Showtime!!

As I inched towards the gallery I could see the medley of people gathered at the gallery portico. Heightened anticipation, some nervousness, some genuine concern for the future, some tiredness from the tireless, sleepless, food less working and convincing in the days  gone by, a plethora of support for all the war heroes gathered there for the final show and a little stink of dirty politics- all concocted together to make a potpourri of a surreal sort. I could see my opponents with my supporters, friends with their supporters, and my own supporters. The scene took on a nature of an intense trade-fair where the best deals are often made at the last. They asked me if I was tensed. No I wasn't.  That same feeling had descended upon me as it always does before taking on a huge audience- not calm exactly but that of no tension at all…it’s here, give it your best shot. The gallery was chock-a-block with almost twice of a thousand people. Religious chanting of the name you supported so that it registers in the mind of the voter, distribution of little strips of papers for the same purpose as an equal amount littered on the floor, numerous ringtones going off at random moments defying all norms of rhythm, and the final trial, and the same final push as in the final stages of labor. My supporters had come, they were scattered for the final showdown, positioned at different places for giving me the ultimate cover. It was war. The overheard conversations made it interesting. In one such instance, I could overhear a supporter telling his candidate- Don’t just stand like that man, work, mobilize!!

Some called this contest interesting because I was contesting. A woman. I did not feel different. It wasn’t revolutionary. My mother did it, my dad did it, and my friends elsewhere do it, men, women alike. No it wasn’t different. Only a little unbalanced for person to person meeting in my case was tad limited compared to those against me. But there’s no use complaining, for it never solved problems- in history, at present. The mechanism has been working for long now, the ball has been set rolling. It was Game of thrones right in the campus grounds. A thousand different faces, all with a mind…a battleground abuzz with a thousand and more working, thinking minds. Emotions, tactics and game plans lay bare and like jagged weapons. All of these people worked and talked since the past few days, fair and unfair. It was addictive in a different sort of way. That was the watershed of all efforts right up till the last pink slip was thrust in the tin ballot box. Adult franchise, democracy, politics. I’m an adult and I had an army of my own….in all of that a song constantly played in my mind- Queen’s- We are the champion, clichéd, but true. It wasn’t a cakewalk for nobody. And as the siren at 12 went off, signaling end of a game for this year, calm set upon everyone, it was visible. The efforts were wholeheartedly put in, the results were awaited but for all those involved in the game all that I know, the efforts were made, the results were awaited…. The game was played…