This is just something cute and kinda funny, the only reasons i wanted to share it.
Please :flower1: no one turn this into an opportunity to bash India; my thanks in advance.
Tea with Vajpayee, Geeta Pandey, BBC, 9 March 2003
Some came dressed in their everyday work clothes, while others turned up in their colourful silk saris and heavy gold ornaments. A mellow evening sun and a gentle breeze provided the perfect setting for the event hosted by the man many in Delhi are jocularly describing as India’s most important bachelor - Prime Minister Vajpayee.
Two years ago when the first such tea party was held, the guest list included senior women politicians, artistes, activists and a few select journalists. Mr Vajpayee’s aides say this time the party was restricted to only the media, so that they could invite reporters and sub-editors alongside the editors and the television presenters.
The contrast was there for all to see - the senior, wiser lot seemed a bit sceptical about what one political editor called a media circus, but the younger lot were just happy to be at the most famous address in Delhi, lapping up every word Mr Vajpayee spoke.
The PM began with a short formal address, appealing for peace in Iraq. He asked the journalists to put away their pen and paper for a day and invited them to enjoy the tea and snacks.
On offer were sumptuous kebabs and cheese rolls, fish finger and idlis, pastries and gulab-jamuns, and the conversation ranged from pet care to clothes and the problem of expanding waist-lines.
“So how does Mr Vajpayee feel surrounded by more than 500 women?” I asked one of his press advisers.
The answer was embarrassed laughter. I persisted and received the response: “He seems to be enjoying himself.”
More embarrassed laughter followed before the press adviser moved on.
But Mr Vajpayee did seem to be having fun. With Sushma Swaraj, his Minister for Parliamentary Affairs by his side, he appeared totally relaxed and smiled throughout the two hour long show. And as the invitees queued up in large numbers to be photographed with him, he obliged with patience, even intervening once or twice to ask his overzealous security men to take it easy.
I asked a former colleague from a newspaper if she found it odd that journalists were queuing up to be photographed with the prime minister. She agreed whole-heartedly. A few minutes later she too had joined the queue. One for the family album, she explained, rather sheepishly.
So am I the only one who came away without a picture with the prime minister? Maybe I’ll join the queue too, next year.
