“Excuse me, sir. A small question. Who did you vote for?” asked a (press?) guy, just as I was going out of polling arena after having cast my vote, immensely pleased at myself for having performed a patriotic duty. Just a small act, preformed by an ailing old man, who had come of out of the hospital after the third bout of illness in a span of a year! “Excuse me”, I said, “It is a secret not for sale”. “Don't sell it, sir! Anyway you have voted already. I know you are not one who would sell his vote, for any price. But....”

“No ifs and buts. The vote is invaluable. It is a symbol of our liberty. As Nehru once said, the price of liberty is eternal vigilance. Free and fair elections under which every citizen has to exercise his franchise are the price of liberty”.

Future voters:
“But we want to know how people have voted, note the trend and predict the final results”. “It is not wise, I would say, in all humility. Let us not vitiate the minds of the future voters, before they vote. Please! For heaven's sake, do not do it. Our democracy is already fragile and it would break”. “Another question, sir, since when are you participating in the elections, as a voter, as a candidate, as a campaigner, or as one who is charged with the responsibility of conducting the elections, as the presiding officer in a polling booth?”

“A very big question indeed! It needs a long answer. I cannot tell you here and now. Let us not disturb peace. I will write about it in the papers. Please read it, if and when it is published”. My thoughts went back to the year 1952 — to the days when the first general elections were held, when our Nation State was just a nascent democratic republic. The largest democracy of the world, conducting the first general elections, with the majority of the voters being ignorant, ill fed, illiterate and not knowing the value of vote or freedom! By the way, can any one concretize freedom? The whole world was watching with bated breath this great unprecedented experiment, India's tryst with destiny!

It was a huge election process indeed! No experience. No ballet boxes. The sad memory of the Mahatma's assassination was looming large on our heads. Simultaneous elections for both the Parliament and the State Legislatures. “Bharata' s Burden”. We, the people, braved it with great courage! I was also drafted then for election work, by the authorities. It was considered as a patriotic duty. No communications! No proper transport facilities. No adequate Police force (It was not needed then).

The polling personnel were like the members of a touring circus. For each team a bus was provided. It was the polling personnel's duty to carry with them ballot boxes and ballot papers, move about, reach a certain place at the appointed time and the fixed dates, conduct the business, start — lock, stock and barrel — to the next place. It was a strenuous, but thrilling (Tired of course! Fasting, indeed! Who had to feed us? Where had we to go?).

Added to this, we had a large consignment of lady polling personnel. They were not very happy. They were morally afraid of spending nights at unknown places, along with their male counterparts. They were chastity conscious. “Will we return safe?” They would ask themselves! But with all that, it was a tremendous success. There were some defects, naturally! No poll violence! No quarrel, No name calling! No fighting, buntings, cut outs. Elections were not yet fancy dress competitions.

Nascent politicians:
The politicians were yet nascent politicians. Many did not know their rights and duties. They were thinking that they were like the two sides of a coin, mutually inseparable. They thought that participating or contesting in elections was sacred. Politics had not yet become a profession. It was not considered as the last resort of a scoundrel! It was the first patriotic duty. There is provision in the Constitution to render politics a profession. One who devotes himself to serve the nation should be provided for, to be free from financial worries. But now it has become a very paying business. One who starts his career as a rank – and - file member of a party gets a rise and in a couple of years he becomes millionaire, declaring that he has no property, that he lives in a rented house! (What a great sacrifice!) Dr. Ambedkar would surely move and swerve sharply in his grave if he were able to know the goings on! “Really did I provide for all these people in the Constitution”, he would wonder!

Down from the year to this day, much filthy water has flown along the rivers of India. Our politicians have become expert launderers. They turn black money into white and white money into black. I would like to narrate two more experiences of mine (There are many more. But I do not narrate them now). The year 1971. Indira Gandhi had become the queen of India (in our Republic!) She was called Durga even by her erstwhile critics. She had vanquished her enemy and had aided the birth of Sonar Bangla.

Campaign experts:
I was requested by my journalist friends to help the country, which is India, because it was thought that India was Indira and Indira was India. I hastened to Bangalore. As I have recounted in an earlier article, I was provided with all the facilities. I was a member of the royalty. A huge mansion was kept at my disposal. I had a large army of campaign experts. I was a novice. But yet they would indulge in a lot of jargon and take my advice. And I picked up many words. Money was flowing like honey. During the first elections the people thought that the candidates were angels. Parties were sacred. Ballot box? God in the temple! Many people were inserting money and flowers into the boxes. They would apply arishina and kumkuma to the ballot box and prostrate before it with all devotion. Now politicians prostrate before every voter and do Surya Namaskar! Shame on their part! In 1971, I saw for the first time huge sums of money disappearing all of a sudden. My only experience worth mentioning was I had an interview with Indira Gandhi! Photogenic face indeed! Really a great personality-only man in her Cabinet.

A few years ago, I was drafted for election work in a town — God-forsaken place! No food! No assistance! The polling was about to end (4.55 pm). Suddenly a whole village had come to vote. If the voters come before closing time, they must be allowed to vote. The long queue had to be cleared. It ended at 8 pm. Waited for the bus. Reached Mysore very late— past midnight! I admire the candidate's ability to collect such a huge mass of voters at the late hour. He is an IDEAL POLITICIAN! His tribe has increased enormously!