Letting It Go

It was an absolutely strange feeling to wake up one morning and feel a vacuum. I felt light and at peace. It took me sometime to figure what was different that morning.  I had finally let go. Let go of anger, hurt and bitterness that had been part of my life for some time. I am fundamentally an optimistic person, so these emotions were uncomfortably alien to me. I felt  relieved because I had wanted so much to not harbour negative feelings.  It was ironic because just when I had accepted that these feelings would stay with me for a lifetime, they quietly exited from my life -  without even saying goodbye! After staying rent-free in my head, you would think they would at least give me a fair warning of their departure!

I learnt this. 

• That healing takes its own time. You can’t rush it. You can’t stop the voices in your head or the anger flaring up at the slightest provocation. You can practice chanting, praying, offloading on friends,  black magic, pranic healing  - anything, but it won’ t work. Forgiveness will feel like an overrated virtue. So don’t try too hard to forgive/forget/move on....

• You can counsel people on their lives and experiences, but all objectivity is lost when it is your own life. And the more invested you are emotionally, the more unreasonable you become. It is the ego and the feeling that you let yourself down that rankle the most. You can hold long endless conversations with yourself on the whys of the world and not come to any resolution. 

• It is exhausting to be angry and bitter. For me it had benefits - I worked my anger  on two books - but the pain was brutally physical. I had headaches and somedays, a gloom that refused to lift.The bitterness left a sour taste in my mouth, and acid on my tongue. 

 I didn’t let go though -  the negativity finally disengaged itself from me. In extricating itself from me, the negativity  filled me with a lightness of being. I stopped questioning  the motives of other people or why they had behaved such with me. I no longer looked for an apology - infact I realised there was no need for an apology- people have their own journey that I may not understand but it was no longer of any consequence . I was filled with gratitude for all I had received, and surprisingly retained nothing negative about my experience. I felt only compassion and affection for those I had been angry with and truly wished them well - with no malice. 

If I have any words of advice from my own experience, it is this - trust the universe to make it right for you. Till then, accept the feelings. Be in tune with yourself and don’t be too harsh on your inability to cope, or regressing sometimes or being mean!  

As Mandela said,’ It always seems impossible until it’s done’. Till then - Keep the Faith. 

Of Bonds and Belonging

This August , it will be an year since we moved to the US. The move happened so quick and the events went by at such an alarming pace, that I did not get time to breathe. Among other things, it was a time of farewell parties...and thoughtful gifts that my lovely friends gave me. 

As I moved into my new home in Scarsdale this weekend,  I re-discovered some of the gifts I had received, and that were lost in the infinite number of bags  we got from India. Among them - a set of cushion covers by a famous artist, a ‘happiness’ jar, a poster of things people said about me, a quiz on ‘Knowing Preeti’ , CDs of all my favorite Bollywood numbers, a sequined stole and a saree that belonged to my friend’s granny that she passed on to me .And a lovely scroll by my bestie in Mumbai...that detailed all the B words that reminded her of me. Bitch, Bhel Puri, Beer, Bawling, Baubles, Building, Bully among others. Each word had a memory behind it. 

And it teared me up. Completely. 

This move to the US is a wonderful opportunity for the family. I feel blessed that my life has, at regular intervals, changed its course and taken me to entirely new places. It is always a great learning experience to move to a new place, and observe and understand how people live, what drives them and what their core values are. It is wonderful to roam the country as little more than a tourist in transit and really appreciate its beauty and the underbelly. To cook as the locals do, to enjoy the sports they enjoy, and to part of a multi-cultural global community - it can’t get any better!

And yet, I miss what I have left behind. I miss Mumbai- its incredible spirit and the amazing people that drive it. I miss the network I had created, not because I have awesome social skills, but purely on the strength of growing up, studying and working in India. To try and establish credibility in a new country is such an uphill task. And a little de-humanising as well, because of the sense of entitlement that comes from ‘belonging’ to a place or people. Clearly, there are some things I have to unlearn first.

Most of all, I miss my friends.Nothing quite fills up the gap that I feel because of the physical absence of my beloved friends. I say physical, because all of them are utterly gracious -  keeping me in the loop on what  happens in their lives, making me part of whatsapp groups for events, and facetiming or calling me when they are together to tell me I am being thought of and being missed. 

I have re-connected with old friends in the US, and am enjoying re-discovering them. I have met new lovely people as well. And I am possessive of my time with my family now. 

