Anna Kournikova

I guess ex-tennis stars also dream. Like the other day, me and Enrique (Iglesias, my booty boy) checked into the Sherry-Netherland hotel on New York’s Fifth Avenue and after a few martinis he began to talk about a Gandhian who had gone on a fast to push for an anti-corruption bill in India. “You know the strange thing,” En observed, “is he has the same first name as you—Anna!” Well, I thought that was rather cute and surfed the net to know more about this other Anna. What I read was amazing. Amazing enough to skip dinner and call it a day. And as I drifted into sleep, I had this dream which I would like to share with the world. So here goes:

It was a mundane Monday morning and I found myself on a bench in Central Park surrounded by a huge crowd—the usual motley crew of New Yorkers of foreign origin. “Anha! Anha!” they chanted, waking me up from my slumber, “bring back our pal Bill. Bring Bill back!” I was a bit fuzzy so I asked the most vocal guy (an Indian grad from IIT Bombay who now sells horse chestnuts in downtown Manhattan ) “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” I said, “who or what is this Bill?” He took his time but finally enlightened me: “Madam Anha, we want Obama out. We want Bill Clinton back.” I couldn’t quite digest it since I knew Clinton had already completed two terms and was no longer eligible for another stint. But the crowd was adamant: “Anha, we’re all fans of Fleetwood Mac. Which is why we want Bill.” With that everyone broke into Don’t Stop (Fleetwood’s song used during the Clinton presidential campaign).