It’s late evening. Shivraj Patil is walking down a tree-lined street in Lutyens Delhi. He has a confused expression on his usually serene face. Sonia Gandhi had earlier said to him, “Go home.” What did she mean? Was she relieving him of his porfolio? Or was she cheering his ministry? And more importantly, should he wear the dark-blue Bandhgala tomorrow or should it be the black one?
Suddenly there is a flash, and there appears in front of him a bald man with a Ferrous expression. Shivraj notices that the apparition is clad in crude, homespun clothes which are disturbingly crumpled.
Shivraj Patil (raising his eyebrows) : And who might you be oh ill-dressed man?
Vallabhai Patel (sonorously) : I am the spirit of Sardar Patel. The first home minister of independent India. I have come to rebuke you on your terrible performance in the same role.
