Amit Shankar's Blog, page 4

Cafe Latte- Agra Launch, 19th August, 2014

Cafe Latte in the hands of readers.

Cafe Latte Communication-1

Cafe Latte Cover; finally they are here

Some Coffee?

Rape has become a menace. I won’t get into the social aspect of it, discussing how as a society, we are to be blamed for the same. It would be a long drawn argument. But for sure, I would like to deplore the government and the lawmakers for being in two minds over capital punishment for the rapists. Imagine social organizations pleading the case of ‘being a minor therefore can’t be hanged’ and we as a nation wasting our time entertaining these preposterous  urgings. What if one of the females belonging to the lawmaker or one of the top politicians was subjected to the same torture? Would the law or the stand still be the same? Why we have become so reactive? Why do we let another Nirbhaya case happen? And the sad part is the discrimination between the “Delhi Nirbhaya’ versus the UP one. No protest, no candle marches, nothing. Just a small news item. What is required for such protests? India Gate, cameras, media bytes or just the drive, that urge to set things right? Also, I would like to why does the media have to go to Naresh Agarwal well knowing what kind of social trash he is? Only for spicy byte to pump up the TRP?
What is wrong with us, the men folks? Have we lost our bearing? Have we lost the sense of being a man? Somewhere down the line, our parents failed to teach us that being a male was just an act of destiny, being a man should be the preferred choice and being a gentleman, for sure, a way of life. Look around you. In malls, restaurants, pubs, buses, trains, subways, roads, offices. Every place is infested with ‘male.’ (Please read male with M in upper case) Are ‘men’ becoming extinct? Ah, the gentlemen faded long back with frock coats and hats. 
Today, we desperately need more men, not males. Instead of having classes imparting futile sex education I guess we should be teaching boys how to become men rather than male. A man who is caring, considerate, kind, always places women before him, pulls up a chair for her, opens the door, protects her, pays the bill, drops her home, all this and more without letting the ‘male’ in him take over.
Phew, too much of cerebral activity. No wonder, I’m feeling exhausted. Well, now coming to my favorite topic; Narendra Modi. Don’t smile; you know how I’m in love with him. But the love is losing its sheen, though only a wee bit. It is not about him but his cronies, who are hell bent on tarnishing his image. From Vaidik to that illiterate, big-mouthed, Giriraj. I know it is not possible for Modi to control ever wagging tongue and tail. BJP is a big party. There would be some lose canons. But the problem is we voted for Modi, not for BJP. Therefore, we take every shortcoming of the party as his own.  
During the election campaign, we got so involved with him, that like foolish lovers we wrongly assumed that he would come and cleanse the rot of decades in a day.  Too tall a claim for anyone; Modi included. Modi, we still love you but please don’t test our patience. A disappointed and heart broken lover could get real nasty.
Yes, before I forget, my fourth title, Café Latte is all set for release. The teasers were on social media for the past week or so.  The response to has been good. Revealed the name of the title today itself. Advance reviews have already come in and I am feeling good. Wait; let me celebrate with another coffee. Yes, I’m back with the product of Java beans. Strong and aromatic.  Coming back to Cafe Latte, will be revealing the cover and the pre-order link in a day or two. This time for the pre-order, have tied up with a portal named www.uread.comI have been told and assured of very high service standards. Hope you wont be disappointed either.
In all probability, looking for a five city launch.  The high point? Of course me! Hahaha. Jokes apart, it will be the book. Eighteen unusual stories. I can bet my last dollar on them. You would not have read anything more powerful, hard hitting and engrossing than these.
This one is full of novelty factors. For the first time, I have included short stories of two super talented kids; Kartikey Sharma and Vasundhara Goel. I met them while conducting a writing workshop. It will be their first commercial launch. Kiddos, hope we are not sharing the royalty. Lol. All the best to you, Kartikey and Vasundhara. Secondly, this is the first time when a book is being launched with a film based on of its story. Yes, 24 Down Express; a story from Café Latte has been adapted into a short film. The curtain raiser will happen soon. The film has been directed by… kahani abhi baki hai mere dost. Wait, watch and see.

I seek your good wishes, support and love. Bless me, Café Latte, Modi, this country and even Rahul Baba and his Mata ji. 

The UNUSUAL is on its way!

