E-Paper
Daddy?s girl
Selja?s father?s untimely death led to her inheriting his political legacy, something she was neither prepared nor trained for.
You could call it an Electra complex of sorts. Kumari Selja, now Union minister, has not married because there is “none like Dad”. Men like her father -- “so..o..o.. caring, so..o..o.. good, so..o…o perfect” -- don’t exist, she says. And even though she feels it is too late in the day to settle down, Selja is waiting for the right guy to come along.
And till that happens, she is content with her inner circle of girl friends. Theirs is a group of five single women who, if Selja is to be believed, are doomed to what she calls “spinsterhood”, a term she despises. Waiting to lay her hands on the astrologer who had told her mother that post-1963, marriage would be on the cards, Selja and gang continue having a great time watching “light, happy, love films”. And in these, the men need not be like Dad; lesser mortals like Hrithik Roshan, Shah Rukh Khan and Salman Khan will do.
The only time she actually “saw a boy” was when her mother arranged the meeting. She agreed to go out with him but rejected him even before coffee could be ordered. At the outset, he had asked her if she cooked. An enraged Selja shot back: “No, do you?” And walked out. Dad would have never…, she consoled herself, Dad who had groomed her for things other than the culinary art.
Selja’s father’s untimely death led to her inheriting his political legacy, something she was neither prepared nor trained for. Consequently, when she found herself being pushed on to a stage to address brick-kiln workers, the only words that came to her mind were: Vote for Congress.
Selja’s political debut not only led to an image overhaul but also an attire change: she had to tuck away her favourite jeans and slim-fit skirts for khadi salwar kameez, specially tailored in one single night. “A tailor had to be summoned to finish several pairs in less than 24 hours,” Selja recalls. The number, of course, fell terribly short of the meetings she was required to attend. So, while days went in public rallies, nights were spent washing and ironing clothes. To this, she added her own style by throwing on a cotton fabric as a substitute to the traditional duppatta.
While non-Dad like men would perhaps like to pop the question, fear stalks them since Selja’s no-nonsense reputation precedes her. “I am the touch-me-not type,” she says. The only time a guy dared walk up to her was to ask her how she managed to keep her balance with high heels. Before she could send him reeling, he sped off in his motorbike. On one occasion, when a colleague tried to “act fresh” with her, Selja publicly chided him in true filmi style. Another time, when a senior Congressman spotted her in jeans, she hid behind a pillar, lest he died of shock. Saris were never Selja’s scene because she would invariably trip. The one time she wore it was nothing short of a nightmare. Wish to woo her? Don’t mention saris or cooking. Talk about having fun and she is game. Praise Dad and she will die for you.
