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From time immemorial,
Orbiting this planet earth,
Witnessing lovers
Mooning over me,
Making love,
Manufacturing promises,
Weeping over broken promises,
Resurrecting promises.
Perceiving my
Venerated aura,
Tranquil Radiance,
Warm indifference,
Absolute allure,
As sprinklings of joy in their lives.
I am not in a meditative trance,
My infinite loveliness,
Scaring everyone away.
They love me with aloofness,
Insisting,
I bestow incessant tenderness.
Certainly I am not a saint.
Consequently here I am,
Unseen, unloved, unaccompanied,
Terrifying everyone
With my celestial integrity,
Mysterious divine beauty,
No one matches my paradigm,
So condemned to
Completing my solitary journey
Alone.

I strongly believe that people like our Ex- Election Commissioner, James M Lyngdoh does not possess the right to retire. Today when I heard the news about re-polling in more than 500 booths, (the honour of re-polling of around 400 booths goes to a particular State). India will always need him; even Afghanis want him to conduct free and fair elections in Afghanistan. Can not we file a PIL, where Kiran Bedi, KPS Gill, Ribeiro and various other unsung real heroes should be banned from retiring? They will always be in scarcity in our country for the time being. Politicians don’t deliver, Bureaucrats don’t serve, and academicians don’t teach or research or get published….. We have very few people amongst us who work and after stipulated period of time they retire!
It is so unfair to a commoner, to those who don’t want to beat or bend the system, who want to remain honest, and after doing a days work want some peace and quiet.

But the thing is we don’t want to give up the Messiah mentality. In Gita, it is stated that God himself graces this earth when number of sinners increase. So this “being rescued mentality” has very deep and ancient root in our psyche. We always wait for a Mahatma Gandhi, Baba Amte, Prof Kurien, Vinoba Bhave, Medha Patkar……. We have fallen so low that we are now looking up to Rahul and Priyanka!

When will we come out of that “rescuer” and “being rescued” mentality? When will we start to trust ourselves? Proactive instead of passive? We are not even reactive. Hats off to Americans and Europeans, who take on to the street on smaller issues. Maintaining a hectic schedule and busy life, still they squeeze in some time to participate in demonstrations. At least this makes their political bosses sit up and take notice. We are not even in the reactive league. Is there a way out from our lethargy?

I cannot live a lie. I cannot hide private SMSes, I cannot resist recording telephone conversations, I cannot defy this perennial urge to speak to TV channels (of course for a few millions) or write a book about my private and torrid affairs to rich and famous and powerful.

You know I am not on the brink of starvation; I am comfortably off, having normal relationships and career. Still I yearn for more. If I am not there how the Beckhams, Clintons, Shane Warnes, Kennedys…….will stay in news in their lean seasons? Those stupids! They think if they are presidents, editors, great players, painters, writers or artists they can succumb to my charm, have a good time with me, then discard me very conveniently in the end, keeping their image of family men, doting fathers, caring husbands and RESPONSIBLE professionals intact? Those idiots are puppets in my hands. Just with a play of passion, a good pair of legs or hands or eyes, or …….( fill in the blank yourself) and they come behind me wagging their tails like puppies.

They don’t know that I too possess conscience. I too suffer with bouts of fairness and justice. I too see the faces of the family of these much married men. Their daughters, sons, wives prompt me to acknowledge this fact that I can not go on playing this game forever. Then I decide to act all divine and pristine. I try to cleanse my soul of all the (mis)deeds. A TV camera is the best place to confess (what price that channel is paying is too sacred and divine to reveal to the common public, although those channels never keep the sanctity of their oath and disclose the price my TRUTH carries. They will be answerable to God for that. ).

By this time I have tasted blood. Now I am a bit mature too. I know TV show is over and public memory is too short to remember me. Then how to immortalize my ETERNAL TRUTH? Of course I decide to write a book on the whole episode. The royalty will last not only me but my coming generations too! So I am trying to find a publisher. Do you know anyone? Or are you one?

My death procession was passing through the posh colony I lived. I was suitably decorated according to the latest trends. Ah!!! I liked the scented water in which my body was bathed. I adored the faint perfume of jasmine garlands (the smell takes you to the brink of madness!) surrounding my body. Hummm.. My sons were assembling every deserving thing right for my funeral. I was pleased with the arrangements. They hired a swanky truck to take me to my last journey. Yes, the vehicle was sleek and swanky. It even had an AC installed! Well the procession had finally started. I had a contented smile on my lips.

