It was an election like no other, and the day of reckoning too was unlike any experienced by this city. An election during the pandemic is all kinds of new, unexpected experiences too. Falling on a Sunday, a day declared to be a complete lockdown, in the middle of a raging viral pandemic, the ongoing excitement went underground, and in its subterranean corridors, there was the mixture of triumph and loss, barely perceivable outside of a television screen.
The day began with the unusual, now usual hush of a total lockdown day, the roads remained deserted, while those who had legitimate business at a counting centre were allowed in. As Sunday wore on, and the initial trends emerged, there was none of those ecstatic celebrations that this city is used to. Usually, celebrations will be held on either side of Cathedral Road, depending on whether the ‘Rising Sun’ and the DMK had a field day, or its rival across the road, ‘Two Leaves’. Revellers would make sure the reverberations of their celebrations reached the other side of the road, just to rub victory in the face of the party that failed to make the requisite numbers.
There was no sign of the usual jubilance outside of counting centres, where crackers will be burst, and clumps of waiting party workers will break into dance and song, sweets being thrust into the mouths of anyone in the vicinity. None of that, this year.
On counting day, the residents of this city are used to watching long convoys of SUVs zipping past on roads, party workers hanging out and cheering in joy. Maybe, they did not miss this automatic aggression, but there were hardly any vehicles on the road this Sunday. The ones that dared to be on the roads had to show cause, and they certainly could not be zipping around, as barricades had been erected by the police so they can carry out their checks.
Of course, some manner of wild celebration did happen at Anna Arivalayam, the seat of the DMK, after all the party was coming back with a bang, after a decade.
In peacetime, it would even be justified if they spilled over on to the roads. But, since this was the pandemic, one policeman was suspended for allowing the celebrations to go on.
In these strange times we live in, there was not even the sound of crackers, loud, disruptive, and yet communicating victory, traditionally in this city. Party cadre possibly live for such moments — moments when they can set a 1000 wala off in the middle of the road, and watch in mirth as the world stops for this rambunctious sharing of joy over victory. Not this time, though.
In a city that has elevated posters and hoardings to an art form, roads would have been lined with life-size cut outs of victorious leaders, once initial trends began to emerge, in violation of all civic rules. This year, a few posters made a lacklustre appearance, too few to count for anything.
In these days of selfies, today might have offered the perfect opportunity for party cadre and fans of the leaders to whip out their phones and shoot. Even selfies in front of counting booths, short videos on social media of a largely asynchronous prancing, in front of party offices or outside counting centres. Not on Sunday though. A pandemic came in the way, this year.
