After some serious thinking, I have decided I want to join politics. This was after I received the SMS, ‘Vote and Support brother Mohan, your young and dynamic leader’ sharp at 2:00 pm as I do, everyday for the last 30 days. Now, brother Mohan does not realize that I will not vote for him just because he sends me an SMS everyday. The other reason, I want to clarify is that he is not being entirely truthful: he is not exactly “young”, as he claims.

But, then, who is ‘young’ as per Definitions in the Book of Indian Politics? Priyanka Gandhi recently brought to our notice, the skewed definitions of ‘young’ and ‘child’. And, then it struck me: that’s where I should be!

Let me explain : I work in a place where a lot of employees are young. In fact, on my entire floor, only about two people are older than me. That makes me old. And feel older. Especially since the young people strut around with a mission to make us feel much older than what we are. How? Because, the above-mentioned young people are not only young (%#$#@) but also trendy (repeat: %#$#@). They wear good-fitting, stylish clothes and gel their hair.

Now, there was a time when I was young too. But in those days, there were no good-fitting, stylish clothes. People like my sister, who were enterprising would collect patterns from Stardust (‘Hey, look at those cool pedal pushers Padmini Kolhapuri is wearing!’), but cloth (latest materials called ‘disco’ cloth, among others) and convince Hari tailor that he could stitch those. Now, Hari tailor, like brother Mohan, was not too bright. So, finally, we wore those pedal pushers for bedtime, finally, but that is another story.

I wish there was what I call ‘China-zation’ of clothes when I was young. That we could also sport, errrr, Tomy Hilfager, and Versachi with panache.

The point is that it does not feel nice to not be “young”, because the context dictates so. If Rahul Gandhi wants to trade places with me, I would like to make an offer. He can come here and enjoy being “old” while I go there and be “young”.

Another reason I want to join politics is those processions! Imagine being in an open truck, garlanded, and being able to wave at the crowds. Now crowds can be divided into two kinds : one who hang out in the balconies, hiding behind potted plants and laughing as I wave (yes, Sudha, brother Mohan saw you do that) and 2nd, those naive ones that throng on the streets to have a glimpse of me, though they are not too sure themselves why. “Why” is not such a popular question in India, I guess. So, those are the kind of folks I’d want. (And Sudha, I will have snipers in my open truck, aiming at balconies.)

Since I cannot aim for other processions at this stage of life and incompetence: like the return from Olympics/Oscar procession or Ms Universe coming home, this seems like my only hope.

So, I need a campaign manager. He/She should be young, trendy, and wear Tomy Hilfager. Amith, you can apply.
OK time to go now – the other two old folks on the floor may be feeling lonely…