Dark Secrets of Indira Gandhi, she is a sex-addicted woman, this truth is hidden by Congress Government.
Indira Priyadarshini Gandhi 19 November 1917 - 31 October 1984) was an Indian stateswoman and central figure of the Indian National Congress. She was the first and, to date, the only female Prime Minister of India. Gandhi belonged to the Nehru-Gandhi family and was the daughter of Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Indian prime minister. Despite her surname Gandhi, she is not related to the family of Mahatma Gandhi. She served as Prime Minister from January 1966 to March 1977 and again from January 1980 until her assassination in October 1984, making her the second longest-serving Indian prime minister after her father.
Gandhi served as her father's personal assistant and hostess during his tenure as Prime Minister between 1947 and 1964. She was elected Congress President in 1959. Upon her father's death in 1964 she was appointed as a member of the Rajya Sabha (upper house) and became a member of Lal Bahadur Shastri's cabinet as Minister of Information and Broadcasting.[1] In the Congress Party's parliamentary leadership election held in early 1966 (upon the death of Shastri) she defeated her rival, Morarji Desai, to become leader, and thus succeeded Shastri as Prime Minister of India.
# Her husband Feroze Gandhi or Feroze Khan was a son of Nawab Khan, a supplier of wine to her ancestral home at Allahabad. She fell into a romantic relationship with Feroze Khan who often used to visit her house. This secret of hers was also revealed by the then Governor of Maharashtra to her father.
# Indira Gandhi changed her name to Maimuna Begum to get married to Feroze Khan. The marriage took place in London
# Nehru got angered on listening such and such marriage of her loving daughter in England. He got worried about their return to India as their marriage would make the general public annoyed and disturbed. And moreover, this may result in his own political suicide. He then made a plan and told Feroze Khan to change his name into 'Feroze Gandhi' just by signing an affidavit. And thus, he arranged a mock marriage of his daughter with a Muslim boy.
# Indira Gandhi was expelled from Oxford University for her unmeritorious performance. Her father, Nehru, then got her admitted into Shantiniketan University where she didn't rise to the expectations of Guru Rabindranath Tagore who often used to admonish her.
# Her younger son Sanjay Gandhi was caught in car theft in the UK. Krishana Menon, the then Ambassador to the UK, was instructed by Indira Gandhi to save her son at any cost. The Ambassador, applying his power changed his name to Sanjay and acquired a new passport under that new name. He then handed over that passport, bearing a faked name 'Sanjay Gandhi' so that Sanjay could be safely returned to India. So, in this way, Sanjiv Gandhi, the real name of 'Sanjay Gandhi' came into existence.
# The book "Nehru Dynasty" by K N Rao, clearly revealed that Sanjay Gandhi (Sanjiv Gandhi) was, in reality, the son of some Mohammad Yunus and not of Feroze Khan. Even, when the marriage of Sanjay took place with a Sikh girl 'Maneka', Mohammad Yunus became unhappy as he wanted to get his son married to a Muslim girl only.
# Sanjay Gandhi was also circumcised, a customary ritual practiced in a Muslim family. This fact too was revealed by Mohammad Yunus in his controversial book 'Persons, Passion and Politics'. When Yunus came to hear about the death of Sanjay Gandhi in a plane crash, he wept a lot.
# Indira Gandhi had different romantic affairs. First with her German teacher, at Shantiniketan, who used to teach her English. Then came M O Mathai, her father's secretary. She then caught affinity for his famous Yoga teacher, Dhirendra Brahmchari. Her last love affair was with Dinesh Singh, the then Foreign Minister. And this sizzling fact was exposed by Katherine Frank in her book 'The life of Indira Nehru Gandhi'.
# A book 'Profile and Letters' written by none other than a seasoned politician Natwar Singh had said that Indira's son Rajiv Gandhi could not clear his exams of Mechanical Engineering, which he had been pursuing from 1962 to 1965 at Trinity College, London.
# Rajiv Gandhi's wife Sonia Gandhi's real name was 'Antonia Maino' who was a Catholic and a daughter of a mason. Her father was an ill-famous Naxalite of a fascist regime in Italy. He had also spent 5 years in prison in Russia.
Nixon wasn’t the only American who was nasty about Indira (he called her a bitch). Jacqueline Kennedy described her as a ‘real prune – bitter, kind of pushy horrible woman . . . it always looks like she’s been sucking a lemon’.
Indira allegedly had an affair with Nehru’s secretary, M.O. Mathai. He apparently wrote a chapter on her that was never published for his autobiography. According to an unverifiable version of the chapter, Mathai wrote: ‘in the sex act she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined’.
After Sanjay died, relations between Maneka and Indira turned frosty. Maneka even wrote an open letter to Indira published in the Indian Express, saying ‘as soon as Sanjay died you started literally torturing me in every conceivable way . . . I fought so bitterly for you . . . when the rest of your family was packed and ready to go abroad.’
Before the Shimla peace talks with Pakistan, Indira personally re-decorated the room where Zulfikar Ali Bhutto was to stay. According to her social secretary Usha Bhagat, ‘We went to the chief minister’s house and got a few things from there including his bed. We went to Raj Bhavan and picked up a deep-red raw silk bedspread, we wrote to Rashtrapati Bhavan asking them to send silver writing sets and stationery . . . ‘
Indira planned official menus with great care, naming dishes according to the guest. When the Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin came for tea, she produced a menu comprising Flying Saucer Samosas, Meteorite Sweets and Laddoo Lunar.
