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The Second thoughts by Prof.Sunanda Mahendra

'Hello, Jayawewa' blared out the voice from a vehicle that came and stopped by my side while I was walking slowly in pensive mood. A door opened and out came a thin lanky figure with a garland round his neck with folded hands as if to worship me for some form of my unseen virtues.

'Cant's you make you out? 'The person who stood besides me asked in a friendly mood. I saw his vehicle decorated with all manner of posters indicative of a cybernetic advertisement. But in actual reality here stood a person, a candidate for the elections.

" I can make me out. You studied with me at college level, didn't you?'

'Yes, so you remember me. We used to have lots of fun in the school."

'You were in the debating team. weren't you?'

'Yes, so you remember all that. I wanted to see you for a particular reason, and I suppose the reason is obvious.'

'But come on, tell me what do you want me to do?'

Then he summoned some of his helps who brought a bundle of hand bills and mini size photos carrying some details about himself with the election symbol of the party through which he is supposed to contest. He politely and in an air of honour bestowed on me, handed over ten, fifteen of those material to me.

'I want you to support me, Mahendra', he told me touching my shoulder.

'I think you want me to cast my vote to you'.

'It's not only your vote that matters. I suppose you are married'.

'Yes I am'.

'Then tell her also to vote to me and what about children'.

'I have two grown up children'.

'Oh that's good, so you are a proud father'.

'I am not too sure whether I am a proud father or not, but I am sure that I am a father'.

'So please get them also to vote for me, for I am now slightly busy. I hope to see you one of these days. I know that we of the same college should support each other.'

I wanted to ask several questions that were ruminating in my mind.

'How sure are you about your winning?' I wanted to ask him.

'How do you know that I will vote for you, just because I happened to be one of your college mates?' This was another question I wanted to ask. But I did not want to be too harsh. He cast a smile and looked at his wrist watch, and then tried to get into the vehicle.

'Oh I forgot to ask you one question,' he told me.'

'What's that?'

'Are you still working anywhere?' he asked.

I wanted to tell him this.

'Don't you know at least what I am doing' but I reserved it in my stream of conscience, and uttered something else.

'Good luck I will vote for you,' I said.

'Thank you so much, let's meet after the elections' he said once again folded his hands in veneration, in a habitual mechanistic fashion customary of a tamed would be member of the Parliament.

'Jayawewa, Jayawewa' the sound came out of a loudspeaker fetted onto the name of the candidate and his number and his party.

I watched how a cloud of dust is raised as the vehicle moved off from me. I took out my handkerchief to close my nostrils tightly to protect myself from the dust pollution.

I walked into the shade of a tree and contemplated on this behaviour fashion and wanted to recall the schooling days. No trace of any significant event appeared before me in that memory down the lane.

But the fact remains that he was polite enough to make me out, and stood to have a brief chat which any other person would dare not do.

While thinking of all these, I remembered reading Paulo Coelho's prophetic work titled 'Manual of the warrior of light' where I came across an old Arabic proverb, which goes as follows,

'God judges a tree by its fruits, and not by its roots'.

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