BY-ELECTION 01

The heap of things tied on the roof of the bus—oscillated, every extreme point appeared to be throwing out the things from the clutch of rope. Each passenger strictly obeyed Newton’s law of inertia to every brake and acceleration of the bus. From a distance, the bus appeared to be traveling through the valleys and mountains. A new passenger would die of stomach ache and vomiting, while the experienced enjoyed the salsa. Every speck of red mud there tasted the rainwater and warmth of the sun. Never in a lifetime, they were covered by black damar.

Spraying the air mixed mud away from the bottom of the tires, the bus came to halt. And the noise could wake up the snakes in the village. Powdered mud formed layers on the plants and wooden benches, at the place considered to be a bus stand.

Resting the sack of groceries to the tree beside, Laxman dusted the bench to sit down, waiting for his son to arrive and pick him up. He runs a small grocery shop in his village, as it is the month-end, he had to refill his stock. Though he expected his son to be there on time, he needs to wait there for not less half-an-hour.

“What made you take so long?” Laxman yelled, picking up the heavy stock sack. “It is just a five-minute way and you took thirty.”

“Even though I made an early begin, it took me this time,” his only son Ranjith, replied firmly.

“What? Did you forget the route? Or missed it somewhere?” still adjusting to sack on the two-wheeler, between them.

“No,” looking straight on to the muddy uneven road, “I had to take another long route,” this was confusing to Laxman, but waited for his son to complete, “as there was road laying work going on in the usual way.”

Laxman was taken by surprise, as he didn’t hear of such work in his village, for more than two decades. But didn’t utter a word. He lost in thoughts, watching the road works from a distance, as his son took a sharp left turn into a new path.

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Though it is the first day of the campaigning, it felt like the last and final day. The vehicles ran through the streets playing the customized songs of the respective political parties. Every party was desperate to win the election. Altering the plan of action with which they had lost the previous and bringing up the new manifestos, methods, and spent lakhs and lakhs of rupees in attracting people.

Keeping aside the position they are fighting for, each contestant who is taking part in the election wants to live in the huge and prestigious building that will be offered to the person who triumphs. That historic building is a heritage property of that place. As the building was preceded by the kings of the previous time. Here it is not any secret that some of them pay tens of lakhs to the party to get a ticket and participate in the elections.

People from outside the constituency knew very well that, these are just leader’s elections, which has nothing to do with the people living in the constituency. They never gain benefits neither before the election nor after. People are just puppets, who just come to vote on the voting day and back to their works. During the campaigning, just promises were made, all though most of the people didn’t care about the promises too, as they are tired of hearing them. No leader peeps at people for five years after winning, enjoying luxuries in the ’Purathan Mahal’, the name by which locals call it.

Taking into consideration, this time election campaigning was different to the people. As there are about eight contestants, the competition between them is extremely high. Each of them was fervor towards a desperate win and derive pleasure from the luxuries of ‘Purathan Mahal’.

Not just the people but also the co-contestants took by surprise when one of the participating candidates made a plan to lay the main road in the center city of the constituency, with his own money. At that very moment, no one was at a stage to guess that this decision will be turning the fate of the constituency and the leader himself. And leads to history-making incidents to come in the future.

Till then as people of that constituency knew, elections are conducted only to have a leader. They didn’t know their rights; they didn’t worry about the duties of the elected. All they knew was to be present at the polling booth on the day of the election.

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“With this, the final counting of the votes is completed,” the crackling voice from the speakers came.

Only the contestants were present to hear the results, people didn’t give a shit. Though they had some constructions happened for the village during the campaigning, but they know no leader looks at them, after their win.

“Raj Veer backed eleven thousand votes more the near contestant,” came the final announcement, declaring the result.

Though one corner of the village was filled with sounds of band and crackers, the rest was pin-drop silent.

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“It must be food poisoning,” one of three, said confidently.

“No, no, someone must have given him directly,” the other remarked.

“What-ever it was,” said the third, “Raj Veer had no fortune to live in Purathan Mahal, not even a day he lived there, he came back dead.”

Part 02 Coming soon….