Observations

What is a book club? Well, a club, which has people who if not crazy about reading are at least fond of it.  Sigh… As the writers produce more and more pulp fiction; please read crap, the quality of readers have also taken a dip. And I don’t blame them. Why should any sensible reader, who is fond of reading for the craft of writing, the art of story telling, waste his/her time flipping through the  pages of some moronic IIM romance, or some badly written college routine?  However, as reading is in vogue, so is the title of being an author, more and more people are writing and to match the supply, more and more people are reading too.

No wonder, this shift reflects in the composition of book clubs too.They can be clearly divided into three categories. The REAL Book ClubThe BORED HOUSEWIFE Book ClubThe ULTERIOR Motive Book Club.
The REAL Book Clubs are fast becoming extinct. But you can still find them tucked away in the lanes or the bunglows of cities like Kolkatta, Pune and Bangalore. Here, the average age of a member would be fifty five years. A word of caution for young wannabe authors: Don’t you dare enter these literate ghettos. You will be mincemeat in no time. From classics to the neo-classics, the members would have read, debated and dissected them all.  What is a classic? No, no, it is not the best-seller on Flipkart  or Amazon. How should I describe them to you? Mmmm, okay, for your benefit, they are the titles, which are thick, and which you could not read after the first five pages as neither the language nor the plot could be comprehended by you. Yes, War and Peace is a classic, so is Wuthering Heights. These clubs have their weekly or monthly meetings at either one of the city’s oldest club or in the sprawling living room of one of the members. Aristocratic, old world charm and still very much in love with literature.
The BORED HOUSEWIFE Book Clubs are typically found in metros and mini-metros. In most of the cases, they are spearheaded by a woman with the sole purpose of getting away from the ‘kitty’ tag, trying to engage in something more cerebral in nature.  This is the place where you will find the glitterati and the page three crowd. Diamonds, recent foreign trips, the Prada and the Guccis of the world occupy a large part of the evening. Typically the meets are held over wine and cheese and in Delhi, over tikkas and kebabs. These are the clubs where for sure the classics adorn the expensive oak bookshelves; but for their snob value, not for reading pleasure. Though Kafka, Marquez, Coelho are the in thing, but the route to nirvana is through the banal, pedestrian narration of some wannabe author. Mind you, this author has to be good looking, cute and hot too.
The last one is worst of the lot. Mostly formed by some enterprising soul, it thrives on numbers.  Found mostly in Delhi and Mumbai, these are all out a facade to run commercial activity. “Our club has got 5,000 members,” could be their opening statement. What, 5,000 members in a book club? Dude, are you sure it’s not a cricket club? These clubs are largely interested in holding events, launches and other commercial activity. In most of the cases, the founder members are into events or other commercial activity in and around the publishing vertical. They get into arrangements with authors; to host them, release their book, and ensure it generates big bytes.  Of course, every service has a price tag. There are no free lunches dahling!
Phew! I have been to all of them. Each of them come with a distinct flavor; either to do with books and reading or else…come on, don’t be so mean. The tikkas could be good too.

Today, for some reason, I am inspired to write. Poor you, I know you will have to read.  Someone asked me the other day that being an author how can I run them down. Me, an author? You got to be kidding. If Salman Rushdie is an author then I cant be one and if I am an author, then for sure he can’t be one. Author is a big tag, which now people have started wearing freely. Read the posts of some of the authors. “My book is available in Flipkart.” “I am so proud with the fact that my title is at the number third on Amazon.” Believe me, I am not kidding.
This brings me to another hilarious facet—invites. I know I come from an old school of thought where inviting someone meant serious business. My late Grand father and then my father rarely had dinner alone.  Even being a routine affair, every single guest, was invited with utmost respect. From serving the most amazing Mughlai Pranthas to Chicken Mussalam to die for or even the Paan in Chandi ka wark, everything had great amount of care and respect for the guest. Invite for bigger events meant going over to their place, handing over the invite, then following up the same over the phone etc. Not because there was more time but inviting someone meant offering him/her all their respect. However, today, courtesy FB, you have to open your friend list and just do ‘select all. And the comedy starts. Congratulatory messages start pouring in, and then the thread gets bigger. People who throw these invites need to be a little sensitive and show a little more compassion in inviting over guests. I also understand that they laundry list of invite is done to generate crowd at the event, to show how rocking you are to generate such a big crowd. But then, I m sure even if this is your motto in life, sensitivity and sensibility should be taken care of.

