The G-Spot

Great going, guys! Eureka! You have finally found it. That’s some feat, considering 99.5 per cent of the men in the world are not quite sure whether the G-Spot actually exists. Those who believe it does, don’t know where precisely it is. In India, at least, the suspense is over. Rahul Gandhi is our G-Spot. And thanks to canny spin doctors determined to turn the rather fuddy-duddy image of the Congress around, Rahul’s elegant entry into the murky world of desi politics is likely to sex up the elections in ways that might leave opponents gasping.
By the way, for those wondering what the G-Spot is, let’s just say it’s an interesting, if microscopic, part of a woman’s anatomy which is extremely hard to zero in on.The dexterous few (bless them!) who manage to hit it after a long and arduous search, deserve recognition of the highest kind. Once they say Bingo, there’s no looking back. It’s one long, exciting romp leading up to a climax that experts claim is unsurpassable in its intensity.
Guess it’s a good feeling to know that Rahul Gandhi has managed to reach inaccessible spots so effortlessly. It makes him a real hunk. An honest-to-goodness poster boy for contemporary politics. With so many great-looking hotties floating around, Rahul’s the Chosen One. Girls gush. Guys sigh. Rahul’s doing just great.
Driving back from the airport in New Delhi, my young and talkative escort asked me what I thought of Rahul. Before I could come up with a suitable answer, he decided to go solo. Said this marketing whiz from Chhattisgarh, ‘‘I am young, I am restless, I am impatient. I want to vote for someone my age, not my grandfather’s age. I am so glad Rahul Gandhi has filed his papers. I will vote for him.’’
Taken aback somewhat, I asked whether Rahul’s lack of experience didn’t bother him. No, said the young man, adding, we all have to start somewhere, and why not give these new kids on the block a fair chance? He had a point. A big one. But did youth alone suffice? What about experience? ‘‘My generation is in a hurry. We want change, and now,’’ he stated flatly. I was getting progressively ner-vous. Imagine handing over the country to Page 3, 30-somethings whose idea of India is just that — an idea.
A day later, I received a call from a Pune journalist who asked me in all seriousness to rate Rahul’s sex-appeal on a scale of 1 to 10. Do you think he’s cute, she asked. How cute? I turned to my daughter and repeated the question. We could have been discussing Enrique Iglesias or Vivek Oberoi. Well, Elections 2004 are beginning to sound more and more like a Bollywood blockbuster in the making. There are stars and superstars in the fray. And I’m not talking about the asli sitarey who’ve signed up to rock for the masses.
The current crop of pin-ups is culled from political khandaans. Rahul is royalty right now. He looks alarmingly like his father. And speaks a lot like him too. Getting her son to join the family business may turn out to be the smartest thing Sonia Gandhi’s ever done. I would even rate it higher than her decision to marry Rajiv. If only the wretched Bofors problem would go away.
Mumbai too is gearing up for the polls. While a few chi-chi building societies are grilling candidates over canapis and cocktails, others are going door-to-door checking whether the right names are on the right lists. The approach this time is more pro-active, less passive. What I miss are Ram Jethmalani’s hard hitting questions. It hardly matters that some of them didn’t make sense. It was important that they were raised.
Alas, the Jethma-lani zamana is over. The new slogans are more likely to be in the ‘Give it to me, baby’ mould. The political G-Spot has been aroused. So what next? The Big O? Why not? Anything is possible when you sleep with the enemy!