Yet, I miss the ease and simplicity of my relationships in Mumbai. Friendships that were defined by a mutual love of some sort- for food, books, movies, gossip, music, work , kids or bondings because of school, college or work. Of bonds created and strengthened over endless cups of tea, a Bollywood dance club, vodka shots, training for marathon, learning to cook  a new cuisine, plays, pedicures and manicures, arguments over books and movies, samosas and popcorn and walking on Pali Hill or Bandra together. Most of us were working, and yet always found time to meet, lend a shoulder, offer advice, or merely hang out together  for the sheer joy of being friends. 

When people tell me that I will end up staying for more than five years in the US, my heart cringes. When they tell me that this is the best place in the world, I don’t argue with them. They have not walked in my steps to know where my heart lies. And what I consider the best place in my life...

Forgetting Friends

Praneet found a CD full of pictures of my birthday in 2008. Most were horrendous pictures really- of a plumper me with a shorter haircut ( killer ones that no blackmailer should ever get his/her hands on) .As I flipped through the pictures I saw many faces - of friends, and not friends anymore. There were a handful of people who, six years hence, are not in my life . Some that I threw out of my life by choice, some that chose to not be my close pals anymore .I looked at both of these groups and shrugged. I had gotten over the anger and mourned the loss in both these cases. What brought a strange feeling was another set of people. There were those in the pictures who are no longer part of my life...and I didn’t even realise when they had exited. They ceased to exist for me, and I didn’t even notice?

Just as the capacity of a human mind to not forget is great, so is the capacity to not remember. Else how do I explain how I forgot those friends? Forgot them so completely that it took a moment to register who they are. I mean - they were important enough for me once upon a time - that’s why they merited an invite to the party.We must have shared a few laughs, had a few drinks together, hung out for a while. And I have no clue, or rather, no memory of when we stopped being part of each other’s lives. Did we drift apart over a period of time? Or was there a moment when something went wrong? Did we move away because we befriended other people, or was it that our work schedules did not match anymore? Did we fight or not clear up a misunderstanding? For the life of me, I don’t know anymore. All I know is that if there was any pain , bitterness or anger  - I don’t remember it. I do remember some snatches of the good times I had with them - like walking in Jogger’s Park, ordering chinese and biryani from little known joints and some gossipy morning calls and ginger tea. It felt nice to see them again, but there was no urge to re-connect once more. 

The truth is - life moves on. And people come into our lives for a reason or a season. And then they leave. Some go in a blaze of anger or bitterness, and some ease off gently - so gently that one does not even realize it! You don’t miss them. You don’t think about them. It’s like they were never a part of your life. 

What was heart warming for me however was this - the very same friends who I considered my soul mates, my parachutes, my safety nets then - are still in my life. While there may have been conflicts between us and huge fights because we did not agree with choices that the other made, we have stuck together. They are still the ones I  call late night, hound on whatsapp  and whose inboxes I flood with emails. They are the ones I can get sozzled with, share all my intimate secrets with - and they will protect me much as my mother would! They have stood beside me through my worst crises,have lent me their shoulders to weep, and slapped me on my face to help me get a grip. We have the courage to say what needs to be said, with utmost confidence in the strong bond we share.  And even though we don’t stay in the same city anymore, and don’t talk on a daily basis, we are together.  I hope my best friends will outlive me, and party at  the Bollywood bash that Praneet will throw in gratitude of my earlier departure!

Now with this momentous cross continent shift, and the fact that I can’t hide anymore behind the pretext that I was busy settling us in and writing,  it is time to make more new friends. Will these be Indians? Or people from other races/nationalities as well? Will these be parents of my kids’ friends? Or people I will meet in the course of work? I don’t know!

Yet, in a few years,  I will get another reality check. On who will still be in my life, and who would have moved on. Except that now I know what to expect - and so will make sure that I master the art of posing for photo shoots so I look slim, sexy, beautiful….;-))

An 'Alone ' Holiday

Praneet is a  loving indulgent husband, but there are two things he is not happy gifting me - flowers and diamonds. So I negotiated that on my birthday he could gift me a holiday - all by myself- at a destination of my choice.  Prague it was this year , with the added incentive of running the Prague Half Marathon with my friend stationed in the city. 

The run was a nightmare-with a knee that gave up on me, and the timing chip being taken away  because I was not going to hobble to the finish line in under 3 hours. But the holiday was a dream come true!

 I am a good mom and a decentish wife, but  for those few days in Prague, I was simply me. And while I missed my kids, thought of what was happening back home, and shopped for them, I was pretty much at peace. I knew Praneet would schedule his work to spend more time with the kids, that they would cook together or order-in  and would have fun without me nagging them to clean up, study and do this and that!

