Almost everyone outside of the US of A and I'm sure several hundred people within the US (those who are actually aware that the US is not the only country in the world) will be aware of the elections that just went by in the UK. The same people would also know that the next government does not have absolute majority and all that good stuff.
For me, this election was a first in a couple of areas:
- I voted for the first time in my life
- In the 6 years I have been out of India, this is the first election I have been a part of.
In true essay style, I will now elaborate on each of the above.
My first vote...
In donkey's years, I'm more than 2.5. I have been in the voting age group for give or take 9 years. Until yesterday, I had never set foot inside a voting booth. I know that statement probably comes across as an incredibly irresponsible and undemocratic statement and I only ask that you hold off on passing judgement until I set out my defence. I may have reached the wizened age of 18 many moons ago, but I have spent a six of the 9 years since then outside India, 3 of which were in the UAE, where the words election and democracy would hurt the sentiments and beliefs of the people of that country. From there, the story moves to the UK, where for some reason unknown to me, the government lasted until now. Strange then, that my first experience of voting is in a country I am not yet a citizen of, have no cultural ties to and the only common aspect between said country and me is that the forefathers of the citizens of this country ruled over the forefathers of my country! While in India, I wasn't allowed to vote because I didn't have a voter's identity card and for some reason, the people who manned the election booths thought my general appearance was, let's say, suspicious. Therefore, I was promptly turned away from the booth.
So it was that I trooped into the election booth at St Joseph's recreation centre in Wembley, all eager and enthusiastic to cast my vote and decide the fate of the UK for the next 5 years. I cast my vote alright, no 11th hour hesitations or nervousness. I was the picture of confidence all through. I did have a major gripe though: nobody placed a mark of identification on my index finger to prove I had voted. One of the things I had most eagerly looked forward to was to showing off the little dot that is usually placed on the right index finger to prove that one had actually voted. No such thing in the UK I'm afraid. They are a trusting bunch of blokes. I could have confidently walked in there and voted all over again and they wouldn't have batted an eyelid.
Obviously, being the honest bloke that I am, I didn't.
My first election outside India...
Until last month, I thought elections in any democratic country would be the same. A huge exercise involving thousands of people to rally the masses, huge campaigns, riots, posters, advertisements, riots, heavy security, leaders travelling the length and breath of the country seeking votes, riots, mudslinging and did I mention riots?
Much like the British attitude to driving, there was none of that here. There were 2 pages dedicated to election coverage (which focussed only on the three main Prime Ministerial candidates plus little titbits of information on other goons in the race) and 24X7 coverage of election campaigns on the news channels, which one cannot watch for more than 30 minutes. Not because they are uninteresting, no no no no no, it's because after 30 minutes, the remaining 23 hours and 30 minutes of programming is one endless loop of the first 30 minutes.
There were a few banners, but none of them in places where you wouldn't find any other advertisements. So, while driving along, you would see an awful advertisement asking you to the 'cool' thing and buy a can of Coke and the next one would be one asking you if you wanted the crooks of Labour party to loot you again. I missed not seeing every available wall in the country painted with party graffiti. I missed seeing posters upon posted lined up on every wall that did not have graffiti on it. There were no election rallies, hundreds of thousands of drunk people did not congregate to listen to one leader bad mouth another (gives me the impression that the only time hundreds of thousands of drunk people congregate here is to watch football, but I could be wrong). Instead, leaders here went to visit old age homes and schools. Hardly the target market, if you ask me. None of the annoying features of an Indian election were present here and I missed that, only because, I think an election should be as feverish and celebrated as a world cup, since it only comes every 5 years!
The came Election Day. Can't say it dawned bright and sunny for it rarely dawns that way in this country. It dawned alright. Life went on. No indication of an election under way. Police were conspicuous in their absence. There were no queues anywhere and even when I went around to cast my vote at 8:30 PM, there were around 20 people in the booth (including the booth officials I might add). Voting itself was a simple affair, no identity card needed. Walk up, give your address and if your name is there on a list, you can vote. So I could have voted as James Pandurangan and no one would have batted an eyelid, as long as there is a James Pandurangan in the neighbourhood.
On the whole, I went into election season expecting fireworks, loud fireworks and I all I got was a soggy pop, from a soda can. Don't care though, I got to vote - lack of an identification mark notwithstanding!
For me, this election was a first in a couple of areas:
- I voted for the first time in my life
- In the 6 years I have been out of India, this is the first election I have been a part of.
In true essay style, I will now elaborate on each of the above.
My first vote...