In March 1982 at the Festival of India in London, the London Philharmonic Orchestra struck up India’s national anthem. As the orchestra played ‘Jana Gana Mana’ while the Prince of Wales stood to attention, Pupul Jayakar glanced at Indira Gandhi to find her eyes shining with tears.
The morning Indira Gandhi was shot, the driver of the ambulance stationed at the prime minister’s house was away for his tea break. So she was bundled into a white Ambassador even as Sonia Gandhi came running down the path, shouting, ‘Mummy! Oh my God, Mummy!’
Indira was a doting grandmother: a few months after Operation Blue Star when fears for her life were very high, she and Priyanka Gandhi spent an evening together watching Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice on TV.
After Indira lost the post-Emergency general election she moved out of her official government house and into a friend’s bungalow, 12 Willingdon Crescent. There, in a much smaller, cramped house with files, books, and trunks piled up on all sides, Indira took up residence with her family and five dogs. She was abandoned by most of her friends.
The night before Sanjay Gandhi died, Indira beseeched him not to fly the plane he would crash and die in the following morning.
Indira had a funny side to her: once when a band of monkeys entered Moni Malhoutra’s office room in South Block and broke a bottle of perfume he had got for his wife, Mrs. Gandhi came up the steps yelling, ‘This place smells like a brothel!’
Doctor Zhivago and Black Beauty were Indira’s favorite films.
When asked about which books and authors had most affected her, she listed the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Oscar Wilde, Victor Hugo, Tagore, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There and Fabre’s Book of Insects.
‘Once when President Zia of Pakistan complained to her about getting bad press, she advised, “Don’t worry about these pressmen, they know nothing; look, they call you a democrat and me a dictator!” The President was not amused.’
When we talk of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, many Congressmen say that she is the Iron Lady of India; she divided Pakistan into two and many more. But will they speak up about the dark secrets of her?
M.O Mathai was the Private Secretary to India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. He served as Nehru’s special assistant from 1946 to 1959. But Nehru’s personal secretary got too personal with Indira Gandhi. Yes, M.O Mathai who was with Nehru, knew everything about the Nehru family, actually a bit too much. Mathai wrote a book named “Reminiscences of the Nehru Age” in which he has stripped naked the Nehru family. Several secrets of Nehru are revealed but what is more interesting is the chapter of Indira Gandhi titled “She”.
Mathai was Indira Gandhi’s secret lover!!!
In his book, Mathai has shown immense respect towards Nehru but he has even openly spoken out of the intimate relationship Nehru had with Edwina, Padmaja Naidu (Sarojini Naidu’s daughter), Mridula Sarabhai and many others. Nehru was deeply busy in impressing these ladies that he forgot to take care of India. Eventually, India lost the 1962 Indo-China war.
In that book, there was a chapter named “She” which was withdrawn at the last moment. This chapter has a pin to pin details of Mathai’s sexual relationship with Indira Gandhi.
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Mathai had such a romantic affair with Indira Gandhi that it created distress in Indira Gandhi’s home. It is a known fact that Nehru too didn’t like Feroze Gandhi. Mathai says that he was Indira’s lover for twelve long years and even made her pregnant once. But she had an abortion.
Indira Gandhi told Mathai “I want to sleep with you, take me to the wilds tomorrow evening.” Mathai replied that he didn’t have any experience with a woman before. So she gave him two books, one was of Dr. Abraham Stone about sex and female anatomy.
She asked him to take her out into the wilds after sundown. She always held Mathai tightly and called him “Oh, Bhupat I love you”. Indira gave him the name Bhupat, the dacoit and Mathai called her as Putli, the dacoits. He said that he never knew what real sex was until he had Indira.
The chapter says her ‘cold and forbidding’ reputation was only a measure of ‘feminine self-protection’; she was ‘exceptionally good in bed’; ‘in the sex act she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined’. Mathai also says that she loved prolonged kissing.
Though he had a very good sexual relation with Indira Gandhi, why did he distance himself from her? Indira Gandhi didn’t have an affair with just one man. One day when Mathai came to meet Indira Gandhi, he saw her with Dhirendra Brahmachari, a tall man who laid with Indira Gandhi. When Mathai saw Indira with him, he said to her that “I had something to tell you, but I shall say it later”. This was the end of his relationship with Indira Gandhi.
Dhirendra Brahmachari was a yoga instructor of Indira Gandhi. The yoga posture soon turned sexually.
Indira Gandhi once said that she could not bear to ever be married to a Hindu but she got laid with a Hindu. She also said that ‘I like the Queen Bee. I would like to make love high up in the air.’
At the end of the chapter, Mathai wrote ‘I had fallen deeply in love with her.’
Disclaimer: The information was taken from the excerpts from the autobiography of M.O. Mathai. The Rishudiary doesn’t endorse or reject any views of the autobiography and is no way responsible for any misinformation in the autobiography.
