Why I don't dance to Hema Malini's song

Earlier this year I happened to be doing the rounds of Uttar Pradesh to cover the general elections for the publication I work for. The final stop was Mathura. With just a day to spare and editorial pressure mounting, I was required to interview a famous yesteryear actor campaigning in the area - Hema Malini - the BJP's candidate from the city.

A certain "Captain" was in charge of all her media relations and had been accompanying the star in her air-conditioned Audi. The said Captain was aware of the purpose of my visit.

On the morning of April 3, Hema Malini made her way to file her nomination papers in Mathura.

Flanked by daughter, son-in-law, Captain and a thousand fans, she made a sensational debut in Mathura politics.What ensued can perhaps be only termed as any woman's nightmare.

Upon emerging from the nomination centre, the maddening, uncontainable crowd at Mathura made a last ditch attempt at mauling her, albeit unsuccessfully.

Unfazed by the hooliganism that was breaking out at every street corner - prompting the actor to tentatively wave at the crowd from the sunroof of the car - the Captain asked me to walk along and wait for a suitable opportunity to interview the star, while she addressed the rally.

I stepped out of my vehicle only to be lynched and assaulted by the mob crowding upon the actor's cavalcade. If it weren't for a kind BJP worker, I would have in all likelihood met the worst imaginable fate possible.

As the crowd began to clear, I realised I was bruised from head to toe. I felt overcome by anger and hurt at the insensitivity meted out to me, the only woman member of the press in the crowd.

Fifteen minutes later Hema Malini called for me. When I recounted what had happened, I was met with a curt, "Oh." Nonetheless, I decided to conduct the interview.

During the course of speaking to her, she came across as highly uninformed about her constituency. The actor was oblivious of the problems that were dogging the constituency - civic issues, issues pertaining to safety of women and administrative problems. Instead, her agenda seemed on only providing a fillip to Lord Krishna's long-standing legacy in Mathura and cleaning the Yamuna - something that she keeps repeating in every interview and every tweet. She stood there miles away from the ground realities that made up Mathura.

Once I touched upon the topic of rehabilitative measures for the widows of Vrindavan, it was met with a puzzled look and a quick change of subject.

Four months into her tenure as a parliamentarian, she seems to have unsurprisingly committed political hara-kiri. Vrindavan, an integral part of the Mathura constituency, has long been home to widows from different corners of the country, especially the east.

Hema Malini stoked a controversy last week when she expressed her exasperation at the widows who flock Vrindavan and instead asked them to seek refuge in the "many famous temples of Bengal and Bihar". Vrindavan, according to her, is running out of space to accommodate them.

In order to save face, Hema Malini took to social media to clarify her stand, declaring how "sons and daughters cannot disregard their duty and bundle them in a train and forget about them."

I wasn't convinced.

Whether it is a lone woman reporter out doing her job or a group of women in desperate need of help and rehabilitation, Hema Malini lacks basic courtesy. Does being merely successful on screen translate into good leadership? Maybe not. And this is one glaring example.

The country needs strong, iconic women leaders who also espouse the cause of women and the society that has reposed its faith in their able hands.

This movie, dear Basanti, has been badly scripted.