Accidental chief minister
If you had the chance, would you like to sit in the chief minister’s seat? You may not be a politician or have political ambitions, but if you had the chance, would you take it? Even for cheap thrills? Well, happenstance provided me with such an opportunity. And I took it! But completely by accident.
I was very young — 24 years old. I was naïve and understood nothing of politics or political reporting. I was just a rookie journalist, a cub reporter. I was sent on an assignment to interview the then-chief minister. The story was about a cabinet subcommittee that had been appointed to examine the possibility of imposing prohibition in the state. Prohibition is a ban on all alcohol sales.
I was working as a correspondent for a literally unheard-of, new, nondescript magazine. The magazine may not be in circulation now. I have not bothered to check. My stint with the magazine lasted six months. I joined a struggling newspaper as a crime reporter later.
Everybody knows what getting an audience with a CM is like. It entails waiting for a frustratingly long time. There I was at the CM’s home office, waiting along with at least 100 others. Among them were a few cabinet ministers, too.
I was shaking with trepidation. It was an important assignment for someone so inexperienced and who had never even met a minister face-to-face, let alone the CM. After nearly two hours, I grew tired of standing. The sombre atmosphere added to the discomfort.
I looked around for a seat to rest my aching legs.
I found a large, cushy single sofa that was unoccupied. I did not spare a moment to reason why no one was sitting on it, though there were at least another 30 people in the room. I grabbed it. It felt good to sit down. Then the most unimaginable thing happened.
The then law minister, who was also in the room, snapped at me, saying, “Hello! Mister! That is the CM’s seat!” I jumped up like I had received an electric shock. It was an unthinking reflex action. I had never been more embarrassed in my life. Then someone else in the room mocked me, saying, “Don’t worry, you will also be CM one day.” The sneer made me feel sheepish and rubbed salt into my gaping wound. My face was ashen, and my knees were knocking.
Luckily for me, the CM did give me the interview for 15 minutes, and I wrote the story. The incident, which seems comical to me now, has remained a secret so far. Now it’s your funny story.