THE nervous politician hastily drew the curtains in his house, and looked out furtively through a small opening in the folds, “What’s happening husband?” asked his troubled wife, running to the window, and nearly drawing the curtains open, “Are there assassins outside? Murderers who want to get your blood?”
“Don’t pull the curtains,” whispered the politician fearfully, pulling his wife’s hand away from the closed curtains, “They’re all out there, ready to kill me!” “Then inform the police,” said his wife fearfully, picking up the phone. “Don’t!” shouted the politician even more fearfully, “Even they may be part of the conspiracy!”
The wife crouched down on the floor, “What conspiracy?” she asked suddenly petrified, “What is this deadly scheme in which they are out to get you? You have never spoken about it in the five years you were in office?”
“Because in those five years those conspirators could not touch me!” said the politician tersely, “In those five years I knew how to handle them. I could put them behind bars, get the IT or ED after them, and could destroy them completely!”
“So do it now!” shouted his wife hysterically from the floor, pressing her body to the carpet while realising that was the only way to avoid any bullets that would hit her from the supposed gunfire the assassins would use, “Husband use your power now!”
“I don’t have any now!” said her husband. “What!” exclaimed his wife, “Call your bodyguards, tell them to retaliate!” “What they have is bigger and more terrible than the bullets my men can shoot with or threats my ED and IT can use. They have a weapon I am powerless against!”
The wife of the ruling politician slowly mustered courage to get up from the floor and walk to the window. She peeped out like her husband was doing at the world outside. She did not see anyone lurking, nor did she see guns or missiles aimed at them. All she saw were people going about their normal business. She turned to her husband, perplexed and asked, “Where are the assassins?”
“There!” said her husband, “There they are!” From behind the curtains, well hidden by the heavy drapes and inside their grand house, constructed in the last five years, they watched fearfully as their suspected assassins; men and women over the age of eighteen walked around, cycled, moved on bikes or cars, and every now and again if one of them carelessly looked in their direction, they both ducked and threw themselves on the richly carpeted floor, but not before they looked with agitated, anxious and apprehensive eyes at the voting finger all of them had. “There’s nothing we can do,” they both whispered to each other, “No ED, IT or police, can withstand the power of the people’s bullet..!”
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