“Madam! It is an unbeaten record. I cast my vote at 8.01 AM Everytime. First vote in the village! Whoever I vote for, surely wins. Who did you vote for?” A merchant, whose name I do not remember, barged in yelling at me, excited for some godforsaken reason.
“Whoever you voted for!”, I yelled back, trying hard to remember his name. He is a regular yeller at the bank; he can yell for you, against you, happily, angrily, sadly.
“I voted for Modi !” He spat out of happiness, violently shaking my hand and crashing into the empty chair. “I didn’t know Modi was a candidate from here,” I muttered.
He did not like that last comment. He adjusted his cloth bag with some dozen passbooks. Looking straight in my eyes he said, “Aayenge to Modi ji hi.”
“Chai? Internet banking?” I offered him the two things he was sure to decline. “Chai I don’t drink, our gurudev has made me swear,” he said, pinching his ears. “Internet banking what I will do, I can’t operate all this,” he twisted and turned his hands in flawless origami.
“What about Digital India dream of Modiji?” I asked. He flicked his guthka packet in response, which gurudev had surprisingly not made him swear against. “The thing is, first country should remain intact. We can decorate and develop it later, arrey internal matter that is. We need to protect it from enemies and only modiji can do that, digital or no digital.” He pronounced confidently, emptying the contents of guthka into his chai-less oral cavity.
Folding his hands upto his elbows, he implied that he was taking leave to grill my colleagues.