All the relatives and acquaintances made sure, to attend my final destination. The truck was moving smoothly. The faces surrounding me were somber and solemn, as the occasion demanded. I heard this word,
“Damn! We can not cover that damn distance even in 3 hours. See the crowd, its sheer number and magnitude! Can not beat that. We are struck up!”
From experience I know that road led to cremation ground. Who else had died? I tried to identify my new companion, who decided to leave this world along with me!
My elder son was shouting,
“See, when the traffic would be cleared, and what happened?”
All were waiting for the messenger with a bored air.
“A damn Magsaysay Award Winner cum Social Activist has died!” My nephew replied with flawless ascent.

I remember some dim wited, silly, immature college students surrounding him and asking questions and ASKING for HIS autograph, not MINE! Whenever I went abroad people knew this chimp Indian, now stalling my journey. I kept thinking, but I was the one, who owned fleet of fancy cars, wore Armani suits, my wrist was never touched by an ordinary watch. I never allowed anything but the best to decorate my house and my side (the wife was top model of the country), my palms never brushed against any damn cell phone…… the list is endless. I WAS SUCCESS PERSONIFIED. Then why these rustic barbarians, ugly unsophisticated foolish Indians are running behind this ……….. And MY PROCESSION HAD TO WAIT…….

I am often told to control my temper. Right from the childhood. I was never considered to be a good girl. One thing or another is always lacking in me. I often try to exercise self restraint and acquire cool airs. But my efforts often mock me. Only I know how hard I tried to fit in with everything and tried to be a really good girl.

Again I was sinking in self reproaching disposition. To beat that mood and to rationalize my clouded reasoning a bit, I decided to make tea at unearthly hour of 1:50 A.M… The dull ambiance was prompting me to at least spice up my tea a bit. I was trying to locate a bit of ginger in the fridge. Light coming from the fridge and the cool air as an added bonus planted a new thought and enlightened my rational part.

Whenever I shout, point a finger at someone, being illogical, uncaring or on a fault finding mission, at that time I am extremely mad with anger and passion. But now when I am rewinding the whole things in my life it seems people do the same thing with a cool disposition, without any fury or reason, unprovoked, without any baiting, 24 hours, seven days a week, thirty days a month and 365 ¼ days a year! With a cool head anyone can say and do anything, and suppose to get away with it? Certainly coolness is a great virtue.

Beverly Hills, Park Avenue, Eton, Stanford….., Cambridge…….
I see these names while traveling in the heart of the capital or in and around Delhi.

Have we lost all self respect? Doesn’t it prick our conscience a bit? If anyone is buying a flat in Gurgaon, whatever I chose to name that apartment, it will never be Beverly Hills. No matter, how hard we try if you are putting your kid in Cambridge….. in Noida, it will never be THAT Cambridge!!

Then why we chose to imitate the western world so blatantly? Is it so difficult to shake off the colonial mentality? The current generation, hyped as generation X, have never suffered or had the pleasure of ruled by Gora Sahib, still we look up to him when we name our apartments, schools, restaurants, shops, colleges, and recognize our scholars, scientists, artists, film-makers ( We conferred Bharat Ratna to Satyajit Ray, after he won the Oscar……)

Why VHP, Bajrang Dal, Shiv Sena keep harping on Hindus and Hinduism? They target MNCs, McDonald’s, Pizza Hutts, KFCs, Valentines, MF Hussains, Fires, Waters, Earths ……
Why not they give a closer look to any hep and mod crowd. Be it models, film stars, industrywallahs, socialites. They all adhere strictly to the norms of Hinduism. You will never hear: this ultra mod model fought with her Mom and Dad over the tradition of “Kanyadaan”. Instead, you will read later in her interview, “I kept weeping, and Dad kept handling me tissues, quietly. *sob* sob* sob*” Like Subhadra Kumai Chauhan (anybody care to remember her poem “Jhansi ki Rani?”) no one even shows the guts. She refused to “donate” her daughter, like an inanimate object, on the altar of marriage. So protectors of Hinduism, one of your glorious and greatest traditions is alive and kicking.

Watch any program on sociological changes. Read any social survey, a clear majority will say, they will go for an arranged marriage and won’t marry their girlfriends/ boyfriends. Long live the tradition of Hinduism.

By any chance, if these love marriages, are arranged, they are completed in arranged mode with all the décor and dowry intact. So another custom is safe in the custody of Yo Dudes and Yo Dudesses.

