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a war in its short independent history? Isn’t that a Capital decision with emotive element and tactical content attached to it? Wasn’t India at a warlike situation with Pakistan in the wake of the terrorist attack on its parliament on 13th December 2001? Would have a foreign origin Prime Minister served India’s interests judiciously? Why, wasn’t the overwhelming public opinion to take the plunge; what if Sonia Gandhi on the gaddi went with the popular mood for fear of being perceived as unpatriotic for inaction? If attacking a hostile country seems to serve the long-term Indian national interests, can a foreign origin Premier, unsure about the outcome of the adventure, have the nerve to act? Didn’t Lal Bahadur Shastri, even as Pakistan crossed the Line of Control in Kashmir in 1965 war, order the Indian troops to breach the International border near Lahore, which none thought India ever would; and what fuss the Great Britain and other Western powers made of that Indian strategic military move?

Nevertheless, her ‘destiny of power’ overpowered the will of the nation as she ruled the nation through her proxy, Manmohan Singh, whom many derisively call ‘Servile Singh’. Well the caste factor of the Hindu franchise, the communal color of the Musalman vote and the political compulsions of the regional parties played their part in putting the wheels of the democratic omnibus of India into her backseat driving hands. Thus acquiesced by the colluding partners to share the spoils of power, she as if to validate William Congreve’s “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned” made Bharat Māta pay the price for that ‘indigestible’ political slight by her Hindu offspring.

Oh, how she had wrecked her vengeance on the motherland of the Hindus by taking its political morality to new lows by corrupting everyone and everything in her sight that is whatever her mother-in-law left uncorrupted in India’s systemic vitals, needless to say by looting its wealth in the process, like the invading Musalmans and the colonizing Englishmen did before. Not the one to rest at that, the depraved woman set out to stigmatize the pristine soul of sanātana dharma with a fake saffron terror label, aided by the Hindu hirelings in Servile Singh’s cabinet of her underlings, of course, with the connivance of the obliging bureaucrats and others in India’s corrupted administrative structure. That some Musalmans were arraigned as suspects in the then ongoing investigation of Samjhauta and Malegaon bomb blasts - Pakistan’s LeT cadres in case of the former and SIMI’s Indian operatives in case of the latter - seemed as an opportunity to her conspiratorial mind to kill two birds with one shot – free the Musalmans to win the goodwill of the Congress vote-bank and implicate the Sangh Parivar outfits to invent Hindu saffron terror - as an equivocation to the raging Islamic terror that’s bugging the umma.

Why Rahul Gandhi, Sonia’s below-par brat, even told the American Ambassador in Dilli that he sees the Hindu saffron terror as far more dangerous than the Islamic terror! Well, Some Abrhamic soft corner here for the brat was indeed christened Raul Vinci but assumes the Hindu name of Rahul for political dividend in the Hindu India. But then, the thus far indifferent Hindus have at last woken up to the reality of the anti-Hindu credo of the Italian family that usurped their grand old party, and that’s the check ‘n mate. It is another matter though that in due course the fabricated cases against the ‘fixed’ Hindus fell apart in the court halls and with that the bogie of the saffron terror too was buried, seemingly for all time to come.

However, in the next round, it was Manmohan Sing’s ‘clean image’ (the skeletons in his cabinet were yet to tumble out) that fetched the Congress alone 206 seats, enabling her to continue her rākshas regime for five more years, at the end of which though the Nehru-Gandhis had lost their invincible sheen and the Congress its pan-Indian winning ways. Besides, what with the coming of age of the educated voters from the forward castes, they began to abhor its dynastic odour, and so the Congress started losing its electoral grip on the Indian political stage.

Nonetheless, nothing exemplifies Sonia’s overconfidence in her and her dynasty’s infallibility in the Indian political power play than her illegal transfer of the astounding assets of Nehru’s defunct National Herald newspaper to self and son ‘on record’ that eventually became her Achilles’ heel to entangle them both in the legal tangle, though enlarged on bail. All the same, given the inexorably slow but unerringly just Indian legal mechanism, the writing on the wall for the ma-beta duo is seemingly clear. As and when the moment of reckoning arrives, it would be interesting to see whether the enervated congressmen would be able to look beyond her daughter Priyanka, whom they liken to her grandmother Indira, for someone to take on the reins on their downhill party.

However, what with Advani’s BJP too losing some of its own nationalistic sheen in the Manmohan’s economic aura, the ‘Hindu Rebound’ all but seemed a ‘political thud’ that was before the coming of age of Narendra Modi, the ‘action man’ from Gujarat, the land of Sardar Patel the ‘iron man’ just in time to take up its cudgels in the 2014 parliamentary contest. Unlike Mahatma Gandhi, his fellow Gujarati, whose ‘inclusive ideology’ degenerated into the Indian political expedient of Muslim appeasement, Modi’s redefinition of ‘secular ideology’ as ‘India first’ has greatly appealed to the nationalist ethos of the Hindu middle-class. But then, the fate of the Indian politics is but the votes of its masses, and by positioning himself as one of them with his chāiwāla boyhood, he could successfully woo them.

