“Make sure the printing press ownerdelivers the posters tomorrow!”orderedRam Chand burping loudly while chomping on an onion pakora. He then mechanically wiped his fingers on the edge of the newspaper which lay languid under the weight of a dozen greasy pakoras and a bowl of tamarind chutney.
“He’ll do so first thing in the morning”, assured Sukhdev.
“Have we penalized him?”
“No”.
“We should have. Considering the quality of samples, he submitted for our selection. He has me either scowling as though I’ve been denied the party-ticket …or sporting a grin wider than the Indian Ocean as though I’ve already won when the campaigning has not even started! But what’s most shocking…he’s made me occupy centre-stage…My face dwarfs those of the others…as though the others don’t matter”.
“But Sir, you are the candidate for the assembly election”, Sukhdev pleaded.
“Don’t I know that? You think I’m a fool or something?” Ram Chand spat out the words savagelyalong with half-eaten bits of fritter,which now clung onto Sukhdev’s kurta.
“Sorry, Sir”, Sukhdev squeaked reeling under the salvo, but careful not to dust the food particles from his kurta for fear of offending his boss.
“The idiot was trying to impress me perhaps…But think of it…Me, towering over the Prime Minister, Chief Minister and Party President…What an insult to them! Worse than blasphemy! That printer’s got his brains in his knees, I’m convinced!”
“Ignore that, Sir…He was giving his best for you…After all, you are his everything…. I mean what is the Chief Minister…or even the Prime Minister to him? He depends on you to take care of him”.
The Campaign Manager’s words massaged the Candidate’s ego. Ram Chand grabbed three pakoras and popped them into his mouth one after the otheras though he were participating in a peanut-eating contest. He gestured to Sukhdev to have one. Sukhdev initially refused but on Ram Chand’s insistence – which had the accompaniment of a menacing look – he reluctantly picked up a pakora and began nibbling at it. This was his way of obeying his master albeit in slow-motion. Just as some people who drank only to give company took a sip of liquor every half-an-hour. He could already visualize the tricks this itsy-bitsy snack would soon start playing on his digestive system, he having suffered from acid-reflux for what seemed like centuries!
“We’re meeting the booth-level workers this afternoon?”
“Yes, Sir. Along with the booth-level managers. There are 102 polling booths in our assembly constituency. We’ve done some research on all booths…the composition of voters in terms of their caste and religion…booth-wise results of the last election and so on. We have data on the number of mobile phone users, internet users and the like…We will be using social media in a big way…Bulk sms messages, bulk whatsapp messages…”.
“What about the video you were supposed to shootwherein I appeal to the voters to vote for me? It was to be aired on youtube…”
Sukhdev’s armpits began squirting sweat. He swallowed hard trying to lubricate his throat which had suddenly become drier than a riverbed in summer. “We…we…had second thoughts about that….”
“Who’s the ‘We’?” Ram Chand growled. “Does it include me?”
“No…No, Sir…I mean…”
“You mean I’m not part of my own campaign?”
“We decided…We were…I swear on God…We were going to break the news to you this afternoon…”
“Why? Am I not telegenic? Do I stutter while speaking? Come on, tell me!”
“Nothing to do with you, Sir…I promise”.
“Come on…Out with it! Out with whatever you rascals say behind my back!”
“Believe me, Sir…It’s just that we thought that your making promises would be a bad thing…”
“Why so?”
“Omprakash, the sitting member of the assembly…”
“Don’t mention that scoundrel’s name!”
“I’m sorry…Hehad made a million promises…”
“The rogue! As though he could pluck heaven out of thin air and place it in our town”.
“But didn’t fulfill any of them”.
“That’s why they didn’t give him another chance…I got the ticket instead…Though I don’t even belong to this place…Perhaps they wanted an outsider.”
“Now we’ll have to answer questions that should have been put to him”.
“Do you think he’ll rebel? Will he campaign for one of our rivals?”
“They …the rival parties won’t touch him with a barge-pole!”
“So, there is anti-incumbency…as the newspapers say”.
“There has always been anti-incumbency…That’s the specialty of our constituency…No party has retained this seat. Ever.” Sukhdev suddenly realized from the scowl on his boss’ face that he had exceeded his brief. He quickly attempted to make amends. “That is not to say that we’re going in with any handicap…In fact, I’m certain we’ll make history this time”.
Sukhdev’s words however had no impact on Ram Chandwho had gone deaf temporarily. He was staring into space – scratching his goatee – wondering whether he had been given the ticket only to carry the burden of the unfulfilled promises of Omprakash.
*
Ram Chand arrived at the election rally an hour late.