Here is the entire chapter titled “She” written by M.O Mathai
She has Cleopatra’s nose, Pauline Bonaparte’s eyes and the breasts of Venus. She has hair on her limbs which have to be shaven frequently. Physically and mentally she is more of a male than a female. I would call her a manly woman. I met her first in her ancestral home in the winter of 1945. She then had a baby son of crawling age and who was a cry baby. My first reaction was that she was a conceited girl with unhappiness written all over her face. Her second son, born in December 1946, was an unwanted child. As a baby, he had to be circumcised to remove a defect. By 1947 her cup of unhappiness was full and fortune took possession of her face. In the autumn of 1946, her father gave her a small Austin car. She wanted me to teach her driving. In the initial stages, I used to take her to the Viceroy’s bodyguard’s Polo Ground for lessons. She was quick in learning. Then I stopped the driving lessons because she was getting into the advanced stage of pregnancy. I told her I didn’t want her to take any risk going into the open roads learning driving. Her second son was born in the middle of December 1946. By the middle of February 1947, she was ready to resume driving lessons. We went into the roads and to Connaught Circus. Then I told her “you just imagine that you know everything, concentrate, consider the person driving a car from the opposite direction is a fool, and go along with confidence driving the car, take a round of Connaught Circus and come back”. She did that and returned in triumph. The driving lessons ended there. Before the middle of 1947, she asked me to take her out to a cinema. From then on we used to go out for pictures as often as I was free – which was not frequent.
She looked forward to taking me out driving over the Ridge with the jungle on either side. She hated small cars. So we used to go in my car which was a Plymouth. She liked to go into the wilds where there were ruins. Drives to regions beyond Qutab Minar were favored. One day, during an aimless drive, she told me complainingly “You do not love me”. I said, “I do not know; I had not thought about it”. By the autumn of 1947, I knew she had fallen headlong in love with me without me taking any initiative in the matter. Her face would light upon seeing me. She started talking to me about herself. She said that sometime after her marriage, she discovered that her husband was not faithful to her. This came to her as a great shock because she married him in the teeth of opposition from every member of the family. She said she began to lose her saris, coats, blouses, shoes, and handbags. She suspected the servants until she discovered some of her lost things on the persons of two women at a party. These women were known to be friendly with her husband. She also found out to which women her husband had given the books stolen from her book-shelves. She made it known rather discreetly what her intentions were about me. I told her I had two inhibitions: (1) I did not like to fool around with married women; (2) my loyalty to her father prohibited anything such as she had in mind. She was immediately forthcoming about No.1. She assured me that some time ago she had stopped having anything to do with her husband. She added: “I can no longer bear the thought of his touching me”. She further confided in me “fortunately he has also gone impotent though he retained his attraction to women”. About No. 2 she was angry with me and asked “What has my father got to do with it? Am I a minor?”
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Since then she spent as much time with me as possible and ridiculed me for my attitude to her father in so far as she was concerned. But I continued to resist gently. I was not mentally prepared or reconciled as of yet. On the 18th of November 1947, she took me to her room and kissed me full on the lips and told me “I want to sleep with you; take me to the wilds tomorrow evening”. I told her that I had very little experience with women. She said “all the better”. So on the 19th, which was her birthday, we went driving out and chose a place in the wilderness. On our way back I told her that I had some revulsion about milk in her breasts (though she had stopped breast-feeding the child a while ago). Afterward, she did something about it and soon went completely dry. She discovered that I knew little about sex, and gave me two books, one of them by Dr. Abraham Stone about sex and female anatomy. I read them with profit. She was not promiscuous; neither did she need sex too frequently. But in the sex act, she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined. She loved prolonged kissing and being kissed in the same fashion. She had established a reputation for being cold and forbidding. She was nothing of the kind. It was only a pose as a feminine measure of self-protection. She was a passionate woman who was exceptionally good as a wriggler in bed. During the twelve years, we were lovers, I was never satisfied with her. Progressively she became hostile to the fat female family friend who used to come to stay. Ever since she saw the family friend welcoming me on arrival with a hug and an innocent kiss on my cheek, she became jealous and livid with rage against the family friend. Occasionally the family friend used to ask me to take her and my “she” to a good cinema whenever there was one in town. My “she” could cleverly see to it that I did not sit near the family friend but only next to her as third in the row.
The day before the next time the family friend was expected to arrive “she” asked me to take her out into the wilds after sundown. In the car, I asked her ‘what is the big idea? I have some urgent work to do’. She replied ‘as long as the fat one is here, I will keep away from you because I do not want you to touch me after she has touched you.’ I assured her that I had absolutely no interest in the fat one. Eventually, ‘she’ got used to the fat one's friendly welcome and departure gestures to me. She tried hard to persuade me to occasionally go up to her room while her husband was there, sit down and talk to them both. I told her that I had no intention of practicing deception. So she used to bring him to my study occasionally. She used all kinds of devices to ensure that her children spent as little time with their father as possible. She told me that she did not want any influence of their father on them because she was convinced that his influence would be bad for them. She concluded by saying: “I do not want my children to grow up as champion liars.” This was one of the reasons why her husband was shifted to a separate room. Once I mentioned to her something which her husband had told me. She said: “Don’t believe a word of what he says. I have learned it to my bitter cost”.
