Walking to the voting booth that day

Back home I though over things carefully. Slowly, the importance of a process I had taken so casually dawned on me. I actually questioned my existence. If I don8217;t vote, why should I avail of the facilities provided by the municipality, I asked myself. If I don8217;t vote, why should I enjoy the various subsidies that come my way. If I don8217;t vote, why I should teach civics to my students? I always make it a point to talk about my rights as a citizen, but if I do not vote do I have such a right? If I don8217;t exercise my right to vote, how can I avail of my other rights? Was it the physical obstacles or my own complacency that was holding me back?

Then I considered all the arguments against voting that I had used. Does India have a true democracy, anyway? In any case, can one vote 8212; mine 8212; make any difference to the system? This final excuse was the turning point in my mental approach-avoidance conflict. I realised that if everybody thought the same way, there would be nobody in the booths. Ultimately, I am not just one. I am many. And I count in the process of democracy.

That was when I decided to cast that vote. I picked up my crutches again 8212; for I am a physically handicapped person 8212; and walked toward the polling booth. I reached it at 4 pm. It took a whole hour to complete this arduous journey. I was careful not to fall this time as I was carrying not only my body but my precious vote. At 4:15 pm, I stamped my ballot and felt a wave of elation. I had finally voted. And if I 8212; a man on crutches 8212; can do it, why can8217;t you?