Wednesday, April 16, 2014

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!!

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

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!!





Saturday, March 22, 2014

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. 


Friday, March 14, 2014

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!!

Thursday, March 6, 2014

What's In A Name?

The lady at the visa counter for The Czeck Republic was quite chatty as she processed my papers. When she was done, she remarked, “You know , you are one of the few Indian women I know who has taken her husband’s surname.’ I smiled at her and said,‘Well, he is a great guy, so I don’t mind at all’.

Call it cheap thrills, but I felt immensely happy for my Indian sisters. Perhaps it is a sign of independence of some sort that they can retain their maiden names in a terribly feudal society. 

Granted the Czeck lady  has limited exposure to Indian women. Granted also that my Indian world is also not the largest, but her comment set me thinking. I mentally drew up a quicklist of women  I know - from my family,  school, college, MBA, work and friends. And realised that she was right. Nearly 80% of all women I know have retained their maiden names after marriage. Some have only their original names  while others have changed their names to insert the maiden surname before the husband’s. 

When I got married, I was firm that I would not change my name. Being Preeti Bakshi meant the world to me and defined my identity. I reasoned that I was not some uneducated girl being palmed off to a guy. I would not be financially dependent on him and so had a right to my own choices.  No one asked the guy to make these changes, so why should I have to do it? After all, I had been brought up as more than an equal in my maternal home! So what was good for the goose, was good for the gander! 

It did not matter to Praneet at all. He simply didn’t care about this. 

I toyed with what I wanted to be known as. Option 1 - Preeti Bakshi, in which case, I did not need to change my bank accounts, my passport, my signature or anything. I only needed a legal document that would state that I was now married. Option 2 - Preeti Bakshi Singh. This did not have an elegant ring to it. After all, traditionally Singh should come before Bakshi. But Preeti Singh Bakshi did not sound right either. 

In the end, a simple matter helped me make the choice. I was traveling a fair bit on work post marriage, and every time Praneet called me at the hotel, the operator would connect him to my room and say,’Mr Bakshi is calling’. For some inexplicable reason, that made me feel really bad. The next time we had to sign some legal documents, I simply signed as Preeti Singh. 

Eighteen years into my marriage, I realise it was really no big deal at all. Marriage is so much more than a name change. You change in myriad different ways, and through love, affection, fights, misunderstandings and sheer hard work, you become family with the person you married. 

As Preeti Bakshi, the  daughter of fairly liberal, yet conventional parents, I got the support to extend myself out into the world. I was the star in my family - the first to do a MBA and get a job , and every thing I did was always celebrated in the proud, extended family. At work, and in my relationships, I was brash, downright honest and outspoken. And much pampered and loved.

 If anything, being Preeti Singh has expanded my world view. I learnt to be a mother, a wife. I learnt to put my family before my own needs, and I learnt to manage extended family relationships. I learnt financial dependency on my husband, because I was fortunate enough to be able to take a break to bring up our children. I cruised along a different , more diverse career that does not pay me much, but is immensely fulfilling. I never view any of this as a sacrifice, compromise or an adjustment. To me, all of this is an investment - into the kind of life I want for my family and me. 

In all this, I did not lose myself. When I meet people who knew me as Preeti Bakshi, the comment I hear most often is,‘You have not changed at all’.  I could take the credit - praise myself for my feminist streak and claim that I would not be chained by anyone. The truth is different - I am the same because of my husband . He is a spiffy smart, intelligent human being who is secure enough  to not have imposed himself on me. He loves me just the way I am - with all my imperfections.

I am really proud of all my friends, colleagues and cousins who retain their maiden names. They all rock. They are not hard core feminists, but incredible wives ,mothers and friends, and all of them are successful at whatever they have chosen to do. And some of their stories regarding the various mix-ups of the surnames are hilarious (and material for another blog).  

For me though Preeti Singh has a beautiful ring to it. It speaks to me of a much loved mother and wife ( and daughter and sister!) . It tells me about a woman fortunate enough to have great friends who have her back. Of a woman blessed enough to have all her dreams come true. 

I wouldn’t change it for anything!







Monday, February 10, 2014

Meeting an Ex

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My friend told me she was sending me a picture of her ex with his cow. My sleep addled brain processed that literally - that Mr M was milking his cow and wiping his sweaty brow with a towel. I didn’t know he owned a dairy! 

