Parliamentarians! They have a life too!

Parliamentarians and politicians!

The moment I think of them, I feel they are these serious group of people all set to make a difference for their constituencies. Some by lying to people and some from their heart, but they are all humans at the end of the day.

I went to attend the South Asian Free Media Association (SAFMA) Parliamentary Forum in Shimla. Believe me, until I got to Delhi, I didn’t know why I was attending the conference. It was a mixture of everything; I was quite taken back by how confident people were at the conference.

And at the same time I was annoyed at how unreasonable people can be. But at the end of the conference everyone was just a human. It’s amazing how your impression on people change with time. Well, there are a few people I would like to mention in this blog.

These are people who kept the conference alive, people who made it to my bitch list, people who were amazingly beautiful, people who were a wacko and many more.

First is the Bhutanese delegation’s driver, Bablu. He was a darling, I didn’t see him get angry until a bus came and hit his car. He was always very quite and helpful and to thank him, we got him totally drunk on the last day of the conference, eventually making him blab out a lotta unnecessary stuff.

There was this really beautiful Pakistani parliamentarian, very confident and smart. She became my temporary role model; she was very reserved and had great class. Her beautiful face, good sense of dressing made her look perfect. How fortunate? She made it to the top list of my ‘bitch list.’ Jeez, this lady could talk nothing but nonsense. She had to butt into every issue, and man she could scream. She was even asked to leave the conference room; she left and even came back again.

Then there was George, the person who took care of the Bhutanese delegation. He liked to call himself George the good and not George Bush. He kept doing weird stuff to the way he walks. He surely mistook boxing for dancing, it seemed like he saw his punching back in his dancing partner. He was a good dancing George with marvelous boxing moves.

And then we had our very own PDP politician who made the Bhutanese delegation proud with his excellent speech. The whole room was in awe with what he spoke about.

Then this Indian guy comes and asks him to give him a copy of his speech and like a true politician, he turns to me and says, “Didn’t you give him a copy of my speech?” And I like a true journalist turn to the guy and said, “You didn’t come to ask it from me.” A lie over a lie, but a good and a quick one and maybe one day I might become a good politician too. I know wishful thinking.

I cannot forget to mention a Politician from Pakistan, he joined us to dance and he grabbed my hands and started doing a good knows what weird dance step. He just won’t let me dance with the others, annoying, sleazy and an old hag was the impression he made on me. He was in his late 60’s and I thought, maybe if I really tossed and turned him around on the dance floor, he will probably get tired and leave. So I held his hands and started moving it as fast as I could. Damn, the old man had stamina, he just won’t get tired, and infact he started moving as fast as I could.

And then there was this Bangladeshi Minister, who would keep calling me Shuki. We hardly exchanged words in between each other, but every time he will see me, he will come up to me and say “Shuki, Shuki, Shuki, Shuki.”

Another Bangladeshi Parliamentarian told me that he has a son, a little younger to me studying in Scholastica and even showed me a picture. Man his son was hot; I gave him the nick name, “hot son’s dadola.” But later he became Mr. Sleepy after we spotted him dozing off at the conference.

Then towards the end of the conference I saw this really good looking Afghanistani parliamentarian. He had the most beautiful eyes; everything about him was so perfect. I kept leaching at him and even wanted my return tickets to Afghanistan and not to Bhutan. He was even older to my dad, but he was good looking, was so dignified, so intelligent.

Sigh, I wanted to adopt him as my second father and bring him to Bhutan. Ironically, he didn’t speak English at all and I don’t speak Afghanistani and my Hindi is so bad I might just say the wrong thing to him.