“So a country was born in the year nineteen hundred and forty seven,” Addy sucked through what was left of the golden puff and coughed his lungs out. Clearing his throat he continued, “I get that but what was going on in Nehru’s mind? I mean what was he thinking?”
With the poetic eloquence reminiscent of Jawaharlal Nehru he went on, “At the stroke of the mid-night hour when the world sleeps India awakes. I mean half of the world was awake if not less; the West you know, and I am sure most of Asia would have already begun their day of hard work. And look at the people; they eulogize the speech as if it was a masterpiece.”
Scorning at the way young minds have been conditioned en masse Addy struck the wall at his back with his fist.
“Well let me tell you, neither was the speech a masterpiece nor was this guy the grandmaster.”