"The BJP has lost to the Bharathiya Samajwadi Party in Uttar Pradesh and the Congress is still trying to sustain its position in Punjab…" the newsreader droned on. I stifled a yawn as I reached for the remote, lost in thoughts about the gold pendant that Shikha's boyfriend had gifted her.

"Madam, I have finished mopping the floor," the maid's chafing voice shook me out of my reverie. "I have to go now, so can I do the ironing tomorrow?"

"Uh?" I asked, puzzled.

"Madam, I have to go," she repeated, a trifle annoyed.

"Where to?" I asked with a look of absolute stupidity on my face.

"To vote madam," came the matter-of-fact reply.

"Oh?" I was surprised. It was delightful to hear my maid speaking like an enlightened citizen of a democratic country.

"Which party will you vote for?" I asked enthusiastically.

"For the 'cycle'," she said with apparent indifference

"But why the cycle? Why not the 'lotus'?" I questioned, expecting a reasonable justification. But my maid just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Because my husband asked me to."

As she was about to leave, I asked, "But surely he must have a reason for asking you to do so…?"

She said with a smirk, "Yeah, sure. The cycle fellows gave him free liquor and paid him fifteen rupees for canvassing," she said nonchalantly. Then she went on, "And if I don't vote for the cycle, he'll beat me black and blue." So saying she walked out, shutting the door behind her, but leaving disconcerting thoughts in my mind about the apathetic attitude of the vast Indian majority towards elections.

I decided to ignore the thought, but it kept haunting me. To distract myself, I picked up the receiver and dialed Sheila's number.

"Helloooo…" sang her chirpy teenaged son into the receiver. "Hemant, where's mom?" I asked.

"Oh, Aunty! Mom's gone shopping. Thanks to the elections, Dad got a day off after a very long time, so they just decided to make the most of the opportunity! Both of them will be back in the evening. Any message?"

"No, nothing. Just tell Sheila I called," I thanked Hemant and hung up. Sheila's husband worked in a bank and the elections warranted that all banks, government offices, schools and colleges be closed, much to the pleasure of housewives like Sheila who made sure that they seized such opportunities to get all unfinished household chores and shopping accomplished. And not to mention the school children who were creating quite a din on the street outside. To these children, who were often dubbed 'the future citizens of the nation', elections meant nothing more than a day off at school. I sighed.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was my neighbor, Sudha. She had dropped by to borrow sugar as usual. I enquired if she had voted and "Yes!" came the prompt reply. "I went all the way to Andipatti to vote because that is where my name is in the voters' list. And guess what?" she went on excitedly. "There is this amazing electronic voting machine, with buttons of different colors on it," she paused to look at me. I nodded, encouraging her to go on. "And whichever button you press, the votes are cast in favor of the Twin Leaves!!" she squeaked ecstatically. I thought this was disheartening and expressed as much. But Sudha thought otherwise; she was actually amused with the way the machine worked. This was crazy!

As soon as she left, the telephone rang. It was Suren. "Hello, Suren! What's up?" I asked cheerfully.

"Nothing much. I just came back after casting my invalid vote," he replied to my utter surprise.

"Invalid?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I don't like both the candidates. So I had little choice but to invalidate my vote."

"But you might as well have stayed home! Why did you have to go all the way to cast an invalid vote?"

"Because, my dear friend, if I had not turned up, someone would have cast a proxy vote in my name for one of these undeserving scoundrels!" After a few more minutes of small talk, he hung up.

I decided that enough was enough. I picked up my ration card and stuffed it into my handbag. I promptly locked the front door and purposefully strode towards the auto-stand round the street corner. I hopped into one and barked, "To the nearest polling booth!"

In a few minutes, I was at the fag end of a very long queue for voters' ID verification at the polling booth. The scorching sun and the hour-long wait tired me out completely by the time I got my turn. I fished out the ration card from my bag and handed it to the person at the gate. He looked at it and said, "Where's your ID, madam?" I smiled sheepishly and said, "I don't have one. But the papers said I could use any one of these 23 documents listed in here as a substitute for the ID." He looked at me for a full minute before he bent down to check the records. Then he handed the card back to me saying, "Sorry, madam. Your name is not here in the list. You cannot vote at this booth."

"But that's not fair! I have a proof of residence and I can even show you my passport. I should be given the right to vote! I am a franchise-conscious citizen of this independent democratic nation," I stated in one breath.

The man glared at me and said through clenched teeth, "Madam, please leave at once or I'll have to call in the authorities."

That was enough to drain all my enthusiasm. I quietly retraced my steps like a docile dog. I did not even feel up to taking a rickshaw back home and so took the bus instead.

When I reached home, I found the gardener trimming the shrubs.

"Salaam mem saheb," he said.

"Did you vote?" I asked him rather unenthusiastically.

"Vote? Woh kya hota hai?" he asked with explicit ignorance.

This was the last straw! I shook my head in consternation, thinking aloud, "And we pride ourselves on being a sovereign, socialistic, secular, democratic, republic…"