Malavika Sangghvi writes to Rahul Gandhi on his sabbatical

Dear Rahul,

At the risk of gloating over my prescience, I quote from a letter I wrote to your sister Priyanka Gandhi on these very pages, last year in January, about speculation that she would be named party vice-president.

Titled, Don't Do It, it had argued against her entry in to the political fray, "Because if you look around, dear Priyanka, there is a new dawn that's breaking over Delhi and the rest of the nation. It's called the 'Aam Aadmi Party' and it's brought in hope and change and a blossoming of optimism in even the most cynical of hearts." I'd written, adding, "It is the same India that your forefathers built, a brave, strong, graft-free and inclusive India that's taking shape again. That it is being shaped by other leaders and other faces is but a small detail."

That this was written just only a month before Kejriwal shot himself in the foot by resigning from Chief Ministership of Delhi is once more 'but a small detail'.

Because here we are, a year later, almost to the day and Kejriwal is once more CM Delhi, and once more there's 'a new dawn that's breaking over Delhi and the rest of the nation. It's called the 'Aam Aadmi Party' and it's brought in hope and change and a 'blossoming of optimism in even the most cynical of hearts.'

And to prove how, the more things change, the more they stay the same, now I find myself writing to you, over rampant speculation that you could be made the Congress president in April this year, at the upcoming AICC session!

And once again, at the risk of repeating myself, I say, "Don't Do It!"

Firstly, let me begin by saying that though you have been at the receiving end of so much derision and mirth, from all of us in the media, over your mother Sonia Gandhi's overarching ambition to install you as prime minister of India when you have shown a staggering lack of suitability for the job, I do not think any of this criticism is personal.

The thing is, Rahul, everyone who has met you has come away remarking what a decent sod you really are, and how struck they were by your sincerity, your genuine concern for the country's poorest and your commitment to secular values.

In the past, I have heard privately from doctors who have treated you of how decent, thoughtful, considerate and unassuming you have been during your treatment. Family retainers speak of your unwavering kindness and party colleagues of your civility and courtesy.

"Just like his dad. Decent, kind thoughtful," is the overlying essence of what they say.

And yet, as we all know, these are qualities that are not required to make for great leadership, especially in India, where they might even be considered hindrances, given the nature of politics these days.

Which is why I write to you Rahul. You are going to be 45 this year, unmarried, unattached, with your party in shambles and its bête noire in power. Given that you have managed to get yourself a hard-won sabbatical, in the face of so much opposition and comment, should you not use it to finally, truthfully, urgently think of "what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?" As the poet Mary Oliver so eloquently asked in her poem The Summer Day.

Your "one wild and precious life," Rahul. A life that has already seen so much loss and tragedy, so much vilification and critique, so much pain and reversals.

Perhaps until now, you have been valiantly trying to live up to other people's dreams and hopes. Perhaps, until now, you have been too decent to speak up for your own dreams and happiness and who you really are.

To give her benefit of doubt, perhaps your mother sees how much like your father you are and knows that you too can transform into the leader that he eventually became before his untimely assassination.

But that still does not make you obliged to follow in his path or fulfill her dreams for you. You still have a chance (a very slim one) to speak up for yourself and march to the rhythm of your own music. No matter what it may be. Congress, your party workers, your family be damned. Or as Oliver, who you can see is one of my favourite poets, said in another poem, Wild Geese:

"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
…Whoever you are, no matter how lonely
The world offers itself to your imagination,
Calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
Over and over announcing your place
In the family of things."
I hope you have a great break from the hurly-burly. And while you are at it, I would highly recommend that you read poetry. Sometimes, it is only the poets who can cut through the BS and address the soul's deepest questions.
Your "one wild and precious life," Rahul, live it!
Hope you're having fun. Remember to take pictures.
With every good wish, etc,