An Ex Chief Minister & Me

What do you suppose happens to former Chief Ministers of State who are no longer in the good graces of the government?

I’ll tell you. I have one living on the floor below mine.

Now this X was a CM of a large state in India. During her hey day, she minted money, got apartments as gifts every year, had a minstrelsy singing paeans in her honour, a huge gaggle of dour-looking security personnel…the works. I think I must add, all this was in Delhi, which was NOT where she ruled. Our parking lot was hogged by her various cars, the police protection truck(not van) was perpetually parked in the middle of the lane with the cops sitting on chairs, playing cards, passing comments and lewd looks each time a woman/girl passed by. All in all, they had a gala time. My door bell would constantly ring, sometimes at 11 PM, by those who assumed her flat extended up to the last floor, and, if they’d climbed an extra floor by mistake, they may as well ring the bell at the lone flat there and seek entry. Walking down the stairs (there’s no lift, you see) was a task, maneuvering past those hefty, smelly, guards. X was very particular about people leaving their shoes outside the house; so if you went bumbling down the steps coz you’d stepped over a dozen huge shoes in trying to get past, well, it was your headache.

A huge sense of relief came over all the neighbours when a Mr. Nice guy gifted her with a hi-fi flat in another place. Well, this was not meant to be. X was soon ousted from her position (she’d made some rather rebellious and unforgivable comments against the party seniors). Hell! She came back to live in our vicinity again. The scene hasn’t changed much, really, except for the missing police truck.

Sometimes, I pass her by as she walks with a black dog she has recently acquired (an astrologer told her to feed a black dog for good luck). Her 6 guards in navy blue safari suits walk at a distance behind her, giving each other looks as they shift the weight of their heavy rifles from one shoulder to another. Even the common tailor in a little garage shop nearby wonders why the ex-CM of ABC state is living like a queen in New Delhi. She is a nobody, has achieved absolutely nothing. Why should the common man have to pay for her expensive tastes? Why should her security personnel carry her lapdog around for her? Why should she be even provided with security? Nobody in the world wants to harm her- she’s so shunned & unwanted! Why should everyone stop their cars to let hers pass? What makes this 60 year old renovate her house every 6 months at the cost of public money?

As for me, I refuse to acknowledge her presence. If I chance upon her on the stairs, I look down at my toes and admire them till the stout woman with oily hair, clad in a petticoat and a kurta is safely out of my sight.

I don’t know what I can do at a social level; but at a personal one, I ensure she knows she cannot impact me in any way. No matter what she does to catch my attention(yes, this is what she has stooped to now to get a sense of control), I will not fan her ego with any kind of acknowledgment!

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