There is a lot of pressure, this weekend, and it’s not just from my middle-aged bladder. Oh God, why did I bring that up? Now, I want to relieve myself, which would not be fair to you, dear reader. Keeping you waiting mid-sentence, whilst I attend to something ridiculously basic, and yet, clearly one of life’s truly underrated pleasures. Okay, let’s get this article out of the toilet that it has plunged into and start all over again. On your marks, get set... go!
I’m feeling a lot of pressure, and its all due to two cataclysmic events. (Keep in mind the writer, namely me, has no idea what the word cataclysmic even means in the first place. He’s just, and by he, I mean me, sticking to a vow he made to his IV-standard teacher that he would use at least two four-syllable words in every composition that he would ever write, or plagiarise). Specifically, there are two dates — the 19th and 20th of this month — that are causing this turbulence, (if you pronounce ‘turbulence’ slowly it sounds like a four-syllable word, by the way). Your question to me is: “What issue do I have with these dates? My answer to you is, “Please, don’t be so impatient, obviously I’ll come to that point otherwise why would I ever have mentioned these dates”?
On May 19 is the birthday celebration of a person, who, seen from his own eyes, is a very close friend. However, seen from my eyes, is more like that distant relative who is always, and unnecessarily, in your house. I don’t think its right to name Kunal Vijayakar by name so let’s call him Andy. At another time in our lives, I would have celebrated his (Andy’s not Kunal Vijayakar’s), birthday, happily. Truth be told, in the past I often did. And by often, I mean just once a year, throughout the 90’s.
This year though Andy, (not Kunal Vijayakar), turns 60 years old. That’s two years beyond the official retirement age acceptable in Hindustan. What kind of depraved vulgarity allows someone to celebrate such a late birthday, and that too with great pomp and splendour in a fancy five-star hotel. I mean, is he, Andy, (not Kunal Vijayakar), turning 6 or 60? On principal, I was going to boycott the birthday celebrations, but then I heard they will serve aam ras, and no civilised palate can deny itself aam ras.
This brings us to May 20. Here, my problem is to do with my experiences on polling day from the past. Yes, its our day to vote in Mumbai. Now, for us in South Mumbai, after we get over the pain that it’s a dry day, six or seven of us actually turn up to cast our vote. I am one of the six or seven. Others include those standing in our constituency and their parents. Sadly, I’m scarred from my experiences in 2014 and 2019.
On both those occasions, I reached the polling booth at 6 am sharp, but I found that no one was ready for me. Malabar Hill has its own constitution, and doesn’t perform at that hour. It’s embarrassing when the voter is ready before the polling booth. If this happens again to me this time, I’m shifting to Calcutta, where technically dawn breaks ever earlier. Caught between the twin towers of Kunal Vijayakar, (oops Andy), and voting, I’m stressed beyond belief. The worst part, I can’t even get a drink, cause in preparation of voting on the 20th, they’ve made 19th a dry day too!
The writer has dedicated his life to communism. Though only on weekends.
