Citizen matters

So I walk up to the polling booth bright and early this morning, eager to exercise my limbs but more importantly to exercise my sacred duty as a citizen of this country. Even though it is only 8 a.m, there are quite a few people at the polling station already. Two major parties have set up tables with voting lists and I join the crowd before one. A boy who looks about 16 takes my voter Id and looks through the list to find my name. No luck. I feel disenfranchised. He directs me to a middle aged man seated next to him with another list. Here the man tries to find my details by looking for my photo in the printout where all the pictures look alike - face shaped blobs of black toner ink. Obviously no luck there either. I openly shift alliance and move to the table of the other party only to find that they have an identical list. SIGH.... Worse, here they flip my card a few times as if they doubt its authenticity. So I snatch it back and walk back home to find it myself on the net. Should have done it yesterday.

Second time I walked passed the tables triumphantly waving the print out in their faces while they each whispered to me to vote for their candidate. Yeah right! Like I am going to vote for the guys who don't have my name even on the date of election - that one day when we are all so important to these people!
I queue up before the correct room and wait for my turn when a senior citizen comes along waving his voter ID. The policemen politely tell him to go and get a slip from one of the tables and the man protests:
'No, they are all party people. I am not going to them. It is YOUR duty to find it here in this room."
The policeman is confused for he is not aware of the rules. He looks at him pleadingly and says 'no sir, you must get the slip with your number in the list."
"What is this? Why should I? I am a valid voter and my name should be in the list. let these polling officers find it."
He seeks support from the others in the line and then he sees everyone in the line has a slip, having taken the easier way out. He walks back to a table but his protests can be heard all the way - 'never heard of this nonsense before" 'why do these people have a list?' and so on...
The polling officer comes out and tells the policeman to let him in if he came back without any questions:
"Papa vayasadavaru. avarige en problems o! life nalli baari pain nodiruthare. thade maad bedi. ulage bitu bidi"
(poor man, may be he has his problems! he must have seen a lot of pain in his life! don't stop him, let him in.")
He looks at us seeking approval for his sensitivity but we all know that he is duty-bound to let him in as the old man is right. It is their job to find us on the list however time consuming it is!

At the inking point , the lady pours a dollop of ink on my nails and I try to wipe the excess with a cloth on the table. She calls me back and pours another dollop. This time I wipe it with my other hand. The official next to her taking my signature explains that it is necessary to ensure that people do not cast votes several times.
Right, now I look like someone who forges votes! of all my career options this is perhaps the most likely!
My expression must have betrayed my thoughts so he quickly smiles and adds:
"oh no, you won't do it. but you know there are others." The last part is said in a low conspiratorial tone as if it is a big secret. I look appropriately shocked. Multiple voting? in India? never heard of it of course! And I can now clearly see how that ink has restrained people for the past 60 years from indulging in multiple voting. That vital instrument guarding our democracy - what would we do without it!

At the end of all this struggle I am finally allowed to go and touch that instrument for a second and my precious vote is cast.
So did you vote? was your voting as eventful as mine? do tell.