Election Day in Girinagar – Humor in Democracy

Humor in Democracy 

Election Days are here again. 

And – I remembered this story...

ELECTION DAY IN GIRINAGAR 
Fiction Short Story

A Spoof

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

ELECTION DAY IN GIRINAGAR – A Spoof By Vikram Karve 

This happened many years ago when I lived at a place called Girinagar near Pune.

“I want the day off,” Sushila, our maid, asked my wife.

“Why?” my wife asked.

“We have to vote. Today is election day,” she said.

“That’s good,” I said.

I was quite surprised at Sushila’s eagerness to vote – because Sushila was totally illiterate.

Yes – she lived just a few kilometres away from a modern city like Pune (often called the “Oxford of the East”) – yet – like so many others – she could not read or write.

But her keenness to vote indicated what a vibrant democracy we were.

“Who are you going to vote for?” I asked, in jest.

She told me a symbol – “I am going to vote for XXX symbol,” Sushila said.

“But why?” I asked.

“WE have decided,” she said.

“WE” meant her husband.

Apparently – her husband had gone for a “meeting” – and it was decided that the entire neighbourhood will vote for XXX symbol.

“So you vote for XXX symbol every time,” I asked her.

“No – last time we all voted for YYY symbol,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because “WE” had decided,” she said.

Of course – she did not know anything about the ideology of the  political parties to which the symbols XXX and YYY belonged.

It was none of her business.

Before every election – it was the men who had a meeting – and it was decided who to vote for in the election – and – the women dutifully complied.

(Of course – the men had a “leader” who guided them in these matters)

Like Sushila’s husband – most of the men in that area were drunkards who lived off their wives’ earnings.

But all that did not matter.

In the patriarchal society that prevailed, the women dutifully obeyed their men, even if the men were good-for-nothing drunkards.

So – in Sushila’s family of 7 voters (she, her husband, her two sons and two daughters-in-law, and unmarried daughter) – all would be voting for the symbol XXX which had been “decided”.

Added up – it was quite a large number of votes in the locality – and since they all of them voted en-bloc for a certain “symbol” – it was quite a sizeable “votebank”.

A few more such solid “vote-banks” could ensure victory in the election – as the victory of the XXX candidate proved.

Around 3 PM in the afternoon we saw Sushila standing near our gate.

“Have you voted?” I asked her.

“No,” she said.

“Voting time will be over soon. Why didn’t you vote in the morning?” I said.

“They haven’t come to take us,” she said.

“They haven’t come to take you? What do you mean?” I asked.

A friend of mine who had come over and was hearing the conversation said to me: “Don’t you know? Someone has to come and take them to the polling booth in a vehicle. And then – they have to be given some inducement to vote – here the ‘incentive’ is mostly a bottle of liquor for the men – these guys and their families will vote only after the men are given a bottle of liquor.”

After some time – I saw a van arrive near our gate. 

The van had come to take all them for voting. 

And so – they all went to cast their votes in the election.

EPILOGUE

In the evening we saw Sushila’s husband and her sons lurching in a drunken manner on the road.

We observed that most of the men were drunk that evening – after consuming the liquor being distributed freely on election day – as an incentive for them to vote.

It was obvious that liquor was flowing freely on election day (though strictly speaking – it was a “dry day”)

At night – when Sushila came to work – we saw tears in her eyes.

She said that her husband and her sons were drunk – after drinking all the free liquor distributed on election day.

Sushila’s husband had thrashed her – he bashed her up – as he always did when he was drunk.

And now – one of her drunk sons had beaten up his young wife too.

“See what you did...?” my wife said to Sushila, “you voted for the person who gave liquor to your husband and sons – and what did you get in return – your husband got drunk and he beat you up – and – your drunk son beat up his wife – in fact – most of you women must have voted for those who are causing you more harm than good.”

What an irony...!!!

Why did Sushila vote for someone who caused her more harm than good...?

Yes – why do people vote for someone who causes them more harm than good...?

That is the “moot question” of democracy.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

Extract from my ArticleWOMEN’S VOTEBANK – A Distant Dream?  first Posted Online by me Vikram Karve in this blog on Dec 1, 2013, at 12/01/2013 07:03:00 PM at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/12/womens-votebank-distant-dream.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/10/humor-in-democracy-election-day-in.html and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/05/girinagar-memories-election-day.html and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/02/humor-in-democracy-election-day-in.html

Learning through Literature – Communcation Mismatch : A Malefactor by Anton Chekhov

Learning through Literature – Communcation Mismatch

A MALEFACTOR

A Classic Anton Chekhov Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

Here is a rather light-hearted and amusing story by Anton Chekhov – which is breathtaking in its simplicity – yet so insightful in its meaning. 