Today I got one such invite. To this one and all others, which I have received in the past or which I would hit my inbox in the future; You moron, I am not interested in being part of a crowd, singing your praise. I know you are low on self esteem and self respect, I am not. If you really want to have me over, show some respect, so that I could reciprocate the same by being a part of your event. If you think you are too big or busy, go and get yourself fucked.

My New ABC - Part 2

Good morning. I slept like a log. The moment I got up, the first thing that hit me  that yesterday I forgot to mention the rapid fire round, conducted by Dr. Sarika. (How come all the doctors I met at ABC were so pretty? Delhi hospitals, get some from Agra. Please.) This was supposed to be the last planned activity for the day. With no one in race, for sure I won the hamper. (Dr. Sarika, the pethas are nice. And I loved your questions. They were smart and witty. Thank you.)
The Rapid Fire Round was followed by numerous rounds of signing the copies, my hand-writing getting from bad to worst, clicking of pictures, cake cutting ceremony to celebrate the birthday of Dr. Vashini and Ansha, another round of interview with the press. Was it over, i asked myself?  But remember I had a Doctor as a host?
“We have to be at Nidhi’s place for dinner. Be ready I will pick you at 8.30.” Her sweet voice passed the verdict.“But it is already 8.15” I pleaded, “and I am not hungry too.”“You can come along and not eat anything.” Game. Set. MatchArgggggggghEven in my Batman tee, I felt like an Ass man—the hard working one. Ok Doc, I will come but I wont eat, I promised myself.
As the wooden gate to Nidhi’s house opened, I was transported back to my roots; my ancestral place. High ceiling and rounded columns, huge arches, an air of serenity and warmth in every corner, every gesture; even in thoughts. Her in-laws were gracious enough to join us. The beautifully manicured lawn was perfectly set for the evening. Viaksh; Nidhi’s spouse, was the perfect host with his perfect, genuine American accent. American accent in Agra? Later, I discovered that a large part of his early years were spent in the US of A. Interesting.
We were joined by two more couples; Sunny-Bobby and Sumita-Aushutosh.  (Apologies if I got your spelling wrong buddy) Of course Dr. Shivani was there, in her very chic, white evening dress.
Well, that reminds me, since noon, I was very upset about something. Right from the moment I entered the hotel lobby, wearing my Adidas pajama and Iron man tee to this scene where I was in jeans and Batman tee, had I been underdressed or were the others overdressed? Every single woman made me feel a little more awkward than before as she was so perfectly decked for the moment. Agra women, I love your sense of style. Keep dazzling more and more.
See, you give me any width and off I go on some other tangent. Lol. Ok, coming back to the evening. Amongst a wide array of snacks, Nidhi also served us some veg kebabs. Mother, please forgive me but they were better than the one you make. I mean it. For all these years I kept on thinking that my Maa could made the best veg kebabs. But a bite into the perfect consistency and flavor of the ones served there had me floored. Ok, so what if it meant breaking my earlier resolve of not eating anything. I hogged at least a dozen of them. Senior Mr. Lall, like any refined gentleman was dressed in a royal blue kurta and white pajama, senior Mrs. Lall looked pretty in her traditional suit and Nidhi, pretty tired (please read pretty and tired) in her green outfit.
The dinner table had an assortment of veg delicacies. Alloo Dum to baked vegetable, Daal makhani to …well, why was I even checking the bowls. I was not supposed to eat anything, as I was not hungry. Right?
