Secret Bihar Election Diary: Lalu writes about ceiling fan falling near him

Dear Diary,

One thing was proven today, that those who are honest, true to their cause and passionate for their people are the ones even God cares for a lot.

Today, I survived a ceiling fan attack. The fan was put by that shaitaan Modi to cut my head, but bhagwaan is with me, and I survived. The fan couldn’t even touch me. This is the power of my honesty, my integrity, and my truthfulness.

I may not be seen as honest by some casteist people of Bihar, by a few communal people in media, by some alliance party workers, by some of my extended family members, or even by the blind beggar who stands outside my house. But I am honest to myself, to my own self. I know exactly what I am. That’s honesty, and that counts.

Lalu Yadav checking his head after the fan narrowly missed it

And this honesty will make me the king-maker of Bihar this time. Manjhi thinks he will be the king-maker, but he is a fool. I’ll be the leader who decides who becomes the CM, and who becomes the peon.

But just to clarify I am not afraid of these ceiling fan attacks. I am not even afraid when Modi attacks me in his speeches. That brahmpishaach Modi is all about numbers.

15 lakhs per person for aam aadmi, 80 crore package for Bihar, 56 inch chest for himself. What is this? Sounds like someone preparing for a maths exam. This is why my son did not study beyond class 9^th. These people have made maths boring.

I am not into numbers you see. I am a people’s person. People ask me what GDP growth rate I can promise to Bihar? dhat budbak! I promise only one GDP – Government Doing People. I mean, government doing good for people.

We have to defeat communal forces. We have to defeat fascism. We have to defeat black magicians like Modi who sends ceiling fans to kill me.

But diary, but I have to admit. The fan falling did scare me a little. Whenever I sit in the helicopter, I look at the fan and I wonder if the helicopter’s fans are also with that Modi. But then I look at people waving at me – people half naked, with their starving cattle, in agricultural fields that don’t earn them enough – and I’m reminded of my honestly. Modi can’t kill me till people are like that. I mean till people wave at me.

Dear diary, after moving around in so many areas, I am convinced that Modi is like that ceiling fan, he will rotate all over Bihar and fill fall, but I am like the helicopter’s fan – I will rotate and rise.

Now let me book 3 helicopters for remaining campaign days. One for myself, one for Rabri, one for my buffalo Gulabo.

Ok dear diary, it’s time for me to sleep, to enter the dream world. May I rise like helicopters, while others fall like ceiling fans.

Good Night.

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