Counting the hours, counting those votes

Counting votes, we are unreliably told, is a science. Numbers, tallies, neat little rows of digits. But in practice, it resembles a magic show with rabbits being pulled out of hat over the course of a day - with the prospect of a few rabbits turning up to be goats. First, EVMs - looking suspiciously like synthesisers (which in a way they are) - are lovingly stacked. Then comes the 'scientific' part: men with calculators, women with pencils, and one fellow with more fingers than Hrithik Roshan tabulates. Hours pass, tea is consumed, and the numbers keep coming out like shawarma from a rotating kabab spit.

Eventually, results are announced. One side cheers, dhols are drummed up, mithai is distributed. The other side sulks, and the media shows empty party offices with forlorn plastic chairs. But here's the beauty: losers never lose. They simply declare, with solemn authority, 'The election was fixed.' In cooler climes, the election is 'stolen'. This nugget is the eternal life raft of democracy. It requires no evidence, no logic, just a firm jaw and a loud voice. If the margin is narrow, it was rigged. If the margin is wide, it was definitely rigged. And, thus, democracy thrives: winners win, losers win too - by claiming martyrdom. The only certainty in all this uncertainty is that someone, somewhere, will insist the magician swapped the rabbits.