Sania Mirza - The Secretarial Saga

Seems there is no end to the Govt’s appeasement of Sania Mirza. The latest I hear is that the Chief Secretary of Andhra Pradesh (or the Home Secretary) has to personally deliver the Padma Sri award, which she did not collect when the First Preacher of the nation was giving away at the Ashoka Hall. Apparently, the Bhagmati Begum was busy losing a set or a skirt or both at some county tennis tournament.

There could be nothing more demeaning than this. A civil servant with more than three decades of distinguished service, who heads the state administration, is reduced to a mere delivery boy. I won’t blame the protocols. Those who must have devised it would have never imagined that the Padma awards would be given to such persons whose claim to fame is disproportionate to their legitimate sources of talent. No wonder the likes of Romila Thapar, Kanaksen Deka and consistently reject these awards. There is a longer rejection list here and here.

The C-block guys at the Secretariat would tell stories of how they were hounded by her dad for the 20 lakhs, that’s after looting the exchequer of 99 lakhs (some Bata-conomics there) in cash and a lot more in kind. After cornering humungous amounts through endorsements, inaugurations, ad campaigns and virtually every possible method to sell herself, encroaching on Govt's paltry resources in plain audacious shamelessness.

I would not repeat how she has used her non-sporting resources like dress, drama and diatribe to corner the scanty sporting resources leaving the out performing persons like Humpy, Anju George and Joshna Chinnappa, to name few. That someone who couldn’t manage to win a single Open, is given this award is itself a vulgar joke. I just hope the Govt. mends the rules. If someone can neither make it to the awards function nor have the courtesy to depute someone, then they should be asked to collect it from the cloak room of the nearest railway station. Please don’t ask senior bureaucrats to do such derogatory task of delivering awards to some bimbette who has no idea where her t-shirt ends, where her skirt begins and where that ends. (All the three cozily coalesce at a single line.)

I still tolerate all this nonsense with the fond hope (or rather desire..) which I expressed in my previous post. If that’s not going to happen, then with shotgun on her forehead, I am going to make her dance with Balakrishna and Mohan Babu for a hardcore Rayalaseema flick.

PS1: My regular visitors, if there are any and if they are still alive and sane, would be relieved to note that I wouldn’t be posting till second week of May. Got an exam on hand. So, people, wish me luck while I let you live in peace.