Pure liberation.  I didn’t have to draw up a schedule to please the kids and husband. I ate wherever I felt like without worrying if the place was clean, or if the kids would like the food. I ventured to see things I want to - spending the whole day at the Castle, standing on Charles Bridge and unabashedly watching people , or merely sitting at a cafe on the road, sipping coffee or beer and reading on my Kindle. It took a bit of courage to walk up to people to request them to take a picture of me! 

I got lost while walking to places, and in the process discovered new offbeat things. I rode different trams to soak in the city.  I struck up conversations with random people - on the tram, at the bar, in the church, and just had fun listening to them. I ate all kinds of street food, browsed in local grocery stores to figure how the locals live,  and tried on clothes that looked horrendous on me! Took pictures of things that caught my attention. Got a massage, a haircut - stuff I would never do on a family holiday!

I unlearned a few things. Like habits that I have acquired because of co-dependency in a marriage. At the check-in counter, I had to remember to fill out all the immigration and custom forms, and ask for the boarding pass for the connecting flights.Or remember to buy and swipe the tickets in the tram. Withdraw or exchange currency.  Even pack my own bag because I am terrible at it and depend on Praneet to organise it for me. 

I did not ‘discover’ myself. Or find solutions to my ‘existential’ questions. Or find a story that fired my imagination.Hell, I did not even bother thinking about things that were stressful for me. Most of the times, my mind was a blissful blank. 

Traveling alone did not mean there were men lurking in bars, or on street corners, looking for a quickie.  I did not find handsome Czech men to hit on, and no one hit on me. Instead I found graciousness ,friendliness and loads of tips on what to do in the City. 

I came back happy, relaxed and refreshed. Delighted to walk into my home, and to be hugged by my daughter who said,‘Mom, we missed you. You make this a home!’ To be back in the fold of the ones who hold my heart, and reaffirm that this is my beautiful world- with the people I love the most. 

I think, every woman should take a holiday all by herself. It is refreshing and therapeutic.  In all that we do for our loved ones, we tend to forget ourselves and put our needs on the back-burner. There should be no guilt to spend time with ourselves, connect back with our own selves, and to be reminded that we can be happy in our own company. 

My one lesson -I would prefer a holiday to diamonds -any given year now!! And methinks Praneet will rue being intransigent on not gifting me flowers - because flowers would be cheaper than the holiday he will end up sponsoring every year!!

When dirty politics came home….

What if Odisha was Delhi? What if it was not a far flung state that only sends 21 MPs to the Lok Sabha? Then, like Arvind Kejriwal and his AAP, PM Mohapatra and his OJM would also make headlines. 

I don’t know PM Mohaptra all that well, though is daughter is my best friend. Is he corrupt? I can’t say that, but what I have seen of the family over decades makes me think he is not. His kids got no benefits of their father being one of the most powerful people in Odisha - they have studied , got jobs and done well on their own accord. They all live lives that they have created from their own hard work. None of his children own vast tracts of land in Odisha or any businesses that would have made them billionaires (like many other politicians and their kids). 

When Biju Pattnaik died in 1997, his son Naveen Pattnaik took over as the CM of Odisha. A novice not comfortable speaking Oriya, and who was a connoisseur of finer things in life, Naveen’s first days in politics were not rosy. That was when his mother called PM, her husband Biju’s confidant and exhorted him to help Naveen.  For the first few years, PM was not part of BJD. He only functioned as Naveen’s mentor and guide. A sort of Chanakya you might say and he was instrumental in helping Naveen win the past three elections. 

In politics as in life, there are no permanent friends . And usually the people you trust the most are the ones who stab you in the back. On May 29th, 2012 PM received a call from  Naveen who was in London. Naveen asked him if he was preparing to overthrow him. PM remarked,’Do you believe that?’

Clearly Naveen did. He got edgy by vested interests whispering in his ears that PM wanted his job and would lead a coup.This because he was exhorting Naveen to make a real difference in Odisha so that it would move up from its abysmal position as the most backward Indian state. As PM remarks ,‘the difference between the father and son is stark. The real reason Biju Pattnaik trusted me was because I spoke the truth without fear. Naveen does not seem to have that strength of character’.

PM was suspended and then expelled from the party, and blamed for embezzlement of funds to the tune of Rs.500 crores. Distraught and angry as he was, PM refused overtures from national parties who wanted him onboard to wrest control from Naveen Pattnaik. I asked him once if he would speak to Naveen to clarify his position, because clearly he had been misinformed. His reaction was a resigned shrug,’I cannot explain anything to a person who is hellbent on misunderstanding me.’

