By Mihir Srivastava
Charu Pragya has learned to deal with the world on her terms. A popular face on live news, she is seen debating on the behalf of the party in power, BJP, putting across her point of view with alacrity and certain passion–to many seem too vociferous. She does her job well. In this high decibel so-called debates on national television, she always makes her voice heard. This is her public persona.
And the left liberals, who are fairly ‘dogmatic’ about their ‘liberal’ views, are also name callers; anyone who doesn’t fall in the purview of their world view is one of the many bad things–the most favoured nomenclature is fascist. I’m not getting into the merit of the debate here, but just to point out that Charu has been called names. She has taken a lot of diatribe for what she represents and defends. But they are all wrong, for they know not her.
And knowing Charu and writing about her is a very pleasant experience. One afternoon, sitting in an upmarket cafe by a big glass window that overlooks the terrace–potted Bougainvillaea growing wild, red flowers punctuating the cloudy blue sky. Charu comes across as a very friendly person. She speaks about her life with an open heart. We have a heartfelt conversation.
Charu is a Mumbaikar by heart, her father a cop-turned politician of certain repute. A fitness freak, she loves boxing as part of her fitness regime. The sight of her pounding the punching bag will send shivers down the spine of those who make a living arguing with her on live television. Pun-ch intended!
Married in late teens, Charu soon became a young mother, and thereafter a young single mother. Life’s no bed of roses, she has had her share of the emotional roller coaster rides. But she’s not bitter. Cliches are cliches for a reason: what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
Charu’s son, Aryaman, is now a fifteen year old lad. Apart from being so many things to each other, they’re the best travel buddies. And have explored the world together. Charu’s brother, Praket, is nine younger to her and ten years older than Aryaman, is both sibling and father figure to his nephew. They are a closely knit unit.
She's in an enviable position, she has a strong anchorage, but is free to take on the world in the way she deem fit. And you see that restless clam in her eyes. She’s come a long way, and has a long way to go.
Charu is an eternal optimist. “I treasure that feeling of being a child,” she says with much emphasis. For a politician to have childlike optimism is almost adulatory. She calls it “streak of optimism that has remained with me–and rescued me from quicksand more times than I can think of.” Optimism manifests to her as “seeing life perfectly laid out in front of me. Most plans don’t work out, though. And that’s okay. God has a plan for me,” she’s categorical. I have a feeling: God has a better plan for her. Eternal optimism in action is eternal hope.
She wears many hats and looks at her life, so far, in distinct chapters: Charu the sportsperson (has won medals at national and international levels in the pistol shooting category), the daughter, the wife, the mother, the sister, the lawyer, the politician. The chapters may be varied and distinct but the book is one. Still, holding a gun takes her back to the shooting days, “Matches, medals, forced running in the mornings, travelling as a team, and endless giggles between practice sessions at shooting range…” she grins, her eyes sparkle.
To me the most amazing part of mother-son-duo is they being the travel buddy exploring the world. She describes him as “favouritest companion!” Charu is kind enough to let me in in her world, and in some ways make me a witness to some of these incredible journeys. “Parenting is fun, especially when you parent a kid who believes like your parent,” she says and adds after a pause, “I drive him nuts. And he lets me.” A big smile and a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
She being a good photographer helps. Like this leopard picture sprawling on a branch of a dry tree is the work of a genius. She describes the picture taken in Serengeti National Park: “Beauty of the beast! I saw 3 species of big cats today. And I’m very certain the leopard is my favourite! That grace and that face!” There’s a poetic tinge in the way she describes things.
My favourite picture of the mother-son duo is taken in Reynisfjara Beach, Iceland. “I have never been to a beach as wondrous as this one! Black sand, perfect pebbles, crazy snowfall, sand flying, basalt columns jutting out over the high surf and walking into the sunset with my precious child!” she writes.
Every sunset brings the promise of a new dawn.
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