disenfranchised (and dismayed)

April 23, 2014   Comments (1)
 

voter sms

If you know me at all, you know that I’m very apolitical, fundamentally secular, and that I believe in the fundamental right to suffrage. In fact, one of the reasons I was glad to move back to India from the United States was exactly this: Here, in my motherland, I have and can exercise the right, the duty, the responsibility to cast my vote and actively participate in the world’s largest democracy.

In the state elections, I was able to vote (twice) because, miraculously, with proof of address, I was able to find my name (misspelled) on the voter list. Thanks to extremely helpful volunteers in my area, I found the right list and got a temporary voter card in 2009 and also was proud to vote in 2012!

This time, I thought it was appropriate to register online for a change of address. The process was heavily advertised in the daily newspapers, and online by ads and tweets from sites like www.voteindia.in

My parents also recently moved so on February 18, I went online and did form 6’s for all of us. I took photos, I uploaded them, failed, then resized and then uploaded them, found and scanned address proof for each of us and uploaded that. too. And finally, after 4 hours, I’d done all 3 of our forms. The site assured me someone would come home to verify our addresses. And that’s the last I heard from them until March 8, when I got the first two of four text messages I would receive.
Here’s where it all fell apart: I trusted it. I trusted in the process. I also parsed this SMS to mean ‘bring them at the time of voting’. Which I was happy to. More fool me.

Earlier this month, in April I got another two SMS’s and these alarmed me. I learned that the voter registration had closed and no variation of my name was in the electoral roll at all. My brother and I went to our polling station (but, oops, they’d moved and despite verifying it online on the official Electoral Roll website it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, there was only a godown there. Helpful roadside beedi walas told us where it had shifted) and spent a good half an hour begging, pleading, arguing, finally crying. My name is not on any list. I’ve been struck off the previous building resident list and not added to the new one.

Everyone at the madeover school that doubles as the electoral roll office told me it’s my fault for not bringing proof of address and a physical photograph to Mahim before the deadline. I said I’d misunderstood the process. The SMS seemed clear to me, because I wanted to believe, I assumed the process had worked.

We spoke with Madam Chauvan, who seemed to be in charge, and she said nothing could be done, and passed on the buck to Madam Seema at Online ops for not being clear in her SMS — Madam Chauvan and her yesmen did agree that the SMS should have said to bring ID proof to Mahim before March 24.

On the line, Madam Seema said it wasn’t her fault the SMS could be interpreted wrong, because at her end, her team had sent out more than 400 character long messages. The message I got was only a truncated part of it. Clearly, it was the telephony service provider’s fault.

So … the long and short of it is that while I’ll take my passport and try to vote tomorrow, I’m almost sure I shan’t be allowed to.

And I can’t resist getting on my soapbox for a moment longer:  Where apathy is our middle name, people like me who desperately WANT to vote are penalized. Yes, I should have demanded to know when and where to bring the photo and proof of address, I should have guessed that only a part of the SMS had come through, but I’m clearly an idiot. For, I believed that having submitted my documents and getting confirmation that someone would come for address verification meant that’s what would happen. I seriously believed the SMS meant they’d done whatever and just needed me to bring the proof with me on voting day. (It’s my first national election, man, I don’t know what red tape is involved).

I haven’t been able to even talk about it – I feel bereft, ashamed, and upset. I’m embarrassed and I feel like a thousand types of failure because I really believe in the power of the vote. And now I am disenfranchised.

 
BombayDesh
 

proud to vote!

February 16, 2012   Comments (4)
 

beence That’s me. I’m proud to have voted. I’m pleased to be able to exercise my rights and do my civic duty. This time was MUCH easier than the last time in 2009. I’m still the wrong age, have the wrong name, and am listed in the wrong gender, but they overlooked all that. I only drew attention to the spelling and the ‘purush’ part but both the list booth and the polling agent brushed it off as a typo. And after 3 minutes of being in line, I had verified my identity, pushed my selection, and I was out. I didn’t even get to crack open Kiran Manral’s The Reluctant Detective that I’d thought to bring along with me based on the long wait last time! 🙂

P.S. I’m very disillusioned by my friends who haven’t voted. What do you do with your friends whose ideologies and basic values don’t match yours? Demotion? Deletion?

 
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yay for democracy!

May 1, 2009   Comments (12)
 

Here we go! I finally feel like a citizen and an adult. All the years I lived abroad and paid state and federal tax, I never got a say in the process. Now, finally, I feel like I actually belong. I had to fight for it ;D But I did vote!
So, you read about how I was sure they’d ripped up my application after I’d left when I went to register. I checked online but my name wasn’t on the list. My parents got their voter ID cards, I didn’t. But, with fingers crossed, I went to check the updated list at the polling station, anyway. And of course, they couldn’t find my name, so I had to go find the ‘building list’. After visiting seven local volunteer tables with their building lists, and a good darshan of the entire area, we located the list and my name wasn’t on it.
Enter my Knight on a Steel Horse – a volunteer went off on a motorcycle after making a few calls to actually get the ‘supplementary list’ of new registrants that all the booths were sharing. Twenty minutes later, he roared up to tell me I’d been registered as purush (male) but … I had a temporary voter ID! I could have hugged him!
I hightailed it to the polling station where the volunteers seemed genuinely happy I’d returned and could vote! Since I could prove with my presence and my state ID that I’m really not male, two hours, much sweat, lots of repetitive questions and only a few lines later, I had cast my first vote ever*. And it was such a high! I was psyched for hours after! If you haven’t voted before, I highly recommend it 😉

*I left India when I was 18. This is the first election since I’ve returned! Of course, the year I finally get to vote, they switch to inking the middle finger. I could have put in an obscene gesture but … eh, I’m more mature than that. 😉

 
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