Election Fever

I mean that’s like a nightmare – locking hand with half a hundred sweaty, dirty, rough hands, which have probably been used for itching crotches and picking noses and wiping sweat and whatnot, every single day.

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Hullo Everyone!

This is election time in DU. Last few weeks have been quite disturbing ones, as the fever spread like fire, scathing every homo sapien sapien in the campus. These weeks have witnessed dirty politics, ear-defeaning noises, formidable campaigning, ruthless backstabbing, and intense cajoling and luring. The effort contestants have put in is really commendable, however, the troubles we, the common men, have to undergo are nowhere discussed.

First, Stop The Handshaking. To tell you the truth, I’m really sick of shaking fifty male hands per day. I mean that’s like a nightmare – locking hand with half a hundred sweaty, dirty, rough hands, which have probably been used for itching crotches and picking noses and wiping sweat and whatnot, every single day. Had they been girls’ hands, I’d have considered the up-side, but God, no girl ever shakes hands with me! Not even the ugliest hag! And once upon a time, there used to be a girl who’d hold my hand as we strolled along the empty, lit up streets. I mean look at the pathetic demotion!

Two, stop folding hands and reciting names all the time for fuck’s sake. These party people, I tell you, are endlessly annoying. Every time they see a first-year student, they catch him and try to drill their names, their ballot numbers, and the desired posts in his head. It’s worthless – because it’s boring. I mean remembering people’s ballot numbers is so boring that I would rather stare at a screensaver all day. Not even Vogue models with ballot numbers tattooed on their cleavages could encourage me to memorise those. I’d suggest start interacting with juniors like normal human beings, not some vote-hungry-sluts.

Three, come up with real and different issues. There are limited issues, and nobody talks about promoting chess. There  isn’t a single reason for me to participate in voting process. Everybody talks about fests and parking and stuffs I don’t care about. Actually, one of the best reasons for me to continue higher studies was that you get free WiFi in college. It’s been a month and I’m still sitting on the first bench at 9:30 searching for the goddamn free wifi signal. I hate politicians who don’t talk about free wifi.

Fourth, where are the hot girls!!!!??? I really thought college would be like an Emran Hashmi movie. Hot chics wearing ultra-short skirts, large scale makeouts in the library, bosomy teachers, however, all I see is two dimensional bodies dragging themselves through life. Why don’t you do something about it?

Okay, I think you really can’t do anything about the fourth one. But anyway, stop harassing us with your irritating acts. It gets on my nerves when a hot girl walks up to me, smiles innocently, and just when I begin to wonder if clouds have suddenly turned pink, asks me to vote for Tipu Sultan, ballot number 420, MCBC. 

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