It's THAT Time Again...

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the greatest show on this vast (read: NITK campus, all xxx - can't seem to recall the exact figure, but rest assured, it's HUGE - acres of it) Earth. I have the solemn (and unilateral, because I'm sure half the people reading this are going to denounce me as a heretic, be-littler, blah-bloody-blah) honour of introducing to you the Student Union Elections as the headline act for tonight. Please take your seats, and be prepared for the sheer grandeur of the setting, the relevance of the dialogue and the solemnity of the script. Welcome to one and all, once again.
Frivolity aside, let me describe the significance of this event in the life of the average NITK-ian. Since NITK is an amalgamation of students from all across India, and ultimately these said students are the ones that vote for the Union (and other) leaders, an election here is bound to reflect the, ahem, "vibrant" nature of the Great Indian Election. As in the real thing, coalitions are the order of the day. Situations like Region 1+Sub-region 2+Part-of-Region 3 vs Region 4+ Sub-sub-region 5+ Break-away-province 6 are common occurrences, with each important party (yes, "party", like the BJP/Congress/etc.) choosing representatives, leaders, negotiators, spies, secret weapons, counters-to-secret-weapons et al. Constituency visits, in the form of late-night meetings in the various blocks; Campaigning, in the form of door-to-door visits; Propaganda in the form of videos, pamphlets, agendas and even manifestos; Reservations in the form of a "Girls Rep" (recognising the fact that with 1/8th of the population, they need the representation - see how prescient we are?) etc. are all to be found in this democratic exercise. Again, reflecting the true nature of our multi-faceted country, negotiations for potential alliances are long, tedious and often fruitless. News from a day before may as well be a year old. Partners are swapped with an orgy-like frequency, friends are made, lost and made again. When the very future is at stake, (and I'm talking long-term here - ONE whole year of proverbially running the show) can you expect anything else? Can you? Huh? Huh?
You don't agree? Oh you foolish, cretinous, half-witted moron!

P.S. Since we're (Final years) almost done with this place, we aren't officially involved in the process - which is what led to this post. It's easy to write about events that you are disconnected from... :D

Why?

Prologue: Lists upon lists of endless numbers were splayed across his screen. Frantically, he began searching through them hoping, rather, expecting to see his. After a few futile minutes, he was forced to admit the happening of the implausible. The Earth had just given way, and he felt himself falling, falling to previously unfathomable depths...

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was still unsure of what had happened, and and he couldn't even begin to conceive why things had turned out the way they had. He didn't quite know which way to turn, for every direction seemed as forlorn as the last. Needless to say, he had not a clue of what to do next. All he knew was that he had failed in the one place he was sure to succeed. Around him, some of his friends were understandably ecstatic, happy that they had managed to overcome impossible odds, odds he disdained, until now. A few sympathised, but their plausibly soothing words only served to rankle him further. The question foremost in his tortured mind was this - "Why?"
Why, after he had spared no possible effort? Why, after all the promise leading up to that fateful day? Why him, the darling of the punters, one of the few, almost certain to coast to victory? Why?
For days on end he sat, staring despondently at the endless trickle of bad news. Lists, e-mails, news, all of it seemed to be directed against him, aimed at adding insult to already sore injuries. Professional or personal, no realm of his existence was left untouched by the blight. Everything, everything seemed to be out of place. As he stood looking at himself in the dusty mirror, in the derelict sanctity of his room, one thing became very clear, not unlike the coming into focus of a distant landscape. He had had spells of inconsequentially bad luck before, the lessons from which still reverberated in his cluttered head, but never before had he realised anything with greater clarity. This was simply not meant to be. Rationalism be damned, this was just not going to go his way, irrespective of how much he felt he deserved it. He realised with a sense of awe previously unknown to him, that he had been guided by Fate.
Never one to believe in destiny, he prided himself on the fact that he was a faithful follower of Logic. For him, cause and effect had a precedence over all other beliefs. If he worked at something, he succeeded. That was all there was to it. The concept of luck existed merely to placate those who obviously did not deserve what they did not get. Like much else in his world, this belief had also been turned on its head. Unbidden, the image of an all-sentient being, pulling at strings not unlike those used to control puppets, filled his head. He realised that the image was more than just mere symbolism - this was the way things were, the answer to that most fundamental of all questions - Why?

Epilogue: A short while later, his screen was filled with yet another list of numbers, representing hundreds of his fellow competitors. Predictably by now, his number did not figure on the list. Unlike the previous five times this had happened, he smiled to himself, closing the lid of his computer. There was not a trace of disappointment or despondency on his usually emotive face. There was however, a calm serene expression - the expression of someone who knew the reason why...