Arre dada, in today’s time, a candidate has to be as nirlojjo as that boy… er... what is his name…. Yes, Shiddhartho Mallya! Baaper shaamnei ekta meyechhele-ke kiss korchhe!”, analyses the abominable Ghoshbabu.

The comparison might not be that way off the mark, I must say. If we just had to look over our shoulders and breeze through the last month and a half, Ghoshbabu wouldn’t sound that illogical after all.

Red or green?

The heavyweights of the arena have been going hammer and tongs. And the stuff they have been promising us in lieu of that “press-my-button-please” plea is pretty impressive and no matter how strong your sense of deja vu is, it does feel good when you are promised the moon. And the way they have been trying to “seduce” you, that Mallya boy does look pale when you weigh the scales.

Alladin’s magic lamp seems to be missing from the scene for a long, long time. But had you got one in your hands this time around and rubbed it hard, I am sure the genie would have snapped back at your demands and asked you to take them to your nearest candidate. After all, what are “friends of the season” for?

Got a park that’s not green or a pipe that’s been dry since donkey’s years? Tell them, people. On-the-spot promises delivered in true gallantry. Just one regret — they don’t issue challans for their lip service.

Words of wisdom (and wads of currency) flowing like milk and honey in the land lacking plenty. Nothing looked impossible over the last few weeks. Problem? What problem? With these squabble masters around, who needs oscillating pendulums?

They have reminded you of all their past favours. They have told you about all those times when they have stood by you a la the Rock of Gibraltar (but sadly, you just weren’t aware). They have painstakingly calculated the long list of benefits that you and your 14 generations to come were destined to enjoy only if you were on their side.

They have also given you tuitions on colour. The Red and the Green — and the ones in between. Oooooh… how spoilt you are, my darling, for choice?! For all the hands they have shaken and the vows they have taken, goodness righteous me, blissful times are just around the corner.

PROMISES, PROMISES

Clap! Clap! Clap! Jo waada kiya woh nibhaana padega…. How about a people’s republican party that’s just ours — devoid of jokers such as these. Thought of a symbol, the Brahmi leaves. Apparently they have great memory-enhancement powers and with the powers-to-be, I am sure you would need a huge reminder service. This day, that month, that year.

The Gabbar in you hollers away, “Yaad hai, uss din kya kahe thhe tum?” And the epitome of amnesia stands tall in the Thakurs around you as they feign ignorance. “What are you saying? When did I tell you this? How could I have ever promised you such?”

Memories seem to fade away faster than Ganguly’s IPL career and at the end of it all, you look like a toothless lamb surrounded by a pack of hyenas.

Imagine a television ad with a deep baritone mouthing the following lines: “So… when was the last time you found it hard to decide? When was the last time you didn’t know where to go, what to do, who to ask? When was the last time you were in conflict about the old and the new?”

Well, today seems to be the next chance to decide for your well-being. And as you wipe away the dust from your prized voter’s identity card and prepare to take the bull by its horns, a sermon from above lands on your haloed head and seeps through your ears: “Relax beta… Iss galti ki sazaa sirf paanch saal hoti hai.”

As for your so-called democratic rights of voter redressal, never forget to show them the finger if they are at fault.

Just one problem…. There’s a black spot on it already.