An Affair to Remember

elections

Dilli ki sardi’ is getting progressively warmer. Before you conclude this as yet another article on the manifestations of climate change, let me tell you that no, global warming isn’t the culprit. Blame the upcoming assembly elections for turning on the heat in the National Capital. No signboard is bereft of a candidate’s face, no FM radio station devoid of catchy jingles and sound bites. No TV channel is found wanting in terms of interviews and debates, and more interviews and more debates. Social media is choked with

campaign posts cutting across party lines. Well, simply put: Elections. Are. Here.

Not so long ago, in the forbidden forests of NSIT, life was moving at its own leisurely pace. Ghissus were busy spoiling mass bunks, vellas were sunbathing at the Central Fountain, and the studs were shuttling from one adda to another. It was business as usual. Elections only affected the politically initiated, not the entire college. Or so we thought.

It began as a careless whisper. Rumor had it that three weeks of holidays were on the cards. Some confirmed it, others smiled enigmatically and the rest refused to divulge any details. Well, daydream mode was on. This was too good to be true. This was a chance of a lifetime, a chance to regain the ground lost in the winter break, a chance to catch up on some sleep, a chance to conquer Mt. Everest, a chance to build a time machine, a chance to befriend pixies, elves and dwarfs, a chance to…

And then, the bombshell was dropped. Pop went our utopian bubble. Indignation and helplessness flooded in. There were holidays, yes, but this ‘generous’ gift of the admin was more of a loan, to be repaid with pounds of our flesh and much of our blood. Yes, we were to excruciatingly part with our precious weekends. Each day was accounted for, no weekend was spared. 24X7 just gained a whole new, monstrous dimension. Oh, how that solitary notice fluttering in the winter breeze broke our hearts! With heavy hearts carrying the weary load of lost weekends, NSITians departed, leaving a desolate and forlorn college.

But just when you thought that the action had subsided, came another twist in the tale. Behold, a black chopper landing in our very own sports complex, followed by a black car whooshing through the main gate. Sorry ladies and gentlemen, that wasn’t Christopher Nolan landing in Delhi instead of Bombay. That was the cavalcade of our very own honorable Prime Minister of India. The excitement in the winter air was palpable. Talk of bigwigs in the college, eh?

Amidst the din of campaigns and the bittersweet “election” holidays, the day of polling draws closer. You may not have much say in the way the college is run, but you can surely choose how Delhi will be run for the next five years. Rise and shine, NSITians! Seize this opportunity. Regardless of whether you are a first-timer, a seasoned voter, or a disillusioned voter, go out and vote- it is your right as well as your duty. Make sure you point the right fingers at the right people. Make this election worth its while. Let NSIT have a fling with democracy. Let this be an affair to remember!

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