See, Mamma, We are no great feminists, but look at the evidence. It needed a donna — my madre-in-law — to win elections for the party in 1971 and it needed a donna to win elections for the party in 2004. We rest our case, Mamma. Let anybody, including the idiotas in the Opposition, challenge this record. We’ll make them remember their grandmothers, as dear Rajiv put it, unki naani (please note, another woman) yaad dila denge. No, Mamma, the Opposition stupidos really need to be taught a lesson. Really! And it will take a woman like your daughter to teach them that lesson! And we’ll do it, that’s a promessa, promise. Viva donna, Mamma, more power to women — especially the woman who happens to be your daughter!

The great unwashed love us too much, Mamma, too much. See, We don’t like sycophancy. But what can we do, Mamma? Some bring cavalio, horses, to dance outside our door; others make posters of Us as Rani ki Jhansi, Mamma (one of them had Rahul as a little baby tied to our back, which we thought was rather sweet). We have shown our displacere, displeasure, against such gestures clearly, but they still continue. Are we to blame for this behaviour? Povero, poor, Rahul. They celebrate his birthday by wearing masks bearing his face and cutting enormous torte, cakes. What can the povero garzone, poor boy, do but accept the adorazione, adoration, with the famous grazia, grace and tolerance of the Nehru-Gandhi famiglia? Some families are born great, others assume greatness, still others have greatness thrust upon them. It’s all three for the Nehru-Gandhis and the gente, people, cannot but acknowledge that, and express their gratitudine. We understand this completely, but sometimes it is such an irritazione, irritation, Mamma, veremente, truly!

... contd.