There was a time when leaders loved press conferences. They stood proudly behind microphones, smiled confidently at reporters and answered questions with the enthusiasm of students who had actually studied for the exam.

Today, press conferences have become like surprise dental appointments. Nobody wants to attend them.

Which brings me to our Prime Minister’s latest foreign tour where, once again, journalists gathered hopefully, cameras rolled expectantly, questions were polished carefully, and then suddenly, like a schoolboy hearing the final bell, the Prime Minister disappeared without taking a single question.

Bold Norwegian journalist Helle Lyng shouted after him asking why he would not take questions from “the freest press in the world.” But by then our PM had moved away with the speed of a man who had suddenly remembered he had left the gas on at home.

Now mind you, there is an art to avoiding questions.

Some politicians become angry. Some joke. Some pretend they did not hear. Some suddenly discover an urgent international crisis near the exit door.

But our government has perfected something extraordinary. They answer questions without answering them.

And this is where diplomat Sibi George entered magnificently.

The journalist asked a direct question about human rights and press freedom. Instead of replying, Sibi took everybody on what appeared to be a conducted tour of Indian civilisation.

Within minutes we travelled through five thousand years of history, invented zero, played chess, stretched ourselves into yoga postures, distributed Covid vaccines, admired the Constitution, celebrated diversity, and possibly stopped briefly for chai and samosas.

By the end of the answer, I suspect even the journalist had forgotten the original question.

It reminded me of my school days.

“Bob, where is your homework?”

“Madam, homework is very important in shaping civilisation. In ancient India great gurus taught discipline under banyan trees. Speaking of trees, oxygen is important for humanity.”

Unfortunately my teachers lacked diplomatic training and still punished me.

Now as a public speaker, I actually love questions.

Nothing excites me more than somebody standing at the back of the hall with folded arms, a dangerous smile and a question beginning with, “But sir, don’t you think…?”

That is where real speaking begins.

A tricky question forces you to become specific. You cannot wander around like a tourist in Connaught Place looking for a shop that no longer exists. You have to answer clearly, calmly and quickly.

And if the questioner is aggressive, your job is not to become aggressive back. Your job is to calm the volatile speaker. Smile. Lower the temperature. Finish quickly. And if you handle it well, the audience quietly awards you brownie points.

People walk away saying, “Ah, that was clever. He handled that beautifully.”

Anybody can read from a teleprompter. But can you think on your feet when somebody throws a verbal coconut at your head?

That is leadership.

Which is why all this fear of questions surprises me.

Honestly, how magnificent it would have looked if Narendra Modi had simply stopped, smiled and answered the Norwegian journalist the same way he convinces voters in India. Whether one agrees with him or not, nobody can deny that the man is a powerful communicator before crowds.

Instead, we got yoga, chess, zero and civilisation from dear Sibi.

Maybe what will finally convince our beloved leaders to take questions is if India invents a teleprompter that actually thinks and flashes the answers to questions on screen..!

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