Elections, for me, have been a recurring source of amazement for a long time now. On the one hand, this stems from pride and astonishment that such a massive exercise is conducted at all, and that it appears to take place so effortlessly given how massive this country is. I don’t refer to cities as much as the nooks and corners of India, where the poorest amongst us find it within themselves to show up and do their duty the way apathetic city-dwellers rarely do. This pride comes from watching millions participate in the electoral process, the hours they spend patiently in line, and in all weather, some travelling long distances just to make sure their voice is heard.

That pride is almost always tempered by the reality of who these votes are cast for. On the other side of those patient folk are lines of politicians—some in power for decades, others rubbing their hands and awaiting their turn—who often compel me to wonder if no one else is available. Are these the best we can find? I can’t be the only one feeling this way. We all know that politics routinely attracts the worst among us, and that not everyone has the kind of moral bankruptcy necessary to join a political party, and yet the disappointment is palpable whenever campaigning season comes around.