How they deprived me of a vote

I am a 65-year-old woman with severe diabetes and a heart condition. In the recent past, I have shifted from Virar in Thane district to Thane (West), on the outskirts of Mumbai..

This is the ordeal I had to go through on the day allotted for submitting the form for voter registration.

Firstly, finding the correct election centre was a pain. After standing from 9 am in a queue, at a municipal school, the official told me that I had been standing at the wrong election centre. The housing society, where I live, falls under the purview of another centre.

After a frantic search for the 'correct' centre, I stood in another line, with 20 to 30 people standing in front of me in the queue. It was 10:30 am, but we were told by the 'officials', or the school staffers, that the centre would open only at 11 am.

Soon, an election official, with what I guessed were filled-in forms, went inside the closed centre. There were still no signs of the centre opening. A surly watchman told us to stay in line, so we waited.

After a while, the crowd got restless and asked what time the doors would open. We were told that the officials were having lunch. It was now 12:30 pm. I had exhausted my stock of water and hunger was gnawing away. I requested a youngster to get me a packet of biscuits and a bottle of water, and he obliged. With the help of the biscuits and water, I managed to stand for some more time. My ankles felt like gym weights!

Finally, the centre opened its doors halfway and five people were taken inside. Five more followed soon. I was hopeful that I would soon get my chance, but no such luck!

A peek into the room showed utter pandemonium…everyone inside was milling around the tables where the five officials were seated. The officers were poring over little printed booklets in the dark and dinghy room.

Suddenly, a young volunteer of some political party came out of the centre. When we asked him what the matter was, he told us it takes time to find names of buildings and voters on the old list.

Being a former teacher, I found the chaos confounding! I suggested to the volunteer that one list should be given to each official, and the people should be made to stand in a queue according to the building societies they live in. Somehow, this seemed to make sense to them.

It was now 4 pm. With the closing time just an hour away, the people waiting outside the room started getting restless, and some of them moved to the centre of the line.

Finally, I was pushed into the room. I stood in the line that was meant for the residents of my housing society. I had all the requisite papers, the forms, my latest telephone bill, copies of the PAN card, the letter from the housing society, etc.

After standing in the queue for 25 minutes, when I finally reached the official's desk, I was told that I must produce a six-month-old telephone bill to prove that I was a resident of that housing society.

I went home feeling dissatisfied, dejected and quite unwell.

Finally, several days later, I went to the Chief Electoral Officer's Office, from where they sent me to the Thane sports complex stadium, where they finally accepted my form. They assured me that I would find my name on the electoral roll at the polling booth.

When April 30 (polling day in Mumbai) finally dawned, I was full of hope and excitement.

But it turned out to be a wild goose chase. The volunteers sent me to four different locations, but my name was nowhere to be found on the list.

After going through the lists, I realised that I hadn't come across a single neighbour's name! When I pointed this out, the volunteer coolly told me that there had been a mistake and that residents of my housing society had actually been listed under various other residential localities, including the slum in another area.

By now, it was time to go home.

For the first time in 45 years, I had been deprived of my right to vote.

The most offending part of the process was this: A neighbour, who is the principal of a school in Fort, had attested hundreds of forms for the form-filling rituals. Even her name wasn't on the list!

Most of my neighbours didn't bother going to another polling station after failing to find their name in the first one. Our society would have been worth at least a thousand votes.

I feel as though I have been stripped of my citizenship.