Work, work, work. Nothing changes. Of course, I don’t have to listen to any more sob stories from over-ambitious politicians nor fly from city to city soothing the ruffled feathers of these idiots. But the workload is the same. I still have to keep a diary of my activities for now posterity beckons. Publishers have already sent me feelers. But I will still maintain this secret diary, where I can write what I want and call politicians idiots or worse.
The last few days were hectic, the media would not leave me alone though ‘macho’ anchors like Arnab and Rajdeep were suddenly courteous and did not shout as in the past. Of course, the media published nothing new but some of them reported how, as a young MP, I confessed to my ‘didi’ (the real one, not the current ogre!) that in my next birth, I would like to be born as a horse and live at Rashtrapati Bhavan. I do not remember if I ever made this confession but thinking over it, it would not be a problem to be a horse at the Rashtrapati Bhavan. It could be better than being the president.
Look at the advantages, the stables are huge and well-cleaned. Who needs all those 256 rooms in the Bhavan? There is a special staff to choose the menu and feed the horses. They are brushed, cleaned and groomed everyday so that their skin shine. They are regularly exercised. As the president I will hardly get any exercise except for getting into cars and getting out. The US presidents are luckier, they spend a lot of time playing golf of which I know nothing though I would not mind soccer matches between East Bengal and Mohun Bagan on the Rashtrapati Bhavan grounds.
So back to horses. Groomed, shining, they are always stars of all sorts of parades, military, civilian and so on. When the president travels in his horse-drawn carriage on ceremonial occasions, I bet more people watched the horses than the president. Why don’t we make better use of these noble animals? Like the Queen of England owning a string of racehorses which figure in the big races (someone told me Her Majesty’s horse, Pinza, won the Epsom Derby in 1953). This would also bring the racing community closer to the ruling political class.
O, I would love to be a horse at the Rashtrapati Bhavan when these noble animals figured in the army ranks. While in school, I read Ivanhoe and other historical novels where knights in shining armour settled their differences and asserted their superiority riding their steeds! What an exciting life. If those days were to come back, Lord Sharad Pawar from the state of Baramati, armed with sword and spear, would mount his steed (should be a pretty heavy one) and fight deadly duels with Anna Hazare and Prithviraj Chavan to protect the interests of his subjects, the sugar farmers. Can anything be more exciting? I would love to have been a horse under such circumstances.
The Mumbai-based satirist is the creator of ‘Trishanku’; E-mail your secret diarist: vgangadhar70 AT gmail.com
