Ever been hugged when you didn’t want to be? You know the kind—when a distant uncle at a wedding suddenly clamps you in a bear hug, and you emerge gasping for air, smelling of his aftershave for the next three weeks.

Now imagine that uncle is a bearded old Indian political leader, and the hug isn’t at a wedding but in Parliament, or at a global summit. Voilà! You have our Hugger-in-Chief.

There he is, leaping toward presidents and prime ministers, arms outstretched like a Bollywood hero running toward a heroine in slow motion. Except the heroine is usually a startled German Chancellor or some bewildered African President who would rather be anywhere else.

But ah, my favourite moment: That unforgettable day in Parliament when Rahul Gandhi, the bold opposition leader, suddenly bent down and hugged the Hugger-in-Chief! A startled hug! The cameras loved it. The nation chuckled as Rahul winked. But the hugger himself? Oh, he didn’t melt. He didn’t soften. He didn’t suddenly send roses to the Opposition.

No, he still hates Rahul with the same unflinching passion.

Didn’t the Hugger-in-Chief see it then? That hugs don’t change hearts? That clamping someone’s ribs into submission doesn’t make them adore you? Clearly not.

Psychologists, whisper that compulsive chronic hugging stems from a childhood short on affection. While other children were tucked into bed, he was selling tea.

International leaders have started devising counter-hug strategies. Some duck behind taller colleagues. Others keep their arms glued to their sides, hoping he’ll mistake them for a security guard. A few try the “handshake and retreat” manoeuvre, only to find themselves reeled in like helpless fish.

Do these hugs work? If they did, we’d have permanent seats at the UN Security Council, border disputes resolved, and neighbouring countries begging to be friends. Instead, we have viral videos of startled presidents trying to wriggle free like schoolboys from an over-enthusiastic uncle at a wedding.

Back home, CEOs are rumoured to be wearing shoulder pads to conferences, farmers scatter at the mere rumour he’s coming, and MPs practice evasive manoeuvres worthy of Olympic gymnasts. Yet the Hugger-in-Chief remains undeterred. “See how I embrace the world!” he declares, fifty six inches of his chest puffed with pride. His entourage nods politely, wondering if the Canadian Prime Minister’s chiropractor can squeeze them in next week.

But those hugs have consequences. Children ask parents with fear, “If I top the class, will he hug me?” Party workers whisper prayers at party functions.

So the next time you see our bearded leader bounding toward someone with open arms, whisper a prayer for the victim. Because hugs may heal wounds, yes, but only when they come from the heart. His leave bruises—political, physical, and psychological.

And if you’re ever invited to Parliament, carry a sign that says: Do Not Hug! Because any psychologist will tell you, that hugs mean, “I care for you!”

But our nation reflects anything but that..!

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