If you work in the office, just try to keep quiet during lunch hour for one day. Listen to the talks of the females. They will tell you, O! I can not take food today. I am keeping fast on these “Sawan ke Somwar.” You ask the reason for this, and pat come the reply
“You will end up getting a good husband.” She will impart this knowledge adjusting her sleeveless top, and tossing back her colored manes, at the same time, balancing her frame on stilettos. So this disguised Behenji will carry forward all the customs of fasts and “Karva Chauth” of Hinduism on her able shoulders.

I don’t know what bothers the proponents and protectors of Hinduism? Why don’t they ask this government for better employment opportunities?

Moisture threatened to gather in my eyes. They became more ominous, because water drops were about to spill out. I had seen a handcuffed man, escorted by two uniformed men, for the first time in my life. I was thinking about all the things written by great philosophers, thinkers and the French Revolution and what not… He was chained like a wild beast.
But my thinking process was broken by him.

“Would it cross ………….?” asked the prisoner.
“In which sector this area is located?” cross questioned the conductor.
“In sector 44, Noida.” replied the prisoner.
Like us, his voice was agitated, his forehead having many frowns, teeth peeping out from the slightly opened mouth. He was eager to reach his destination. Then he conveyed the whole message to the uniformed personnel.
“Come on! Come on! This will go,” they said in unison. The way, we do it with friends on a bus stop!!!

Everybody knows Primary education in India is in a dire state. There are lots and lots of primary schools without any building and teacher. They only exist on paper. And money sanctioned by government for these schools beeps in the bank account of government officers as their hearts leap for India. Then I hear this news.

It certainly came as a surprise. The guy was making news for not getting highest pay package after passing out from Indian Harvard (IIM – Ahmedabad) but refusing to join any of the Big Bosses.

What is he doing? Has he gone mad? Mothers leave toddlers, sons their parents and wives their husbands to get that kind of salary and career. What about fancy cars, gold cards, frequenting hip and happening joints? YOU CAN NOT CHILL OUT GUYS AND GALS WITHOUT THESE. Its oxygen for generation X! I don’t know how he will survive without oxygen! HOW WILL HE HAVE FUN? My heart goes out for that innocent boy. He is tilting towards sageness in the prime of his youth. And what for? He wants to open a primary school!!! Huh! I agree it is the prime need for Indian toddlers. But chilling out and having fun is above all.

He is committing a serious mistake by refusing to roll in money.
But I wish him all the best and if I were a believer I would have prayed for him too. But more than some cosmic power to take care of our needs I believe in sanity and fairness of human mind to solve our own problems. So Vardan Kabra bravo and congrats for not being the part of the rat race. This world needs more and more people like you.

==========
A New Addition
Here is a mail from Mr. Vardan Kabra himself. Any of you who wants to get in touch with him can do so.

Hi all,

Thanks a lot for the encouragement and the great comments.

I really do hope and my team and I are able to do something worthwhile.

In case any of you want to get in touch with me, send us a mail on fountainhead_schools@yahoo.com

Thanks and regards,

Vardan Kabra

==================

I was watching National geographic. Its awe inspiring when you see any natural setting in its full glory. Suddenly the screen showed big majestic elephants in desert. An old couple was filming them. That couple was together for 35 years spending major chunk of their lives in wilderness.
Suddenly my mind reeled back to all the novels, movies and serials I have seen or read. My brain was busy browsing the so called greatest love stories of all the times. Most of them ended in tragedy. None of the couple were given the chance to test their love in the mundane affairs of boring daily lives, where you grapple with broken water pipes, non functioning fans and its regulators, depositing various bills, extracting superhuman power to keep the house clean, your maid is always on the lookout for some excuse, even if you are sipping tea, your ears are attuned to the motor which is filling the tank. Either single or married, we all face these necessary evils. I wonder what sort of love these so called legendry lovers would have shared if they survived full term of their lives.

Now I was watching the program with totally different angle. This couple, even if they have started out in their twenties, has spent their lifetime in un-treaded terrain. They might not manage candle lit dinners in romantic surroundings, soft music playing on, a waiter hovering discreetly in the background at your beck and call, some exotic smelling incense burning, softly lit surroundings and what not. They might not have a million dollar villa and he might not come home everyday with flowers for the lady and they might not make love by fireplace in drawing room.
But are not they living embodiment of deep love and affection? These rough terrains often bring out the worst in you, when you don’t have the security of a house and modern amenities to soothe your frayed nerves. And this couple is together for thirty five years! How young, healthy, dynamic and contended they look! Without speaking how they converse with eyes even in their fifties. How affectionate their body language was. How attuned they are to each other needs.
I was watching a programme on desert elephants and their lives, but that’s what I got, maybe one of the most beautiful, heartwarming, unsung, unknown love story.

