What would LK Advani do without his pet squirrel? Puzzled? Well, that's how Shri Advani's media-savvy daughter Pratibha introduced herself to the elite audience gathered at a stylish venue to congratulate the 80-year-old author of a terrific book, My Country, My Life , which, thank the Lord, is refreshingly candid and delightfully incorrect (politically, i mean). Unfortunately, as it frequently happens at such high profile events, most invitees were far too busy networking to pay attention to the speakers. Rude? You bet. But that's Mumbai — crass, crude and forever seeking matlab. Given the turnout of India's top powerbrokers (particularly those not associated with the saffron brigade), the talk confirmed the general view that L K is poised to become the next prime minister!

Knowledgeable political pundits were ready with their homegrown math — and the numbers certainly added up. Critics hissed, "Remember, he is 80 years old... India needs a young leader." In theory, that makes perfect sense. But pray, who is this mysterious person? Please don't say Rahul Gandhi, that guy is still in kindergarten when it comes to politics. With no other saviour in sight, perhaps we won't be all that badly off with someone who has established a track record of sorts. We know the nature of the beast. We know what exactly Advani stands for. We may or may not approve, but at least we don't have to scratch our heads trying to decode his agenda. He has been pretty upfront about it.

While waiting for the author to arrive, a party loyalist candidly admitted that the BJP lost out the last time on account of its arrogance. Plus, the embarrassment of the 'India Shining' hoax. "This time, we won't make such a foolish mistake — we have learned our lesson the hard way," he concluded, staring anxiously at the door for his leader to walk in and mesmerise the impatient Big Daddies, grumbling away as they sipped watermelon juice ("Where's the bloody booze?" bellowed a Dilliwalla). No booze, no murgi... but plenty of masala in the conversation. Surveying the crowd, a prominent finance guy (the market moves up when he breathes in, and crashes when he exhales), noted the presence of two biz magnates whose loyalty to the Congress camp is well known. Said he, thoughtfully, "Hmmm.... interesting. If they are here, it means Advani's gaddi as PM is secure." I asked naively, "You mean they are not hedging their bets?" The man gave me a withering look and turned to a movie star at his elbow who asked even more naively, "Boss... give me some tips.... will the market move up?" The moneyman took in his breath sharply. At least i got one answer!

Meanwhile, much was made of Pratibha's pointed acknowledgement of the Consul General of the United States of America (and his assistant). "Why has she singled them out?" demanded a dodgy businessman nervously. "Isn't it obvious?" his equally dodgy friend replied. "Now, you know which party America is backing during the next election."

Sensibly, nobody referred to the nuclear deal. That's Mumbai, again — keep it short. Stick to basics. Next? Well, with so many mixed signals and so much to decode that night, the book itself became secondary to the rather strenuous exercise of counting heads ( "Oh look... my God! What's she doing here? Switched camps?"). Then followed the inevitable jostling for vantage points to catch the chief guest's eye ("Advaniji knows me personally..."). Stars fell at his feet. His pet squirrel sought his blessings. His minders cajoled eager party workers to not crowd the man. His publishers beamed. The man himself looked unfazed and cool as he greeted his fans. As for me, i led the jostlers. I wasn't leaving without getting my copy of the book signed by the future prime minister of India!