It was quite incredible to watch political machinery in action. I have been amused, unnerved, angry and consumed with helplessness in equal measure.

 Overnight, PM’s house was surrounded by Naveen’s men. They watched closely to see who came to give him support. Then, systematically approached those people and threatened them to stay away from PM. The phone lines were tapped and every piece of information was relayed to Naveen Pattnaik. The family was unnerved because they did not know when or where they might be hurt. PM refused to move to Delhi despite the fact that he was also a Rajya Sabha member then.

I know PM this much - what he looked forward to most was spending time with his young grandkids, and that is what he planned to do. Perhaps, it was the threat to his family that changed his mind, but PM decided to start his own party and to not live in a state of constant fear. So came OJM into being.

The single agenda for Naveen and his chamchas has been to not let PM make inroads into Odisha. And when you rule a state , you can get away with murder. 

The first person to join the OJM was declared a Naxalite and jailed. As was the General Secretary of the new party on paperwork issues. 

 From stalling the registration of their party symbol, to creating roadblocks so that OJM could not hold rallies, to even coercing the local media from blacking out any OJM activity - Naveen Patnaik has done it all. The local media was allowed to attend PM’s rallies, but were not allowed to report anything. One TV channel owner who made the mistake to showing a balanced review of Naveen and PM was jailed, ostensibly because of his other businesses. 

Did that dissuade the 75 year old PM Mohapatra? No. He wore his bullet proof vest, took trains without an entourage and campaigned in Odisha interiors, and in the main cities. If there were road blocks, his people came on motorcycles. If TV and print gave into coercion, the social media was active. 

While most of us are horrified with the dirt that Mr Mohapatra and his supporters face on a daily basis, he has remained calm and unfazed. Any betrayal and loss of trust he feels is carefully hidden, as he goes through each day, intent on running the elections to make a difference to Odisha. 

When Naveen realised that PM had made inroads despite all the road blocks, it bothered him a lot more. So, he and his party reached out to every major industrial house in India, who have any business interest in Odisha and clearly communicated to them that they were free to donate, contribute to any political party other than OJM. If any funds were given to OJM, there would be trouble for the concerned company. And who wants to not have a stake in Odisha, with its rich resources? 

So the funds essential to run the elections dried up for OJM. One of the largest opinion poll firms refuse to add OJM to their list because they were not paid the Rs. One Crore that they demanded. 

I salute Mr Mohapatra. Any one else would have quit and withdrawn. He did not. Friends, family and well-wishers have  rallied to give funds to the party, and Mr Mohapatra mortgaged his ancestral house as well. We joke with him that he should have used the funds he had supposedly embezzled. 

Despite all the muck and carpet bombing and cornering PM, I am pretty sure he will win seats in the elections. Not enough to form the government or topple it. But I hope he will make an interested opposition to drive real change in the most backward state in India. 

Even if PM did not win any seats, he will not have lost.  Any person with courage and his heart in the right place can never be a loser. Through all this dirty politicking, Naveen Pattnaik and his party have not been able to question Mr Mohapatra’s integrity and honesty. To me, that stands for something. 

In a Utopian world, real democracy would exist. Voters would be an informed class who would choose the best people to become their representatives in the Parliament. These representatives would have a morally high calibre and they would work to ensure that the society benefited from their actions. There would be a worthy opposition that would maintain the requisite checks and balances.

But India is definitely not Utopia. Mr Mohapatra will not lose because he will have done his job in ensuring that democracy is not subverted. And I bet there are many more stories across India of people like PM Mohapatra! We should be proud of them!!

House hunting

I find house hunting tedious. Weekends get wasted as we trudge from one house to another , figuring what house suits our needs the best.I would much rather stay in bed for longer, have a cup of tea and laze around! Or be out in the fabulous weather walking and running. Or shopping! 

But there is vicarious pleasure in being a  peeping Tom . I get a ringside view of the way people live in their homes, what they favor, and the image they want to project of themselves.Some houses are oh-so elegant, and I get dizzy in those - no way can I match that level of hard work. Some are functional. Some impractical. Some look lived in, and some are not very neat. But none of the houses is impersonal. 

