Love and Politics

'You mean they dump us?' I asked.

'Not really,' said Subbu. 'They come back whenever they need votes, money, signatures. Even information.'

You know,' said Subbu philosophically. 'Love and politics are very similar. If you understand one, you'll understand the other.'

'What?' I asked. 'How can you compare politics to love?'

'Start at the very beginning for example,' said Subbu. 'In politics and love, the politician or the lover, sets out to impress you with all the charm of Romeo courting Juliet. They do it primarily to get something from you. Your love – which translates into power, money and other things we can't mention here.'

'What nonsense!' I exclaimed. 'How can you compare such crass ideas with a noble concept like love?'

'I hope you're not talking of unconditional love or politicians with high ideals,' clarified Subbu. 'Love and politics are conditional today dude. You give your love and your vote, and they'll bring you the moon, stars, sky. They'll even tell you you're the best looking, the smartest. That they'll love you forever, fight the world for you, die for you. You let go of all reason and believe in their fiction.'

'Subbu,' said I. 'A person in love really means all that. He or she could die for me. Love is blind.'

'Sure looks like,' said Subbu. 'Anyway, political parties and lovers dress up, buy gifts and visit you to impress you. Their promises increase until the fiction reaches award winning levels.

And god help any other suitor who is also trying to woo you. After all, all's fair in love and war according to our ancient texts. As long as they get your vote or online transfers of money, politicians and lovers are happy to do anything.'

'Which means they love us right?' I asked. 'That's all that matters.'

'Well, here it gets a little complicated,' said Subbu. 'It's human nature. We enjoy the chase but once we get there, we lose interest. Once they get the vote or nod from you, politicians and lovers are off looking at new avenues to conquer. They stop the fiction and suddenly become very practical. Important business affairs take over.'

'You mean they dump us?' I asked.

'Not really,' said Subbu. 'They come back whenever they need votes, money, signatures. Even information.'

'Don't voters and lovers see through their charade?' I asked agitatedly.

'Well it's not that you don't know,' said Subbu. 'Everyone knows that love, romantic or political, is fiction. You can't hold it, eat it or drink it. But your politicians and lovers tell their stories so well that you want to believe them. You feel that somewhere deep down they really care for you. Voters think politicians are actually out there to honour their promises.

So you wait hopefully as your politician / lover tells you he is trying very hard but it's not happening because of the ghost of a person who died 70 years ago. You feel bad and rush to hold him in your arms. Meanwhile another election or some romantic equivalent of it comes. And once again the moon, stars and sky appear on the horizon. Déjà vu.'

'I don't believe it,' I said.

'Well, look around and see how many moons have been bought down to the earth,' said Subbu. 'Your politician /lover knows what you want - little lies. And you know what your politician / lover wants - votes and money.'

'You mean it's doomed?' I asked.

'Who says?' said Subbu. 'Everyone's happy. The politician with your votes, lovers with your money, You with sweet little lies and occasional abuse. This is the oldest love story in the world.'

'You're lying,' I said and walked away.