She wrote to A.C.N. Nambiar, whom she had known personally for a long time and who was also a friend of her father and mother, asking for his opinion about divorcing her husband. She knew that Nambiar was a dear friend of mine. Nambiar replied to her to say that under certain circumstances it was preferable to have a clear break to living in make-believe. I did not encourage her in this matter, mostly for the sake of her father. One day, she told me that she could not bear the thought of being married to a Hindu. I told her “It is a compliment to the galaxy of great men Hinduism has produced through the ages”.I never encouraged her to come to my bedroom. On one occasion she came. It was past midnight. I was fast asleep, having worked till midnight; she lay down beside me and gently woke me up by a kiss. I asked her “What is the matter?” She said: “I had to come”. I did not know if she had been troubled in mind. I told her: “Let us lie here quietly and do nothing unless you want to”. She said: “On this occasion, I only want to be with you”. She lay there relaxed till about 4 in the morning, and gently tip-toed to her room upstairs. Before going away she told me: “I never told you that once I thought of committing suicide. Such thoughts do not come to me anymore. You have given me back my happiness.”
Once, early in our life of love, she told me, “I never knew what real sex was until I had you”. At the height of her passion in bed, she would hold me tight and say “Oh, Bhupat, I love you”. She loved to give and receive nick-names. She gave me the name of Bhupat the dacoit, and I promptly gave her the name of Putli, the dacoits. In private we used to call each other by these names. About her protestations of love in her romantic excitement, I quoted to her once two passages from Byron’s Don Juan:” Man’s love is a man’s life, a thing apart, It is a woman’s whole existence. In her first passion woman loves her lover; In all others all she loves is love”.She replied, “all right, I want you to tell me as often as possible, not in bed, that you love me”. I tried my best to oblige her. In fact, there was no difficulty, for I had fallen deeply in love with her. One evening, I found her disturbed. When she saw me, she burst into tears. I asked her what had happened. She said that when she came from her dressing room to drink her usual glass of milk, she discovered that there was finely powdered glass in it. The powder was floating on the thick cream. At the first sip, she immediately sensed it in her mouth and spat it out. She said that from her dressing room she heard her husband sneaking into her bedroom and making an exit. She controlled herself, put her arms around me and holding me tight, said: “Oh, Mackie, I love you; I am so glad you came up.”
In the Constellation plans on our first visit abroad together, she was all excited when we were in sight of Mont Blanc. She said softly to me, “I like the Queen Bee, I would like to make love high up in the air”. I asked her:” Didn’t you ever dream of soaring higher up like an eagle and surveying the world? I woke up from such a dream once and found myself on the floor, for I had fallen from the bed without breaking any bones”. She knew I was pulling her leg. On reaching London, she found out the first free meal-time for her and arranged for me to take her to a quiet restaurant. On reaching the restaurant, I asked her to order the food; I said I would have the same as hers with the addition of six large raw oysters on ice with appropriate sauce, to begin with. She said she too would have it. The main dish she ordered was veal. She said, “Ever since I arrived here, I have been dying to eat veal”. I asked her if ever she had read Vatsayana’s Kama Sutra. She said, “No, why?” I told her Vatsayana had prescribed veal for a young couple for six months before marriage. She had not even read the Ramayana or the Mahabharata. Her knowledge of the Ramayana was only what her grandmother had told her. In many ways, she was a denationalized person.
She did not like artificial birth-control aids. Once in the early fifties, she got pregnant by me. She decided to have an abortion done. She went to the British High Commission doctor whom she knew personally, but he refused to help. So she went to her ancestral home and got in touch with a lady doctor whom she knew personally and in whom she had perfect confidence. On this trip, she took her second son with her. After a fortnight the mother and the little son returned with the good news that the boy was cured of his defect in a speech in the natural process. Earlier he could not pronounce “R”, and the mother was worried about it; she was in a frantic search for a speech-correction expert. On the day of her return, she told me that the whole thing came out without any medication or aid. Was the father aware of her attachment to me? The answer is in the affirmative. Every time he had to go out for dinner, he knew where to find her. Fifteen minutes before the time of departure, she would come fully decked up and sit in front of me in my study. At the stroke of the appointed time, the father would pass my study and call her out.
In the winter of 1958, I happened to see something by sheer chance. Immediately after lunch, I went to convey some urgent information to her. She had already closed the door. I knocked; after about five minutes she half-opened the door and peeped out. I discovered that the curtains were drawn and a tall, youngish handsome, bearded man – a Brahmachari – was in the room. I came away saying “I had something to tell you, but I shall say it later”. That was the end of our relationship. She tried to make me believe several times that the scene I witnessed meant nothing more than some “yoga” and “spiritual” lessons. I gave her the definite impression that I was not interested in her explanations. Gradually she grew bitter against me. In fact, ultimately she became my deadly enemy – which constantly reminded me of the famous couplet of William Congrave:” Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”Within a fortnight of the incident, I collected all her passionate letters and returned them to her. A year later I came across some more in my old papers. They were also returned to her. There is an erroneous belief among some that she and her husband came together during the last two years of the husband’s life. Enough had happened in their lives that a reunion of hearts was not humanly possible. She was indeed kind and considerate to him during his illness. Certain things were done during this period and more especially at the cremation and collection of the ashes of the husband and well-advertised to give certain desired impressions. They were all for public consumption, for, by that time, she had emerged as a full-fledged political animal.
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Indira Priyadarshini Gandhi 19 November 1917 - 31 October 1984) was an Indian stateswoman and central figure of the Indian National Congress. She was the first and, to date, the only female Prime Minister of India. Gandhi belonged to the Nehru-Gandhi family and was the daughter of Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Indian prime minister. Despite her surname Gandhi, she is not related to the family of Mahatma Gandhi. She served as Prime Minister from January 1966 to March 1977 and again from January 1980 until her assassination in October 1984, making her the second longest-serving Indian prime minister after her father.
