The ancient Palace had a new Administrator, The Man, who had been elected by the inhabitants to put it back in order. He had the experience of grandly doing up another, smaller building. Facing every harassment imaginable, he had succeeded and so had been promoted as the Administrator of the Palace.

As he entered the yard, he saw a lot many people looking miserable huddling out in the open, bag and baggage. Disturbed, he took in the broken fences, the collapsed boundary walls and noted suspicious-looking characters lurking everywhere – all in one sweep of his glance. He was grim as he entered the Palace and touched his head to the ground.

The Man stood straight and majestic with folded hands and thanked the people for giving him the job. He promised to work 24×7 to repair, refurbish and rebuild the dilapidated edifice. He asked for their cooperation in his task

Those who had voted for him cheered. But the ‘Non-Voters’ (Dynasts/Brown Sahibs/Babus/Opposition/MSM/Leftists/J!h@dists/Haters) who were now scattered and entrenched in every corner of the Palace and even in the neighbouring houses, looked on hostilely and ill-concealed fear. They knew as well as the Voters that he would restore the Palace. They were very, very scared indeed.

What if he found out their hidden stashes around the Palace and in other houses in far neighbourhoods? What if their perks and privileges were cut? What if he resettled those they had thrown out in the yard? What would happen to the houses and property they had looted from them? They knew well that he was an honest man from a very humble background. That was another point of contention for them.

The whole place was stinking; the toilets and drained were choked; the pantry was almost empty; the main shrine was broken, and the deity was outside the shrine, waiting to be reinstalled; the place was crawling with shady looking agents of every kind. He stepped on a loose tile. A host of maggots crept out of the crevices. Some rats scurried away.

The chair he was to sit on looked suspiciously grand. He went close and gave one of the legs a sharp kick. It gave way instantly. He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor in Padmasana. He looked almost like a deity himself. The hostile eyes that were waiting for him to fall with the chair, gasped. He had got the better of them! ‘Next time, we will get him,’ they growled among themselves.

He began the inspection of the Palace. He opened a cupboard and skeletons of all shapes and sizes stumbled out. Smelling something vile, he tapped a loose board on the wall. It gave way, and he saw a secret chamber. Termites and silverfish scurried hither and thither. Rotten wood kept falling off.

Soon there was a growing line of people waiting with complaints and petitions and some well-dressed and suave looking people holding placards demanding his resignation. He smiled enigmatically. His eyes were clear, and his words rang true as he dealt with the common people and ignored the placard holders. They were furious. They would show him and his Intolerant Voters!

They whispered among themselves that they would throw him out by joining hands—whatever it took. They couldn’t, wouldn’t let this new man take their loot of over 60 years away from them! Hadn’t he done an excellent job with the earlier building despite their best effort to create all kinds of problems to prevent him from succeeding?

They urgently sent messages to their hostile neighbours asking for help. They manufactured scary tales about Voters–that they were killing the Non-Voters. That he would throw them all out and give the Palace to the Voters.

In the meanwhile, the Voters waited impatiently for him to clean up the Palace and give it back to them. Hadn’t they voted him to a majority win? They settled down comfortably, sipping tea and gossiping. Not one of them got up to help him as he began his clean up operations. They were busy mocking and heckling the Non-Voters boasting that they would soon be out on a limb.

The Non-Voters were very busy. They set up a din that made any sane conversation impossible. They set random small and big fires around the palace. They attacked the Voters, knifing and lynching them and then played victim saying that there was ‘Darr ka mahaul’. The Man had a capable team which was doing all it could to douse the flames, to calm the voters and to reassure ALL inhabitants that he was their man, no matter if they had voted for him or not.

“Don’t believe him” cried the Non-Voters inside and outside. “The Palace is being taken over by a dictator!” the headlines screamed. “He is going to butcher the Non-Voters!”, they cried.

The Man was wise. He knew he needed to rebuild the Palace, but unless he plugged the holes and filled up breaches in the outer walls and grounds, more and more neighbours would enter and create mayhem. He started work on securing the fences, the boundary walls and clearing the grounds.

The lazy Voters were getting restive. ‘He has betrayed us!’ they screamed. ‘He is just like the Dynasts!’ cried another group. ‘We will see that he or his men don’t get control of any other building or this Palace!’ they vowed. Those influencers among the Voters, sidelined by the new Administration, began a vilification campaign. They soon created enough angry voices that began shouting against the Man.

They said that they ‘questioned’ and ‘criticised’ The Man, for hadn’t they given him a massive vote to become Administrator? Every day these voices are becoming as screechy and strident as that of the Non-Voters. The wise and sane ones are cautioning these voices not to precipitate matters.

Have faith and support The Man. Only he is standing between you and your annihilation. Don’t bring destruction upon yourself, please!

Will the hyenas, plotters and asuric forces prevail or will the sane voices be heard? Above all, will the lazy Voters ever get off their comfortable couches and join The Man in the fight against adharma?

It is a choice we Voters who brought The Man to the Palace need to make and do it urgently.

#Hindus #Modi #India #FightAgainstTerror


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