No, this was not something like Barrack vs Hillary. It was not a debate between candidates but a debate over a candidate. A presidential one too!
Now Kekirilanthaya is officially a multi-party democracy. Now we know that there are parties and parties. Some are fun and some are not. Some make us feel good and some make us want to puke. This was about a party of the former kind. A national party. A united one. It was about figuring out who should ruin Kekirilanthaya. Did I say ‘ruin’? Must have been a typo and not a Freudian Slip.
Anyway, the party we are talking about has been around for a long time. In its best days it managed its own affairs, although some idiots say the party and its leaders were always pawns of foreign powers. In its worst days, it was an embarrassment, especially for the diehard loyalists who were pragmatic enough to know that politics is the art of the possible and honorable enough to feel ashamed when leaders acted as though they were little better than slaves in tie and coat.
These are not the best days, not for Kekirilanthaya and not for the party. It’s been a while since party destiny was blueprinted by party and not by concerned parties from other lands. Times may change, but probably not in the foreseeable future.
Anyway.
‘The Concerned’ had a meeting. They came from France, Germany, India, the UK and the USA, alphabetically speaking and their names, respectively, were Jean-Paul Savard, Jorn Rademacher, Surjeet Singh Lamba, Jimmy Dowrich and Atum Keshav. Surjeet, being new to the club actually was a bit shy about breaking bread with the masters, so he joined through Skype.
Here’s the transcript, kinda.
Keshav set the ball rolling.
‘Not looking too good, folks.’
‘True, true, old chap,’ Dowrich concurred and added, ‘but we have to find someone; it would be a poor show to import a candidate three times in a row.’
‘May I say something?’ Lamba was polite.
‘Of course, go ahead,’ Savard was courteous.
‘Isn’t it easier to let the people of Kekirilanthaya decide for themselves?’
‘You mean, let them elect a President and we purchase the person?’ Rademacher alluded to a time-honored method of co-optation.
‘Well, we could, but what if we get a nutcase like that Rajawamsa dude?’ Keshav was cautious.
‘Yes, it’s best to put our man on the high seat,’ Dowrich the ‘concurrer’ concurred.
‘You mean, Sunil?’ Singh got down to business fast.
‘Well…er….you know…I mean…you know what I mean?’ the American switched to American-Speak, saying nothing of substance but nevertheless being very clear.
There was a short silence and a short break during which TLC sandwiches were served. Dowrich asked for Marmite and toast, politely.
‘Back to work!’ Keshav was all business-like.
‘Can Sunil win?’ Rademacher the Pragmatist asked the most pertinent question.
‘We can’t sell him as Mr Clean any more,’ Savard sounded sad.
‘Nor as an expert on economics,’ Lamba quipped.
‘Is there anyone else?’ Dowrich was ready to look at alternatives.
‘Sadly, no. He didn’t groom a Number Two and the party constitution doesn’t leave any room for his ouster,’ Keshav said the obvious.
‘Will we have to go with the Siripala Option?’ Savard asked.
‘That’s no longer possible,’ Rademacher was as obvious as Keshav.
‘Wait. Let’s do the Math. There’s the minority vote. Siripala has some support and he might be purchased with a Prime Ministerial carrot. And we can lock up the presidential hopefuls of the Opposition.’ Lamba was pretty raw with his opinion.
‘Makes sense,’ Savard said approvingly.
‘We can throw in the threat of sanctions, the Haig and if necessary shoot some bullets in the air. I can get President Mumps to do something,’ yes, that was Keshav.
‘Let’s not be that drastic. We have the bucks, we have the state apparatus; that should be enough,’ Savard had read Gramsci.
‘Will China mess things up?’ Lamba couldn’t resist revealing historical angst.
‘All they want is a piece of the pie. We can assure them that we’ll improve on the slice,’ Rademacher the Purchaser added his two cents.
‘Ok folks, Sunil it is! Done! Dusted!’
The meeting concluded. The fate of Kekirilanthaya was decided. The gentlemen left the room.
The waiter, who had surreptitiously recorded the entire discussion smiled and told himself ‘the people count, in ways you people can never understand.
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