“Please try the Bhindi.” Nidhi insisted. After feasting on the Veg KebabsI took her recommendation seriously. And I’m so glad that I did.  Cooked in curd, the Bhindi was a delightful culinary experience.
Please, Agra and its residents let me go now. I can’t take all this love and attention any more. Pleaseeeee.
“Hey you ought to try this.” Said Bobby. A pretty, petite lady who somehow had managed to keep her BMR all pumped up. (Bobby, can I have the secret please?)She deftly sliced a large  piece off the glorious vanilla cake. (Was it vanilla, Bobby?) Fuck the resolve part, if someone as thin as Bobby was having it, for sure it ought to be low on calories and healthy. I provided my mind some solid logic to chew on while I sank into the bliss of cream, butter and the real cake. It was undoubtedly the best cake I ever had. Thank you Bobby.
Thank you Senior Lalls, Vikash and Nidhi for an exceptional evening and for being the perfect hosts. You guys truly took me back to the old world charm of UP. Thank you once again.
Phew. Finally I was heading towards my hotel where I would enjoy my solitude, I assumed. But then assumptions are fatal. Agra still had to offer me more. As Sumita-Aushutosh dropped me I casually asked if by any chance my room was ‘no smoking’ one as I wanted a little nicotine in my system. The day had been long, too many people, too much care and love, too many emotions. I was entitled to a smoke.“Well, it is.” Aushutosh, the GM of ITC told me.Damn, I can’t even have a smoke.“Come over to our place. Let us have a drink while you can have your smoke too.”
A beautiful house, a quaint garden, single malt and of course a smoke. The conversation steered towards Agra, UP and the country. It flowed well. Thank you Sumita-Aushutosh for your kind gesture. As promised, we will get together whenever you are in town.
I could not sleep the entire night. Trying to decipher the warmth, the love, those little gestures, that enthusiasm. My mind could not offer me any logical explanation. Was this the same city, which left me in total disgust the last time I was here? Was it the same city, which during the last few hours had me humbled, overwhelmed and taught me a new lesson on love, compassion, care and hospitality?
As I sit here today, writing this blog, I would like to put it on record that ABC has floored me with its intelligence, executional élan and quality. It would not be any exaggeration on my part to rate ABC as one of the best book clubs in the country. I am in awe of every single member who read and dissected every single word.  Thank you for sparring time. Please keep grilling me more so that I can write better.
Shajahan or whosoever made the Taj, you are a loser, dude. What you could not achieve after spending a fortune, years, lives and limbs, was done so effortlessly by the ABC. Travellers who come visiting the Taj, I feel sorry for you too. Wish if you could meet the ABC members and experience their hospitality, wit and compassion. I am sure they will make you realize that impression of human warmth is far more lasting than that of cold marble. Ministry of tourism and the Government of UP , invest in people and see how your revenue shoots up at least five folds.
Kahani ki seekh baaki hai mere dost.
1.     Never judge a city by its landmarks or monuments. A city is made of up people. It is the people who make or break it. If you have to ascertain the character of a city, the warmth it exudes, meet its residents.2.     Be open to people and opportunities. The moment you don’t expect, life flips you over and surprises you.3.     And do visit places, people who make you feel nice, who inspire you and who goad you to the next level.P.S1.     Invite me whenever, wherever I will be there.2.     So inspired I am that I have set my fourth book in Agra. I mean it. You will find mention of ABC in the book too.
Thank you Reshma for recommending ABC to me and thank you Dr. Shivani for everything.

