I love Mahua Moitra

It is impossible to love politicians. I love Mahua Moitra just because I hate politicians. Mahua is not a politician; she is a flame. A wildfire, that’s what she is.

 A flame wearing windshield-like spectacles and an elegantly pleated sari has haunted many a hopeful day of mine. The flame grew into a conflagration that engulfed Hastinapura’s Central Vista and incinerated the phoney old men there who deluded millions of people with the charm of a thick-lipped, smooth-tongued, cockeyed, snow-haired pied piper.

That flame licked the Citizenship Amendment Act, Manipur violence, Hindenburg Report, and scorched the piper’s own Adani.

The male bastion of Hastinapura that would love to disrobe a trillion Draupadis, however elegantly pleated their saris be, trembled like a leaf caught in a storm, when Mahua Moitra rose to speak quite unlike a contemporary Bengali who is willing to sell Tagore’s Santiniketan to the new custodians of Bharatiya culture.

Who but Mahua Moitra would have the guts to tell Ranjan Gogoi on his first day in Rajya Sabha that he had desecrated the country’s judiciary which was sacred until he became the Chief Justice?

Mahua proved that the real Pappu of the nation was none other than the bragging man of the Mann ki Baat.

She raised questions that made the arbiter of Hastinapura uneasy. Questions like:

·      What is more unfortunate: the PM not going to traumatised Manipur or the PM not attending the parliament?

·      Why does the PM who cannot prove his educational qualification demand the starving millions of his country to produce birth certificates?

·      Will the PM’s party make Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh the guardian angel of India’s women? [Mr Singh had then been accused of molesting India’s female wrestlers. He continues to be an MP while Mahua Moitra is going to be disqualified!]

·      How many rapists will the pied piper’s gang garland when they are released from jail? [BJP garlanded the rapists of Bilkis Bano when BJP got them released from jail with the help of a BJP judiciary.]

Mahua Moitra,

You are one of the few politicians whom I love. I still love you though I don’t agree with what you did with the MP’s login id and password. I thought you were more intelligent. You are intelligent, I know. Far more than most Bharatiyans [isn’t that how we are supposed to call ourselves now?] including me. But you shouldn’t have trusted a guy like Darshan Hiranandani. A man with too many Gujarati neurons in his twisted nerves. My God!

Okay, maybe, you were trying to outsmart all those Gujaratis who are running Hastinapura now. But handing over the keys of your kingdom to a Gujarati was quite unlike a Bengali. And an intelligent Bengali like you. [I am purposefully sounding like a sectarian and you understand the importance of strategies in Kurukshetra.]

Maybe, you were inspired by the herbivorous God of Kurukshetra who killed an innocent elephant named Ashwathama and showed us ordinary mortals that there is nothing called dharma in the human world except in delectable credos like Sanatana Dharma.

Carry on fighting, dear Mahua. I wish I could do more than this raving for you. I know that you don’t need anything from a helpless Bharatiyan like me. It is people like me who need you there in Hastinapura’s Central Vista with your own Brahamastras.