I used to always read out this story A MALEFACTOR to my students – in order to drive home the point that communication is a two-way process for which mutual understanding is essential. 

On many occasions when two persons interact – they may speak the same language – yet speak different “languages” – and this may lead to miscommunication and misunderstandings – a communiation gap. 

Even in relationships – personal and professional – all stakeholders must be on the “same page” – so to speak – and barriers to effective communication need to be removed – in order to understand each others’ points of view.  

The story has two principal characters: 

an illiterate peasant (who is accused of unscrewing a nut on the railway track, a vital nut which secures the rails to the sleepers) 

and 

a learned magistrate (before whom the peasant is brought for trial) 

The peasant does not comprehend the enormity and consequences of his action of removing the nut to use as sinker weight for bait for his fishing line. 

He does not realise the disaster it can cause. 

The simple illiterate peasant readily confesses to removing the nut from the railway track – because he wants to use the nut as a sinker weight for bait for his fishing line. 

As the flabbergasted magistrate questions him – the peasant keeps blabbering about fishing and types of fish. 

There is a total mismatch in communication between the peasant and the magistrate – which is beautifully portrayed by the witty dialogue. 

Anton Chekhov gives us an illuminating insight into the deep divide in Russian Society of his time.

I love reading this entertaining story again and again. 

This famous story by Anton Chekhov is freely available for reading online on the internet. 

Given below is a url link to A MALEFACTOR by Anton Chekhov – and – Dear Reader – for your convenience – I have posted the story from the url below – for you to read and enjoy.

http://www.classicreader.com/book/372/1/

The Malefactor

By

Anton Chekhov

An exceedingly lean little peasant, in a striped hempen shirt and patched drawers, stands facing the investigating magistrate. His face overgrown with hair and pitted with smallpox, and his eyes scarcely visible under thick, overhanging eyebrows have an expression of sullen moroseness. On his head there is a perfect mop of tangled, unkempt hair, which gives him an even more spider-like air of moroseness. He is barefooted.

"Denis Grigoryev!" the magistrate begins. "Come nearer, and answer my questions. On the seventh of this July the railway watchman, Ivan Semyonovitch Akinfov, going along the line in the morning, found you at the hundred-and-forty-first mile engaged in unscrewing a nut by which the rails are made fast to the sleepers. Here it is, the nut! . . . With the aforesaid nut he detained you. Was that so?"

"Wha-at?"

"Was this all as Akinfov states?"

"To be sure, it was."

"Very good; well, what were you unscrewing the nut for?"

"Wha-at?"

"Drop that 'wha-at' and answer the question; what were you unscrewing the nut for?"

"If I hadn't wanted it I shouldn't have unscrewed it," croaks Denis, looking at the ceiling.

"What did you want that nut for?"

"The nut? We make weights out of those nuts for our lines."

"Who is 'we'?"

"We, people. . . . The Klimovo peasants, that is."

"Listen, my man; don't play the idiot to me, but speak sensibly. It's no use telling lies here about weights!"

"I've never been a liar from a child, and now I'm telling lies . . ." mutters Denis, blinking. "But can you do without a weight, your honour? If you put live bait or maggots on a hook, would it go to the bottom without a w eight? . . . I am telling lies," grins Denis. . . . "What the devil is the use of the worm if it swims on the surface! The perch and the pike and the eel-pout always go to the bottom, and a bait on the surface is only taken by a shillisper, not very often then, and there are no shillispers in our river. . . . That fish likes plenty of room."

"Why are you telling me about shillispers?"

"Wha-at? Why, you asked me yourself! The gentry catch fish that way too in our parts. The silliest little boy would not try to catch a fish without a weight. Of course anyone who did not understand might go to fish without a weight. There is no rule for a fool."

"So you say you unscrewed this nut to make a weight for your fishing line out of it?"

"What else for? It wasn't to play knuckle-bones with!"

"But you might have taken lead, a bullet . . . a nail of some sort. . . ."

"You don't pick up lead in the road, you have to buy it, and a nail's no good. You can't find anything better than a nut. . . . It's heavy, and there's a hole in it."

"He keeps pretending to be a fool! as though he'd been born yesterday or dropped from heaven! Don't you understand, you blockhead, what unscrewing these nuts leads to? If the watchman had not noticed it the train might have run off the rails, people would have been killed -- you would have killed people."

"God forbid, your honour! What should I kill them for? Are we heathens or wicked people? Thank God, good gentlemen, we have lived all our lives without ever dreaming of such a thing. . . . Save, and have mercy on us, Queen of Heaven! . . . What are you saying?"

"And what do you suppose railway accidents do come from? Unscrew two or three nuts and you have an accident."

Denis grins, and screws up his eye at the magistrate incredulously.