Gandhi served as her father's personal assistant and hostess during his tenure as Prime Minister between 1947 and 1964. She was elected Congress President in 1959. Upon her father's death in 1964 she was appointed as a member of the Rajya Sabha (upper house) and became a member of Lal Bahadur Shastri's cabinet as Minister of Information and Broadcasting.[1] In the Congress Party's parliamentary leadership election held in early 1966 (upon the death of Shastri) she defeated her rival, Morarji Desai, to become leader, and thus succeeded Shastri as Prime Minister of India.
Facts Related to Indira Gandhi
# Her husband Feroze Gandhi or Feroze Khan was a son of Nawab Khan, a supplier of wine to her ancestral home at Allahabad. She fell into a romantic relationship with Feroze Khan who often used to visit her house. This secret of hers was also revealed by the then Governor of Maharashtra to her father.
# Indira Gandhi changed her name to Maimuna Begum to get married to Feroze Khan. The marriage took place in London
# Nehru got angered on listening such and such marriage of her loving daughter in England. He got worried about their return to India as their marriage would make the general public annoyed and disturbed. And moreover, this may result in his own political suicide. He then made a plan and told Feroze Khan to change his name into 'Feroze Gandhi' just by signing an affidavit. And thus, he arranged a mock marriage of his daughter with a Muslim boy.
# Indira Gandhi was expelled from Oxford University for her unmeritorious performance. Her father, Nehru, then got her admitted into Shantiniketan University where she didn't rise to the expectations of Guru Rabindranath Tagore who often used to admonish her.
# Her younger son Sanjay Gandhi was caught in car theft in the UK. Krishana Menon, the then Ambassador to the UK, was instructed by Indira Gandhi to save her son at any cost. The Ambassador, applying his power changed his name to Sanjay and acquired a new passport under that new name. He then handed over that passport, bearing a faked name 'Sanjay Gandhi' so that Sanjay could be safely returned to India. So, in this way, Sanjiv Gandhi, the real name of 'Sanjay Gandhi' came into existence.
# The book "Nehru Dynasty" by K N Rao, clearly revealed that Sanjay Gandhi (Sanjiv Gandhi) was, in reality, the son of some Mohammad Yunus and not of Feroze Khan. Even, when the marriage of Sanjay took place with a Sikh girl 'Maneka', Mohammad Yunus became unhappy as he wanted to get his son married to a Muslim girl only.
# Sanjay Gandhi was also circumcised, a customary ritual practiced in a Muslim family. This fact too was revealed by Mohammad Yunus in his controversial book 'Persons, Passion and Politics'. When Yunus came to hear about the death of Sanjay Gandhi in a plane crash, he wept a lot.
# Indira Gandhi had different romantic affairs. First with her German teacher, at Shantiniketan, who used to teach her English. Then came M O Mathai, her father's secretary. She then caught affinity for his famous Yoga teacher, Dhirendra Brahmchari. Her last love affair was with Dinesh Singh, the then Foreign Minister. And this sizzling fact was exposed by Katherine Frank in her book 'The life of Indira Nehru Gandhi'.
# A book 'Profile and Letters' written by none other than a seasoned politician Natwar Singh had said that Indira's son Rajiv Gandhi could not clear his exams of Mechanical Engineering, which he had been pursuing from 1962 to 1965 at Trinity College, London.
# Rajiv Gandhi's wife Sonia Gandhi's real name was 'Antonia Maino' who was a Catholic and a daughter of a mason. Her father was an ill-famous Naxalite of a fascist regime in Italy. He had also spent 5 years in prison in Russia.
Nixon wasn’t the only American who was nasty about Indira (he called her a bitch). Jacqueline Kennedy described her as a ‘real prune – bitter, kind of pushy horrible woman . . . it always looks like she’s been sucking a lemon’.
Indira allegedly had an affair with Nehru’s secretary, M.O. Mathai. He apparently wrote a chapter on her that was never published for his autobiography. According to an unverifiable version of the chapter, Mathai wrote: ‘in the sex act she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined’.
After Sanjay died, relations between Maneka and Indira turned frosty. Maneka even wrote an open letter to Indira published in the Indian Express, saying ‘as soon as Sanjay died you started literally torturing me in every conceivable way . . . I fought so bitterly for you . . . when the rest of your family was packed and ready to go abroad.’
Before the Shimla peace talks with Pakistan, Indira personally re-decorated the room where Zulfikar Ali Bhutto was to stay. According to her social secretary Usha Bhagat, ‘We went to the chief minister’s house and got a few things from there including his bed. We went to Raj Bhavan and picked up a deep-red raw silk bedspread, we wrote to Rashtrapati Bhavan asking them to send silver writing sets and stationery . . . ‘
Indira planned official menus with great care, naming dishes according to the guest. When the Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin came for tea, she produced a menu comprising Flying Saucer Samosas, Meteorite Sweets and Laddoo Lunar.
In March 1982 at the Festival of India in London, the London Philharmonic Orchestra struck up India’s national anthem. As the orchestra played ‘Jana Gana Mana’ while the Prince of Wales stood to attention, Pupul Jayakar glanced at Indira Gandhi to find her eyes shining with tears.
The morning Indira Gandhi was shot, the driver of the ambulance stationed at the prime minister’s house was away for his tea break. So she was bundled into a white Ambassador even as Sonia Gandhi came running down the path, shouting, ‘Mummy! Oh my God, Mummy!’
