No one who has caught a cab in Manhattan recently could have escaped the fury of Sen Lindsay Graham who vows “there will be holy hell to pay” if Trump fires the Attorney General, Jeff Sessions. In between pissing Graham (and innumerable commuters who were unable to find the mute button) off, Trump created havoc by tweeting that transgenders will no longer be allowed in the military. Caitlyn Jenner (remember him?) was livid stating, “This half-baked idea puts all of our service members in harm’s way. Does President Trump intend to just pull 15,000 people out of every critical assignment, disrupt core military missions around the world and needlessly endanger our troops?” Say what you like about the Donald but as an equal opportunity offender he does manage to bring the most unlikely people together… who would have thought a mega-conservative Senator and possibly the world’s best-known transgender would be sharing air-time Trump bashing?
I was going to whip myself into a fury of righteous indignation and fume about the price we pay for democracy until I cheered up with the realisation that whatever crimes I may have been guilty of, electing the Orangeman is not one of them. The Trump presidency has the dignity and gravitas of a college election and his loyalists appear to be rapidly dwindling. A German diplomat I met summed it up succinctly, “Since US activity affects ze whole world, ze Americans who don’t vote should give their vote to us.” But why I am dissing college where ballots are conducted with far more dignity. My uncle Mike felt there was more to life than hanging around in the car park smoking beedis and decided to stand for Union Secretary in the summer of ’69 in Chennai. The name may have changed but the weather remains distressingly the same and Madras has just two seasons: a wet summer and a dry summer. To add pep to his step, charm to his arm and liquor to his knicker, Mike decided to enlist a campaign manager: a fat, sweaty, battle-scarred veteran, Sambhu.
“Boss, I yam so very worried,” said Sambhu, over coffee and idlis in the college canteen. “Opposition is powerful, maccha. Plus that bugger Keshavan is playing communal card, telling you are Jesus follower. Then he is having advantage, he is a hosteller and you are day scholar. How to cope up, man? Campaign is Goinda (doomed) unless we are tackle hostellers. Come on, today itself we are going.” And so the unlikely duo, Mike, thin, pale, knock-kneed and bespectacled and Sambhu, fat, dark and sweating profusely in his purple terylene shirt, set out to win the hearts and minds of the electorate. Sambhu was an eloquent orator, replete with earthy anecdotes and purple phrases. Ultimately they came to the last room of the hostel and finding it locked, knocked perfunctorily. To their surprise the door opened and an earnest, bespectacled youth, clutching a weighty volume of Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations” appeared. Sambhu launched straight into campaign mode: “What do we need for General Sec? We need a man of vision, of dynamism, intelligence and charm. Do we want someone who will simply nod his head and tell ‘Yes, yes’ to Principal? No, we want a fellow who will stand up and fight for our student rights, who will not be cowed down. A man who will tell frankly on the face; not some eunuch wearing saree and bangles.”
After this oratorical blast, the bookworm pointed to himself with a refreshing lack of modesty and asked, “You mean, you mean, uh, you want me to stand?” The hapless Sambhu, as gobsmacked as if he had been punched by Mike Tyson, could only shake his head incoherently. The rest of the campaign team, sundry onlookers, uncommitted voters, passing lecturers and the hostel cat, roared with laughter till the tears ran down their cheeks. Finally Uncle rose to the occasion. Patting the scholar on the back he gravely replied, ‘When we considered prospective candidates, your name was at the top of the list. But since you’re so busy with studies we felt it wouldn’t be fair to disturb you. Next year you must stand, we won’t take no for an answer. This year, please vote for me.”
