Election Poem by Praveen Kumar In Shobha Priya

Is election a process to uncover common will?
Election, in truth, uncovers none's will,
But, numerical juggles of dumb, soulless figures
From election machine that makes numbers out of men,
That reduces subtle will to the stamp of ink.

The lazy machine rattles busy figures
That count unaccountable human will;
A thousand broken bits of the nation's will,
How take across the land to real common will?
In no number game lies the nation's will.

A mathematical scheme for people's rule
As dumb and blind as the mass rule it spawns
Where each sinks to nought in the human sea
While forced to choose on dictates of the state
From a bunch of selfish arrogant fools.

You cast your vote to choose who to lead,
Who tax your rights and breed their mights,
Who frown your calls from dizzy heights;
For, vote you cast is a mole in a hill
And bereft of weight except number-game.

Election's heat brings dins, dusts and storms
That blind human mind in passion's wild swirls;
Blood meets blood and revenge rules the world,
Wealth flows to Ganges in liquor and blood
To breed more wealth, power and might.

Should passions bleed for greedy, sickly souls?
Should votes be cast just on loud, deceptive words?
How voters could be tools for greedy, ingrate's rise?
Yet, election, an election, an inborn statute right,
A job to foresee that better men come to throne.