The excitement had been building for weeks, with evening campaign meetings, posters going up everywhere, and lots of talk at the village stores. When it got down the last week, it was all-out: miking (campaign slogans blared from rickshaw-mounted loudspeakers), missils (marching, also with lots of chanting of slogans), and motorcycle rallies.
Work duties and rainy weather kept me partaking in the missil merriment, but such things didn't keep everyone away. Rabi from next door -- who had been complaining that he couldn't make it to his school in the next village because of muddy roads -- nevertheless managed to march in the rain around most of the union during several days of missil-ing. (He had been paid for hanging up posters, but the missils were purely for the fun of it.) I did get in on the campaign tea -- drinking courtesy of two competing candidates on the last two days of the campaign.
When the big day came, voters trudged through the rain and mud to the village school, where they lined up to stamp a ballot card by their candidate's marka, or party logo. When I stopped by after work, the voting was finished. But I think every umbrella in Nondokul was out in the school field as the votes count began.
Every now and then a policeman would step outside the schoolhouse to announce an update. Immediately one group or another would burst out with shouting and dancing, unperturbed by the drizzle and ankle-deep mud.
When the final count was in, Tubewell marka had been elected as Council member for Nondokul's ward; Waterpot marka was vice-chairman for our block of 3 wards; and Ink-well & Pen marka was chairman for the 9-ward Union. Yesterday, Tubewell marka slaughtered two cows to feed his new constituency in the 3 villages of our ward. Tomorrow, I hear it is the turn for Idris Ali of the Ink-well & Pen (below); I haven't heard how many cows it will take to feed all his 9 wards.