Scarsdale is famous for its excellent public schools. So once the children go to college,  most people sell their houses, and get ready to move out to Manhattan, or wherever they came from. I wonder how hard it must be to leave the house because it would hold so many happy memories for the family as the children grew up.  No longer will you see the kitchen counter where the children shared their day with you while you were cooking. Or the backyard, where the child fell off and hurt herself. And where the kids played soccer and basketball all evening.  Or where the wife surprised you with a big birthday party. All that will now reside in your heart and in your memories. Leaving all that must cause a bit of pain.

 I try to picture the family that lives in the house. What profession are the adults in? How long did they stay in this house? What are the children doing now? Did the house bring them happiness? What do they intend to do with all the stuff in the house?

The photographs in the houses are a pleasure to see. Marriage pictures of the bride and groom -  young, eager and happy,  beaming into the camera. Children at different ages in their lives. Places they have visited together. Pictures of close family and friends. Pictures of happiness, love and fun times. 

The kitchen tells me the food they eat. Some kitchens have loads of packaged foods. Refrigerators of others are filled with fresh produce. Some kitchens have fabulous cookbooks, and I wonder if they were ever used to create beautiful food at home, or if they are just for show. What food does the family eat? Cereal in the morning, or a hot brekkie of pancakes, eggs and bacon? Do they eat grilled stuff, and lots of veggies? Or is their diet predominantly non vegetarian. Do they drink coffee? Does the coffee machine use whole beans or the ground variety?The bars are stocked differently everywhere and I wonder what they drink and what they buy for their family and friends. What kind of meats do they barbeque?Do they have special family recipes?

As I go through the house, many questions come to my mind. 

A blanket on the sofa in the living room, and a depression on a particular seat - how do they watch TV? And who sits in that seat all the time? What TV programs do they watch? Does the whole family watch TV together.  Who puts the linen away so neatly?Who makes up the beds every morning? Who files away all the paper? Does an abundance of musical instruments and certificates reflect that the family is musically inclined? Sporty things all over - are they fitness oriented? Paintings and decorations from different countries - do they travel a lot? Perhaps in the diplomatic corps?  Big pots, pans and lots of crockery - do they entertain a lot? How do they entertain? What do they serve as food? What kind of cutlery and crockery do they use? 

The closets tell me the kind of clothes they prefer. And I wonder what precious clothes are stored in the cedar closet. How many pairs of sneakers does the husband own? Is he a runner? Or plays some game? Is the lady of the house working? Does she work full time? Does the couple party a lot? Are they brand driven, or do they prefer value? Is the couple well maintained? Or out of shape?

What appeals to me the most, and makes me promptly fall in love with the house is the library and/or the books that line the bookshelves. I browse shamelessly through the books. Who reads political stuff? Or the business books? That must be one indulgent mother who reads so many books to her young children, and sits with them as they color, solve puzzles and practice patterns. Who sits on the desk and works? Why is there a paper shredder in the study? Who sharpens all the pencils?Do they look out of the window and daydream as they work?  If I find my favorite books on the shelf, I take one down and open it to any random page...I believe it will give me a clue on if the house will be a happy one for me. 

There are two kinds of houses that depress me . 

One - of families breaking up. I wonder how bad and bitter things can get before the couple calls it quits, and lets go of the life they had created together. How fraught with pain that experience must be!

Two -the houses of old people, mostly single, because the spouse has passed on, and they stay alone in the big house. These houses have a similar smell - of medicines, and products that old people use. The kitchens are sparse, only with the basics that the person needs. The furniture is old, the carpets and upholstery old too.The photographs , certificates and medals reflect a time long gone by. To me it looks like life stopped happening in the house a long time ago. It upsets me. And makes me wonder on the inanity of our wants and desires. We acquire, and acquire - and yet, a day will come when we won’t need these things anymore, and when our prized possessions will hold no value for anyone else. 

And still - I hunt for the house that will beckon to me, and ask me to make it my own home.  And take me one step further in acquiring roots in Scarsdale - this place I call home now. 

Kim Jong-un- the new role model for Indian politicians

Dear Indian leaders,

My heart bleeds for you. You have been shortchanged. In India’s recent past, first came the Mughals who controlled the sun-continent and then the British. When India got ‘freedom’, Indians chose to become a democracy. And you lost you freedom. And your power. You are accountable to a billion people who could vote you out for the merest infarction.  Now, it is becoming impossible to control the mad Indian population. More and more Indians are getting educated, are questioning your actions, are doubting your good intentions and they are protesting too hard. In press, in the social media, in drawing rooms, on the streets. There is no fear anymore.

You need to re-examine your idols dear leaders.  Mahatma Gandhi, Ambedkar, Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela are of an era long gone by. It is time for a change. 

