Short ‘N’ Snappy

An electoral silence

Electioneering reaches fever pitch said the newspaper and The Man from Madras Musings could not help reflecting that it was a low-grade ­fever if at all it was that. If the daily felt electioneering was feverish, then it must be run by a hypochondriac. In all his years of observing polls, MMM has never seen a duller ­election than this.

And for this lackadaisical approach to what ought to have by right been full of drama, thunder and lightning, MMM blames the Election Commission. By cracking down on our native culture and imposing something alien called discipline, the EC has almost become a colonial power. In fact it ought to change its name from EC to EIC to be in line with the other colonial power that ruled long over us.

Where for instance are the posters? Don’t these EC people know that Chennai derives its colours from posters? And much of its humour as well? What about large digital banners welcoming our leaders as they hop, skip and jump, (or stagger, or inch forward or wheel about depending on who it is) from meeting to meeting? MMM is of the view that most of the malaise of low-key electioneering has been caused by the absence of the digital banner. Without seeing this, and most of our leadership expects this en route to anywhere and everywhere with the exception of the privy, our political chiefs are a depressed lot. Unless they read praises of themselves how can they be expected to exude confidence?

Just imagine you are a democratic leader accustomed to people singing your praises via digital banners at all events, venues and functions. You expect it as a matter of right. You in fact peer through your glasses as you are whizzed along in your high security vehicle at all the banners and make note of who has praised you and who has not. And you plan rewards and retribution on that basis. What happens if you suddenly find no banners? You become confused. You think your flock is deserting you. You wonder if there is a dip in your popularity. And then when you open your mouth to campaign you lose your grip. You babble. You depart for the next venue hoping to see banners. There again… In short, you come home feeling all is lost.

And what is an election meeting without song and dance? MMM learns that sound pollution rules too come into effect when the EC is in charge. So no high decibel speakers. No songs parodying the opposition and praising the leader. And, above all, no meetings after 10 pm. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Don’t the EC people know that it is only at around midnight that the speakers on the dais complete recognising everyone else and welcoming them before coming to the burden of their speech? With such restrictions in place how can political invective flow? Just as our orators warm up to their task along comes the EC telling them to be sure to brush their teeth, change into loose-fitting clothes, embrace teddy, say their prayers and go to bed. This is just not working.

What about liquid refreshments? There are two that MMM is referring to. The first is cash. Unless this flows freely, where will the cheering multitudes get their incentives to cheer? And can you call this a democracy when you are not allowed to carry cash in your own vehicles? Just imagine all the hard work that has gone into collecting the moolah. You hoard for years, evading the tax authorities. You spend hours cajoling industrialists to part with money for electoral expenses. You worry several nights over how to conclude land deals in cash so that money can be made available. And then, just as you sit back and relax and go for a soothing drive with your stash, along comes the EC and takes it all.

As for the other liquid, and here MMM is not referring to tea, it appears doomed anyway. Everyone wants to do away with it. All MMM can say is if this lifeblood of electioneering is abolished we cannot be answerable for the consequences. People will vote overwhelmingly in favour of NOTA – Nothing Other Than Alcohol.

A rosy sunset

By the time you receive this issue, the electioneering will be over, as will the polls. And if the postal authorities dawdle over delivery of this ­issue, overly fond as they are of reading every copy of what we print, chances are you will know who has come to power in our State. Whoever it is, be of good cheer for The Man from Madras Musings assures you that you have a bright ­future ahead.

Bright because you can keep all your electric bulbs burning, assured as you are of free power. Outside in your garden, your cow, the one that came free to you as part of the electoral promise, is lowing gently, reminding you that it is time to milk it. In the far distance of your garden, your goats, the ones you got free as well, are grazing on the free fodder that has been supplied. You need to drive them back into their pen, but you are so busy browsing on your free laptop that you just cannot get up and do this. You bide your time hoping that soon it will be time for the next elections and one of the promises will be free domestic help.

Done with browsing? May­be you need to order something that you liked? Use the free smart phone that has been handed over to you for that. You can then spend the rest of your day whatsapping and forwarding messages that other people like you are sending each other. Feeling hungry? Some milk may be in order. It is, after all, available at a throwaway price from a sachet – that is if you feel too lazy to milk your cow. Just cut open the pack, add some sugar and if you want to see some fizz in it, pour into the free mixer that has been given to you. You will need to wash up though, for the Government has not yet seen its way to giving you free domestic help. But be of good cheer. Remember what MMM said in the previous paragraph. Better days are ahead.

Need to get some subsidi­sed food from outside? No problem. Your Government sponsored two-wheeler awaits your command. Just get on it. Yes, you need to fill in petrol. But just remember if you play your cards well, the next ­election will promise you free fuel as well. And, by the way, don’t bother with the helmet for, after all, you do have free insurance. Given that much of healthcare is free anyway, you may as well injure yourself and get the doctors to do something. Not everybody can be idle can they? Now that Prohibition has come, you may find the evenings hanging somewhat heavy on your hands. But you did remember to collect your free television set, did you not? Switch it on then. And, sorry, we cannot provide you with some handyman to flip the channels for you.

Tailpiece

The Man from Madras Musings could not help wondering. If the Government is so keen on having a picture of a diseased lung on cigarette packets, it ought to feature failed livers at TASMAC outlets should it not? And yet the present signage, as can be seen in the accompanying picture, does not carry anything ­beyond some tiny warnings that you can barely see with a magnifying glass!

-MMM

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