What is more, with his formidable oratorical skills embellished with an inimitable rhetoric, he managed to foment public aversion against Sonia for her proxy regime’s ‘grafty’ ways, which by then became the talk of the town; in short, it appeared that in an electrifying campaign, he seemingly captured the Indian nation’s imagination. Nevertheless, he had to contend with the undying hostility of the umma towards him, courtesy the falsity of 2002 Gujarat riots legacy sans Godhra prefix, and an unedifying allergy of Lutyens’ media that saw in his potential rise its inevitable fall in the corridors of power. Even as his sab ka sāth, sab ka vikās, [(I’m) one with all, to further all,] fell on the deaf ears of the jaundiced umma, the inimical media pitched its Modi misgivings to feverish pitch in its idiot boxes. So, all his admirers, moreso his detractors, kept their fingers crossed as the ballots were being tallied on that fateful 16 May 2014, and by the end of the day, as he scored 282 on his own steam, one more than VVS Laxman’s celebrated cricket score against Australia thirteen years before, India seemed to have turned a new bend. As with Laxman, so with Modi, it was a case of making history.

Yet there was a flip side to that momentous election. Sonia, who was obsessed to see her son ensconced in 7, Race Course Road, in short 7 RCR, the official residence of India’s Prime Minister (rechristened by Modi as 7, Look Kalyan Marg) and thought that the moment was finally at hand, was at a loss at the magnitude of her party’s defeat - 44 seats, down from 206. In the televised press meet to ‘accept people’s verdict’, while she looked crestfallen and her daughter Priyanka appeared gloomy, the real ‘loser’ Rahul seemed unconcerned. But still, even as he took the mike after his mother has done with it, she not only peremptorily stopped him from speaking but also pulled him by his hand signaling their exit. While the entire nation saw the mawkish 44 year-old meekly submitting to his haughty mother, none, as Sherlock Holmes would have put it, had ‘observed’ the abnormality of his personality.

It may be appreciated that when Sonia lost her man to Dhanu the suicide bomber, she was barely 44, her son was nearing 22, and her daughter crossed 19. What with her own flock back in Italy and not a friend to name in her in-law’s family, not to speak of detractors aplenty and leeches no less, in an alien country, where her political ambition made her stay put, she had to fend for herself and her children. So, as any widow would do in such a situation, she too succumbed to the urge of clinging to her son, at once providing support to him, and getting it in return from him, in the psychological sense that is. While that naturally made him a mama’s boy that his genes or fate and / or both rendered half-witted, only made it worse for him in his growing up. But that’s not all as there’s more to his apparent ‘personality disorder’.

While his mother’s faith ensured that he was christened as Raul Vinci and privately reared as a Christian, his grandmother’s political compulsions labeled him as Rahul Gandhi. No denying the craven media was overindulgent to the family in not exposing this cynical reality to this day – in contrast with western media’s penchant to turn every Hindu fault line into an anti-Christian chasm - but it would be beyond any kid, least of all a dim-witted one like him, to change his religious cap to a political titfer and vice versa, at the drop of a hat, that too for years on, without disturbing his head. Surely, that did affect as is evident from his confused (Raul–Rahul) thought-process that runs on a course of contradictions - his words tend to be incoherent and his acts would be seemingly disjointed. Added to that is his confused demeanour, awkward behaviour and intelligible expression, and that leads to the supposition that Sonia willy-nilly enabled her unfortunate son to imbibe Dr. Dud ‘n Mr. Fraud split personality.

Added to his psychic dichotomy was the inimical influence of his mom’s moral turpitude, first brought to light by Bofors Kickbacks, and his exposure to the assorted skeletons in the family cupboard. It’s thus; his grow up afflicted his mental makeup and stunted his personality development; and so, in whatever he does or does not; his ‘personality disorder’ manifests itself in all its awkwardness, earning him derisive sobriquets such as Pappu ‘n Buddhu. If anything, his vain attempts to portray himself as a janeudhāri Hindu to varnish his and his party’s, anti-Hindu image for political marketing, made him seem a buffoon to boot.

Thus, on the Hindu political ground, slowly but surely, the Congress party that began catering to the Islamic whims of the Indian umma in the guise of secularism had started losing its electoral hold. Meanwhile, the backward classes with a pie in every sphere of the national activity began foraying into the nationalistic political arena owned by BJP; though their elders habitually defaced the Congress symbol on their now defunct ballot papers, some irony in that.

While it was Annie Besant, the English woman, who helped the Congress form, Antonio Maino, the Dame de Italian, could cause its eventual liquidation. If not the maturity of the Indian electorate, at least the public allergy for the Congress’ insensitivity to the national ethos that she infused into her party apparatus could ensure that, and as and when that happens, it could be one of the many ironies of the chequered history of Hindustan. And for her part, even though Sonia has been unwittingly carrying on her man’s ‘work in progress’ of making the congress coffin for years, but yet, seemingly, it is their uninspiring son, who is probably destined to finish the job and put the final nail in it as well.

Let it be, but what about the man, who had unashamedly served Sonia’s devilish cause as her proxy premier for a decade?

In his belated address to the nation, as its Prime Minister, while dealing with the populist measures ushered in by

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