ONCE IN FIVE YEARS

One fine morning
on my way to
office,
saw me the crater-filled
roads
being repaired and
maintained.
Craters being filled
with the hot mixture of
tar and gravel
by women carrying
them in large
blistering grimy plates
under the piercing sun.
The men on the other side
spreading the hot mixture
with shovels.
Red and green flags
waved as and when necessary
to the vehicles stopping
at either ends
flags red and green
serve as
signals to stop and let go
as and when necessary.
The smell of tar pervading
the ambience,
the atmosphere thick with
the voices of men, women
and engines
a driver astride a
road-roller
driving to and fro
pressing the mixture-filled
pot-holes
engine growling drowning
the shouts and talks of
men and women
sweating under the burning sun
literally roasting them
wondered me
why all through the last
five years
despite complaints
of the citizen’s community
and representations to the
authorities
no rectification measures
being taken.
Asked I to my co-traveller
‘why all of these on a
fine morning’
‘any VIP coming’?
Enjoying my query
With a sarcastic smile
replied he:
‘five years
gone, my friend
elections are on the anvil
and before the model
code of conduct to
be declared
at least necessary patch-works
are the need of the hour
before the whirlwind
campaigns are to be
started on a war-footing
votes, my friend, votes’
-my co-traveller was
seen gritting teeth
no smile, no laughter,
instead anger
for taking the voters for
a ride
once in five years.