THE ZERO HOUR – Bennet Paes
I am today on the brink of a bridge this side of the river. The moment I set
foot on it, will be the moment I cast my vote. Hopefully, the new pack of cards
will not hold in it greater number of jokers than aces, and who will not join
forces with the ’jacks’ and the jumble to form a rehash of post-Portuguese
governments, like those we have seen in Goa thus far.
For the past several weeks my eyes have seen, and my ears have heard every
story man has written and spoken to voters in waiting. They have deflected all
of Goa’s market-place talk on fish, to more captivating subjects – corruption &
communalism. Lure for loot is on the centre stage of this long drawn out drama.
It’s a climax to an election frenzy which threatens to blow me under, and I am
bothered. Who will I cast my vote for?
After pressing my ink-marked finger on the symbol of my choice, I shall toddle
over the bridge for three more days before the results come pouring in. The
frenzy will have gained a lease of life until then. It will be the
post-election climax for voters, and mercifully not a post-mortem time for the
writers and the talkers.
I don’t know if my vote will have gone for a toss or not. I don’t even know
whether there will be a change that the writers and talkers have been
clamouring for. But what I know for sure is this – the next government will be
the one the electorate shall deserve. And, for all I fear, it could be even
worse - for a change.
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