When she sent me the picture, it was of a shirtless man with a towel wrapped around his ample waistline, and his weighty wife. And his ‘cow’ had her arm around him possessively. When my friend had accidentally bumped into them at the Club, Mrs M glared at her as if she were a Menaka incarnate, come to lure away her Vishwamitra!

It cheered up my friend no end.It reinforced her belief that no matter what her problems in life, atleast she is not Mrs M.  (Thank god! Coz my friend is married to a great, good looking guy and in her 40s, she looks like a million bucks! And frankly Mr M was never good looking to start with (or a great person), and he is so sad-looking now).

I get her feelings totally.

If I had to see my ex again, and see a paunchy, balding man , my heart would break. And if his wife looked insecure, it would make me gag. I mean, if we did not end up together then, when we were young and beautiful, why in God’s name would  I want that oaf in my life now? And if he looked as good as he did in the past, well, I knew that guy already, and knew why he was absolutely the wrong guy for me. Leopards don’t change their spots! I would still not want him and neither would I envy his wife.

Suddenly I felt tremendously relieved that I have no clue where my ex might be. I don’t know where he lives, what he does for a living, what he looks like, who he is married to, how many kids he has, how his house looks like and how his life turned out to be. 

I would keep it that way. I don’t want to meet him and get the feeling,‘This?  This is what I loved/liked in my past? What a loser I am!’ (Ofcourse, my dear husband will say that the guy will take one look at me and think the exact same thing!)

It is so much better to retain bittersweet memories of people you may have shared a past with. A bitter fall-out or not, over the years you mellow down, let go of the anger and think of it as a rite of passage into adulthood. It is nicer to remember them young as you knew them, and were briefly part of each other's journeys. It is nicer to create a story in your mind about what-ifs and how-nots, instead of facing their sad truth in the present.

There is a reason that some people from your past did not make it to your present . Leave the intrigue and the drama right there - in the past! 



Friday, January 3, 2014

Dr Manmohan Singh and Us


My first reaction to Dr Manmohan Singh’s announcement that he was going to step down after the elections was one of derision. I  had admired Dr Singh for the longest time. An educated man ,many light years ago in the 1990’s , Dr S ushered in an economic revolution that greatly benefited most of us middle class Indians and our aspirations .He is also a Sikh. So when he became the PM, it was a wonderful feeling for me- as an Indian and as a Sikh.

Ofcourse, it did not take long for disenchantment to set in as Dr S sat mute and his party and cohorts raped and bled India royally. This time round, nothing he did (if he did anything at all) was right. I felt let down - as an Indian, as a Sikh. And wondered how any human being could be so depraved and so craven to be a puppet for so long. Even after it was evident that he commanded no power, no respect and certainly had few admirers. Had he no self respect at all? Did his family not advice him on this?

On second thoughts I empathise with him.  We might have wanted him to behave differently, but he behaved like most of us do at some point in our lives. How many times have we been caught in uncomfortable positions? Unhealthy friendships that rob us of our self worth, disastrous marriages that we make excuses to live in, jobs and bosses that humiliate us and we continue to struggle in them, an unhealthy relationship with food that makes us like or hate food and brings on loads of problems?

In all those situations, we know we must walk away. After all, why would you stay in a relationship that sucks happiness from you, why be friends with people who betray you, why stay in a job that you work hard at and that brings you no joy? Why would you continue to abuse your body with food and alcohol when it can no longer bear it? We get robbed of our trust, faith, happiness, self esteem and even self respect. Instead of listening to the inner voice, we cling - cling to people who kick us, bosses who insult us, relationships that depress us, eating habits that make us sick. 

Why do we do this? 

Because of Compulsions. Compulsions of love, of greed, of need, of want, of fame. 

Because of Hope. Hope that tomorrow will be a better day. That if we hang in there, we will be loved, respected, desired, wanted, appreciated. Hope that something will give. 

We don’t know what Dr S’s compulsions are, or what he had hoped to achieve by hanging in there. Yes, he looks pathetic. Yes, we have lost respect for him. Yes, he should have known better, because a nation depended on him. Yes, he let us down.

 But then we let ourselves down too. When we let other people walk over us, when we refuse to listen to the inner voice that is urging us to behave otherwise, when we make excuses to stay in relationships or jobs that are no-good, we betray ourselves and our loved ones. 

I don’t hate Dr S so much anymore. He is only human. And I hope he will find his peace when he finally moves away from the situation that has not brought him fulfillment. 

It is only human - to not know when to walk away or when to run - until it becomes too late!