In the middle of all the euphoria, amidst all the celebration of high voting figures and low, one tragic story has missed the media’s attention.

This is the story of a young tribal girl from…no, sorry…the girl has pleaded that her name and identity should not be revealed, nor details of where she came from and where she is headed.

The story…her pathetic story begins with a dark and lonely night in the city where she had come to take her dreams forward. That night when she was waylaid by six strangers in a deserted alley in the forbidden part of town. To say that she was raped would be to trivialise the incident. She was attacked, she was molested, grave bodily harm was part of the agenda…and she was subjected to every perverted desire that each of the six men had.

How she survived that night she doesn’t know. But she did. And made it to a hospital where a kind Doctor and the efficient Nursing Team there took her under their care and slowly nurtured her back into a semblance of normal life. When she finally recovered her strength, her dreams began to demand that her broken wings be repaired. She prayed and her prayers were answered. Slowly, steadily she limped back into sanity. And began to prepare for the next ordeal that she knew awaited.

That was when she met this man, a pleasant enough chap. He was a crowd organiser for some political party. And he took care of her. He sent her to rallies where all she had to do was shout slogans as she was instructed. They gave her Biryani, some cash…and once in a while some beer.

Then one day he came to her hut and scared her. “What if you are pregnant, and don’t know it” he asked, with seemingly genuine concern writ large over her face. “No, I cannot be pregnant”, screamed the girl. She couldn’t afford it. “But what if” he asked.

At the end it was decided that she would take a Pregnancy Test. A date was fixed and she was taken to a place where there was a huge queue. Of women, men, young and old.

“Are all these people here for a Pregnancy Test?” she asked innocently. “Yes” he replied confidently. Again, biryani was given to her and a thousand rupees cash. And she was told that she had to do two things.

The first was to walk up to the man who had a small brush tip in his hand and was applying some liquid to people’s forefingers. After getting her little ‘tikka’ she had to wait for five seconds and then walk into a booth where there was an electronic God.

It was a box with some strange signs. There was a cycle, an Ambassador Car, a hand, a lotus flower and so on. Whatever were her dreams for her child were all represented there. She had to press one specific button. That was it. That was all she had to do.

In the meanwhile, the “tikka” on her forefinger would have dried up. If at that stage she could scrape it or wipe it off, then she was safe and not pregnant. If she couldn’t, sorry, but she had to accept that she was pregnant.

She entered the small booth after getting ‘tikked’ off and then pressed the button she had been told to. She tried to scrape the dot off, but it was adamant. After a few times, she gave up and walked out of the booth.

Her shoulders drooping, her face elongated into disappointment, she walked up to her friend who was standing there with more cash in his hand. And pointing to her held up forefinger she said…almost sobbing…I am Pregnant.

The man looked suitably shocked and tried to console her. A gentleman standing there quietly muttered…I don’t know if you are pregnant Lady, but you’ve surely been screwed.

And I walked off…dreading the thought of getting involved in this mindless deception called Indian Politics.