"Why! how many years have we all in the village been unscrewing nuts, and the Lord has been merciful; and you talk of accidents, killing people. If I had carried away a rail or put a log across the line, say, then maybe it might have upset the train, but. . . pouf! a nut!"

"But you must understand that the nut holds the rail fast to the sleepers!"

"We understand that. . . . We don't unscrew them all . . . we leave some. . . . We don't do it thoughtlessly . . . we understand. . . ."

Denis yawns and makes the sign of the cross over his mouth.

"Last year the train went off the rails here," says the magistrate. "Now I see why!"

"What do you say, your honour?"

"I am telling you that now I see why the train went off the rails last year. . . . I understand!"

"That's what you are educated people for, to understand, you kind gentlemen. The Lord knows to whom to give understanding. . . . Here you have reasoned how and what, but the watchman, a peasant like ourselves, with no understanding at all, catches one by the collar and hauls one along. . . . You should reason first and then haul me off. It's a saying that a peasant has a peasant's wit. . . . Write down, too, your honour, that he hit me twice -- in the jaw and in the chest."

"When your hut was searched they found another nut. . . . At what spot did you unscrew that, and when?"

"You mean the nut which lay under the red box?"

"I don't know where it was lying, only it was found. When did you unscrew it?"

"I didn't unscrew it; Ignashka, the son of one-eyed Semyon, gave it me. I mean the one which was under the box, but the one which was in the sledge in the yard Mitrofan and I unscrewed together."

"What Mitrofan?"

"Mitrofan Petrov. . . . Haven't you heard of him? He makes nets in our village and sells them to the gentry. He needs a lot of those nuts. Reckon a matter of ten for each net."

"Listen. Article 1081 of the Penal Code lays down that every wilful damage of the railway line committed when it can expose the traffic on that line to danger, and the guilty party knows that an accident must be caused by it . . . (Do you understand? Knows! And you could not help knowing what this unscrewing would lead to . . .) is liable to penal servitude."

"Of course, you know best. . . . We are ignorant people. . . . What do we understand?"

"You understand all about it! You are lying, shamming!"

"What should I lie for? Ask in the village if you don't believe me. Only a bleak is caught without a weight, and there is no fish worse than a gudgeon, yet even that won't bite without a weight."

"You'd better tell me about the shillisper next," said the magistrate, smiling.

"There are no shillispers in our parts. . . . We cast our line without a weight on the top of the water with a butterfly; a mullet may be caught that way, though that is not often."

"Come, hold your tongue."

A silence follows. Denis shifts from one foot to the other, looks at the table with the green cloth on it, and blinks his eyes violently as though what was before him was not the cloth but the sun. The magistrate writes rapidly.

"Can I go?" asks Denis after a long silence.

"No. I must take you under guard and send you to prison."

Denis leaves off blinking and, raising his thick eyebrows, looks inquiringly at the magistrate.

"How do you mean, to prison? Your honour! I have no time to spare, I must go to the fair; I must get three roubles from Yegor for some tallow! . . ."

"Hold your tongue; don't interrupt."

"To prison. . . . If there was something to go for, I'd go; but just to go for nothing! What for? I haven't stolen anything, I believe, and I've not been fighting. . . . If you are in doubt about the arrears, your honour, don't believe the elder. . . . You ask the agent . . . he's a regular heathen, the elder, you know."

"Hold your tongue."

I am holding my tongue, as it is," mutters Denis; "but that the elder has lied over the account, I'll take my oath for it. . . . There are three of us brothers: Kuzma Grigoryev, then Yegor Grigoryev, and me, Denis Grigoryev."

"You are hindering me. . . . Hey, Semyon," cries the magistrate, "take him away!"

"There are three of us brothers," mutters Denis, as two stalwart soldiers take him and lead him out of the room. "A brother is not responsible for a brother. Kuzma does not pay, so you, Denis, must answer for it. . . . Judges indeed! Our master the general is dead -- the Kingdom of Heaven be his -- or he would have shown you judges. . . . You ought to judge sensibly, not at random. . . . Flog if you like, but flog someone who deserves it, flog with conscience." 

--------------

Whenever I read this story – I appreciate why Anton Chekhov is known as a master storyteller – simple theme, uncomplicated plot, authentic setting, well-sketched characters, effortless narration, entertaining dialogue and a powerful message delivered with a sense of humour. 

The result: A Superb Story.

I trust you have read about all my favourite stories. 

In case you haven’t – do read them right here in my blog

Happy Reading 

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. All Stories in this Blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved) 

 

This is a repost of a blog I wrote many years ago and have posted online in my various blogs a number of times including at urls: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/07/malefactor-classic-anton-chekhov-story.html  and http://creative.sulekha.com/my-favourite-short-stories-part-5-a-malefactor_531474_blog  and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/07/my-favourite-short-stories-part-5.html etc