Of biryani, booze and one thousand rupees...

This was one long hiatus- agreed and guilty as charged. This break has taught me few valuable lessons in life. Lessons I have learnt the hard way- fellow railway men are the best teachers I have encountered in these thirty five odd years of surviving in this planet. Our Union secret ballot elections for recognition have taught me that biryani and booze are far more valuable than ideologies and morals. That salaried class people can stoop so low in selling their votes for booze, biryani and one thousand rupees has struck us all hard- slaps on our faces.

Campaign of our dead CM for a union- he must be turning in his grave now!

We people who have been championing the cause of the less fortunate ones have been kicked out onto the platform. The Comrades who had braved the summer and campaign heat are dejected at the outcome, most of them gone into hiding. I wish I could have gone too. So here I am, seeking refuge. Every defeat is devastating. But losing to money power and ‘musli’ power ( I mean muscle power, as spelt by one of our rivals;) ) can make you go sleepless for ages. Not only the husband, everyone on road now looks at me as some kind of bubonic plague virus.

That is another poster..Poster wars have left us panting and wanting more ;)

Ladies in the office where so intent in laughing their cute backs off looking at me that someone really forgot her clasps dangling, playing peekaboo! And it was fun watching the tasmac brimming to full with rival union’s money and fellow railway ‘citizens’ oozing with booze. What is more- the ‘commoner’ who did not wish to sideline himself with any union made hay when the sun shone brightest- the day before elections. Watches, pots, suitcases…everything was traded for votes. The booth slips were distributed with secret folds- containing crisp thousand rupee note.

There were some who were given only three hundred rupees, the unlucky ones. And there was another rival union who were distributing umbrellas, pots and two hundred rupees. In all it rained gifts that day. As usual our Red Comrades were forbidden from doing anything that stupid and we hit the campaign trail with renewed vengeance. Every office we visited, I pulled up a stool, stood on it and gave my well-practised speech on not selling the votes. The tragedy of it- balancing on a squeaking stool, yelling at the top of your lungs, remembering your lines and smiling at everyone, all the time careful of your salwar- now that you can call multitasking!

Our team treaded over hitherto unchartered territories garnering votes, whilst our rivals sat back cool and relaxed. We spent our money on petrol and food, braving the sun and heat while those lucky fellas stretched and relaxed in ac rooms. We worked for months and they worked just one day! That one day work was worth all the effort we put in. Those currency notes that they distributed will sneak back to the rightful owners aka the trade unionists, in this year’s Diwali bonus- lock, stock and barrel.

Therefore gentlemen and lovely ladies, lessons learnt during this break are-

1.    Even if you don’t blog for few months, you won’t die ;) In fact people can have a breather when you don’t share your post link in Facebook and ask them comment pleeeej :P

2.    You can sleep in peace rather than raking your brains thinking what to write next ;)

3.    You can snore at ten pm, gone are your nocturnal stints…

4.    All said and done, people just want biryani, quarter and a thousand rupee note. To hell with ideals and morals…

“MACHEEEE…ORU QUARTER SOLLEN….”