Indira was a doting grandmother: a few months after Operation Blue Star when fears for her life were very high, she and Priyanka Gandhi spent an evening together watching Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice on TV.
After Indira lost the post-Emergency general election she moved out of her official government house and into a friend’s bungalow, 12 Willingdon Crescent. There, in a much smaller, cramped house with files, books, and trunks piled up on all sides, Indira took up residence with her family and five dogs. She was abandoned by most of her friends.
The night before Sanjay Gandhi died, Indira beseeched him not to fly the plane he would crash and die in the following morning.
Indira had a funny side to her: once when a band of monkeys entered Moni Malhoutra’s office room in South Block and broke a bottle of perfume he had got for his wife, Mrs. Gandhi came up the steps yelling, ‘This place smells like a brothel!’
Doctor Zhivago and Black Beauty were Indira’s favorite films.
When asked about which books and authors had most affected her, she listed the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Oscar Wilde, Victor Hugo, Tagore, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There and Fabre’s Book of Insects.
‘Once when President Zia of Pakistan complained to her about getting bad press, she advised, “Don’t worry about these pressmen, they know nothing; look, they call you a democrat and me a dictator!” The President was not amused.’
My 12 years of sex life with Indira Gandhi came to an end after I saw her with another man behind the curtain: M.O Mathai
When we talk of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, many Congressmen say that she is the Iron Lady of India; she divided Pakistan into two and many more. But will they speak up about the dark secrets of her?
M.O Mathai was the Private Secretary to India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. He served as Nehru’s special assistant from 1946 to 1959. But Nehru’s personal secretary got too personal with Indira Gandhi. Yes, M.O Mathai who was with Nehru, knew everything about the Nehru family, actually a bit too much. Mathai wrote a book named “Reminiscences of the Nehru Age” in which he has stripped naked the Nehru family. Several secrets of Nehru are revealed but what is more interesting is the chapter of Indira Gandhi titled “She”.
Mathai was Indira Gandhi’s secret lover!!!
In his book, Mathai has shown immense respect towards Nehru but he has even openly spoken out of the intimate relationship Nehru had with Edwina, Padmaja Naidu (Sarojini Naidu’s daughter), Mridula Sarabhai and many others. Nehru was deeply busy in impressing these ladies that he forgot to take care of India. Eventually, India lost the 1962 Indo-China war.
In that book, there was a chapter named “She” which was withdrawn at the last moment. This chapter has a pin to pin details of Mathai’s sexual relationship with Indira Gandhi.
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Mathai had such a romantic affair with Indira Gandhi that it created distress in Indira Gandhi’s home. It is a known fact that Nehru too didn’t like Feroze Gandhi. Mathai says that he was Indira’s lover for twelve long years and even made her pregnant once. But she had an abortion.
Indira Gandhi told Mathai “I want to sleep with you, take me to the wilds tomorrow evening.” Mathai replied that he didn’t have any experience with a woman before. So she gave him two books, one was of Dr. Abraham Stone about sex and female anatomy.
She asked him to take her out into the wilds after sundown. She always held Mathai tightly and called him “Oh, Bhupat I love you”. Indira gave him the name Bhupat, the dacoit and Mathai called her as Putli, the dacoits. He said that he never knew what real sex was until he had Indira.
The chapter says her ‘cold and forbidding’ reputation was only a measure of ‘feminine self-protection’; she was ‘exceptionally good in bed’; ‘in the sex act she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined’. Mathai also says that she loved prolonged kissing.
Why did Mathai end his relationship with Indira?
Though he had a very good sexual relation with Indira Gandhi, why did he distance himself from her? Indira Gandhi didn’t have an affair with just one man. One day when Mathai came to meet Indira Gandhi, he saw her with Dhirendra Brahmachari, a tall man who laid with Indira Gandhi. When Mathai saw Indira with him, he said to her that “I had something to tell you, but I shall say it later”. This was the end of his relationship with Indira Gandhi.
Dhirendra Brahmachari was a yoga instructor of Indira Gandhi. The yoga posture soon turned sexually.
Indira Gandhi once said that she could not bear to ever be married to a Hindu but she got laid with a Hindu. She also said that ‘I like the Queen Bee. I would like to make love high up in the air.’
At the end of the chapter, Mathai wrote ‘I had fallen deeply in love with her.’
Credit: Reminiscences of the Nehru Age
Disclaimer: The information was taken from the excerpts from the autobiography of M.O. Mathai. The Rishudiary doesn’t endorse or reject any views of the autobiography and is no way responsible for any misinformation in the autobiography.
