Missing the mark

So, it has come to pass that before I could say count me out, the system has already counted me out. So, next time around, I shall adopt the policy, ‘if you can’t beat them, join them, ' writes Lalita Panicker.

The ink-stained finger’s all but become a fashion statement for beautiful people. Look at the Bachchan family all showing it off so proudly. Well, I’m not going to be left behind, I thought, nor will I be denied all the freebies on offer in return for a dekko of that stain.

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So, off I went, a voting veteran, with the eager-beaver husband who’s just got himself registered. To cut a long story short, my name had vanished from the voters’ list in Gurgaon, while the rookie husband came home triumphant with the coveted stain.

In the bad old days, it was all upfront. Come election day, and a bunch of hoods would gallop across to polling booths and either cast your vote for you after a few friendly words on the need for you to rush back home immediately or simply took over the booth and gave the election officials a day off.

But today, the vote-riggers and booth-capturers of yore are out of business. But, always count on the inventive Indian mind. For every solution, there is a more cunning solution. So as in my case, and many others in my locality, our names were smartly taken off the voters’ list. Yes, one could dig in and put up a fight. Many of us did. But as the sun grew hotter and, in my case, office beckoned, we gave up the ghost and retired hurt.

So, I thought, I should do my bit. But even as I write this, my name must have moved mysteriously through a Byzantine system of subversion and some imposter must be casting my vote.

So, it has come to pass that before I could say count me out, the system has already counted me out. So, next time around, I shall adopt the policy, ‘if you can’t beat them, join them.’ If I don’t find my name on the list, I will insist that I be allowed to vote as someone else. After all, I just want to be part of the party.