Rajubabu gets the election ticket

 I am writing fiction of any kind after what feels like two eternities. I know I promised to take this seriously but there's nothing inside me to produce anything worth even the lowest quality of readable material so forgive me for the trash that might be produced. This is a promise to do better.

It was on the third day of April, that Rajubabu woke up from his seven month coma. The tickets were to be finalized in two days and the party was informed previously that he had long since passed away, or something to that effect. They assumed it was a private matter, death can come in embarrassing forms to families in traditional societies and the district leaders didn't want to press on the details.

When the youngest leader of the mother party who people had predicted might end up as the Prime Minister who had suddenly disappeared from public view presumed dead leaving a big tussle for his election ticket from the party showed up at the party offices right as they were on the verge of a complicated dealmaking to portion out the spoils of the riches to come after the guaranteed seat, the reaction was not as positive as some had hoped, those on Rajubabu's side particularly. The garlands were heavy enough to cause severe neck pain, the red vermilion powder vendors had a good day no doubt and poetry emanated from the mouths of the most stodgy and boring men the town had seen, praising the miracle that had brought the great leader back from death. What was left intentionally unclear was who the ticket would go to. The seven months had seen two changes in the national government, it was an eternity in terms of political dealmaking.

Rajubabu's hadn't risen the ranks in such short time out of nowhere. His political suave often impressed the oldtimers. Sensing that his presence was likely to cause a lot of complications, he brought up the elephant in the room straight away. He appreciated the party for everything they had done, congratulated them on the dealmaking, and appreciated that the circumstances surrounding the election had completely changed since he went into the coma. He rather graciously congratulated the eventual candidate, a mustachioed scion of an old party hat, the youngest in the family and the only one interested in politics who had lost his father several years previously, and wished him all the best. Rajubabu went further, he said the very presence of such a great potential leader had inspired him and it was best for everybody to stand down to such a personality of such great blood.

Everybody breathed in relief. They had expected the situation to get considerably complicated. Everyone who hadn't worked with Rajubabu that is. His closest confidants knew something else was up.

The next day Rajubabu went to the local election office, registered a new party under his leadership, and put himself as the local candidate for the election. His chances of premiership would be nil even if he got all the votes from his constituency, but it was better than being a nobody. He wouldn't be the youth leader with great potential in the next cycle, some other ambitious wannabe would get there, somebody younger smarter and hungrier than himself.