Fear is the key

The river is fast moving. The boats are tethered to the sides by hand sized anchors that grip the grassy knolls and don't allow the boat to flow away. Grass is always knotty and if the anchor is thrown with force, it goes in and the natural pull of the boat in the water creates the claw grip that holds the anchor. Silaboti is the river that flows by our parental home. I am still confused as to which tributory of Silaboti this actually is. I have tried learning it from maps. No real success. But they are happy to call it Silaboti and miles away, in the town of Ghatal, they call that Silaboti too. The river feeds water to all the farms on both sides of the river. All our lands received water from this river. This was by pumps fitted to boats. On a good day, one could walk through the river with water till the waist. In spate, one had to swim across or be prepared to walk submerged for about 8-9 seconds in the middle of the expanse. The bamboo grows wild on both sides of the river in clumps. The pipes from the pumps in the boats went through this bamboo forests straight into the fields beyond. Irrigation happened. The red party used to be enforcing rules of all kinds to create their own version of social order in the villages on both sides. So, in the fitness of things all the pumps left in the boats started to get robbed. The pumps used to be tied to the boats and the pipes stuck to it's spouts. They removed the pipes and the pumps in the dead of the night and transferred it to robber boats and went off downstream. Fun is, all of us, especially my uncles knew who were behind this. But the drama was that one had to go to the party office and report the theft. They would call the thana officer in charge (OC) and relate the way the FIR was to be written. Then they would call for a meeting and decide what the farmer (that's us) should pay the robber to get back the pump. We paid. Pump was miraculously returned to it's rightful place that very night. We, of course, carried the pump back to the house immediately. We didn't do irrigation in the night untenanted. An uncle used to go and sit with the pump if the water was being pumped into the fields in the night too, during the paddy fields sowing periods. You'd wonder why we had to pay when the pump was ours. But that's how political help works. Firstly, the party is in cahoots with the robbers too. The robbers are village folk during the day. They are among us. We know them. So, we don't or can't do anything when they steal on the command of the party. Then, the robbers are paid very measly amount from the ransom we pay. It's their work for the party. Or the party will kill one of theirs too. So, they did what they did. The party enriched itself like this. The party too was made of people like us. The district secretary actually shared my surname too. That party was thrown out of power in 2011. Enter Trinamool. What I hear is the same. Only the name has changed. Amplify this. Replace river and pumps with other places and objects. Replace the red party with any other colour party nationally or regionally. It's the same. Robber barons. Fear is the key. It's why all parties of note have given tickets to family barons among politicians vying for tickets in Karnataka. They bring wins and they have an ironhold on the electorate with their claws anchored around the necks of the voters. The families, of course, shift parties and receive tickets from other friendly parties immediately, if their home party does not give a ticket. They are the system. They are the river. That takes. The farmers and other poor pay taxes actually. This way. To this system.