“We’re late, Sukhdev!” Ram Chand’s eyes were balls of fire.
“Sir…People are still sauntering in… Sir, if you were to come on time, people get the impression that you have nothing else to do…Reduces your importance in their eyes”.
As Ram Chand stepped out of the car, a dozen people made a rush – a couple of them tripping over in the process – to garland him shouting, “Long live, Ram Chand Sir!”A pandal had been set up on a vacant plot and this acted as the venue. When he took his place on the dais, he heard the sound of three claps, whereupon the first row of people – mostly housewives and unemployed youth – sprung out of their seats and began dancing wildly. This spurred a couple of young men to begin whistling loudly. One person grabbed hold of a mike and kept repeating in a voice -hoarser than that of a crow and which could have been heard in another continent – “He’ll win…He’ll win…our beloved Ram Chand Sir will surely win!” People waved flags with such enthusiasm that one would have thought the country had attained freedomjust minutes back.A few moments later, the person with the mike appealed to all to return to their seats. He then began speaking, “Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce our party candidate Ram Chand Sir…Though Ram Chand Sir needs no introduction…” Ram Chand noticed that the last three rows of chairs were empty. A few elderly men lay sprawled in their seats dozing. In one corner, a group of six boys sat sucking lollipopsand shaking their legs that dangled from plastic chairs.
“What are those boys doing here, Sukhdev?”
“Which boys,Sir?” Sukhdev asked rising a little from his chair. Shading his eyes with his right hand, hethrew glances at every part of the venue except the corner where the boys sat, one of them laughing so vigorously that he was almost falling off his chair. “I don’t see any boys, Sir…”
“Sukhdev, look there! Where I’m pointing my finger!” Ram Chand said grinding his teeth.
“Oh, there? Oh yes…How didn’t I notice? They should have been in school…The cheeky brats! And not even voters! I’m sure they’ve come for the mutton biryani we’re serving after this event…A hundred times tastier than their mid-day meal for sure”.
“Sukhdev, after this function is over, summon the person responsible… It’s so embarrassing!” Ram Chand pulled out his kerchief beforesuddenly realizing that he had to remove half-a-dozen garlands before being able to mop the sweat from his nape. “What will their teachers think of us?”
“Sir, have no qualms on that count…From the boys’ uniforms I know that they are from the municipal school across the road… Won’t be surprised if a few of their teachers have sneaked in too with the expectation of getting a token…”
“I don’t get it…What is this token business?”
“In the past, we distributed all sorts of things – saris, liquor, cash…It was the norm…Then the Election Commission put a ceiling on the amount candidates could spend… So, we started distributing tokens…People attending rallies could exchange those tokensat certain secret locations – known to all of course – one cannot be too secretive about these things, can one? So, people would exchange the tokens for ten kilos of rice or five litres of petrol or a rum bottle…But now all that has stopped…The expenditure of candidates is nowadaysbeing monitored with magnifying glasses by Expenditure Observers assisted by Surveillance teams and Flying squads!”
*
“I’m sorry Sir…It won’t be repeated, I assure you…My aim was to fill up the place…To ensure no seat remained vacant…So that we could report a full house to the press…Don’t know when those errant school-boys sneaked in…”
“It’s alright, Kishorilal!” Ram Chand said purposely raising his voicewhile stepping away. “How many times will you keep falling at my feet? We must move on…But I was upset by the thin attendance at the meeting…Besides, how many who attended will actually vote for me?”
“The sitting memberOmprakash…He’s to be blamed…He has done nothing for the town! The roads have deteriorated…There are no new jobs…The water problem has exacerbated… He has not even spent his Local Area Development fund fully!”offered Sukhdev.
“Do we make that a campaign issue? And thereby shoot ourselves in the foot? Talk sense…at least sometimes, Sukhdev!” retortedRam Chand. “Besides, we cannot create jobs or build new roads overnight can we?”
Sukhdev’s face now resembled a squashed tomato. Looking down at his calloused feet that rested on sandals which were on their last legs, he nodded agreement.Kishorilal came to his rescue.
“Sir, Sukhdev has a point…In fact I almost got lynched when I last visited the outskirts of the town…Part of theconstituency…At one place there is a stream which is dry for most part of the year…But it gets swollen during the monsoons…There is no bridge across that stream.Therefore, school-children have to hold one another’s hands and cross it carefullyto reach their school. Last monsoon, a ten-year old girl got washed away…Various people have been promising to build a bridge over that stream for years together… Omprakash has himself laid three foundation stones of the bridge during his five-year tenure…But the three foundation stones are the only construction activity the bridge has witnessed so far”
“If you check the records, you’ll find that the bridge was constructed – and paid for – thrice and was washed away on every occasion…all on paper of course!By the way, why wasn’t our symbol the tea-cup displayed prominently at the venue?”