I remember a small girl. Exceptionally bright and naughty. I think in every primary school’s exam they follow the same pattern of sitting arrangement. One junior and one senior on a single bench. That naughty girl was in fifth class. Beside her, another tiny tot of third standard used to sit. The naughty girl often completed the exam of every subject in record time. What did she do with the extra time in hand? During exam there was not much scope for mischief. So she turned her full concentration on the tiny tot, sitting beside her. After solving her own papers, she “helped” the tiny tot.

That girl moved on to senior wing of the same school. The naughty girl had not changed much. One day she was stopped in her tracks by another girl.

“Didi, can you recognize me?”

“I have seen you somewhere. Right now I can not place you.”

“Remember, I was sitting beside you, when I was in third standard.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“You helped me in almost each and every paper.”

“Hummm…”

“Didi, due to that I secured first rank in the class. I never attained even 15th rank before that.”

“Was it really so?”

“Yes. But getting first rank in the class was so invigorating, that I started studying very hard. And I still maintain my rank in each succeeding class.”

That naughty girl and now not so tiny tot had a hearty laugh!

A smile too plays on my lips whenever I remember that naughty girl and her mischief.

I died in the prime of my youth. It was just a road accident. Within one week my soul clamored for a visit to dear earth. I was longing to see my near and dear ones. My spirit drifted to the earth. My mind was taking a trip down memory lane.

I was a star manager. Actually I was awarded as one. I tried to learn all the tricks of trade and applied it successfully. I knew how to harass subordinates, how to detain them after office hours, how to fill them with guilt complex, if they turned up at right time but want to leave at actual departure time. Without the battery of my subordinates around me, how insecure I felt. I made life hell for employees, who didn’t have any work but unaware of the art of looking busy without any business. One employee was particularly irritating, he used to e-mail all and sundry asking if there was anything he could do today, because he was free that particular day. How incompetent I looked in front of everyone due to his behavior? I finally got him chunked out. What a relief it was. That UNDIPLOMATIC workaholic could go to hell as far as I was concerned.

I had set many personal examples of devotedness in front of seniors and juniors. Once my father had slipped in the bathroom, and broken was bone. My mother panicked, tried locating me frantically. Well, it was not a major accident. I sent my car home. Mother could very well understand my position and could manage on her own.

Visit to my office:
I knew I was an indispensable employee. Everything must be in a complete mess within one week without ME! I spotted a new smart girl at my desk. She was fanatically typing something and shooting out instructions to MY juniors. The diplomatic senior manager was patting her about something.

Visit to my home:
My father was dusting my PC. My room was exactly the same, before I died. I used to control office from this PC, whenever I fell sick. Very delicately, he dusted off my keyboard. The only new addition was my photograph beside my PC. Suddenly sitting down, as if for support, he stared at my snap. What was he doing? Breaking down like a child. As if sensing his mood, mother rushed in the room. Now both were hugging and crying together! His ankle was still cast in the plaster. I remember sending the car, when mother told me about his accident.

I was reading in Thelosthighway, how a winner of Nobel Prize in literature in 2001 and his wife were having identity crisis with a kid who might be in the age bracket of his great-grandson. He was visiting IIT-Delhi for some convocation. I remember one more incident, where the same Nobel Laureate was shouting on a lady, terming her illiterate and demanding an apology from her. And SHE DID APOLOGIZE. I was watching Salman Khan hitting journalists at a news channel. Did nobody have the enough courage to deliver him a punch? Just once? Even in self defence. Do we want a portion of them, even if it is humiliating to the core?

Whatever I read in Thelosthighway, didn’t surprise me. But what surprises me is why people put up with such kind of rotten behaviour? Are we becoming too awed with “15 Minutes Fame Theory”? Is this prompts us to bear with absurd behaviour of celebrities? Why not someone talk back to these people? Does interacting with somebody famous for few minutes or rather whole life make you special? Will some of the greatness (rudeness) rub on us? Have we become so insecure that we don’t even think for a while what a high price we are paying for our Fifteen Minutes fame?

