Home is where the heat is
One term is making a lot of din in the offices of the Indian National Congress. It is a borrowed term, but then its suitability to the situation has divested it of any political rancour. The term, of course, is ghar wapsi, and it crops up every time there is a conversation about the party's vice-president. "When is the ghar wapsi, any idea?" a whispered discussion begins. "No idea, but shouldn't be long. After all, he has only gone for a Vipassana break." "But why Vipassana, he anyway was meditatively silent most of the time?" "Perhaps he has gone for a refresher course in political management." "Wherever he has gone, ghar wapsi jaldi hona chahiye." "I was told he has gone for trap shooting training. Remember, he used to be a rifle shooter, even got admission in St Stephen's College through the sports quota." "Why, he wants to win something in the Brazil Olympics after going through so many months of winless contests? Heh, heh, er, sorry, I didn't say that." "No, no, he has gone to be with a friend." "Dubai? Colombia? Italy? Is he in a relationship?" "No, they are just good friends." "Listen he needs his private moments okay, it's not easy planning a holiday break at Dalit homestays all the time." "That's okay, but when is the ghar wapsi?"
The truth is really quite something different. I was told by a very close aide of his of what transpired before he disappeared. Apparently, the vice-president had approached the president and told her he wanted to take a short break and go to introspect at a monastery. He said this would help him prepare for big things, like the Budget session and the dropping of "vice" from his title. "Why meditate in silence? Why not attend a public-speaking course instead," she suggested. "Wait, I have an SMS that offers to get rid of your fear of speaking in public, let me get the number." He fixed his gimlet eyes on her, and walked out.
He packed a suitcase, bade the aide do the same and scurried away, leaving the SPG floundering in his wake. On satellite phone from a remote mountain range, the aide told me that the vice-president had been silent all the way, caught up as he must have been in contemplating the changes monastic silence would have brought in his outlook on politics. If his gungi gudiya of a grandmother could have experienced such an oratorical metamorphosis, there was hope for him yet.
So which mountain range were they traversing now, I asked. The aide told me that the vice-president, 2,500 km from New Delhi now, had finally disclosed he had come to meet the wise man on the top of the mountain to get some answers that would redefine him as a politician. So the two had huffed and puffed up the steep crags, pitons and carabiners and all, and reached the summit where the legendary wise man sat.
"Guruji, I have come all the way to ask you a very important question. I need your help to renew myself."
"Ask, but remember the answer already lies within you. All you need to do is to reflect."
"You see, I always talk of women's empowerment. But people find that boring and insufferably repetitive. So Guruji, give me a new word for 'empowerment'. I need to say things in a new way."
The wise old man reportedly looked at him in silence. According to the aide, the vice-president was last seen staring at his reflection in a crystal clear mountain lake trying to find the new word that the wise man had pronounced lay within him. And no, he had no idea when the ghar wapsi would happen.
The truth is really quite something different. I was told by a very close aide of his of what transpired before he disappeared. Apparently, the vice-president had approached the president and told her he wanted to take a short break and go to introspect at a monastery. He said this would help him prepare for big things, like the Budget session and the dropping of "vice" from his title. "Why meditate in silence? Why not attend a public-speaking course instead," she suggested. "Wait, I have an SMS that offers to get rid of your fear of speaking in public, let me get the number." He fixed his gimlet eyes on her, and walked out.
He packed a suitcase, bade the aide do the same and scurried away, leaving the SPG floundering in his wake. On satellite phone from a remote mountain range, the aide told me that the vice-president had been silent all the way, caught up as he must have been in contemplating the changes monastic silence would have brought in his outlook on politics. If his gungi gudiya of a grandmother could have experienced such an oratorical metamorphosis, there was hope for him yet.
So which mountain range were they traversing now, I asked. The aide told me that the vice-president, 2,500 km from New Delhi now, had finally disclosed he had come to meet the wise man on the top of the mountain to get some answers that would redefine him as a politician. So the two had huffed and puffed up the steep crags, pitons and carabiners and all, and reached the summit where the legendary wise man sat.
"Guruji, I have come all the way to ask you a very important question. I need your help to renew myself."
"Ask, but remember the answer already lies within you. All you need to do is to reflect."
"You see, I always talk of women's empowerment. But people find that boring and insufferably repetitive. So Guruji, give me a new word for 'empowerment'. I need to say things in a new way."
The wise old man reportedly looked at him in silence. According to the aide, the vice-president was last seen staring at his reflection in a crystal clear mountain lake trying to find the new word that the wise man had pronounced lay within him. And no, he had no idea when the ghar wapsi would happen.
Free Run is a fortnightly look at alternate realities joel.rai@bsmail.in
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First Published: Mar 07 2015 | 12:19 AM IST