I’m going to put my wife up for high office the next time the elections come around. She’s just what we need in a lady pol: gentler than the Bandit Queen, less distracting than Hema Malini, less aggressive than Brinda Karat and Mamata Banerji and God is as good a friend of hers as he is Uma Bharati’s.
Need more? The country’s First Lady (and I don’t mean Mrs Manmohan Singh) has no track record in politics. The best you could say about her is that she’s not stupid. Well, neither is my wife.
And all this doesn’t even start to take into account other, more telling qualifications.
Promises that she has no intention of keeping? It started with the assurance of a dowry that, forty years on, I haven’t yet received.
Instinctive larceny? Let me count the ways, from overdrawn bank accounts to large denomination notes that disappear from my socks where I hid them to threatening calls in the middle of the night from the credit card company.
The only thing my wife can’t do is negotiate Bangalore’s traffic. But she won’t have to, will she, once she has that flashing red light on her car.
Yup. High office here we come.
