One line Disclaimer that I will Write in deference to Fish : I Don't Like POLITICS. So I shall make this post as trivial as possible, because, Frankly, m'dear, I don't give a DAMN!!
Paint yourself in colors of your choice cause JU is having the BHWOTs. The frenzy started to begin about 6 days ago when I actually noticed (since I am the last person to notice notices and posters and placards et cetera) placards being put up for the various groups of Politics whose members regularly play Table Tennis and Carom in the UNION ROOM, all together generally. Its only before the Elections when these people dye their general T-Shirts in Team colors and go out to display them to others, half knowing what they mean (sort of like watching English Premiere League where all us Indian watchers contently back Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester, or whichever team is winning at the time).
I really noticed the Bhwot business after Babelfish handed me a chit (that I thought at first was a super secret code that will devastate and decapitate the mortal world of us unaware fools) but after a look at the content, I realized that FATE was not that bizarre. It was just a piece of paper with weird names on it. Babel very patiently explained their cause, and I nodded (to my utter bewildered delight) at all the right places.
Today was our DAY. So I put my alarm at 8.45 a.m. sharp in the morning so that I can get there real early and cast my bhwoting rites as a loyal and righteous JUDEian.
Unfortunately I slept through my alarm. When my sleep-misted eyes opened it was already 9:45 a.m. and I realized I was LATE!!
So I took the fastest route to University, which, apart for my Ecjams or ADG’s class I Never take. The bus carried my bulky self like a little storm and WHOOSH! I was ready to exercise my rites.
Entering the college was harder than it looked. The gate was flanked by members of both the major contestants who reminded repeatedly to vote for number “two two two” and “one one one” on my voting paper. This started from college gate and continued to the corridors where the two and one gained more vigour. I walked as briskly I could, accepting all the chits thrown towards me and went to the sanctuary of my class.
Hoimoi!!! Volunteers who frowned upon my sorry self infested that place that I love the most in my University. My only consolation was that Arrow was there as well. I hereby declare that I am in love with you, darling Arrow, if you by chance stumble upon this. I will make a leash out of that beautiful mane of hair one of these days, my pocket … er… this is not the place to start a blazon (that's a courtly catalogue of the Petrarchan Beloved’s beauty) on Arrow.
So I was packed off by one of those over helpful ones who wasted no time in directing me to the room where the Bhwot co-ordinator sat in all her glory. I entered and saw the faces of Iru, Ari, Rajjo and Sreoshi who grinned right back. We were given the sheets. I immediately ticked off mine and then coerced Iru by tickling him (So there!! I did some rigging!!) shamelessly till he agreed readily to everything I said.
Just after getting out, I led some confused (for confused, read Unwilling) Bhwoters, who just wanted me to stop prattling, to the classroom and made them Bhwot as well, Debojoy and Denial being a few of the significant ones. I fell one short of class Darida, Anik, whom I almost managed to pull inside (by his shirt sleeves, no less), but stopped at the last moment as a very cautiously amazed Cassmortmain looked at the pair. Not wanting to put a bad impression on her idea of a safe, nice Bhwot, I let go (very reluctantly though).
Happily (for we were one of the firsts to BHWOT, we ran off to the BALCONY where cigarettes were immediately lit (boo for non-smokers). Deep was indolently sitting at a corner, to whom I grinned and declared my relief: “Doesn’t it make you feel like a spanking piece of a*se??” Deep grinned and bore that comment with courage taking all the wind out of my sails : “Swapanda tomake dakchhe” (Swapanda is calling you)
Me!! Why Me?? Hoimoi!! Hoimoi!!
I gathered up all my courage, singing dithyrambs (incidentally, it translates from Greek into “goat-song” that were the origins of the tragic chorus) in my mind. Bravely, like Mary Queen of Scots to the execution, I approached The Godfather’s room.
Enter Stage Left: Panu
Panu: Sir A-a-ashbo? (May I come in?)
Don: Na na candidate noy amar student chai!! (No No I don’t want the candidates, I want a student!!)
(Great. Now I am a candidate. Hoimoi!!)
Panu: Iye, Sir, ami Student. (Er, sir, I am a student)
Don: Bhwote diyechho?? (have you bhwoted?)
Panu(in a rush): Hyansir!! (Yessir!!)
Don: sabbaike niye Abar fire jao… tomra keu broadsheet e sign koroni!! Na korle tomader Bhwot cancelled hobe!! (Take everyone and GO BACK to the room and sign the Broadsheet, or your bhwots will be cancelled!!!)
Panu: ah… yessir!!!
I ran. To others. Gathered them up and took them to be slaughtered… er… signed.
Then the Don entered the room. Everyone was silent, watching the fearful symmetry of the pointy beard.
Don: Shoi korle?? (Did you sign?)
Panu: ah.. yessir!!
Don: Sabai? (All?)
Don: Kata Jaal korle?? (How many did you copy??)
Exit Don, Stage Right.
Here I end my experience with the Bhwoting process. The post-bhwoting included me calling one certain white sleeveless bloused spectacled personality “Tonks!!” and her winking back at me… but then……