What prompt these types of people to misbehave? Have they never read history? What happened to the high and mighty? Not even the Britain and Her Empire: where the sun never sets? What makes these people so insecure? What kick they derive out of humiliating a student who might not even spent ninteen years on this earth or a non descript Professor? What will they achieve? What sort of spurt in creativity will they get?

Since independence, India was neither fortunate enough to have a charismatic leader like Turkey’s Mustafa Kamal Pasha, who could have taken the nation to the path of development single-handedly, nor had we inherited the sound infrastructure, robust economy or institutions from our previous rulers which could have led us to development automatically. We had build our nation brick by brick and had various achievements to our credit such as emergence of professionals, preserving and propagating the institution of democracy, maintaining the freedom of speech and press, retaining the unity & integrity of the country, combating terrorism for decades, conserving by and large the secular characteristics of the society, registering rapid progress in the field of agriculture and defense through research and development. The corridor of India’s major achievements passes through one single passage-educated middle class.

The key to development lies in man’s mind. From here, he conceives ideas, develops institutions, in which his thinking finds an expression and creates opportunities to realize his goals. In India, this responsibility was borne by middle class. Because upper rich class exists in minuscule minority and hence unable to make a mark in national development and population living below poverty line is busy in sustaining itself. So the mantle of nation building had fallen on the middle class.

Emergence of middle class is not a “passive phenomenon” and it does not come out on its own. The grit, determination, stamina and putting the next generation’s needs before its own are some of the factors which make the emergence of this class possible. And today this class is acting as the architect of modern India, providing human capital not only to India but to many countries of world , working as watchdogs to preserve the highest institutions of the country, attracting global players to use India as a hub, pumping money in the economy, and adjusting well to the shifts, be it cultural, economic, technical or social. Since independence, India’s major achievement is the rise of world’s largest single middle class, on which rests the other achievements of our country.

An Indian guy working abroad was looking for a would be bride in US and was lamenting their headyweightedness so much so that he posted his grief to a public messageboard.

I found an interesting response to his rant and raves.
=======================

I was reading views posted in the coffeehouse. I am sorry, I can not say anything related to this topic. Because I have never been out of India. I come from a very small desi town. And I used to admire you smart guys and gals, who took up the challenges and left the comfort of your shores and ventured out into a completely foreign territory to carve a niche for yourselves. Hats off to all of you!

Accidentally, I hit this button “Coffeehouse”. I am pleasantly surprised to learn that you guys are keeping the traditions of India alive there too. No matter how educated, accomplished, academic you guys and gals are. You are born “Indian”. You cannot leave the tradition of browsing “gals” and “guys” for marriage “reason” just like we pick up cassettes in Planet M.

You might not be as crass as we real Indians are, flexing your financial muscles, and settling for a good financial deal. But still you are the guardian of the true Indian spirit, even in the foreign land. See, the way deals are finalized in corporate world. Someone contacting someone to float the tender, then concerned parties meet (here you can argue, unlike India we leave the guys and gal alone. In US the whole family is not hovering in the background. Well, well thanks for the improvement). Discussions are held. Parties are sized up. If everything goes well, and the packages are attractive, then deal is struck. Anyway the corporate deals are a bit sophisticated.

I was under the impression, that you guys have the real “open” environment to meet the girls of any nationality, and at least one of them really touches your heart’s cord and you really find someone to whom you can talk to hours relate to as a person. But thanks for letting me know that you guys carry a “very small DESI town of India” there too, in your academically brilliant heads.

Relax and enjoy:

I was reading about Nalanda university and its ancient glory. How this university had introduced astronomy as a separate branch from mathematics. It was the world’s first residential international university. It functioned uninterrupted for 700 years. The Chinese pilgrim Hieun Tsang was awe struck with the size of its library. The university attracted scholars and students from all over the world. But these damn news channels make sure to destroy any romanticism, even if it exists in my imagination and distant past. But I will not give up. I will continue being an optimist.

The ancient glory of Nalanda might be restored:

These days the TV news is infested with elections and various bright candidates who will decide our destiny.
I was listening to the profile of a future candidate.
The broadcast media was flashing the story of successful man, somehow named as RANJIT DON. He is a highly successful person by page 3 standard. I have written this line after checking the entire yardstick from that revered page. He was about to buy a helicopter, has huge mansions in many cities, a fleet of expensive cars, in short he was (will) living life king-size. He is a hard core social worker. One of his grand acts was letting the CAT out of the bag. According to various media (controlled by his rivals) reports, he “leaked questions of medical, engineering, banking and other key exams, helping affluent clients to respectable jobs without having to burn the midnight oil.”

