Bapu Smile and 'Our' PM's Sytle

THE man in uniform with tantalizing automatic gun was yelling at me. A few moments back, I was in heaven, listening to Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven and now in hell. I removed my headphone and heard only some blabbering. When his tremendous tone calmed down, I understood him and through his big black moustache, he was asking me to stop there immediately, because the Prime Minister was passing by. Smile is a rare thing, so I faked a smile and asked the wobbly moustache, which Prime Minister? He had a surprise tone, 'ours'. I hanged the same fake smile on my face and spoke with a child voice, 'and look, all the bad guys in facebook say, he's extinct in our country!' Now the moustache was unmoved, probably fathoming my unsavory words before raising the tempting gun and shoot me. It was a nice morning, sky was cloudy, rain was expected and a cool breeze was caressing my hair. It was a wrong day to die, so I moved away from the glaring eyes of moustache to a small crowd of office goers waiting impatiently under a tree and concentrated on empty Raisina Road, anticipating a stout man with white beard, called Prime Minister, sitting comfortably (or, I don’t know) in a black BMW.

The road was empty, even the sky was devoid of regular eagles (don't know how they do that!); only an endangered species called Delhi Police was abundant. May be this place was their natural habitat, and we searched them all these days in wrong places! They were all lined up, as if a firing squad. The healthy ones were in front, pot-bellied ones invisible. And then after a few boring minutes, the first car came through out of nowhere. I was alerted, the show was about to start with grandeur. But my zeal was short lived, as the car was just for an inspection for endangered species. Delhi Police became stricter, looked us with ferocious glances, and the crowd became chattier. One guy with a cap behind me lamented for losing 15 precious minutes and a middle aged lady having a usual grudge against world on her face, regretted voting for this. Everybody was having their own opinions, and I again started to enjoy the blasphemous topic, and then everybody stopped. There was a long sharp siren, Delhi Police became still as statues with automatic guns, police cars cordoned off the whole place, pale green trees didn't move their leaves and did protect mischievous birds from the wrath of policemen, old water fountains of Vijay Chowk visibly were scared with their rhythmic tear flows, a sudden tranquility coated the whole place and we delightfully saw a large convoy of innumerous black SUVs moving confidently with speed like a majestic snake. 

In the background, the grandiose cream colored secretariat buildings and the extravaganza in the name of security took me instantly to old colonial days; I could see a moving Viceroy, at the cost of his pitiable subjects and taxpayer's money. I could sense the helplessness and subsequent anger of fellow Indians, who later were termed as freedom fighters and were exiled on wall. I could see a smile on Bapuji's face, like in a 1000 bucks note and when I was offended by his sarcastic smile against our beloved Prime Minister, I could see him wrapping his cheap cloth around his slender bare chest and slowly walking away with his stick having the same smile. Oh boy! Even he was afraid of our 'lion chest' leader!

I felt a pat from backside on my shoulder. I hoped it Bapu again, but it was a co-waiter. The barricade was gone. 'Our' Prime Minister successfully and safely reached to his office. The Delhi Police again were relaxed. They were meant for this, to protect VIPs and we hoped otherwise. The air started to breeze, the fountains looked joyous and trees were greener with chirping birds. I started walking towards office, the majestic building made by Becker. But before I put my headphone back, a blasphemous question popped up, 'if our supreme leader himself is so scared of his life and is so unsecured, then why for hell we had elected him, and why even Bapu was afraid of him?'

Confused, I looked at the moving crowd and I saw fellow Indians walking slowly with a 'Bapu' smile.