Remember what got you there

Aneet Kanwal Randhawa

PUNJAB is on the cusp of a high- pitched electoral battle. Already my fellow brethren who are in public service have been assigned poll duties, in addition to their primary duties. Many pulled the strings to get off the assignment and others took it up. I took charge with subdued enthusiasm.

The first task cut for us was the physical inspection of the 15 polling stations allotted to us — located in the hinterland of the constituency, an hour’s drive. All of them were in elementary or secondary schools. A junior colleague, a new recruit in the public service, was to accompany me. I could palp his enthusiasm. We were to be bereft of official conveyance, the stately Ambassador that still epitomised power and pelf. For now, we were to use my own humble car.

Off we went to the countryside on a foggy morning. The lush wheat fields were welcoming, not the roads. Some were freshly laid in the run-up to the polls, but much was left to be done. My manoeuvring skills were put to test. Traversing a ramshackle road, atop a river bundh, was particularly nightmarish. My colleague proposed the next visit on a bike. I nodded, not with an adventurer’s assent, but a saviour’s relief who loved his pampered car over his physical discomfort.

The inspection ranged from the physical condition of the school buildings, availability of electricity and drinking water to mobile and Internet connectivity. Teachers, who have usually received shabby treatment from the powers that be, and are often admonished for playing truant, were more than welcoming. But the buildings, barring two or three, were in a dilapidated state. They may serve well the purpose of a one-day polling station, but these skeletal structures can’t be called schools by any stretch of imagination. But the mannerism of the children of some of these schools bowled me over. Certainly, their teachers deserve a pat on the back. But I noticed a particular appalling practice at some schools. The children were made to serve us water and tea. It was not part of our brief.

We returned home by late evening after diligently executing the first task. It was the beginning of an exercise that was to last for weeks. It was an enriching experience. We are a small cog in the large machination of the electoral process that will shape the destiny of our state. On behalf of all the other small cogs who are putting concerted efforts, it will not be unrealistic for me to have some basic expectations from the electorate. I hope it doesn’t succumb to allurements and rises above personal affiliation and prejudices, and exercises its franchise. Let the upcoming polls not be a victory for any individual party, but a victory for our beloved Punjab. For those who will enter the corridors of power after the elections, I hope they don’t forget the dilapidated structures that opened the doors to these corridors. 

Sounds whimsical? Nay!