Pappu . . . Naam toh sunaa hoga . . .

It’s that time, again. And all those seeking the electorate’s blessing seem like honourable panhandlers. Honourable only when ideating begging, that is. They’re seldom honourable, actually.

And even the best and much presentable seem like Pappus. Or prefer to be presented so, perhaps. Only until such time that their fate is sealed, after which, after all, the electorate returns to the role of that. Pappu, that is.

There cannot be a formula making everyone seem alert and knowledgeable. There has to be a few fools, anyway, in the electorate. And there may be a race to even prove that.

With so many first-timers, young and educated, tech-savvy and, thus, well-informed, they are the ones that are targeted and focussed upon much. And most of them are non-prejudiced, and hence, feed only on facts and data. And facts and data are available with all of them. The rulers and the ruled. How they are presented is going to be the decider. And the whole game comes with lots of twists and turns, of course. Until the time the dispensation takes charge.

All the so-called experts gabble with another set of data. No facts, but, this time. Here. Because we all know. And data needn’t be correct or complete, thus, clear picture needn’t evolve. Thus, it’s going to be an edge-of-the-seat thriller. Afterall, it’s all about the seat. The top seat of the nation.

Let’s go vote. As the election commission is projecting it as the great festival. Let’s go celebrate.