The New Nation - Internet Edition

Abu Bakar Siddiquee

The sub divisional and district towns as well as the capital city are vibrating with the election fever. The remote rural areas has also become lively being decked in posters, leaflets, festoons, banners, and stirred by the overwhelming outbursts of cheering crowd's slogan for their respective candidates. In this instant all are inquisitive --- who will win the contest!

None is sure who will win in the ensuing election. But the irrefutable fact is that in every constituency only one candidate will be the winner and the rest will be the losers. Not only in the constituency, in the parliament also one party will get victory over the other parties availing a majority of seat. Of course, amongst the winner some independent candidate will also be enlisted; again, there will be some electoral triumphant, either from a specific locality or from a strong stubborn ideological party. Usually these are the classic pattern in the democratic polling system.

This time the electoral contest is based on two special issues: One major party is in favor of having only one person as the Head of the State as well as the Head of the Government, but the other major party wants that separate person should head the State and the Government. The great intellectuals of the country are continually bringing forward their logical arguments upon these different theories in the special column of the renowned dailies and weekly magazines. Some of them are analyzing multiple events of the past in support of their reasoning and some are rebutting those by depicting the chain of historical events and drawing the picture of monarchial waywardness.

I work for a person, a distinguished one, of the country; if I simply ornament him with the single word 'distinguished', it won't reckon his qualities as a whole. He is a socially conscious intellect researcher who goes with the zeitgeist. He goes through the books throughout his working period; underlines some lines and chapters with red marker; and arranges the books in chronological order. Then he hands over those to me. I accurately type the entire red mark portion. Some of the writings are in colloquial dialect and some are in chaste language. I convert all in modern colloquial language. Once the whole thing is typed he titles the rechauffe, corrects syntax mistakes and vernacular error, if any. Then he reads the whole article thoroughly several times, search for spelling mistakes, and finally examines whether the text of his composition is conforming to the morality of the newspaper, in which it is to be published. Lastly he embellishes the writing with a few startling artistic words and order me for final typing.

That day, as usual, I was busy in my work; the intellect researcher absorbed in plowing the books with tricks to fructify, just then the calling bell rang. Being annoyed I left the computer, opened the door and went towards the gate. I found two girls, pretty and smartly dressed, standing outside with a restless gesture. One of them uttered the name of the distinguished intellect researcher and enquired,

'Is he in home now?'

I replied in affirmative.

'We want to meet him,' the other girl said.

'Please wait a bit. I have to ask his permission.' I went inside to inform.

The intellect researcher paced towards the gate to greet those two beautiful girls and escorted them in his drawing room. One of the girls was wearing goggles. Entering the room she placed the black goggles from her eyes to her upper forehead, then with a distinct pronunciation humbly said,

'Sir, I am Shraboni and she is Laboni. We came here to convey you a special good wish.'

It could not be speculated what the intellect understood; he said,

'Good wishes are always auspicious. But you didn't say your occasion of offering this good wish.'

Smiling enigmatically Loboni, the other girl, said,

'Of course, sir, we will let you know you. Actually that's the reason we have come here.'

The cute Shraboni continued,

'Sir, this rotating world is continuously changing with time; along with that we people are also changing a lot. In every morning thousands of new thoughts are being implanted in people's mind, in the evening the darkness is removed by dazzling lights; there lies the flow of life, the trend of modernism.'

'Right you are!' The researcher asserted, ' it won't be of any good if the progress of the world remain static. As this world is dynamic, as the potentiality of mankind is vast, this planet and its inhabitants should have to prosper in succession. Can we feel in this speedy world at what velocity we are moving on, what is the momentum of our body per second?' He became emotional.

With the swiftness of lightening cute Shraboni trailed off,

'Indeed, sir, you are right. Just like the diurnal motion of this earth and the annual rotation of this planet, our wisdom and knowledge has its own surge and there is a strong flow in our political system also.

The intellectual researcher said nothing; perhaps he was trying to integrate the real context of those two stranger's conversation. Hesitantly with a taunt smile he asked,

'What do you like to have, hot or cold?'

'It's very hot today, cold drink won't be a bad choice, sir.' The smart Laboni answered. Shraboni also nodded her head giving an assent to Laboni's suggestion.

I took three glasses, filled up with ice-cooled coke and served in a tray.

Laboni sipped the drink; conversationally she asked,

'Sir, which ideology you are supporting in the ensuing election, presidential or parliamentary?'

At this question the researcher fell into an adverse situation; his many writings concerning the political issues are published in the dailies and magazines for the last three months, but he has never made any comment, expressed any opinion nor gave any comprehensive solutions to the problems; only the analyses of political ideologies and interpretation of various doctrines strongly reflected in his writings to build up immense agitation amongst the political parties. From his writings no one could guess which idea he supports on; till today, I myself also failed to cognize his political belief.

