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One day when I was a very little boy, I saw my grandmother looking very upset. "What is it Dadi?" I asked her.
"Beta, you won't understand," she said…"
But I insisted, so she told me that there was a state up north which was being very bad and not listening to her and making every one cry.
So immediately I went to my room and brought out all the toys from my Commando box, and I showed my Dadi how I used to place all the tanks and soldiers around a cardboard shoe box and pretend that I was planning an attack on a fort.
"Beta, this is very clever," she said, and seemed to suddenly become quite happy and animated. "I think I know what I'm going to do".
Ah, which brings me to the subject of baingan. Now you know I never like it made in that bharta way, I do not understand why it's supposed to be such a treat and all. At university, I used to prepare a light dish of salted aubergine that was quite nice, a bit of soya, a dusting of basil and gently roasted on a slow flame…what? Ah yes, the Food Security Bill! No one will be left hungry, every one will get to eat lightly roasted aubergine if we are voted back to power...which reminds me of China, have you tried the sweet and sour sticky fried rice at House of Ming lately?
Our China policy must take into consideration that we are not a dragon, we are mosquitoes, a large vast colony of hardworking and industrialised mosquitoes! We can bite like butterflies and sting like bees… what? Ye-es, remind me to show you my bites, all over, even on the back of my legs….
My father used to teach me how to cycle in Lodhi Garden, when one day I saw a very poor person. How did I know he was poor? Well he only had four people accompanying him and he came in a Toyota Van…. Anyway I gave him my sandwiches, my favourite ones at that, with peach jam, 'That's a good thing you did son," my father said, "One day you will definitely be prime minister."
Which brings me to this whole business of politics. All a mess bro! All those oldies sitting around doing nothing, getting fat and corrupt. "Go eat at a Dalit home!" I tell them, "One nice crisp roti, a bit of potato and a big fat chilli. Onion? No, no onion." Which reminds me: I must tick off Sharad Pawar! Why are there no onions in Dalit homes? Isn't he in charge of farming or something?
Er, my economic policy? I say: sandwiches for all. Maybe peach jam is not possible - but at least something like strawberry or apple? Hmmm, apple may be nice. Ah yes, my views on the current fiscal deficit? See: one day when I was a very little boy, I saw my grandmother looking very upset. "What is it Dadi?" I asked her
"Beta, you won't understand she said…"
But I insisted so she told me that there was a state up north, which was being very bad, and not listening to her and making every one cry.
So immediately I went to my room and I brought all the toys from my Commando box, and I showed my Dadi how I used to place all the tanks and soldiers around a cardboard shoe box...
Malavika Sangghvi is a Mumbai-based writer malavikasangghvi@hotmail.com
