I lost my voting virginity on the 7th of May, it was not bloody, nor painful, nor enjoyable, nor as exciting and boy was it quick.
Here's the low down.
The whole family(3 pax) and the driver packed ourselves into the car precisely at 1:54pm(making the time up, it was afternoon), and parked near the western wall off a govt school, our designated polling booth, some 500 mts away from my gharibkhana. The sun was belting down, and I was glad that my parents chose to ridicule my environmentally correct advice of walking down to the school.
Anyways, so we all alight from the car, our skin breaking into hives wherever the surya bhagwan's kiran fell. And, on we march, 20 torturous metres to the school entrance tucked in a little street round the corner. There aren't many vehicles or people around, I thought wow Delhites have turned into "pappu" Mumbaikars. Boy was I wrong, as I soon as turned into the little street in between the 2 police barriers, I was greeted to a sight of a mela of people.
Greeting were exchanged with some knowns, and smiles with unknowns. The school gates were partially open, and I could spy only 2 cops, a busty lady constable with a thin moustache sitting infront of a desk with a cuppa and a register, and a lone havildar for frisking purposes. So anyways my dad flashes his id, and the jaat havildar frisks him and says sir mobile hai, and then when me dad nods say sorry sir mobiles not allowed. I quipped from behind him "switch off kardatay hai", the havildar goes sorry sir mobile nahin allowed. As expected there was no provision of lockers for cells, and I had to grudgingly carry all the cellphones, 20 torturous metres back to the car and then make the same torturous journey back again. I was literally burning when I came back to find my parents have already disappeared inside. So I flash my id, gingerly walk inside, post a 0.2 sec frisking by the jaat havildar, and past a dozen cops all enjoying samosas and tea in the school's driveway.
Te school is quite average, a ground in the middle, classrooms all around the boundary wall. I spot my mom and dad up ahead under a tree's shade, talking to an official seated in front of a table with a sheaf of papers. He is giving us our polling room number, and marking the same in his record. He takes a few seconds to scan our numbers and then hands us our polling room number. We walk upto the first class room our designated polling room, my heart beat quickening with each step, I just realised I am still undecided, should I vote for the scumbag responsible for godhra riots or should I vote for the scumbag responsible for Delhi riots.
I make my way inside the room, adjusting my eyes to the sudden absence of bright sunshine. There was a longish table seating 4 officials, two for checking records and issuing slips after verifying your name, another is marking attendance I presume, and another to apply the "famous" ink on your finger, and in a corner there is the small shoddy table, covered by cardboard, on which is placed the "EVM". I flash out my id card again, am issued a slip, ink is applied on my index finger and I wait. In front of me a couple with their 8 yr old are casting their vote, the kid spying on his mummy and daddy's vote, EC officials nor anyone really seemed to care about the rape of "secret" franchise, and for once the as*hole in me too refrained from complaining, partly since I was still deciding on my vote. So the guy who applied the ink said, "sir aap jaiye", and I walk behind the cardboard screen towards the EVM. The humble machine is definitely not an apple product, its very drab looking, and I see a list of candidate names, party symbols and buttons next to them. I spot the Lotus symbol at number 1, and then I go down and at number 3 I see the hand. I look around from above the screen to the faces of my mum and dad in front of me the growing queue behind them and suddenly an enlightening flash strikes my brain and I am in a zen like zone. I press number 3 confidently and hear the longish beep confirming that my vote is registered in the EVM, and I step out, all smiling.