Possible foul play in 2013 Delhi elections, and systemic rot in Indian elections

I wrote this story for Mint, around the time of last Delhi Assembly elections which were swept by AAP. The story is based on 2013 elections, in which AAP and BJP secured 28 and 31 seats, respectively. It brings out how the party might have lost two seats because of what could have been foul play - in this case deliberate use of an election symbol, named 'Battery Torch', very similar to the party's Broom.

Mint decided not to publish it, so I am putting it here. The peg is India Today's recent investigation (http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/uttar-pradesh-assembly-elections-dummy-candidates-india-today-expose/1/746207.html) that reveals similar systemic rot. The story below reads very newspaper-y, for obvious reasons.

Below are photos of the two symbols - the fake 'Battery Torch' and AAP's Broom.

   

Story:

If you were an AAP supporter during the previous Delhi assembly elections, you have reason to be worried, for you might just have unwittingly voted your party out of power, in at least two seats.

But how could you have ever committed the grave error of mistakenly voting for another party? It’s because an election symbol bearing uncanny resemblance to AAP’s symbol – the Broom – was doing the rounds in the previous Delhi election. It is noteworthy that the EVM does not carry the name of the party, only increasing the likelihood of such a mistake.

Later, the symbol’s capability to trick AAP voters was taken into cognizance even by EC, which ordered its modification for the upcoming election.

Adoption of the Torch symbol

The fact that this symbol was adopted not by a party but by different independent candidates in as many as 29 out of 70 constituencies in the capital, should raise still more eyebrows. The next most widely adopted symbol - cup and saucer - was adopted in only 12 constituencies. However, before overenthusiastic supporters jump to castigate political rivals for foul play, it is necessary to know how election symbols are allotted to independent candidates. Besides the symbols reserved for national and state parties, the EC has a set of 'free symbols' which are reserved for independent candidates as well as those from lesser known parties. These candidates are then expected to indicate their top three preferences from among free symbols, and in case of clashes, the final allotment is done on lottery basis. Elaborating on the issue, a former Chief Election Commissioner (whose name I've removed because the story isn't for Mint anymore), said that erroneous voting due to similar-looking symbols had indeed been a problem in the past. He, however, added that EC had always been flexible about modifying such symbols on the basis of any genuine complaint received, since not doing so would be an impediment to free and fair elections. Sometimes, EC would also give its nod to symbols demanded by candidates, if these were found acceptable. Talking about the time when over 1000 candidates contested from Modakurichi constituency in TN, he recalled how a judicious choice of symbols could be a real headache for EC. He also mentioned that despite EC's best efforts to minimise confusion among voters, usage of dummy candidates with similar names and symbols had been a favourite modus operandi of political parties to cut into their rivals' vote share. He cited the example of Kuldeep Bishnoi, who, while contesting from Hisar, faced several namesakes.

Why I am a hypocritical liberal

Coming from a deeply orthodox family, I am quite happy with how I’ve turned out as an adult. I am totally accepting of intoxicants, sex, varied sexuality, and political incorrectness – all things I was critical and sceptical of as a child.

Just a few days back though, a phone conversation with a friend shook the firm belief I held in my liberalism. We somehow got on to the topic of transgenderism – a phenomenon I have nothing against but believe has been emboldened by the advent of technology and is too much of a #firstworldproblem to be paid much attention to – and I was quick to express my reservations, saying it was not ‘normal’ for anyone to feel out of place in their assigned gender. Expectedly, there was a strong rebuttal. She argued cogently that diversity was the new normal, and that the age old habit of viewing varied choices as deviations from a preassigned normal was more condescending than liberal.

That got me thinking. This is indeed true – I have indeed looked at varied practices such as homosexuality, transgenderism etc. as deviations from a normal. In my heart of hearts, I am still not entirely comfortable with these practices, and I am only ‘allowing’ them to exist, instead of wholeheartedly embracing them. As a child, I was subtly indoctrinated to believe that the needs of individual had to take a backseat to the rules of society, if ever there was a clash between the two. I always thought I had overcome that indoctrination, but childhood hangovers are not to be underestimated. Sure, my attitude is far better than condemning and actively proscribing diversity, but it’s not ideal. To use an analogy, if my friend views the world as a canvas covered with a random splashing of all colours conceivable, I view it as one with carefully done, linear, monochromatic strokes, interspersed with what can at best be called jarring multi-chromatic irritants. I will never remove those irritants, but I secretly, almost shamefully, hope that they become one with their surroundings over time.

