, a bellyful of laughter always dignifies both the prankster and his target.

Modi’s folksy humour sometimes does win audience approval, but too often these days his speeches are losing their gritty black comedy and coming across as laden with invective and bitterly harsh on everyone without exception. Instead of pursuing a line of discourse that sends a naughty chuckle through the audience, the words are beginning to evoke a shudder of discomfort.

A series of extremely funny Manmohan Singh jokes still do the rounds. But amidst the Modi masks, Modi posters, Modi cups and Modi pen drives which a reportedly 5 thousand crore advertising blitzkrieg has created, even among those who are ready to vote for Modi, there not a single Modi joke. A sign perhaps that while there is fear, undoubted respect and even awe at what Modi represents, there is very little familiar warmth. Instead there is a certain inexplicable resigned discomfort.

The line between mockery and rudeness, between affectionate jibes and healthy leg pulling on the one hand and baldly insulting commentary on the other is a thin one. Once that line is crossed there rises a perennial wall between speaker and listener.

Doyen of the arts, Girish Karnad, once told me that when it comes to music, the Indian, above all, is extremely sensitive to tone. Accustomed to music and mantras since childhood, the Indian hears a false note in a flash. And once he does, the music of the song is forever ruined. Modi’s speeches may be designed for hilarity, yet are delivered in such a harsh, angry, rage-filled tone of voice, that coming from a possible future prime minister they are becoming Manifestos Of Extreme Unease.

Advani coined the lexicon of the Right-wing challenge to the Nehruvian consensus inventing such words as "minority appeasement", "pseudo- secularism," and "vote bank politics". Vajpayee kept up a colourful attack on Congress style coalition adharma, his speeches always laced with metaphors and muhavras. Atal-Advani attacked hard, but were rarely rude.

Today at the very fountainhead of a possible new government of 21st century India is a potential chief executive who is in fact doing a disservice to the faith reposed in him by opting for a tone that comes across as unnecessarily crude instead of the rustically colourful. When the commander sets such a tone, cadres on the street will inevitably fight and cadres on social media will inevitably threaten rape and murder.

As elections 2014 enter their last leg, as competitive politics reaches its fever pitch, political discourse has entered a horrifying new low, with yoga guru Ramdev even incurring a possible indictment under the SC/ ST Act. Modi recently said that his harsh attacks on fellow politicians are simply a product of the highly competitive political campaign. Yet the difficulty with a supreme commander who constantly sounds enraged is that the foot-soldiers take their cue from him and interpret anger in their own creative ways against all perceived “Enemies Of The Nation.” When the leader is the perpetual Angry Man, then so are the followers. When the leader’s speeches still sell anger, then anger becomes the dominant mood on the streets.

Its perplexing indeed as to why Modi, by now probably entirely sure about his core vote, still feels he needs to relentlessly mobilise his core voters. Surely Modi’s target should now, at this stage of the campaign, be the floating voter, the unsure voter, the voter who he needs to win over with big hearted statesmanlike speeches. Yet he continues to galvanise his core vote with full-throated merciless anger against Shehzada and Bangladeshi immigrants. If Modi is unable to break free from the trap of Raja of Rage then this means his room for manoeuvre as an inclusive leader is already worryingly limited.

Opinion polls predict a scorching victory for the Modi-led NDA and many I met gave a ringing endorsement of Modi’s dabang image. A patriarchal society like India yearns for a "strong man at the top", but yet there is very little approval of the biting acerbic speeches being telecast 24x7. Instead there is anxiety among the public about this perennial rage.

Perhaps it’s time for Modi to undertake a shift in gears in his speeches and switch from wrath to expansiveness, from harsh invective to gentle mockery, from trenchant attacks to affectionate satire. Perhaps it is time for Modi to change the way he begins his speeches. Junk the staccato "mitron", instead opt for "mere bahut pyaare deshvaasi".

The author is Deputy Editor CNN-IBN