What happens when the supposed docile of our nation's politicos decide to communicate with one another? Here's a fictional account ... Inside a room in the corridors of power of Karnataka... He looked at his reflection on the mirror; that trademark smile of his could not be brought back even with a great deal of effort, and seemed at best only a smirk. During his heyday, it was said that this smile was his lucky charm – which too seemed to have now deserted him. He sighed, ruminated briefly before deciding how to react. He reached for a pen and paper for possibly his last letter, a suicide note. Unsurprisingly, he did not have to hesitate over whom to address it to, Mr Y would do. “Must get to the point straightaway,” he thought as he wrote: “I may be referred to as the smiley CM, but the number of times I have cried in private because of you may easily outstrip your public shedding of tears.” He examined the sentence feeling satisfied that it may set the right dramati...
Here's how I make sense of my thoughts... well, at least pretend to