List of people who ought to be killed

King Carlin once compiled a list of people who ‘ought to be killed’. This is one of the greatest acts of philanthropy in human history, for truly there are lots of people who ought to be killed so that the more deserving ones can live in peace. The list was comprehensive for its day, but sadly Carlin died before the internet age, which has spawned scores of other categories of people who ought to be killed. This young Padawan, who hates people as much as the Jedi master did, has taken on the mantle of carrying forward his much-needed work, so that someday it can come to fruition and make the world livable again.

Here’s a list of people who ought to be killed:

1.    Those who suffer from sapiosexuality, wanderlust, or bibliophilia: I don’t mean those who have these traits, but those who use these very words to describe their traits. I was first introduced to these words by tinder bios, so it’s only fitting that I leave a screenshot to explain things better.

I did hate myself a tad more after swiping right on her. She was really hot. I'm sorry.

2.    People who join tinder for ‘friendship’: How sad are their lives, that they need tinder to make friends? And somehow none of these friendship-seekers swipes right profiles of the same gender. 

      Sad and discriminatory – put ‘em down!
Again, live examples help. Yes, I am that bastard who collects screenshots of funny tinder profiles.

I didn't swipe right on her. But then she was ugly.

3.     Pouting mirror-selfie dudes and babes: Ah, I have a special place for them in my dark heart. Nothing would give me greater comfort than taking away their boundless joy when they pose in a mirror, contort their lips, tilt their head to one side, and click. These people need some good old torture leading to death - Scaphism, maybe?

The horrific tale of a Mumbai dance bar

Sometime last year I visited a dance bar in Mumbai. I’d gone in with two friends, with the largely platonic motive of experiencing firsthand the dying embers of a fire that once used to light up the Maximum City every night. I went in expecting nothing too different from a European strip club, maybe something only more tepid. Turns out it is arguably the only act I’ve committed that evokes the emotion of shame in me. It was traumatic, to say the least. The dance bar I visited, Ram Bhavan in Andheri, didn’t remotely pander to the dark, dingy stereotype created by Bollywood. It was far worse.

The description below was written in the immediate aftermath of my visit, and hence carries an emotional, first-person narrative. Of course, the passage of time allows me to restructure it into a more detached commentary, including bits on how bar dancers deserve and need far more respect and positive policy intervention than pity. I should also concede my hypocrisy in taking the moral high ground, but all that would not do justice to what I felt while I was in the midst of it. Read on.

I can never forget those eyes. If they gave off an aroma, I would know what lust smells like.

I tried mustering the courage to make eye-contact, but never could. She stood close enough to tempt, yet far enough to deter. Her gaze was captivating, inviting, and at the same time, puzzling, stupefying, and worst of all, intimidating. No female had looked at me that way before, not even in the most intimate of moments. Yet, I failed to capitalize on her lust. The best I could do, while she peered straight into my flinching eyes, was to watch her ring-laden fingers dance around her bare waist, the motions turning more suggestive as they moved towards the pierced navel, and slowly up to her cleavage-baring bosom. Yet again I tried following the movements of her fingers, hoping for them to lead my gaze right up to hers, almost failing when one of her fingers was juxtaposed with her cleavage, and finally giving up when the same finger brushed against her blood-red lips.

As if sensing my confusion and despair, a stout, bald, thickly-bearded man walked up to the table where I was seated with the two friends accompanying me, and stood right in front of me, blocking her gaze. For a second, I thanked him for taking the pressure off me. But the comfort was short-lived. Dressed in an immaculate dinner jacket, the man stood there silent and motionless, assuming such a wide-legged stance that our eye levels almost met. His aura was disconcertingly jaunty. His face carried a deep cut on the right cheek. It was clear he’d emerged victorious from a bloody battle. My heart skipped a beat as he slipped his hand inside the jacket, but luckily only to fetch a pen and a piece of paper. He sternly pointed to the shabby menu card on the table. Almost thanking him for sparing our lives, my friends and I wasted no time in ordering snacks. We were relieved that we saw him off quickly. His domineering presence had unsettled me deeply, even more than the stare of the dancing girl, which I somehow still craved. His departure gave me another chance to resume the battle between evolutionary instinct and decades of social conditioning.