Foreign Minister Krishna had an epiphany. He woke up one morning and decided that unless he chastised the home secretary publicly life would be incomplete, no birds would sing and his inhouse astrologer would not be able to charm the stars out of their hostile houses.

Yes sir, there was still unfinished business over the fiasco called the Indo-Pak talks. So, in his profound wisdom he announces that Mr Pillai was out of line in making remarks about the ISI involvement in the Mumbai attacks prior to departure. Wo, man, that is awesome. What was so confidential about this remark? In one fell swoop, he took what was at best a ‘this is John’s dog Spot, say hello Spot’ infantile revelation (seeing how no one in India falls out of bed with shock at this incandescent insight) and turned it into a pistol to shoot himself in the foot. And the country. And also lacerate Indian credibility abroad, especially in Islamabad.

In doing what he did he was able to show our foreign policy power for what it is…a shriveled up, sad, sorry little undernourished insect lying there with none to do it any reverence.

By washing, dry cleaning, sanforising and ironing dirty linen Krishna managed to send a benediction to Qureshi absolving him of his boorishness and bad manners as a host, being good ones something Pakistanis pride themselves on.

He then underscored the fact that the Indians did not have their ducks in a row and probably were seeking permission from New Delhi on every move including visiting the loo and that Mr Qureshi’s standing was given a boost when he said the Indians came unprepared and had no mandate.

Talk about egg on the face.

Instead of Qureshi quailing in his boots for having sabotaged the talks and facing a certain admonishment from his government Krishna has given him such a resounding cheer at the cost of his own home secretary that Qureshi becomes the quintessential diplomat instead of a person whose high and mighty arrogance deserved a comeuppance. So Pillai made a few aggressive remarks. Big deal, why do always have to fetch up with this ingratiating attitude like poor country cousins at a rich man’s wedding. Where is the spunk, the gravel in the gut, we are always so mealy mouthed and grateful for crumbs. Pakistan slags us off every few hours. I am not saying you should get into a slanging match but you don’t sell your home sec so cheaply. The sanctimony of it makes one want to be sick.

It was bad enough the Indian contingent got royally roasted at the talks but like with the Scarlet Pimpernel I seek the reason here, I seek it there, I seek it everywhere but I cannot find it. What was the point of this bare all, tell all exercise which only lead to strengthening the Pakistani side of the table. If they wanted to sacrifice Pillai post him to the Andamans or whatever, why publicly make a dog’s breakfast of our foreign policy, show ourselves as divisive and unsure what to do and give so much delight to the adversary.

Just because the foreign ministry and the home ministry don’t get on does it mean the nation’s image has to suffer so dramatically and in such a undergrad manner that a foreign minister retracts his support one week later and hangs his home secretary out to dry.

What if Krishna had kept his silence and no ammunition offered to the Pakistanis. Shut the door, fight it out, get an act together but shut the door.

I can hear the laughter in Islamabad, echoing against the rafters. Game, set and match.