Let's take revenge! Let's vote!

Our protagonist is an engineering student. (So what? Iddhar toh koibhi chhachhundhar engg karta hai. Baaat karta hai...). Lets give him a nice name. Or lets drop the idea(i got a friend with every name i can think of. I don't want to risk his/her temper).
Mr. Protagonist lives in a suburb of city of Mumbai(Right! the one that was banged by terror attacks that were covered 24*7 on cnn. You missed it? What a show it was!You can tune into a pakistani news channel. They run these things live!). Oh! Sorry for aberration. Lets shorten the name Mr.Prota. He is around 19-20 years old. The day i am talking about changed Prota's life.
Prota got up late in the morning(what do you expect? he spent the whole midnight mugging up the books). The doorbell rang and prota attended it. It was the postman. Prota was overwhelmed to see his name on the letter(akhir kisiko toh meri zarurat hai... shayad kisi companine call letter bheja ho... campus interview achha gaya tha...2 lakh to 2 lakh kuchh saal nikal lenge). He glanced at the postman full of gratitude, his sleep deprived, darkcircled eyes .glowing.(postman aapne aapse: arre ye aise kyu dekh raha hai. system kharab hai kya...kaise kaise log mil jaate hai...) . Then he glanced at the letter. To his horror, it was not from ne company. Written on it in bold letters was-
Election Commission of India
It read-
Your name is included in the voters list. Your voter ID is ^%*%
Please verify the details that will appear on the ID card- ^*@#^#*
Prota frowned at the spelling mistakes in his own name.(Who runs this commission? panchavi pass?) . Whatever.(Kaun apani phokat ki chhutti chhodke vote karega... passportke liye lagta hai shayad ye ID...) . He casually threw it on the sofa.
Prota's mobile started ringing-'Craawwling in my skiiiinn... these wounds thew wiill not heeeal...fear is ho... '
(Prota's sis)'Kya ringtone hai... subah subah bheja fry... mere bhai utha naa jaldi... Prota had almost forgotten of her presence.
Prota pressed talk. 'Namaskar. Hum Blah blah Party Se Bol Rahe Hai. Hamara Lakshya hai 2020 tak vikasit bharat. Kripaya blah bla ko hi vote de. Dhanyavad'. Line went dead.'Kya #$%^ develop karenge saale rasteke gaddhe buzane nahi aate...Is candidate par to 100 cases filed hai corruption ke liye... development my foot'. 'Watch your words prota' Prota's sis was back to play her 'elder' role.
Prota barely heard her. He had stuffed his ears with earphones listening to his favorite song. 'You can run... you can hide ... but you cant escape my love...'
Just a few seconds passed and Prota's i pod was humbled by the loud noise comming from outside. Prota reluctantly walked to the window.'Tai Mai Akka... Vichaaar kara Pakka... Cyclevar mara shikka..." 'Uhh... This guy is saturating the transistors in the amplifier. Hey sis... local goons are back in action.They are fielding a veteran gangster. haha.'
'I know. But i dont think he stands any chance against the biggies' replied the sis. The noise got louder and slogans rowdy. Prota felt giddy. While the procession went farther and the noise died down , prota was half asleep only to be woken up by his mother shouting at him, 'Protaaaa you dont have college today?...Getup and get ready' 'I am bunking the first lecture mom. Dont worry'
'You seem to be bunking more and more lectues Protabeta.. This is not good...'. 'Chill mom. I m going to clear all subs' Even Prota couldn't decode what gave him the confidence to say that.
Bored of sleeping, he switched on the TV and sprawled on the sofa. To his disgust the election fever had not spared even his TV. 'The hell with it'Prota thought but kept his views to himself.
An election debate was on air and spilling with action. There was an actor turned politician to start with. The guy was playing neta at his best(Zamana badal gaya yaar...Industry me toh koi kaam deta nahi. Abhineta nahi toh neta sahi...)Then there was a woman banker turned politician(Prota would bet all his good money- This woman has never stepped out of posh car and seen the real world). Everyone knew that she is not going to win, but made it a point to brand her something like 'Sole citizen rising against the system'. Even she seemed to know that very well. Then there were some genuine politicians- An Immaculate looking BJP man sporting a safrron tika. A deserted looking communist and a man from Congress who had a look of a poker player.
And there was utter chaos. They were all hurling abuses at each other, accusing each other of numerous scandles and corruption. To prota's surprise, none of them talked of development. (Mrs.Ex Banker tried to utter the word but her sweet voice was duly quieted). Even the anchor was looking helpless. So these are the people running the country... Vow. 'Kya nautanki hai yaar...'.When Prota couldn't bear it anymore, he changed the channel and surfed until he got bored of that as well.
Prota's phone beeped. It was an sms.'Abe Prote election ke vajeh se exam preponed. apne toh lag gaye' Prota jumped out of the sofa as if he had a 440VAC shock.'How could it be...Maine toh kuchh bhi padhai nahi kiya hai.Elections ki toh...'
Prota was now on his foot and walking towards bathroom.'How on earth i am going to clear all subs now?' It took him half an hour to get ready and set out for college.
Prota was now running out of time. 'I better take an auto' thinking this, he stood in a queue for auto. No visible sign of an auto. Someone said there was an auto strike.'They are making hay while the sun shines'Prota reasoned. Its only during the election time that the polititions show up in their constituencies, that also donning a rare generous mood. So Prota decided to walk the distance. His phone rang again-'Craaaawling in my skiiiin, these wounds....'. It was his Girlfriend calling. 'Oh shit!How can I forget this!'. It was Wednesday. Prota was supposed to accompany his GF to her friend's treat and was warned to look sophisticated and more like a human being(exactly the words his GF used). Prota knew she must be waiting at platform no.4 and if he knew her well enough, will be fuming hot courtsy her short fuse. Prota automatically started running, which was a tedious thing to do with his heavy bag in one hand and mobile and ipod in the other. Soon he reached the main road. 'Just a few minuits now' he consoled himself, out of breath. On both sides of the road he could now see large hoardings of netas begging for votes. One of them he knew was a bespectacled young man, who was giving an intimidating look from behind his thick spectacles- 'Vote for me or i will knock you down.' Prota tried to decipher....
'blody hypocrite....Arghhhh...'Apparantly, prota had missed a foot deep pothole in the middle of the road which was left as it is because of Election Code of Conduct preventing any new work to be taken up. 'What the hell...'he cursed, still lying down. His mobile and ipod now lay on the road, a few feet away. It took prota a minuite to regain his stature. Thats when he saw his mobile ringing again. He lifted his bag which lay by his side and limpishly walked towards his phone. Grabbing it he pressed loudspeaker. It was his GF talking in a cold tone'Ever heard of mobile ditch?' 'What are you talking about?' 'Here it is. You are ditched, you loser.' and the line went dead...
Prota now stood in the middle of the road... bruised and in agony, sun hot overhead...
That very moment, he made a decision....'I want revenge.'
He decided that he will vote(P.S.: He also decided that he will run a better background check before falling in love with a girl). Maybe all candidates are useless pieces of crap but he would choose the one who was least useless...Yes he will.
Aren't we done with taking potshots at the politicians and the system? How long we are going to just fantasize a system devoid of corruption and bureaucracy?
Politics has ruined all our lives. Now its our time to take revenge.
Let's vote!!!
Regards
Jayant Apte