I wonder if I can rest assured -- before the election ink on my finger fades -- that my home state is at the threshold of a better future, wonders Vice Admiral Biswajit Dasgupta (retd).
India opted for universal adult franchise since its Independence in 1947, giving every citizen over the age of 21, the right to a single vote towards electing public representatives.
This age was reduced to 18 in 1989 with the passage of the 61st Constitutional Amendment of 1988.
Voters normally exercise their franchise either in their state of domicile or in their state of residence, wherever they register themselves as general voters.
In the case of defence forces members such as I was, they can register as service of general voters in the place of their posting if they desire.
There was a time when service personnel could resort to postal ballot.
I remember filling out these ballot forms and submitting them through the service channels but I have no idea if ever they reached anywhere or counted for anything. I hope they did.
I never voted in my home state, West Bengal, before 2023 since I was not a registered voter there. Now I am. I work in New Delhi, so I flew out to cast my ballot in Kolkata on April 29, 2026.
This is my second such chance; the first was during the general election of 2024. Having spent upwards of fifteen thousand rupees for a round trip air-ticket, I would like to do a good job of my Constitutional duty.
I thought it would be easy but as the date neared, doubts crept into my mind and I hoped that my commitment to perform this duty would pay off.
I consoled myself thinking that even nurturing the hope of good governance in my home state is many times more valuable than the the travel effort and the money spent on airfare.
Thousands of West Bengal voters who work outside the state left their homes to participate in the state assembly elections.
Chittaranjan Park, a well-known Bengali-dominated locality of the national capital, originally known as EPDP (East Pakistan Displaced Persons) Colony, is where Hindus displaced from East Pakistan in 1971, were relocated by the Indian government.
Over the years, several plots and houses have changed hands to non-Bengali owners but there is still a very significant population of Bengali residents.
Households, guest houses and market places in Chittaranjan Park are served by a large number of immigrant workers from West Bengal.
I was very impressed to learn that a majority of this Bengali workforce would honour their Constitutional duty by casting their votes in the West Bengal assembly elections.
Soon, this awe turned into curiosity and then into reflection. I learnt that this happens during all elections and these people go back to vote for the lure of money paid by political parties to cast votes in their favour.
A large family could benefit substantially from this bribe in a state that is plagued by poverty, joblessness and a spiralling downward slide since the late 1960s.
Also, considering that West Bengal has witnessed chronic mis-governance, closure of industries, flights of businesses, poor law and order, lack of jobs, deterioration of its once-famed educational institutions and severe politicisation in every aspect of governance, money may be the best reason to obtain at least some return from a vote.
So can we really blame these poor souls?
That brings me back to myself, the so-called educated and aware voter. I do not qualify to be among the target population in the 'cash-for-vote' scheme.
What do I do? What choices do I have? Will my vote count? Why am I even making the effort?
Will my state get what has been eluding it for decades despite once being among the front-runner states in education, industry and economy?
What is the use of the huge surfeit of thinking people and a culturally vibrant population if the state is not able to use their wisdom, counsel and talent?
Do I cast my vote in favour of parties that have pushed the state into the abyss that it finds itself in today?
Do I vote for parties that are known to sow divisive ideas in peoples' minds or appease one section of society or another?
Do I choose a party that cohabits with the Centre, solely for the reason that there will be hand-holding?
Do I empower a known devil or an unknown one? Do I vote for an individual with respectable and honest credentials, certain that the candidate does not stand a chance against rich, corrupt and violent hooligans?
Do I go purely by manifesto promises, which may never be kept?
I realise that resurrecting the reputation and productivity of the state is an unenviable task, akin to making the phoenix rise from the ashes.
That notwithstanding, I shall vote.
That is my only weapon, blunted as it may be, by the destructive politics that has been normalised in the land of Swami Vivekananda, Rabindranath Tagore, Subhas Chandra Bose, Raja Rammohan Roy, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, Chittaranjan Das, Ashutosh Mukherjee, Matangini Hazra, Basanti Devi, Shyama Prasad Mukherjee, Bidhan Chandra Roy, Sukumar Sen, Sukumar Ray, Satyajit Ray and hundreds of other great sons and daughters of West Bengal.
I wonder if I can rest assured -- before the election ink on my finger fades -- that my home state is at the threshold of a better future.
Vice Admiral Biswajit Dasgupta (retd) is a former commander-in-chief of the Indian Navy's Eastern Naval Command.
Feature Presentation: Aslam Hunani/Rediff