To be free from the net of undesired question he changed the subject of conversation.

'Are you engaged in surveying public opinion in the ensuing election?' he asked.

Bursting into a loud laughter cute Shraboni replied,

'Sir, we don't have the competency of surveying people's opinion in favor or oppose of the poll. Such type of tough work could be performed only by the great intellectuals of the country like you, sir, We are trifle people and have come here for a trifling job; of course that job is concerned to polling.'

She removed the goggles from her head, kept it in her bag, and took a sip of the cold drink.

'I have the fortune to hear many stories from my mother regarding election. Out of them one story impressed me much. Whenever I think of the story, I wonder, so many years back, how the storywriter could thought of a diverse theme like this one.' She said.

'What sort of?' the intellectual wanted to know.

'Perhaps you also know the story. I am telling of those days while my mother appeared in the Matriculation Examination; a Bangla book named 'Golpo-bithi' was included in her syllabus for rapid reading. It contained a story named 'Chadmabeshi', meaning 'In Disguise'. As far as I remember my mother mentioned the name of Mr. Abul Mansur Ahmed to be its writer.

Hearing the name of the writer the intellectual became excited. In order to show off his vast perimeter of knowledge he exclaimed,

'Oh! That Mr. Abul Mansur, a great politician and a skilled writer of Bengal in British period! His great book 'Fifty years of Politics' is superb, I think there is no other creative political book in Bangla literature comparable with it.'

Shraboni said wittily,

'You are right, sir. That litterateur had created a unique, sensational excellent sarcasm relating election. Now coming to the point, what I have been telling, one day Mr. Abul Mansur was absorbed in his literary work; right at that moment somebody knocked at the door making a sound with the metallic ring of the gate, just like we press the electric bell today. Mr. Abul Mansur sent his house servant to know who is at the door. The servant saw a man and looking at his dress thought him to be a beggar. He reported accordingly. Mr. Abul Mansur gave a coin of one anna to his servant and said,

'Give this to that beggar.'

The beggar refused to take the coin. When his servant reported it Mr. Mansur gave a coin of four annas, that is one-quarter of a rupee, and said,

'Give this and close the gate.'

But the beggar was not happy. The servant came back. This time Mr. Mansur offered a coin of half rupee and uttered,

'Get rid of that nuisance.'

Strange! The servant returned helplessly, said,

'He won't take this eight annas.'

Now Mr. Mansur became really annoyed, wrathfully he gave a coin of one rupee and rebuked the servant,

'You don't know how to make a beggar happy? However, turn him out.'

Yet the beggar didn't get away. With a great distress the servant returned and said,

'This beggar is not happy with any amount, sir,' he begged, 'I think you better see him.'

Angrily Mr. Mansur walked straight to the beggar and asked,

'You are not satisfied even with a silver coin, will you tell me what would make you happy?'

Now the beggarly dressed man revealed his real identity and said,

'Sir, I'm a political candidate begging votes in disguise of beggar. I have come to beg your vote, I will be happy with your support.'

The story made all of them laughs aloud. The intellectual enthusiastically vouched,

'Great! the dexterity of Mr. Monsur is unparallel. This is really a unique story.'

Blowing a deep sigh he said,

'But at present the candidates starting from member of ward to member of parliament, even the party leaders begging votes from the public openly in the procession, conference, meetings; it has become a routine affair; the news media also publicizing these widely. What an amazing situation! Say, would be President or Prime minister is asking for votes from the public in clasped hand, through the electronic or radio frequency media. What should we term it, revolution or attainment of the goal at any cost! '

The intellect researcher almost cried out,

'Hey, Mr. Mansur, if you were alive you could see where your reverend leaders have landed today.' There is an enigmatic note of desperation in his voice.

Witty Laboni totally ignored the exasperation and frustration of the researcher and replied quickly,

'But sir, we have come here with a special good wish.'

He shrugged the exasperation and responded readily,

'Well, tell me what's your that wish.'

Cute Shraboni opened her handbag, brought out a newly bloomed red rose wrapped in a transparent paper, a slick of dew were still glistened in the petals.

With a blushful look she smiled radiantly and presented the flower to him. Theatrically she said,

'Sir, this is our rosy-wish, in the ensuing election our symbol is rose and here is our candidate.'

Smart Laboni immediately placed a colored poster in front of him.

Smiling warmly charming Shraboni uttered,

'Sir, you have already agreed that good wish is always auspicious. So we earn your vote. What do you say to?'

With a stunt surprise the intellect looked up at those two lustrous pretty girls and discovered the success of rose-red friendliness over their cheeks.

(Translator: Razia Khanam. Original story in Bangla: Procharon)