Why the heck should I?
I just hate the polls. No not just because a high flying big shot tries to put on and portray a common man's visage among the commonest of common men and women in hinterland Trivandrum. Not because a woman officer is forced to be chief electoral officer when the man who tried to grab her once upon a time is going great guns as the angel-in-charge of Dalit empowerment. Not because an old man who is totally at sea about the modern day world is calling another who thinks young, names. Not because a sweet looking heir-apparent grabs a sun-burnt kid hoping he would get all the other kids' parents' votes as a bunch. No, not because elections are a means of livelihood for some and pass time for many.
I hate the polls. For, my democratic, fundamental rights as an Indian are plucked from my soul and thrown to the wind. I have all the right to say no to someone who smiles at me all of a sudden as if we knew each other from time immemorial. I hate beggars who beg for something other than food. I hate the loud speakers and the manifestos that vomit lies by the minute. I hate notes that promise a temple or a mosque along with cheap rice and wheat. Cheap, isnt poll time politics just that?
Even as poll campaigning was at its peak, I had the misfortune of driving along the national highway last weekend along with wifey and kiddo. Just as we were driving into a busy junction, I found myself just another link in a long chain of smoke spitting vehicles idling ahead of me. Oh just another jam, I consoled myself. It was not to be. Scared of the 'cycle repair shop' commercial being repeated by baby daughter yet again, I had to switch off the engine every second after I turned the ignition key on hopes of inching ahead when the truck ahead of me started rolling.
An hour and half inched past us, the traffic jam added many a dozen link behind me. Finally, the long chain started moving again – after almost two hours of sweat, smoke and swear words.
Who the heck made me, and the scores of motorists ahead of and behind me, wait for two hours, that too on a national highway that should flow smooth? Another bunch of vote-seekers, who else. National highways are not any body's dad's property, not even of these men and women who look to race past every one to sit tight on a cushioned seat in weather-cooled Parliament.
I have my right of way. I have the right to say no to someone who blocks my way. I have the right to pity the cops who play slaves to these men and women who dream of a seat in the Lok Sabha. I have all the right to brush aside the ruthless buggers who pollute my space with blaring loud speakers.
I don't need a man who gets tanned and weak while walking in the hot sun after being forced to beg for votes just for the sake of it. I don't want a man who is totally alien with the realities of the common man to represent me in Parliament. I don't want a man who has never seen the constituency he wishes to represent, to represent me in Parliament. I don't want a man who pounces on women to be my voice in Parliament. And, I don't want a man who thinks of building temples to be my representative. Most importantly, I don't want to forgive anyone who blocks my road, pollutes my air, falls at my feet for votes or smile at me just to ensure my vote. I won't vote. I can't. Jago Re or whatever you guys tell me through television commercials, I can't. I won't. I bloody can't.
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