“You’re right, Sir…Kishorilal, answer the question!” said Sukhdev viewing this as an opportunity for atonement. “Therefore, the speakers could not mention it while appealing to the voters.”
“Sukhdev!” Ram Chand’s irritation was blazoned on every sinew of his face. “Did you expect them…all of them – including me – to keep repeating, “Vote for the teacup! Vote for the teacup! Make sure you all vote for the most deserving symbol of them all – the teacup!”
Sukhdev realized that his attempts at pruning his sins had only resulted in them getting multiplied.Ram Chand’s face began to sag. “We’ll have to think up something to pull in the crowds…There are twenty contestants in the fray…Fifteen of them independents…”
“Most of them not serious ones…A few criminals thrown in…Some of them will withdraw when the serious ones pay them off…” assured Kishorilal.
“Kishorilal, do you think I’d have been better off entering the fray after having served a jail sentence?”
“You,Sir? What a joke! You don’t even disturb a mosquito that is feasting on your blood!” Kishorilal clutched his stomach and laughed loudly to enhance the effect.
“Frankly, I dread going door-to-door begging for peoples’ votes…And then surely they’ll bring up the unfulfilled promises…Can we identify people who can persuade voters of their caste or religion or professionto vote for us by the hordes?”
“I have an idea”, said Kishorilal sounding excited.“Sir, do you see movies?”
“Used to. Not seen one for years”
“Then you surely would not have seen one named “Pyaasi Tithli” which means Thirsty Butterfly. It’s about a young, beautifulwoman who…”
“Don’t even mention that!” Sukhdev shrieked, interrupting Kishorilal.
Ram Chand, his eyebrows raised looked at Sukhdev with astonishment similar to someone hearing a baby speaking fluently.
“I meant…I wanted to tell him that…it will not interest you, Sir…” Sukhdev brows were now knitted.
Ram Chand felt like a horse which has been led to a spring only to be mounted upon and ridden off before having even tasted the water. They were referring to a thirsty butterfly; he wasa thirsty horse, which had no access to water.
“The movie was a massive hit…It revived the cinema-halls of this town which were facing closure on account of poor attendance”. Sukhdev’s words were to Ram Chandlike tequila being offered to a teetotaler dying of thirst. Sukhdev motioned to Kishorilal to continue from where he had stopped.
“The movie ran for months…The film’s heroine Swati Sinha has a massive fan following here…We could…I’m only suggesting…We could ask her to campaign for us…Sir…”
Ram Chand’s face turned the colour of beetroot juice.He glowered at Kishorilal who had the look of a small boy about to cry on seeing his mother raise her hand to slap him.
“Sir, I’m sorry…”
At a loss as to how to deal with the situation, Ram Chand shifted his gaze to Sukhdev who saw it as yet another chance for atonement.
“Kishorilal, how did you even get such a stupid idea? Where were you when God was distributing brains?”
“Sukhdevji, we’ll have to do something radically different if we’re to inject some life into our campaign…Swati Sinha will be able to do just that…Don’t reject the idea summarily…I beg of you….We have to do some catching up with the opposition Justice Party…They’re well ahead of us in the opinion polls”.
“We don’t give a damn to opinion polls, Kishorilal!” Sukhdev’s tone was dismissive.
“But then why do we keep quoting them whenever they show we’ve nosed ahead?”
Ram Chand burst out laughing for the first time in days. Sukhdev was mortified. Did that mean that his boss was about to endorse a gimmicky idea of a booth level manager? He had to thwartany such possibility.
“Kishorilal, such a preposterous idea will be ready-made fodder to the opposition to have a go at us…Just think of it…Do we offer the voters drinking water, electricity and employment or …or…Swati Sinha? Will her photos be part of our election manifesto? And while she may goad a handful of men into voting for us, what about the women voters? They’ll be miffed! Will surely vote against us…”.
“Sukhdevji, your fears are unfounded…In fact, most women secretly admire Swati Sinha…my wife and daughter included”.
Ram Chand intervened here. “By the way, please ensure that all your family members turn up to vote…For us – that goes without saying – of course. We’ve had instances of a person losing an election by one vote because his wife and son were too lazy to vote!”
The other two nodded their heads vigorously before Kishorilal resumed.
“Women of this townlook up to Swati Sinha…After all, she has conquered territory which ladies have not had the guts to venture into…Besides, she’s successful … And then who can deny that the best speech-writers may toil away to compose another Gettysburg Address…But who listens to politicians without yawning? No offence meant to you, Ram Chand Sir…But just a few words…an Urdu couplet…even some giggles from a popular heroine will have the crowds in raptures!”
