All geared up to participare in the great Indian festival of Lok Sabha election 2009, I started from my home at 11:00 a.m. Someone informed about delimitation causing change in polling stations and electorates facing difficulties. Then I started searching for my polling booth. Here begins the story.
I contacted neighbourers; some half baked information came in. Different families of the same locality have gone to at least three different polling stations, all in three different directions. Not sure of our booth, i went to one of the probable polling stations with my mother and driver. We could find my mother’s name in the ‘deleted’ voting list. She was allowed to vote at the assigned booth. I did not find my name anywhere. I scanned the whole list of two thousand people but in vain.
Disappointed, I was returning back to home when I felt an inner urge to find out where my name is. And I felt strongly that I must find out if I have my voter’s ID card.
I went to the second polling station which is two kilometers away from the first one. There were 15 polling booths (A single polling station has a number of booths). One by one, I searched five of them, each having 500-2000 voters’s names in it. My name wasn’t there. Noone to guide me, I was sad but not beaten. Helpline numbers were also not responding. I found many people like me, not able to find their names, fighting against the mighty Sun God and our great system.
I had almost given up and was returning back when I saw a volunteer outside the polling booth. He was having a laptop with data card and was helping people to find out their details. I had a ray of hope. He searched and gave me a polling booth number and also voter list number.
Happy, I came to the booth. But it was not the end. My name was not there.
God, what to do. I called up my brother and friends to search in the internet and find out the details of my polling booth. No results. By that time, there was a huge crowd around that volunteer all searching for their names.
The process was becoming painful for me but slowly I was getting more and more determined to find out my name. Meanwhile I was constantly trying to contact helpline. They told me about the previous station where I went earlier in the morning. Still hopeful of casting the precious vote, I reached there. I found my name in the list, at last. Wow! But my ordeal was not an ordinary one. I was in the deleted list. I argued with polling officers. My mother was able to cast her vote despite of being in the ‘deleted’ list, why not me. People in the deleted list can not vote. There were utter confusion and chaos.
At that point, I lost my temper and asked for the phone number of election observer of that assembly segment. Now, I had to register my complaint. I was furious but I talked to the observer politely and told him the whole story. A gentelman, he promised to revert back with details. After sometime, he called up and gave a list of another set of booths located at a few minutes drive. I went there, again scanned a list of 6000 people at all three booths but I was not there.
God, it is the test of my patience?
I was restless and angry. Time was going. I could not do anything, absolutely helpless.
In one of those moments, helpline informed that I have been deleted from the list. It means, I am no longer eligible to vote in my country!
That was enough. I called up the volunteer whom I met outside the polling stations and informed him of the irregularities. We thought of taking this matter to election commission. Meanwhile, I contacted local MLA and informed him. As useless as many of our represntatives, he expressed his consolatory words. Since morning, there were at least one thousand people from every booth returning back with casting their vote. No one was to listen to them.
Completely drained out, disgusted, irritated and frustrated, I was coming back home when I got a call from block office (election observer's response). The officer informed me about my polling station, booth number and voter list number as well. That was the last hope at 4:15 p.m. I decided to give it a try.
Searching the bylanes, I reached to the polling booth. Here I was. An ordinary Indian Voted for the counrty at 4:50 p.m.
But a thousands of us could not. How many of us could call election observers, and get a response from them? How many of us had a vehicle and driver to run from this to that booth when we are suppoe to walk to our polling stations? How many of us could spare our five hours in the scorching heat? How many us could take that pain in going to cast a vote? What we get out of it?
Do we have answers?
Is election commission testing the patience of people or deliberately trying to keep them away from voting? Where was a representative of our political party to help voters? So many questions but as usual no answers.
I would have given up. I made a choice not to give up. Had I been, I would have accepted that we are incorrigible. The system is bad, system is dirty, system is corrupt, system is inefficient. Yes, indeed it is.
But I hope that one day the system can change and it will change. My one vote is just a drop in the ocean and it gives me a hope that the system will change.
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