When my appointment order as a polling officer was handed over to me ,

I received it with mixed feelings .  Wonder as to the prospects  and

wary as to the procedures involved .  Everyone in my office were

posted for the duty and all of us were called for a training on one

particular day.  Bearing the  hot sun , we made our way to the

training centre located on the other side of the city only to find a

complete mismanagement of the crowd by the Officials in-charge there. 

Clamouring for the God-knows-what forms people were pushing and

prodding each other without even knowing what is to be done and what

one  was searching for.  No display notices nor notice boards and this

was called Training .  FInally we managed to sit in classrooms only to

be trained on how to use the Electronic Voting Machines.  Just half 

an hour would suffice for this but it pulled on to almost 4 hours

,people sweating and swearing.  Coming out, we were informed that we

had to come for the training again  after a day failing which .we

would have to face disciplinary action.  Since this was the first time

we were doing this duty, we promplty obeyed them and went for the

training again.  All we could find again was the same crowd jostling

each other and finding broken chairs to sit under the shadeless shade

of a tent.  Again  the same old story about how to use the EVMs and a

lecture about how one should accept this as one's duty to the Country

.  Another half a day gone and we were still in th dark about where we

would be posted.  This,we were informed that we would know only on the

last day of the training.  Whew! all of us groaned at the prospect of

another day of training.  By now, we were Masters in operating the

machine and knew everything by heart.  The last day of the training

was indeed another Great Commotion with loudspeakers blaring, Sun

laughing his head off at our discomfort, clothes sticky with sweat not

forgetting the never ending confusion.  This day , names were called

out to team four people together .  Names mis-spelt and called out

added to the confusion.  People  were left waiting till the late hours

of the evening since they could not hear their names and their team

members walking all over the place looking out for them.  Reminded one

of the 'Swayamvara' of yore. Total mis-management by the staff who

could handle a crowd of enthusiastic people willing to work for them.

2 days to go for the election and we were still not aware of our place

of posting.  'Yes, you will know it tomorrow ,'beamed the  official

,when asked .  We were all instructed  to bring our bag and baggage

since we would have to stay there for the night .  As ladies, we were

worried at the prospect of having to spend the entire night in a

lonely place .  In fact, this was a scary prospect even for the men

since they would have to take care of the materials.  The next day

morning , armed with our luggage -not to forget the Odomos cream and

lotion for scaring the mosquitoes away , we entered the school only to

find people scurrying all over - the ever pervading Confusion writ

large on their faces.  Once the list of schools for booths was

announced , everyone were busy with their teammates to collect the

materials.  Luch was  promised but arrived very late and people were

left hungry with only the Sun rays beating on all. Government

officials falling upon one another for the food packets was very

distressing to note. Sicne we had carried some snacks with us, we did

not experience the roughshod of calmouring for food packets.

Mis-management rearing its head once again. From here, the story takes

on a personal turn-since I am describing what I underwent .  Along

with my teammates , we took charge of the election material and sat

down to compare the list of the materials given with what had been

supplied to us and Lo! none of the materials matched and when asked,

was answered'Don't worry Madam, just leave it ' .Leaving it at that,

we walked to the BMTC buses with all our baggage.  Sitting in the

dusty bus with none of the windows being opened , I knew what the

dough feels  inside the oven on its way to become a biscuit .  The bus

moved only after seven teams were packed in it.  I heaved a sigh of

relief when I was told that there would be six booths in the same

school I was posted in and on seeing the number of ladies.  Our bus

took many twists and turns and entered one small lane and led us to a

God-forsaken school called Government school with no gate but only a

courtyard with open sewerage drains and lots of dust all round. 

Seeing all of us, the place was giv en a quick round of cleaning and

all of us were bathed in dust . I wondered at the children studying

here with dogs barking their throats off.  The whole evening was spent

in the pre-election duties such as pasting notices etc., but the scary

prospect of spending the whole night in the school with dogs,

bandicoots all over the place -quite educated bandicoots they were-

walking in a decent line one behind the other not wary of us humans . 

We were instructed not to leave the place since it was a very far-off

place and since we could not reach early in the morning .  We were

four us and believe-it-or-not , we walked almost a mile for a place to

attend to our nature's call.  The school toilets were locked   and the

men had found some place and we were left fretting and fuming with not

a place for privacy .  Finally ,we found a very good samaritan who

took pity on us and said that we could stay there for the night and

gave us a room with a decent bathroom .   The night passed off

peacefully  and the next day, on the election day, we had to face the

crowd with not even a cup of coffee.  Some booths had some samaritans

to their rescue but most of them had to make do with biscuits or bread

which they had carried.  I could manage a bite of the same some time

after afternoon.  The day too passed off peacefully   with people

enthusiastically coming to vote each one with a smile on his/her face

.  The best part of the day was when I saw a 99-year old lady helped

by her great grandson to vote .  After the election , we had to close

and then we were escorted to the same school where we had collected

our materials and here again , the same story like a stuck gramaphone.

 Tired officials wanting to rush back home but could not since they

were stuck in the  rut of queus and handing over.  Not knowing what to

do, where to go and how to hand over was again the confusion.  Finally

,after falling over each other , the duty over, we had to rush back to

our houses located on the other part of the city.  Most of the buses

were taken away for election and no, our dreaded three-wheeler-

autorickshaws  were a treasure hunt on that day.  Late in the evening,

people with all their luggage and running helter and skelter was

indeed a desperate sign of how our system was being managed - rather .

mis-managed.  Better management , giving security , cleaning the

booths well in advance , making arrangements for basic necessities

like water, toilets for the polling officials and providing  simple 

food for the days spent doing the duty , better honorarium. providing

safety to ladies is the need of the day and if this is taken care of,

people would offer voluntary services for the coming elections.