My New ABC

Taj—the global icon of love, pride of India and the adjectives would continue as the slithering, giant Anaconda. For some reason, I could never fancy the Taj or the romance associated with it. But then, ‘phoren settled’ sis in law’s insistence left me with no other choice but to take her family to the Taj. This would have been maybe three to four years back. I will save the chase for some other blog of mine where I would delve deeper in the assortment of poop saga, the superman alike touts etc. etc. But as of now, for this blog, when I saw the Taj, right in front of my eyes, I just said F*** is this what makes these goras flock to this city and our country? It left me sorely disappointed. To me it was cold and sterile. NO wonder my romance with the Taj and the city of Taj ended there…
…Well almost. Till the time I re-visited the city on 25thof April, 2014. Yeah, you got it right; just a day back. But what if you would have read this post after a week, month or maybe a year? So that makes the mentioning of date and year mandatory. By this time you would have known how hard it’s to keep me on the course. Lol, can’t help it, old habits die hard. Coming back to 25th of April. It was supposed to be a day in the calendar of Agra Book Club; ABC, as they call themselves (some smart branding there!)I was supposed to be at their monthly meet, discuss my work with their members , interact with journalists and post that scoot towards Delhi or wherever I came from.
Being the social recluse that I am, a normal invite or a phone call would have met with ‘sorry, I would have loved to be a part but currently I’m neck deep into too many things. Maybe some time later, for sure.’ But then ABC came highly recommended. So when the founder member Dr. Shivani Chaturvedi called me, I gave her my formal acceptance. So what If I was not too sure. With every passing day, during my brief interactions with Dr, Shivani, I would find ABC more intriguing. After all, as per me Agra should have been the last city to have a book club. Even if it had one, it would be last place to buy and read my kind of work—mature, not the typical college romance genre. Dr. Chaturvedi impressed me more and more with her posts which told me that unlike some other fancy book clubs, this one had real people who were  genuinely passionate about reading, reading more and reading good. What also caught my eyes was the comprehensive media coverage which every monthly meeting generated.
Well, so I was going to meet this bunch of reading enthusiasts, for sure. In between, a member, Nidhi Khanna Lall, came to Gurgaon.  With my vintage roots, entrenched in the backyard of Baskerville, I invited her over. She was kind enough to accept the same. Over Tam Yam salad, stir friend veggies, some noodles and sinful dessert, Nidhi’s unabated passion towards ABC, her burning desire to make things happen there, re-enforced my thought belief.
“Doc, I have some exclusive and cute gift hampers. Should I get 4-5 of them for the media?” I casually asked one day.“Do you think you could get twenty of them?” She requested.Twenty odd journalists at a book club monthly gathering? The lady ought to be hallucinating, I consoled myself.
Driving for some three odd kilometers, relishing the joy of having an automatic that leaves you with doing nothing than dozing off at the wheels, after braving the unruly traffic, the congested lanes and the holy cows, I finally reached ITC Mughal. Nidhi was already there, well in advance. Sumita, the big boss of the place (after all her hubby was the GM with the ITC Mughal) was playing the perfect host, offering freshly squeezed orange juice (or was it some other fruit Sumita? The truth is I never had hundred percent pure juice till that day as I always adulterated with vodka or whatever the sin of my season would be.) Pleasantries were exchanged over the juice, the plan for the day shared again. And from here the story takes a turn.
“Amit, Mrs Sudha Kapoor will be arriving here any moment to take you for lunch.”For God’s sake,  I was not some head of state. Let me call up the room service and order some sandwiches, period. But the story had to unfurl in another manner.But both, Nidhi and Sumita were politely insistent. Ok my insisting hosts, lets have lunch, I said to myself.  As it turned out, it was not only Sudha, but I was escorted by three more pretty ladies; Nicky, Heena and Sonika.  Gosh, a clear case of gender bias. Sitting there and feeling like the legendary ‘Hi, I’m Bond, James Bond’ the efficient staff of ITC served us.
It was already three pm and I had a press conference in the next thirty minutes. The ladies knew precisely when and where to smile and whisper “Amit, we will see you after the press meet.” Very well, I took a shower and was planning to catch a nap. But then with a doctor being your host, you ought to follow her regime. No wonder, in next ten minutes I was there at the venue.
Something was not right there. There were too many people. They could not be from the press.  As I wondered, it took me a while to figure out two things. One, the press turn out was phenomenal and second, the eighty plus member club had only two male members. Lucky son of guns.
God, give me charm, patience and resilience, I prayed. The journos had done their homework as one of them even mentioned the rating of my titles. Towards the end of the press conference there would have been more than two- dozen of camera flashes, almost blinding me.
Kahani abhi baaki hai mere dost…
After my formal intro, I was told that members would be gifting me souvenirs. One after another, they kept on coming with different sized gift packs, boxes, and bags. The center table had no place but the trail was not ending.  Amidst all this , I did notice that though the size of the gifts differed but the packaging had something in common. Every gift wrapper and every packet had a ‘Flight of the Hilsa’ graphic on it. I knew that these guys; sorry these women not only knew their job but they knew it pretty well. Did I tell you that a pretty girl, Komila, gifted me a cake, with my picture on the face of it along with miniatures of my three titles. It was the most thoughtful gift I had ever received. (You see, I got the cake from Agra to Gurgaon. But even now I don’t have a heart to carve out a slice. It is just adorable.)
During the next ninety minutes or so, my audience flung out the warm, civil hospitable side and there I was, surrounded by sharp-minded women who had seriously read every word which I had written so casually. They amazed, baffled and impressed me with their wit, observation and the power to connect the dots, drawing the right inference.
Who was the author, I chided myself. Get up, reign them, you have done it so many times, you are a rock star—I used every single affirmation, but they were so unrelenting.
During the 3 panel discussions, on my three titles, I knew that finally the devil had met his match. Those ninety minutes were the most challenging times and I loved every bit of it. It overwhelmed me to realize how serious and deep they were into reading. Hey there, tell me something, we keep on saying ‘Love you guys’ but what are we supposed to say when the guys are not guys but women; Love you ladies? Ok, I guess it sounds fine. Love you ladies!
After end of the grueling rounds, the critiques in them were replaced with ‘lovable readers’ vying for an autograph, a picture and what not. Heady mix? Wait till you read the last line.
Asli kahani abhi bhi baaki hai mere dost … Keep reading

