I have the power, I can vote, but with great power comes great responsibility, so I step out of my house to fulfill it.
As soon as I start walking, I am greeted by various symbols- a lotus, a hand, a cycle, a bow and arrow and many more. One of them tells me I should support it because it supports my community. When I say I don't believe in division, another one steps in saying I'm right the majorities should rot and the minorities should rule. I say that is not what I meant by equality when another one shouts, "All men are pigs!" and someone replies with "Women should stay at home." I quickly escape as they start a fight with one another.
Going farther, I find vendors. One of them asks me, "Ma'am, would you like a temple?" I say no.
"A mosque, a church, a gurudwara?"
I say, "No, do you have a washroom? A clean street perhaps? A few trees?"
They walk away disinterested.
When I walk ahead, they try to impress me with pomp and show. They throw money at me. I pick up a note. It is painted black. There is a bald man on it who is smiling, yet looks sad. Suddenly a mob approaches me. It is a large crowd of people wearing blindfolds led by a charismatic man. I have to be a part of the crowd, else I will be crushed. I walk with them for a few miles and break away at the first chance I get.
Here I meet the artists. These are the descendants of people who sacrificed their lives for the freedom of speech and now auction off their opinion to the bidder. They sing and dance and tell me in the best possible words that I should vote for him. Journalist also join them and make eloquent speeches and show me papers with the so called facts, and I'm almost hypnotised when I notice the same peices of paper with the bald man sticking out of their suits. I run away.
Going ahead, I walk into large mansions and come across a group of people who call themselves 'apolitical'. They wear their branded clothes and eat their lavish food and tell me, "Why do you think your mere one vote will make a difference? Election Day is a holiday, go for a picnic and enjoy yourself." I scoff at them. I tell them how they should be grateful to be privileged enough to call themselves apolitical. I tell them how for most people, that one vote decides if there is a water supply in their colony, decides if their children go to school. I tell them how the people of Libya and Sudan are fighting, just for that one vote. I finish my little speech, proud of myself to have made a difference, and when I look up, I see they have their headphones plugged in. Dejected, I walk away.
I spot a dusty path, a road less taken, and I take a turn to walk of it. Going there, I find a comedian, who is broke but not bought, a journalist, who is so tired of shouting out the truth that his voice is almost lost. I find a tiger cowering behind a small patch of greenery and surprisingly, I find my maid, who spent her two months worth salary to travel to her hometown to vote. At the end of that road, I find a man who stands for everything I stand for.
Just then I am picked by goons, who tell me they will shoot me if I don't vote according to them, I am cursed by god-men who tell me I will go to hell if I vote for the wrong person and at gunpoint, I am walked to the voting booth.
That is when I close my eyes and press the button, the symbol of the person I think deserves the post, and in that moment, I see the bald man smiling at me. He seems happy. I am at peace.