Strange are the ways of muses. The spiritual consorts of polity seldom interact with their hand-picked masters in the public sphere. And COVID also did them in this year. But now, after a gap of ten months, the muses, so far confined to the resorts – that is their usual rendezvous with leaders (recall Vajpayee's tryst with them at Kumarakom) – got a feel of their political masters, who had swarmed to the mostly hilltop destinations after the bustle of local body elections ended in God's chosen landscape.
Strange are the mindscapes of our galaxy of the political class, who thrive in strife -– political, social and personal. A peek into the complex line of thoughts adorning our key galaxies of the Red, Khadi-clad White and Saffron threw up some fascinating insights into the political lexicon on the eve of election results.
MY NAME IS RED
Dear comrades, didn't you notice a ballot revolution in all but one unidentified district in the state? Unidentified, because, as our great leader revealed, the district will be known as ballots are counted. The pandemic has indeed played its part, we fathom. Our fellow countrymen are prone to grab anything that the government packages as free – be it the ration kits for our households or an overdose of welfare pensions at the disposal of our burdened coffers. That would be enough to thwart the nefarious designs of our rival formations – libel and slander campaigns unleashed by regressive forces. Our fellow travellers in arms can easily recognise the evil intentions backed by a slew of agencies at the disposal of the Saffronistas to score level with us. Our footsoldiers are being maligned and attempts were on to sow confusion and reap a political harvest. They aligned with all and sundry, including the radical right to prop up a war front against us. We have dealt with such situations and emerged victoriously. Didn't we thwart a mountainous campaign unleashed against us for political gains with consummate ease, though we did suffer some initial setbacks? History will repeat, as we often believe. Victory is just a grab away but our strife will continue.
THE HAND OF TRIUMVIRATE
By the glory of the high and mighty command structure, we – as in the triumvirate – operated smoothly and in unison. We lost our bosom buddies but did not deem it fit to make new friends. We fought with ourselves for petty crumbs, but that is how we thrive. They call it factionalism, we name it the voice of dissent so vital to a democratic framework which only our formulation can rightly lay claim to. Weren't we tarnished as a bunch of squabbling egos before all political bouts? Yes, we were, but those baseless charges were ripped apart. Otherwise, how would we have nearly swept the T20 bout in 2019 despite a near rout elsewhere? If a concerted attempt to thrust a damsel into our corridors of power had yielded results last time, we have no need to weave in a misinformation campaign. A golden opportunity has unravelled before us by a quirk of fate. So we just sat and watched as the powerful corridors of power crumbled overnight – the wanton misuse of diplomatic channels opening up a golden path of salvation for us. Many times have we won by default but that is in our DNA. Moreover, since we have nothing much to cling on to in Local Self-Government bodies, there is only one way to move – the default anti-incumbency vote which will propel us to higher pastures. Rest assured, ride this wave of opportunity to our cherished power centre.
SALVATION OF THE SAFRONISTA
Friends, corporates, desi MNCs and locals, we have come to bury the Red, not to wrest the local bodies. We had at our disposal the flexing muscle power of all our feeder agencies. And we have used them to the hilt in a bid to destroy the scourge of the urban Naxals who dictate terms in this country – a slot which should rightly belong to God's own people – that is us. So if we fell short by a whisker in Ananthapuri last time, we will grab it with the might of our cultural nationalistic moorings. Nationalistic moorings can never play second fiddle to our local aspirations. Because that is the cornerstone of our global ambitions. That doesn't mean we ignore the local needs. Look, we are taking along all – the Jawan and Kissan and the Geek.
We will bury the enemy but will unlock the potential of farmers in the marketplace of opportunities and propel you to the hyperloop of development. Progress for us is a way of life which should be achieved by all means – even if it means trampling over the hindrances posed by Tukde Tukde gangs. Jai Hind.