“Alright. So, you want Swati Sinha to campaign for us. And who’ll foot the bill? Don’t forget, we’re as it is constricted by the expenditure ceilings imposed for candidates…Besides, is sheyour sister that she’ll campaign for free?”
“Sukhdevji, we’ll work that out…”
*
Flying in from Mumbai, Swati Sinha descended on the town like a fairy sent to visit earth. Crowds thronged the three rallies where she was present. People sat everywhere – on chairs, on the ground, on each other, on trees, on rooftops. They wanted to be part of history. Swati Sinha for her part brushed aside all speeches written for her and instead chose to speak on anything that came to her mind. She cracked jokes, sang songs and occasionally pointed to some random people in the crowd who then got a chance to shake a leg with her on the dais. Ram Chand sat through each spectacle looking bemused. Invariably, by the time his chance to speak came, the crowd had begun singing and dancing wildly. People had no time to listen to what election promises he was making or hear him outline his ideas for development of the town. Thus, his speeches wereeffectively reduced to votes of thanks forSwati Sinha. There was still one final rally which Swati Sinha would address. However, such was the impact of her rallies so far that the opposition parties and independents had begun to panic. Even the atheists among them began visiting every possible place of worship. The priests never had it so good: besides receiving generous donations, they got invites to perform pujas. Astrologers too were in big demand. Ram Chand was ecstaticon hearing that the opinion polls now showed him leading. Besides, Swati Sinha’s expenses were not an immediate burden: it had been worked out that he would partially fund one of her future films.
*
Just when Ram Chand was feeling like a bird in full flight, he got the news that a large amount of cash and jewelry had been seized from a truck.
“The truck was seized by a Surveillance team led by the Expenditure Observer…They acted on a tip-off from someone”.
“You’re sure the truck was ours?”
“Yes, Sir”.
“But Sukhdev, why the hell did you have to do this? Aren’t you’re aware of the Expenditure ceiling prescribed for candidates?”
“That’s insufficient, Sir…For nursing voters”
“I don’t care! Just get us out of this mess!”
“Don’t worry, Sir…There will be an investigation…We’ll take care of that…This is the wedding season… We’ll argue that the money was for wedding expenses…”
“I hate all this! But tell me… this Expenditure Observer…Who is he?”
“Some Income Tax official from Mumbai”
“I bet the tip-off was from one of our rivals! I hate all this! How I hate it!”
*
A few days later, Ram Chand almost dropped his tea-cup while reading the newspaper.
“The Expenditure Observer has been suspended…On the accusation of molesting Swati Sinha!”
“I believe so, Sir”, Sukhdev responded tepidly.
“When did you come to know of it, Sukhdev?”
“Last evening”.
“And you didn’t think it important enough to inform me?” Ram Chand yelled.
“Didn’t want to trouble you, Sir…No doubt the dust raised by the campaigning has settled…But the polling date is fast approaching…Candidates become anxious…”
“It says here that the Expenditure Observer met Swati Sinha in her hotel room…” Ram Chand looked up from his reading. “What the hell was he doing there?”
“Don’t have the exact details, Sir…But from what I’ve heard, they know each other…He has assessed her Income Tax accounts earlier…Even raided her once…Not aware of the outcome…There are rumours of both having asked the other for some favours in the past…”
“Alright. But will all this have any impact on how people vote? After all, Swati Sinha campaigned for us…”
“If anything, she’ll garner some sympathy…we could benefit…Fingers crossed”.
Ram Chand giggled. “Sukhdev, something tells me that you knew of this thing even before it became news…”
*
It was the night of the polling day. The polling was over. Ram Chand had cast his vote early. He had also ensured that all his family members and personal staff had turned up to vote. Sukhdev was telling Ram Chand how the exit polls were predicting a win for them. Just then, Kishorilal stormed into the scene.
“Sir, I’ve just been informed that Gagan Singh…candidate of the rival Justice Party has filed a complaint against youwith the Election Commission. He has accused you of trying to influence voters today at the polling booth…by unlawfully displaying your election symbol – the tea-cup. His charge is that after casting your vote you, your family members and some of us drank tea in tea-cups… in full view of votersstanding in the long, serpentine queue.He has accused us of drinking tea ever so slowly – sip by sip – pausing for long durations after every sip…and continuing sipping long after the contents of the tea-cup had been consumed many times over…so that the image of the tea-cupwasfirmly etched in the voters’ minds as they entered the polling booth…He has sought your disqualification for canvassing near the polling station on the polling day”.
*****************
