With the Congress losing election after election, a coterie of old-timers who have gone past the ‘best before’ date met at a home for the aged somewhere in the capital to demand that the Chanakya of politics “ Narasimha Rao be brought back to lead the party out of the black hole it now finds itself.
The meeting of the old-timers, many of them suffering from acute dementia was called immediately after news that the party had lost Assam, was kicked out of Kerala, overshadowed in West Bengal and nowhere in Tamil Nadu. “So this is what political menopause feels like,” said an old timer.
After discussing, debating and analysing the acute turn of fortunes, the old timers arrived at the consensus that Narasimha Rao was the best man to lead the party. After all, he led India out of an economic mess in the 1990s, and he knew seven languages, and he pouted.
Rao was prime minister of a Congress led coalition at the Centre and kept, what was essentially a minority government, in power for five years by hook, crook and payouts. His motto was: sometimes not taking a decision is like taking a decision.
The meeting would have ended on a positive note, if another aging leader has not reminded them that it was impossible to bring Rao back because the Gandhi family would never agree to it. “Besides, he’s dead. He passed away in 2004,” said an aging leader.
“OMG, that is a setback,” said another leader, who did not want to be named, “because it would be nice to go back to the glory days when we ruled most of the country.”
The aging leaders gave out a collective sigh. But the atmosphere was soon lifted by another who came up with a solution that revived spirits around the table. “How about Sitaram Kesri?”
“He’s dead too,” lamented another leader.
“OMG, that is very strange,” said the leader in the wheelchair. “Our leaders are either dying or losing elections. Democracy is killing us.”
“I think the time has come to hand over the party to the younger generation,” said a leader who was willing to give up and retire, a rarity in the party.
“Are you mad?” shouted the man in the wheelchair, “These youngsters will destroy the party.”
“That is ridiculous,” said a fairly younger man, who was there to assist one of the older leaders, “you cannot destroy a party that’s already destroyed.”
“That is utter nonsense,” said a leader with eyeglasses as thick as a soda bottle, “we are still alive and fighting among ourselves in Puducherry.”
The aging leaders sighed once again.
“I think it’s time for us to implement Plan B,” said the young man who assisting one of the leader, “Priyanka”.
“You mean Plan P,” said one of the men at the table.
“That’s not going to work,” said another aging chap, “she is busy building and rebuilding her house in Shimla."
“How long is it going to take?” yelled another leader, “Why can’t they understand that the Congress is not like the Rashtriya Janata Dal where Laloo has nine children to choose from?”
“Hey Bhagvan! I never though the two child policy would come back to haunt us,” lamented the man with eyeglasses as thick as a soda bottle.
“And Laloo has Nitish Kumar,” said the man in the wheelchair.
“And we have Rahul Gandhi,” said another leader, “when we need Arvind Kejriwal.”
“Gandhi was right, we should have dissolved the party when we had the chance,” said a man who had remained quite all along, “now Narendra Modi is doing it for us free of cost.”
