The cost price fixed by Indian politician for a vote is Rs 500, or 10$.The price , he feels is reasonable. Let us work out his expenditure.
He is a nominated candidate of a party . His constituency has about 1 million voters.
1000000 X 500=5,00,000,000 RS.or 10000000$.This is his expenditure.
In 5 years his worth is 150X expenses.You calculate the working . I leave it to you. I wish to become an active politician , in my next birth, if at all I have one. As , I have made no money in this birth, perhaps I am not made of such wonderful stuff. I am a loose bag of principles, truth and sincerity , all woven in the most strange manner.
The 500 Rs has been disbursed meticulously and with great punctuality.If the candidate wins , his tenure is for 5 years . He will not serve not the people, but will start spinning money. His assets, I am told will multiply 300 times. Amazing , is it not?
The poor Indian sells his valuable franchise for peanuts. His vulnerability is exploited. His despondency and his ignorance are stretched to the fullest strength. He is taken in a vehicle to cast his vote. He is closely watched by the party strongholds of his area. After , the ritual is over , he is left uncared in the polling booth. The pampering is over. The coaxing and cajoling ends abruptly. Now , our Indian walks barefoot home in the scorching sun.
The parties , the candidates, the leaders forget our friend. He becomes a non entity. The promises , during the election campaign fly in the air. The political big wig , is busy minting money. His constituency becomes his fiefdom. He rules with aides, who are deputed to collect money for approvals, for sanctions, for admission in educational institutions. His auditors work out his balance sheet. The professionals are clever in manipulation.The proforma speaks volumes. The Member of Parliament , in a year has brought a turn over ,that no industry, however profitable can produce. At the end of five years , he becomes one among the thousand richest Indian. It is a feat unsurpassable , an achievement unthinkable, a credit astounding.
The Indian who sold his rights for Rs 500, remains the same. He lives in the small thatched hut. There is no proper facilities. There is no sanitation, no potable water, and no basic amenities. A percentage of Indians sleep on the pavements. .They eagerly wait for the next election to get a glimpse of the Member of Parliament . The man walks in with folded hands,in a pressed white dhoti and starched white shirt, with gold rings in his ten fingers and big diamond studded bracelts in his wrists, exposing in detail his accrued wealth. Mesmerised stands our friend , in his tattered clothes , unkempt hair holding out his hand to receive , perhaps this time a little more , say 1000 Rs , which is 20$.
Where is democracy? Where is equality? Where is governance.?