The wait for vote count

The warm days were warmer than a dragon's armpit and the cool days were cooler than a girlfriend's whose birthday was forgotten, Raul smiled at the description of Arizona. It was true, he hadn't ever thought of it like that when he was here. That was an eternity and a half ago. Even with the internet he had lost touch with everyone from college -- since coming back he had contact with most people from New York even. He chuckled. Three years, he had told them. I'll try my luck for five years see if I can survive in that godforsaken land and I'll be right back. That was then. It was now... Seven years, wow, the years really had gone by, and his group had all gotten married had kids and moved away from the city. Everything was quiet and content, no more partying till 3am in Manhattan and then moving to Brooklyn for the afterparty till the next afternoon. He wouldn't enjoy going back even if he wanted to. People had changed. Everyone was more mature now, and what fun meant was very different now. This is where he belonged.

Old memories came rushing by as he reflected on his journey. He was waiting for the votes to be counted; the latest polling suggested he was slated to win but you could never count on those and the opposition could pull anything out of the hat at the last moment. Maybe the case of jumping monkeys again to invalidate the results and when he reran they would make a deal his party highcommand couldn't refuse and his career would be over. You couldn't not trust anyone in politics not even your own party, maybe your family. Even that, maybe hardly even.

He wanted to go back, just for a monthlong holiday if he could get some time. Visit his old friends his family, the people who had meant everything to him for almost a decade and a half. That was a long time. He had spent more time in the U.S. than he had been conscious in Nepal. And then decided to come back. A long sigh. It was a tough decision to have made and he had made the plunge. Into a freezing painful vat of acid that burned his insides and outside, it felt at many times. This would be the result. If it had all been worth it or not.

What if he lost? And it happened fair and even. It was unclear if he had the stomach to take it all anymore. He wasn't afraid of these lowlifes, it was as if he was fighting a fight whose outcome he didn't care for the rewards were worthless -- what's the value of the houses vehicles servants all the recognition and perks you got if it came from misery and pain for people around you. The smog and the dustcloud choked his lungs, running outside even in a morning was not an option. Traffic was as worse than in Manhattan and Kathmandu was no Manhattan. Not that Manhattan itself was what it was back in his day but these cities those people had always been the center of civilization for him despite everything how things had turned out to be. He had nothing against the people, not even those who had voted and encouraged the fascist regime. It was the politicians the greedy businessmen who had led the country into the spiral it was now unsuccessfully trying to get out of. It had worked out great for him in the end, that's what made him come back and join politics against the wishes of his family and friends. All by himself lonely as an island among enemies and traitors where you can trust no one not even your allies because everyone was out for himself. It wasn't just Kathmandu, it was politics in general. He wouldn't have been in politics in the U.S. no matter what. Making money was more fun and stress-free than being in politics. You have to compromise a lot to be a politician no matter how corrupt or greedy you are. Yeah everything was shit in here but it was clear they didn't get into politics just to make money. There were ideals and principles and dreams underneath the deep layers of corruption and cynicism, he had seen those in the dying brightness of his collaborators.