The CEO Rises

He is organized, hardworking, tech savy, planned to the last bit, a visionary, a great orator, leader with proven administrative flair, knows how to mix carrot with the whip, can inspire and lead. Ain’t he perfect for the CEO’s chair?
No wonder, the much deserving Modi is all set to take the CEO’s chair, governing the largest democracy. Congress is baffled at his growing popularity reflected in the ever-soaring opinion polls. Maybe the reason they can’t figure out the reason is that they have got the basic premise wrong. For starters, Modi is not your average, khadi clad politician, who goes about blabbering anything that comes to his mind. He works like a CEO of a large corporation; planned, precise, articulate and forceful. Let me elucidate on the same.
He has got the personal traits of any successful CEO. Unconventional, playing by his rules, whimsical, biased and fearless. The attributes, which appear to be negative, go a long way in turning a mortal into a respected and successful CEO. Bill Gates, Steve Jobs even Mark; all were unconventional in their own ways. It is this quality, which differentiates a CEO, form a worker. Unconventional thinking empowers them to make their own rules, charter off their own course and fuelled by whimsical nature, they go to any extent to achieve the organizational objectives. For sure, being in love with their ideas, vision makes them appear biased but it is their conviction that makes them what they are. Modi has been displaying the same traits since day one. From being a tea vendor to pracharakto now being the PM nominee for BJP is no mean feat. It proves belief in his ideas, self and his unconventional ways.
Like any CEO, Modi plans his work and works his plan. He has a clear and robust strategy in mind when he embarks on any path. Remember his social media campaign going live long before he was mentioned as the PM nominee? Remember his nation wide rallies, articulating his vision for the nation, long before Congress could even decide on their pre-poll strategy?
Modi’s success can be largely attributed to his ‘Rock Solid GTM.’ Go To Market strategy in corporate parlance, Modi’s GTM strategy has three clear and decisive milestones; brand ambition, brand footprint and brand journey. Let there be no ambiguity, from day one, he knew that BJP as a brand had its own share of baggage. No wonder, he turned himself into the BRAND.Brand Ambition: To be the PM of world’s largest democracyBrand Footprint: Turning and projecting himself as a leader who believes in ‘development’ ‘governance’ and ‘national pride.’Brand Journey: To give Reason to Believe—proof of his governance and development saga by quoting Gujarat.The result of his clear strategic vision is working wonders for his organization and the brand ‘modi.’
Even Modi detractors are in awe of his oratory skill and charm. He is not into speeches—dull, lackluster and uninspiring. He is a storyteller—one- on- one kind of a person who connects instantly. From his first mega speech at SRCC to CII, Northeast to Delhi, he can charm any crowd.  His anecdotes, jibes and that ever present humor makes him such a joy to watch. But there is something common in every address of his—the war cry… the call to save the nation, to unite. Compare his speeches to the one made by Sonia, Rahul or any other leader and you will know what I mean.
Like any smart CEO, Modi is pro-active and not reactive. He leads paving way for others to follow. As a true CEO, he decides the course of a debate. Being the first one to attack, he hits where it hurts the most. Corruption, lack of governance, Vadera issue, RSVP, every time he has given Congress a real hard time. Out of cover, the congress party can just post their reactions and views. He knows the power and the theory of ‘first movers advantage.’ If you follow his campaign, you will see how he chartered the course of his entire campaign, controlling the opposition’s perception and reaction by being the innovator. He was the first one to appoint himself as the PM candidate, to pioneer the use of social media as a tool, introducing holography as a way of addressing multiple rallies at the same time, taking BJP away from hindutva and embarking on a development and governance journey, innovating reach out programs by his novel concept of using ‘chai stall.’
What good is any CEO if he is not advertising savvy? In today’s world of selling dreams, Modi has elevated political advertising to a new level. From getting the brief right to the perfect positioning, right messaging to the medium, he has ensured that his campaign started off with a master TVC, selling the larger picture and followed by smaller clips, selling features. From his smart use of web to new technology, he has masticated the congress campaign. 
Well, he is also the true CEO when it comes to getting rid of flab and extra baggage. Perform or perish being his mantra, he believes anyone who is not good for the brand has to go. Jaswant Singh would be in agreement with me on this one.
Well, the time of fuddy-duddy politician is history. The CEO is here to govern and I know he will do a good job. Har Har Modi