Jagmohan Garg pointed on a cold winter evening, in one of the large sprawling bungalows of Lutyens’ Delhi, three people sat around a dinner table. A distinguished lady in her 70s, sat across her son and son-in-law. Well-trained waiters served a simple home-style meal, comprising of yellow daal, vegetables and pasta. The lady spoke first.
“I can’t believe it. Almost all the old notes have come back. The economy has tanked. Business has suffered. Yet, people love him.”
The son nodded his head vigorously and spoke next. “Demonetisation hasn’t worked. Yet, they are hailing him for the move. They even ignored the huge earthquake evidence I had against him.” The son-in-law smirked, even as he continued to eat.
“I know that smirk. You don’t believe me do you?” the son said. “See mom, this is what he does. He doesn’t take me seriously.”
“The whole country doesn’t,” the son-in-law mumbled.