Here is the entire chapter titled “She” written by M.O Mathai
She has Cleopatra’s nose, Pauline Bonaparte’s eyes and the breasts of Venus. She has hair on her limbs which have to be shaven frequently. Physically and mentally she is more of a male than a female. I would call her a manly woman. I met her first in her ancestral home in the winter of 1945. She then had a baby son of crawling age and who was a cry baby. My first reaction was that she was a conceited girl with unhappiness written all over her face. Her second son, born in December 1946, was an unwanted child. As a baby, he had to be circumcised to remove a defect. By 1947 her cup of unhappiness was full and fortune took possession of her face. In the autumn of 1946, her father gave her a small Austin car. She wanted me to teach her driving. In the initial stages, I used to take her to the Viceroy’s bodyguard’s Polo Ground for lessons. She was quick in learning. Then I stopped the driving lessons because she was getting into the advanced stage of pregnancy. I told her I didn’t want her to take any risk going into the open roads learning driving. Her second son was born in the middle of December 1946. By the middle of February 1947, she was ready to resume driving lessons. We went into the roads and to Connaught Circus. Then I told her “you just imagine that you know everything, concentrate, consider the person driving a car from the opposite direction is a fool, and go along with confidence driving the car, take a round of Connaught Circus and come back”. She did that and returned in triumph. The driving lessons ended there. Before the middle of 1947, she asked me to take her out to a cinema. From then on we used to go out for pictures as often as I was free – which was not frequent.
She looked forward to taking me out driving over the Ridge with the jungle on either side. She hated small cars. So we used to go in my car which was a Plymouth. She liked to go into the wilds where there were ruins. Drives to regions beyond Qutab Minar were favored. One day, during an aimless drive, she told me complainingly “You do not love me”. I said, “I do not know; I had not thought about it”. By the autumn of 1947, I knew she had fallen headlong in love with me without me taking any initiative in the matter. Her face would light upon seeing me. She started talking to me about herself. She said that sometime after her marriage, she discovered that her husband was not faithful to her. This came to her as a great shock because she married him in the teeth of opposition from every member of the family. She said she began to lose her saris, coats, blouses, shoes, and handbags. She suspected the servants until she discovered some of her lost things on the persons of two women at a party. These women were known to be friendly with her husband. She also found out to which women her husband had given the books stolen from her book-shelves. She made it known rather discreetly what her intentions were about me. I told her I had two inhibitions: (1) I did not like to fool around with married women; (2) my loyalty to her father prohibited anything such as she had in mind. She was immediately forthcoming about No.1. She assured me that some time ago she had stopped having anything to do with her husband. She added: “I can no longer bear the thought of his touching me”. She further confided in me “fortunately he has also gone impotent though he retained his attraction to women”. About No. 2 she was angry with me and asked “What has my father got to do with it? Am I a minor?”
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Since then she spent as much time with me as possible and ridiculed me for my attitude to her father in so far as she was concerned. But I continued to resist gently. I was not mentally prepared or reconciled as of yet. On the 18th of November 1947, she took me to her room and kissed me full on the lips and told me “I want to sleep with you; take me to the wilds tomorrow evening”. I told her that I had very little experience with women. She said “all the better”. So on the 19th, which was her birthday, we went driving out and chose a place in the wilderness. On our way back I told her that I had some revulsion about milk in her breasts (though she had stopped breast-feeding the child a while ago). Afterward, she did something about it and soon went completely dry. She discovered that I knew little about sex, and gave me two books, one of them by Dr. Abraham Stone about sex and female anatomy. I read them with profit. She was not promiscuous; neither did she need sex too frequently. But in the sex act, she had all the artfulness of French women and Kerala Nair women combined. She loved prolonged kissing and being kissed in the same fashion. She had established a reputation for being cold and forbidding. She was nothing of the kind. It was only a pose as a feminine measure of self-protection. She was a passionate woman who was exceptionally good as a wriggler in bed. During the twelve years, we were lovers, I was never satisfied with her. Progressively she became hostile to the fat female family friend who used to come to stay. Ever since she saw the family friend welcoming me on arrival with a hug and an innocent kiss on my cheek, she became jealous and livid with rage against the family friend. Occasionally the family friend used to ask me to take her and my “she” to a good cinema whenever there was one in town. My “she” could cleverly see to it that I did not sit near the family friend but only next to her as third in the row.
The day before the next time the family friend was expected to arrive “she” asked me to take her out into the wilds after sundown. In the car, I asked her ‘what is the big idea? I have some urgent work to do’. She replied ‘as long as the fat one is here, I will keep away from you because I do not want you to touch me after she has touched you.’ I assured her that I had absolutely no interest in the fat one. Eventually, ‘she’ got used to the fat one's friendly welcome and departure gestures to me. She tried hard to persuade me to occasionally go up to her room while her husband was there, sit down and talk to them both. I told her that I had no intention of practicing deception. So she used to bring him to my study occasionally. She used all kinds of devices to ensure that her children spent as little time with their father as possible. She told me that she did not want any influence of their father on them because she was convinced that his influence would be bad for them. She concluded by saying: “I do not want my children to grow up as champion liars.” This was one of the reasons why her husband was shifted to a separate room. Once I mentioned to her something which her husband had told me. She said: “Don’t believe a word of what he says. I have learned it to my bitter cost”.
She wrote to A.C.N. Nambiar, whom she had known personally for a long time and who was also a friend of her father and mother, asking for his opinion about divorcing her husband. She knew that Nambiar was a dear friend of mine. Nambiar replied to her to say that under certain circumstances it was preferable to have a clear break to living in make-believe. I did not encourage her in this matter, mostly for the sake of her father. One day, she told me that she could not bear the thought of being married to a Hindu. I told her “It is a compliment to the galaxy of great men Hinduism has produced through the ages”.I never encouraged her to come to my bedroom. On one occasion she came. It was past midnight. I was fast asleep, having worked till midnight; she lay down beside me and gently woke me up by a kiss. I asked her “What is the matter?” She said: “I had to come”. I did not know if she had been troubled in mind. I told her: “Let us lie here quietly and do nothing unless you want to”. She said: “On this occasion, I only want to be with you”. She lay there relaxed till about 4 in the morning, and gently tip-toed to her room upstairs. Before going away she told me: “I never told you that once I thought of committing suicide. Such thoughts do not come to me anymore. You have given me back my happiness.”
