It is that time of year again. The hands of every clock return to the very same moment as history repeats itself, albeit with many fresh faces, along with the occasional incumbent among them. Then, there are those among the incumbents who are driven by a fresh sense of purpose, as they venture into seemingly uncharted waters, and diversify their portfolio of experience, moving from one post to vying for another. Yes, ’tis the election season! The only difference? Now, I am a part of it.
The Student Government of any university is a beacon of hope, and a platform for representation and resolution. That said, just as the Titan Atlas bears the unforgiving weight of the world, office-bearers too are a manifestation of the will of the people, and this may, one way or the other, take a toll on candidates, sometimes during the election season, and sometimes after the elections, manifesting in apprehension and self-scrutiny. After all, no one judges you harsher than you do yourself. And it all starts with one little emotion – self-doubt. One emotion that takes you down a rabbit hole of self-questioning.
Have you ever faced this sense of self-doubt? That you may not be worthy enough, that you made a mistake, but someone else would do better. And, to quote Taylor Swift, as I somehow always do, “I know it’s sad but this is what I think about,” when I sometimes find myself looking in the mirror. I fall down this rabbit hole of uncertainty, visualising the end of my potential term, worrying about whether I would fail. Sometimes I wonder about the possibility of giving a wrong answer, missing one meeting, and how quickly impeachment would come for me. I was frightened at the prospect of being taunted after the speech, taunted if I would lose, held in contempt by faceless naysayers if I won, or reprimanded for neglecting some unforeseen problem, since I had only two key focuses in my manifesto. I worried that my attempt to not make false promises would be perceived as lethargy. These are the fears that would hold me down, but all would not be lost, as my friends’ constant reassurance would restore my self-confidence, like daylight after a dull, dreary night.
For every one critique of myself, my friends had ten compliments, fostering waves of self-worth, confidence, and conviction, as the election was announced. When I worried about my approachability, my friends reassured me. When I worried about having so few points, my friends saw the points for their quality, and not their quantity. When I worried about freezing on stage, my friends said they would cheer me on. It was then that I was surer of myself, even though a little paranoia remained.
In hindsight, I wonder what would have happened if these intrusive insecurities, as I compared myself with predecessors, seniors and batchmates alike, had won. I know for sure I would not be in this post today. And now these fears lie in a corner of my mind, buried with all the things I would rather not find or remember.
One of the most thrilling moments of my candidature, that I will remember, however, is the make-or-break moment of delivering one’s speech, and campaigning. There was something surreal about this experience. While the self-consciousness of little ten-year old Dhruv continued to haunt me, the low turnout, while disappointing, lifted my spirits. Mic and laptop held in hand, a few batchmates and seniors eagerly waiting, I felt like this was my moment. My time to share some of the ideas I had thought of. I knew that the speech was the moment when voters would look for confidence, ideas, and passion. Three things that I possessed in that moment. It all seemed bright. That night even the poor weather gave way to a pleasant, star-lit night. This hope has continued to linger, even today, as I sit in my room at midnight, penning my thoughts down, reflecting on my fears giving way to a newfound confidence, as exams and finals’ week loom over me. I am truly comfortable in my decision.
This election, while ongoing as I write, has already seen its share of mistakes being made, and I take comfort in all that I have learned from this experience. I take comfort in this desire the multitude of candidates share in working towards this university that I call home. And I know that once again, a year later, as we turn over a new leaf and welcome new beginnings we will say, “’tis the damn season.”