The mad maddening election malaise

A SMS notification at two in the dead of the night would obviously, you think, be a text message of utmost importance, probably (pray not) of an immediate bereavement. But happily, and not so for various other reasons, the message is from a candidate standing for the post of a member to the executive committee of a social club, which you probably have not visited in the last six months.

As you hit the pillow and make a mental note of definitely not voting for him, yet another message marks further intrusion into your nightly silence, as yet another candidate seeks your blessings. A few more messages should invalidate all the candidates and make your visit to the polling station meaningless.

You are then compelled to take a walk to the washroom. Switching on the light you groggily question the mirror-mirror on the wall, "What have I done to deserve this? Would I be that bad a candidate?" Not at all. You could positively get those election aspirants out of bed and keep them out.

The biggest problem is if you vote for them this year (based on their 23 SMSes, five posters by surface mail, three group emails addressed to 495 other IDs, two one-sided telephone conversations, one call from a common acquaintance, and a personally handed over leaflet on election day with a silly grin that says, "I have never met you before, but I want your vote"), they shall come back the next year based on the popularity (!) you were forced to thrust upon them.

You are at peace for barely nine months if you ignore the psychological stress of being ignored since after voting day. The cycle of irritating communications and panel communiques (Aha! Panel! More about that in a while) will resume after this round of nocturnal wake-up calls. You would want to switch your cell phone to 'silent', but fear that you may miss an emergency message from say a vice-president or a presidential candidate.

No one dares to contest an election of even say the Jackfruit Producers and Exporters Samity on his own for fear of being singled out. There will basically be two panels, not necessarily along any political lines because in such elections politicians are either not allowed or are petrified by localised politics. A third panel is usually not possible because the number of voters not contesting from any panel would be embarrassingly low.

Within a panel, the candidates do not always know each other, several do not like each other, some even hate each other, but they all maintain the superficial grin that says, "I will never want to meet you again, promise, but I want your vote". Panels are a mechanism to ensure, well hopefully so, about 15-20 votes if panellists will vote in line with the panel. Sometimes, okay often enough, they do not, and then the fighting starts or in some cases resumes.

This sheer madness of quasi-political people turning into admiration-seeking maniacs has again reached that point where we can safely conclude that we do not know how to turn it off. Be it a club or a society or an association or a chamber, the candidates keep on hounding you on your front door, back door, under your door, indoor and outdoor. And your mailbox, inbox and all digital appliances are bombarded at the cost of your cherished privacy.

Suddenly they begin to address you as Respected Member. You never knew you had so much blessing because that is what they are after. Their political naivety is demonstrated by the promises they make that you never demanded and you know, and they know too, that some of the pledges cannot be realistically fulfilled; those are issues that are to be tackled by national leaders, government departments and technical experts. Yet, for a bit of the 'blessings', a bit of a white lie has always been politically correct.

What for this exercise? Lavish dinners at 5-star hotels to seek your support seem like such a squander. Six-colour pamphlets introducing the panels with individual bios befitting a corporate application is counter to national policy on fair elections. Courier service is not inexpensive either. After taking office, it is not unusual for a committee to face shortage of funds. Well, you know for what they were already spent. I hope they know it too, but by then it is too late and then it's time for the next round of electioneering.

Most perplexing is why should the candidates felicitate the voters by blatantly offering them smoked haddock fishcake with tartare emulsion, rump of lamb and garlic crushed potatoes, crème brûlée, tea or coffee? Or at another posh venue, tandoori chicken, naan bread, kacchi biriyani, shami kabab, borhani, jarda? Nah! There is hardly any occasion where Bangla food is served. That is besides the point. Should it not be the other way round? Should not the voters pamper the volunteering candidate?

It is the elected office-bearer who will have to render service by sacrificing his time, family, business and freedom. So why this insane eagerness to get elected at all costs? What is the equation between the huge money spent and the small office attained? Or am I missing a link here? If it is for prestige alone, then such foolish people deserve no more than an appointment with a psychiatrist.
If the practice has to be tagged as an exercise in democracy, then rules that restrain all parties within decent comportment and codes which define the rationality between efforts and expectations has to be ironed out.

The writer is a practising Architect at BashaBari Ltd., a Commonwealth Scholar and a Fellow, a Baden-Powell Fellow Scout Leader, and a Major Donor Rotarian.