Finally all of my doubts were laid to rest when he declared the intention of contesting elections from Nalanda, his hometown. Earlier this place produced one of the greatest scholars Nagarjuna and NOW Ranjit. WOW!

Whenever I hear the name of Nalanda, I associated it with the Grand University. If Ranjitji would be elected by the Janata Janardan, I know he WILL make it his mission to restore the ancient glory of Nalanda University.

I was reading Amar’s blog today. He has given pretty interesting insights into experimenting. His blog sets me thinking too, though on entirely different lines. I narrowed down my thinking on those who experiment with hearts! Not with their own hearts but with others.

When I am in the mood, I keep on experimenting with different hearts at the same time. In this, I use my God given gift of convincing every heart that his is special from others! Therefore please don’t mind the presence of other simultaneous hearts in my life. His will always remain unique! When I turn back, I see my path littered with broken, unbroken, sullen, shining, leaping and beeping hearts. I try to remember to whom they belong, but my excellent memory often fails me. Now it has become a hobby for me to experiment with hearts of all shapes and size.

But these experiments put me in the social worker’s category. I help guys do self analysis. Most of them will keep wondering for the rest of their lives what hit them. Those fools will never pause and think that I am beyond repair just like Veerappan. But I will never be considered in his category unless people realize the extent of damage caused by emotional violence. I will keep having the time of my life till then.

Where this experimenting leaves me as a human being? Ha! Ha! Ha! Who cares! I HAVE GOT ONLY ONE LIFE. Let me have my fun!

It means,
He respects your principles as his,
And never plays with them.
It means,
He honors your faith,
Without tempering with it.
It means,
He gives his soul to you,
To guard it.
It means,
Not losing your self respect,
But giving your self respect to him,
And He will never abuse it.
It means,
Handling his secrets,
Knowing you will never whisper them again,
Even to yourself.
Love,
It means,
You are not tradable,
With anything.

I have specially set aside the “The Asian Age” of 17th & 20th January 2004 for writing this post. “The Asian Age” recently collaborated with “The New York Times”. I have read one statement made by the wife of the presidential candidate Howard Dean.

January 20th 20004, carried this screaming headline:-
“Dean’s wife joins him for strategic day of rallying”
What’s the big deal? I thought secretly. But actually it was.

She had to explain:-
“We have a son in high school, a daughter in college, and I have a medical practice in Vermont with patients that depend on me daily.”

Why was she explaining this to the educated, modern, permissive, believers in gender equality crowd? I don’t know the reaction of actual public, but how she was perceived by the above mentioned media? Same, as a person belonging to a remote village in our country, who has not even remotely touched by the modern time’s ideologies. “Pati ka saath dena hi Bhartiya naari ka Dharma hai.” Have a flourishing career of your own, but make sure to be beside your husband. I never expected to read it in “The New York Times” penned by a head to toe modern looking disguised Behenji.

It’s amazing how we expect the same role from the woman, no matter in which part of the globe she resides.

As far as I as a common person goes, I can have the history of 1, 2, 3, or 4, or (fill in the blanks yourself) …………failed relationships. But our representatives? O! They have to marry their high school sweet heart(s)! I might not be able to lead the life I want but I would not tolerate my representative’s unhappy/unusual married life. Theirs should be picture perfect.

If you are running for the presidency of United States and allow your wife to pursue her profession seriously, then it is termed as unusual relationship and both of you need tips on togetherness and building a healthy political wedding! (Figure out yourself what kind of wedding is this!)

Your man really gives you space to do what you want to do but media will term the wife as a ghost wife. What I deciphered from the columnist – OK play Doctor Doctor. But abandon your patients, give a damn if their survival depends on you, and be at your husbands side, with all the coiffures and adornments. For what? O! Just to hold his hand on inane occasions. Hug him; kiss him, spare interesting glances at right junctures, smile at him at appropriate moments. In fact you have to put on display – your tuning with your husband to the whole world at the slightest opportunity.

Reporter’s another concern was Deans have not subscribed to Cable T.V.! Therefore she can not watch her husband virtually also. If the columnist only has an iota of inkling of the demanding career of a medical practitioner and mother of grown up kids, she would have came out with an intelligent piece of work.

One political reporter’s greatest worry was;
“What will she tell their Grandkids?”
I think her answer could be anything but this,
“I ignored my duty, abandoned my patients, left your mom/ dad to their own devices, and cheered your Grandpa who was once a front-runner for President.”