Once, early in our life of love, she told me, “I never knew what real sex was until I had you”. At the height of her passion in bed, she would hold me tight and say “Oh, Bhupat, I love you”. She loved to give and receive nick-names. She gave me the name of Bhupat the dacoit, and I promptly gave her the name of Putli, the dacoits. In private we used to call each other by these names. About her protestations of love in her romantic excitement, I quoted to her once two passages from Byron’s Don Juan:” Man’s love is a man’s life, a thing apart, It is a woman’s whole existence. In her first passion woman loves her lover; In all others all she loves is love”.She replied, “all right, I want you to tell me as often as possible, not in bed, that you love me”. I tried my best to oblige her. In fact, there was no difficulty, for I had fallen deeply in love with her. One evening, I found her disturbed. When she saw me, she burst into tears. I asked her what had happened. She said that when she came from her dressing room to drink her usual glass of milk, she discovered that there was finely powdered glass in it. The powder was floating on the thick cream. At the first sip, she immediately sensed it in her mouth and spat it out. She said that from her dressing room she heard her husband sneaking into her bedroom and making an exit. She controlled herself, put her arms around me and holding me tight, said: “Oh, Mackie, I love you; I am so glad you came up.”
In the Constellation plans on our first visit abroad together, she was all excited when we were in sight of Mont Blanc. She said softly to me, “I like the Queen Bee, I would like to make love high up in the air”. I asked her:” Didn’t you ever dream of soaring higher up like an eagle and surveying the world? I woke up from such a dream once and found myself on the floor, for I had fallen from the bed without breaking any bones”. She knew I was pulling her leg. On reaching London, she found out the first free meal-time for her and arranged for me to take her to a quiet restaurant. On reaching the restaurant, I asked her to order the food; I said I would have the same as hers with the addition of six large raw oysters on ice with appropriate sauce, to begin with. She said she too would have it. The main dish she ordered was veal. She said, “Ever since I arrived here, I have been dying to eat veal”. I asked her if ever she had read Vatsayana’s Kama Sutra. She said, “No, why?” I told her Vatsayana had prescribed veal for a young couple for six months before marriage. She had not even read the Ramayana or the Mahabharata. Her knowledge of the Ramayana was only what her grandmother had told her. In many ways, she was a denationalized person.
She did not like artificial birth-control aids. Once in the early fifties, she got pregnant by me. She decided to have an abortion done. She went to the British High Commission doctor whom she knew personally, but he refused to help. So she went to her ancestral home and got in touch with a lady doctor whom she knew personally and in whom she had perfect confidence. On this trip, she took her second son with her. After a fortnight the mother and the little son returned with the good news that the boy was cured of his defect in a speech in the natural process. Earlier he could not pronounce “R”, and the mother was worried about it; she was in a frantic search for a speech-correction expert. On the day of her return, she told me that the whole thing came out without any medication or aid. Was the father aware of her attachment to me? The answer is in the affirmative. Every time he had to go out for dinner, he knew where to find her. Fifteen minutes before the time of departure, she would come fully decked up and sit in front of me in my study. At the stroke of the appointed time, the father would pass my study and call her out.
In the winter of 1958, I happened to see something by sheer chance. Immediately after lunch, I went to convey some urgent information to her. She had already closed the door. I knocked; after about five minutes she half-opened the door and peeped out. I discovered that the curtains were drawn and a tall, youngish handsome, bearded man – a Brahmachari – was in the room. I came away saying “I had something to tell you, but I shall say it later”. That was the end of our relationship. She tried to make me believe several times that the scene I witnessed meant nothing more than some “yoga” and “spiritual” lessons. I gave her the definite impression that I was not interested in her explanations. Gradually she grew bitter against me. In fact, ultimately she became my deadly enemy – which constantly reminded me of the famous couplet of William Congrave:” Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”Within a fortnight of the incident, I collected all her passionate letters and returned them to her. A year later I came across some more in my old papers. They were also returned to her. There is an erroneous belief among some that she and her husband came together during the last two years of the husband’s life. Enough had happened in their lives that a reunion of hearts was not humanly possible. She was indeed kind and considerate to him during his illness. Certain things were done during this period and more especially at the cremation and collection of the ashes of the husband and well-advertised to give certain desired impressions. They were all for public consumption, for, by that time, she had emerged as a full-fledged political animal.
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Oh boy too many facts are plain wrong here where do I start....let's start with Feroze gandhi was a PARSI not a muslim
ReplyDeleteThis article IS BULLSHIT!Almost ALL THE THINGS written here are not only “plain wrong”,as someone else says,but ABSOLUTELY ABSURD AND NONSENSICAL!
ReplyDeleteThis article IS BULLSHIT!Almost ALL THE THINGS written here are not only “plain wrong”,as someone else says,but ABSOLUTELY ABSURD AND NONSENSICAL!
ReplyDeleteThis article IS BULLSHIT!Almost ALL THE THINGS written here are not only “plain wrong”,as someone else says,but ABSOLUTELY ABSURD AND NONSENSICAL!
ReplyDelete