At long last the race to Rashtrapati Bhawan is over. Pratibha Patil breasted the tape well ahead of Bhairon Singh Shekhawat. The country sighs with relief and says Amen – so be it. We welcome the first lady President but keep our fingers crossed. We hope she does not shoot her mouth more than is necessary to discharge her duties and confirms our faith that women can match men in ability and wisdom.

While the race was on, I could not resist thinking that all said and done, except for Abdul Kalam, I could have made as good a President as any we’ve had so far. Perhaps no one would have voted for me and Jayalalitha would have described my candidature as a big joke, or she may have voted for me, voted against me, or abstained from voting. She would have been right in describing me as a joker. What is wrong in having a Joker-President?

I may succeed in making the unlaughing types of Jayalalitha, Mamta Bannerji, Medha Patkar and TN Seshan roar with laughter. I would have improved the quality of entertainment offered at Rashtrapati Bhawan by introducing Indian wines and Champagne on the menus. I would have thrown open the Mughal Gardens to the public round the year.

I would have permitted access to the huge, usually empty front courtyard to everyone and twice a week have my band play for them, twice a weak sat in open durbar for two hours for the people to come to tell me of their problems and open their hearts to me.

The one problem will be that no matter who is officially installed in Rashtrapati Bhawan, the Janata will keep looking up to Kalam Sahib for inspiration and guidance. Does this sound laughable? If so, have a hearty laugh and thank the stars that no one wanted me to become Rashtrapati.

Blackmail

Zafar Gorakhpuri has a telling couplet about short-cut to notoriety:

Kitnee aasaanee say mashoor kiya hai khud ko, mainey apney say badey shakhs ko gaalee dee

How easy it was for me to attain renown, I bad-mouthed someone bigger than myself. Spitting abuse on a celebrity is bad enough; casting aspersions at his or her character is an even more effective way of belittling them because even after it has been proven to be false and malicious, some of the mud sticks on the target.

Recently I came across an instance of this form of blackmail. Its victim was Kripaluji Maharaj, who was a few months ago anointed as Jagatguru – world teacher – at an enclave in Varanasi.

He is a saintly, scholarly person with a phenomenal memory and quotes chapter and verse from Hindu scared scriptures without a scrap of paper in his hand.  He has a larger following in India and among overseas Hindus. He is 85 and not in  very good health.

Last month he was in Tobago and Trinidad. Hindus in the country are politically divided into two: earlier settlers and the Indian-born. Kripaluji was a guest of the latter but just about every Indian came to attend his  lectures on the Vedas. This eroded the following of old settlers and their leader was not happy to see his following dwindle. He arranged for a Guyanese girl to visit Kripaluji after he had delivered a two-hour pravachan on the sacred texts.

This girl lodged a complaint that she had been molested and raped by him. He was arrested at midnight and released on bail the next morning. When the trial came up for hearing, there was no witness to support the girl’s allegation.

The prosecuting  counsel realised she had been used to malign Kripaluji and withdrew all charges against him. Kripaluji was honourably acquitted. The entire congregation pleaded with him to forgive them for the humiliation he had suffered. He forgave everyone concerned. The dirty trick did not pay off.

An Inn
The other day I was turning over the pages of my collection of Urdu poetry when I noticed a Rubaee I had marked for possible translation. It was by Babar Ali Anees (1804-74). It read as follows:

Duniya bhee ajab sarai faanee dey khee, Har cheez yaheen kee aanee jaanee deykhee. Jo aa kay na janye vow burhaapa deykha, jo jaa kay na aaye vow jawaanee deykhee.

I translated it as follows:

The world is a strange inn where people come and go - I saw, nothing here stays but moves to and fro - I saw.
But old age never goes till one’s days are done, and youth never returns once its gone - I saw.