Awaiting my turn to vote

We shifted to Noida almost six years ago but our identification credentials show us as residents of Delhi. It’s been difficult to get ourselves documentation from Noida because anything we apply for requires us to show proof via some or other ID that previously validates our residency in Uttar Pradesh. It’s a Catch-22 situation, and daunting to rectify, so we’ve let things slide in the belief that Delhi is, after all, our “permanent” address. Therefore, when we needed to renew our passports, we had to present ourselves for police verification at our apartment in Delhi while tucking the tenants out of sight. Fortunately, the police were kind enough to call ahead to schedule a rendezvous. And having alerted the guard at the gate to expect a courier containing our passports, my son was able to rush over to sign for them, but I’m not saying a little chai-paani tax did not change hands. Our bank, IT and other sarkari papers continue to arrive at the old address from where they are collected weekly. 

But Phase 1 of the elections this week posed a dilemma. As bonafide (if unacknowledged) residents of Noida, should we not cast our vote from there? We could, if only we could find a way to get on its voter list, for which we remained unable to furnish any proof. So, I badgered my son to make sure that we would be able to cast our vote in Delhi. He made all sorts of extraneous demands regarding photographs and passport scans, but in the end the online form proved simple enough to fill, and a text message arrived to say my application for inclusion in the electoral roll had been received, even though it pointed out, erroneously, that I was to be a “first time voter”. Validation, though, is still awaited: I remain on standby for when someone will arrive at our previous home in Delhi to hand over the appropriate documents. Fortunately, there’s a month to go before Delhi votes. 
 

Unfortunately for most Dilliwallahs, Phase 6 of the election schedule is a Sunday, cheating one of a holiday. In Noida, on the day of the ballot, most establishments were shut. Now, on Sunday, that will make no difference, though it might push up the percentage of voters. For, there are friends I know who would use the opportunity of election day to head out of the city, especially if it was close to a weekend. Since that is no longer an option, one can count on Delhi bettering its turnout record. I hope to find myself in a queue that day; if not, I’ll have to find a way to hide my index finger from scrutiny to avoid serious social opprobrium.

Till then, of course, all cocktail conversations will continue to devolve around who one should — or shouldn’t — vote for. Surprisingly, most seem unaware of the local candidates. In India’s most presidential-style election yet, opinions are being formed over WhatsApp forwards. My wife has told me not to try and influence her opinion of whom she should vote for — as if I could. The children won’t listen to me either. Nor I to them, if truth be told. Sarcasm, vituperation and aggressiveness has polarised the family, no different from the electorate. Here’s hoping they all lose so I can win.