In donkey's years, I'm more than 2.5. I have been in the voting age group for give or take 9 years. Until yesterday, I had never set foot inside a voting booth. I know that statement probably comes across as an incredibly irresponsible and undemocratic statement and I only ask that you hold off on passing judgement until I set out my defence. I may have reached the wizened age of 18 many moons ago, but I have spent a six of the 9 years since then outside India, 3 of which were in the UAE, where the words election and democracy would hurt the sentiments and beliefs of the people of that country. From there, the story moves to the UK, where for some reason unknown to me, the government lasted until now. Strange then, that my first experience of voting is in a country I am not yet a citizen of, have no cultural ties to and the only common aspect between said country and me is that the forefathers of the citizens of this country ruled over the forefathers of my country! While in India, I wasn't allowed to vote because I didn't have a voter's identity card and for some reason, the people who manned the election booths thought my general appearance was, let's say, suspicious. Therefore, I was promptly turned away from the booth.
So it was that I trooped into the election booth at St Joseph's recreation centre in Wembley, all eager and enthusiastic to cast my vote and decide the fate of the UK for the next 5 years. I cast my vote alright, no 11th hour hesitations or nervousness. I was the picture of confidence all through. I did have a major gripe though: nobody placed a mark of identification on my index finger to prove I had voted. One of the things I had most eagerly looked forward to was to showing off the little dot that is usually placed on the right index finger to prove that one had actually voted. No such thing in the UK I'm afraid. They are a trusting bunch of blokes. I could have confidently walked in there and voted all over again and they wouldn't have batted an eyelid.
Obviously, being the honest bloke that I am, I didn't.
My first election outside India...
Until last month, I thought elections in any democratic country would be the same. A huge exercise involving thousands of people to rally the masses, huge campaigns, riots, posters, advertisements, riots, heavy security, leaders travelling the length and breath of the country seeking votes, riots, mudslinging and did I mention riots?
Much like the British attitude to driving, there was none of that here. There were 2 pages dedicated to election coverage (which focussed only on the three main Prime Ministerial candidates plus little titbits of information on other goons in the race) and 24X7 coverage of election campaigns on the news channels, which one cannot watch for more than 30 minutes. Not because they are uninteresting, no no no no no, it's because after 30 minutes, the remaining 23 hours and 30 minutes of programming is one endless loop of the first 30 minutes.
There were a few banners, but none of them in places where you wouldn't find any other advertisements. So, while driving along, you would see an awful advertisement asking you to the 'cool' thing and buy a can of Coke and the next one would be one asking you if you wanted the crooks of Labour party to loot you again. I missed not seeing every available wall in the country painted with party graffiti. I missed seeing posters upon posted lined up on every wall that did not have graffiti on it. There were no election rallies, hundreds of thousands of drunk people did not congregate to listen to one leader bad mouth another (gives me the impression that the only time hundreds of thousands of drunk people congregate here is to watch football, but I could be wrong). Instead, leaders here went to visit old age homes and schools. Hardly the target market, if you ask me. None of the annoying features of an Indian election were present here and I missed that, only because, I think an election should be as feverish and celebrated as a world cup, since it only comes every 5 years!
The came Election Day. Can't say it dawned bright and sunny for it rarely dawns that way in this country. It dawned alright. Life went on. No indication of an election under way. Police were conspicuous in their absence. There were no queues anywhere and even when I went around to cast my vote at 8:30 PM, there were around 20 people in the booth (including the booth officials I might add). Voting itself was a simple affair, no identity card needed. Walk up, give your address and if your name is there on a list, you can vote. So I could have voted as James Pandurangan and no one would have batted an eyelid, as long as there is a James Pandurangan in the neighbourhood.
On the whole, I went into election season expecting fireworks, loud fireworks and I all I got was a soggy pop, from a soda can. Don't care though, I got to vote - lack of an identification mark notwithstanding!
It is interesting that UK lets non-citizens to vote. Hmph.. What is an election if there is no mayhem, no posters, no cops loitering around.. Are you telling me that you got to see all these in Lovedale hills too? Really ?? :-)
ReplyDeleteYes, I am allowed to vote because I am a Common Wealth country citizen who is resident in the UK. Sort of like pay back to the British Raj :)
ReplyDeleteWe didn't quite get to see all the colour and fireworks in Lovedale, but have heard about it on the news, so was quite eager to experience it once we came down to the 'plains', but alas, didn't get to!
Very funny account. I was laughing through and through.
ReplyDeleteThe first time I witnessed an election here, I was baffled. How on earth did people know who the candidates were? I mean suppose you were like me? The whole process would just swing me by, wouldn't it? I don't watch TV. I don't listen to the radio while driving because I take the public transit. The only way to get to me is to write about these folks on newsweek kind of magazines, and then too, I can skip the political sections without any strings pulling at my conscience.
DUH!