Everyone stepped out together at seven in the morning to cast their votes. There was a significant crowd. This was not usual before. People used to go to vote after noon. At that time, it would be quite deserted. Usually, everyone would say the officials were sitting there swatting flies. We reached the booth and waited. Many familiar faces were coming, voting, and leaving. Those whom I usually see walking briskly on the road, as soon as they cross the school gate, hold their wife's hand, limp, and feign exhaustion to cut ahead of my line, cast their vote, and leave.
There were about ten people ahead of me. My son was standing after the person behind me. The same situation was in the line where my wife stood. These men came with their wives; if they had discussed and decided their opinions from home, nothing else would happen. Pairs come together, vote, and return. Looking at the wives' faces, one can guess that this unity might not be seen at home. Still, we waited for an hour and a half without saying anything. If I wanted, I could have left the queue, called my wife from the women's line, and both could have voted together and returned. But then, my son would be left alone in the queue. Thinking of that, I gave up that attempt and continued in the line.
After standing for an hour and a half, I became the next person to enter the hall. Just then, a familiar female face arrived in an auto, limping and running. An auto driver, who is a party worker, was bringing in voters. That woman was well-coached before being sent. She was acting out extreme exhaustion as if she couldn't even stand. Seeing me, my wife, and my son, she entered the voting hall with a broad smile. I remembered that when I saw her near the house in the morning, there was no problem with her walk or any exhaustion. I looked at my son's face. He understood the matter. He smiled. Then I looked at the face of my wife standing in the women's queue. She also smiled. They both understood exactly what I was thinking.
This is the true picture of the rural areas in our land. Those with skin as thick as a buffalo will go to any extent to act. I haven't seen such acrobatics inside the city yet. Whether it is the Chief Secretary, a Minister, a Peon, an Attendant, or a Movie Star, everyone is the same in the queue—even in the election queue. No special consideration is given. There will be plenty of people to shout and protest. Otherwise, everyone will voluntarily move aside for those who are brought in chairs or carried in arms. That is the difference.
If one goes with such pretenses to the Thiruvananthapuram General Hospital, Medical College, Puthenthope, or the community hospitals in Vandoorkonam, would there be any consideration for age, illness, or seniority? No. Never. Even if you cry out loud, wail, and run limping, no consideration will be given. You must stand in the queue. Otherwise, we need someone in the Health Services for a recommendation. Even then, we will have to hear, at least softly, the faces, grumbles, curses, and abuses of others standing in the queue.
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