
He’s about five foot eight inches tall, and looks a little younger than his 129 years. But former US secretary of State, Henry Kissinger is still a formidable presence, especially if his left arm is resting on your shoulder.
I was in Kolkata to promote my latest book ‘Cheap Holiday In Pakistan’ (offers limited to the Emergency period), when from the corner of my eye I managed to see this large figure sitting at the back of the room during the press conference.
In fact, the primary reason I spotted him was that he was the only person attending the press conference.
After my short introductory speech, I opened the floor to questions, at which this rotund man raised his arm. I asked him to go ahead with his query. However, in a strange drone-like tone he confirmed he was only stretching.
I then did my bit for Indo-US relations. I begged him to ask a question-any question. After much deliberation, he asked whether I was male or female. Relieved at having got the ball rolling, I answered this question and after a little hesitation hit him with my question-’Mr. Kissinger are you here to take part in one of our dance competitions-’Nach Baliye’, ‘Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa’ or ‘Dard-e-Disco Challenge’?
Mr. Kissinger, after much trial and more error, gave up trying to pronounce any of these competitions. Instead, like a true politician, he moved to what is always on the top of the agenda of all great statesmen. “What’s for lunch?” was his next war cry.
As we sat at our table and quietly nipped at our lunch, I on my salads and Henry on his two tandoori chickens, one reshmi kabab, three mutton biryanis, kofta curry for six, and five lassis, I felt distinctly uncomfortable, when he suggested I share my salads as well.
I got a quick insight on how to build your own nukes, before preventing other countries doing the same on defence grounds, and how to build the biggest defence industry whilst scoffing at the arms race and weapon proliferation.
As Mr. Kissinger finished his lunch, adjusted his wig, and suggested I do the same, I suffered a mild heart attack with his next query. “What’s for dinner?”