Embrace North Korea’s Kim Jong-un and his deceased father Kim Jong-Il as your new idols. Now that is what a leader should be, and what a ‘democracy’ should be like. Absolute power. Life would rock for you...and your loved ones. 

There would be no reason to allow citizens silly freedoms like right to speech and right to information, and then have them criticise the government. No  reason to divide the populace along caste, community or economic lines because there would be no incremental benefit in voting preferences . No need to pretend that you need to travel abroad to learn about Beijing’s infrastructure, or US’s medical system or Africa’s handling of poachers - all  valuable lessons that will help you serve India and its people better. No need to explain your actions and how patriotic you really are. 

Imagine the ease with which our huge elections could be conducted. Instead of the mela and tamasha of the Indian elections, there would be songs made only for the leader of the nation. No need to pay money or bribe voters with gadgets, liquor and food to vote for a particular party or candidate . As in North Korea, the ballot paper would have only one name. People will either say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to the candidature. Saying no could lead to the ‘disappearance’ of the citizen . Look at the  benefits though - -there would be almost a 100% turnout, and you  would be able to assess who had not voted, were not patriotic, and if they were still living or dead. No need for an expensive population census that is done every decade. Better still, Arnab Goswami would not be raving on TV saying ‘India demands answers.’ India would be you!  You will decide the questions, the answers. And would shine. 

Finally Indian people will leave you alone and let you enjoy the fruits of your hard work.  Like Kim Jong-Il, you would be able to use all the government machinery and money to get the freshest fish from Tokyo, the best meats from Argentina, tulips from Holland , perfumes from Paris,caviar from Iran or original scotch from Scotland . You won’t  have to answer to petitions on your  sources of money.You can build a bullet proof swimming pool in your mansion, have parties with beautiful Indian girls as sex-slaves and buy everything your family desires. Now that is life!

Dear politician, with Kim Jong-un as your idol, you would not have to suffer criticism from ordinary Indian citizens. Just send them off to communal labour farms with their whole families , or to re-education camps for them to ‘learn’ what greatness you bring to the nation .If they protest too much, send them off to kwan-li-so gulags from where no one ever returns. 

Oh wise Indian leaders, Indian citizens are self-centred and their constant demands for roti-kapda-makan are oh-so-boring. They don’t credit you with intelligence, and ability. It is time to show them what you truly are. Like Jong-un’s father Kim Jong Il. He ‘retired’ from golf because the first time he played it on his 62nd birthday, he demolished a par 72 course in just 34 strokes, managing a five holes-in-one on the way. He wrote six operas, the best in the world, in two years. He invented the hamburger in North Korea. You have similar feats but right now, all that Indians focus  on is you using the pepper spray in the Parliament. 

You will be able to control weather like Kim Jong-Il and relieve India of its perennial problems of drought and famine. Unemployment will become a thing of the past, because you can send Indians (no questions asked) to Siberia in exchange for precious foreign exchange. 

And dear leaders, your children will finally get recognition for being the superstars they are. Right now citizens think that your children enter politics because ‘baap ki dukan hai’, and don’t appreciate how well qualified they really are.Maybe like Kim Sung-Il, they also wrote 1500 books in the university (instead of burning them), and chastised their teachers in school for incorrect interpretations of history. Or like Kim Jong-un, they play basketball/cricket/soccer better than the pros. At the young age of three, they must also have performed amazing feats like driving cars and shooting guns! And indeed like the porky Kim Jong-un, your son is the ‘sexiest’ man alive. 

Statues, portraits and frescoes of you will dot the country and your handsomeness will be there for all to see. Who will then care about chronic food shortages, famines and aid required? Just a glimpse of you will convert air into food and fill the stomachs of people. Anyways, it will be good for Indians to subsist on less food - you would have cured Indians of obesity and reduced the occurrence of  diabetes and  other lifestyle diseases. That is big social service. 

Forgiveness is over-rated. Why should you let your enemies live? Especially confidants who betray your confidence and defect to the party that gives them more money?You can get rid of them by making them ‘disappear’. Have your ex-girl friend executed  by a firing squad, feed your uncle to hungry dogs, kill off entire families of people who dare to dissent - the possibilities are endless.Remove traces of them having ever lived  by digitally removing them from pictures and movies. 

And dear leaders, don’t get scared of stupid concepts like Karma. Always remember what George Orwell said in 1984. 

“He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past.” 

No one will remember any version of history, except the one that you choose to write.

Think about it. North Korea is the way to go!!