My Voting Experience

I started from our home around 2:30 in the afternoon in bike, taking the booth slip and the voter's id. I was informed in home that the bike has to be parked at a distance and then go by walk to the polling booth. I reached the place in 5 minutes, parked the bike near the school-where the booth was- and went inside.

There was only one person standing the queue and for another person the formalities like verifying his identification, applying ink in his left fore-finger was going on. He was a young man, should be doing his first year college, and this should be his first voting experience. He then went to the table where a lady in black-saree was seated, the second polling officer - instead of going to the voting cabin-and told her something.

The second polling officer then told in a loud voice "I do not wish to vote", probably repeating what the guy told to her. All the officers (that's how they call themselves) on election duty sitting there stopped their work abruptly and looked at him. The primary polling officer, a lady in green saree, asked him "Then why did you come here???"

He gave no reply and he again told his stand "I do not wish to vote", without any expression on his face. It was very clear that he lost all his confidence in our democracy. The green saree officer immediately dialed some number on her mobile and started talking to someone - probably her senior officer. Two more officers also started talking to someone on their mobile phones, trying to get instruction on how to handle this.

The do-not-wish-to-vote guy said "I want 49-O slip...". The primary polling officer replied "We do not have 49-O slip". At this point a senior man from the political viewers section(who were seated on the left side in the room) said "There is a rule that 49-O should not be used...". I was wondering whether such a rule existed. Or is he just telling so that the guy will proceed and vote. By this time the queue behind me grew to about 10 people.

The officers finally came to some conclusion based on the response they got from their senior officers that they will get the complete address from the do-not-wish-to-vote guy, and a statement that "I do not wish to vote" which will be endorsed with a signature by him. He did all that left the place with a very sad face. His face showed that he is seriously worried about the future of this country. The second polling officer confirmed with the primary polling officer that there will be a mis-match in the count between the number of entries in her register and the votes registered in the machine.

Then the person standing in front of me caste his vote and then came my turn. Identification was verified, signed in a register and they applied the ink in my left fore-finger. I was a bit happy to see that ink mark in my finger and I primarily came here to get this mark only, rather than to put my vote. Then went to the machine and caste my vote. When I left the machine I also felt a bit sad-though not as sad as the do - not-wish-to-vote guy - when I thought about the future of my country.

- Pavala.

We did our duty... You???

அப்பா அம்மா...

வரைந்து விட்டு தானேஷ் - இது அப்பா, இது அம்மா...

I was so happy to see his creative skills at 3 years...

Biriyani

I do not remember exactly when this elite dish entered my life. All that remember is that I have been eating Biriyani - the queen of all dishes – right from my childhood. What I remember very clearly was that, on 8^th of every month, which happens to be our dad’s salary day, along with other snacks, he used to get Biriyani for us. Most of the time, the Biriyani was got from the “Ibrahim Kadai” - a shop near our home, on his way from office. This Ibrahim Kadai is very famous there and almost everyone passing by the shop for work to the Railway Workshop will have a tea there and then proceed to their work.

My father, being an ardent tea fan used to have tea there atleast 4 times there, once while going for work, once while coming home for lunch, once during returning back to work after lunch and once in the evening while returning back from work. I guess thorough his frequent visits he became close to the “Bhai”, who was the owner of the shop. He was a humble man in his early sixties, sitting in the Kalla, welcoming everyone with a smile. Most of the time he wont be wearing a shirt and will be found only in his lungi.

On Diwali eve, our dinner invariably used to be the “Vaankoli Biriyani”, mostly from the Ibrahim Kadai. One day my father had told the Bhai that his kids wanted him to prepare the Biriyani in home. And Bhai was kind enough that he disclosed the receipe of the Biriyani to my father. One fine day, a sunday, father and mother decided to prepare in home. I still remember all the events that happed on the day. It was more or less a festive day at home. Early in the morning the preparations started. Mom was peeling lots of onions and garlic and taking other things ready. Being the first assistant to my father when he cooks, Mom was getting everything ready. Appa was also helping her then and there. We three, Me and my little sisters, being assistant to the assistant, were helping my mother.

The preparation went on elaborately, spices were ground, rice and meat was cooked, then combined together and mixed. Then it was kept for ‘Dhum’, a process in which red hot coal were placed on top of the lid of the container having the Biriyani. It was getting late and we all were hungry. I , with the help of my sisters, was cutting down the big onions and mixing it with curd, on my mom’s instructions to prepare the “Venkaya pachadi” – a side dish for Biriyani, which later acquired its

North-Indianized name – “Raitha”. Amma also prepared another side dish with Brinjal, the “Saalna”, which used to have a sort of sour taste.

We had the Biriyani in late afternoon and it was the best Biriyani I ever had. Until night I was taking rounds and having the Biriyani again and again. After this, Biriyani was cooked atleast once in 3 three months. Amma also learnt the art of making Biriyani in due course of time. Later when my friend entered my family, she also learnt it from my Amma and in our home now, quite often Biriyani is prepared. But the receipe got from the Ibrahim Kadai Bhai is maintained as a sort of secret within the family, and not dis-closed to anyone even with the extended family.

After moving to Chennai, I had the chance to taste different varieties of Biriyani. I was surprised to find that the Mogul Biriyani has a sweet taste with some sugar content in it. One bad thing I noticed in Chennai is that they cook the base rice with the spices, and have chicken, mutton and egg separately. This base rice then becomes chicken, mutton or egg Biriyani based on what is kept inside that rice and served. This type of Biriyani lacks the taste of the native chicken or mutton Biriyani. Later I came to know that even Fish and Prawn Biriyani existed. My favorite is chicken or mutton Biriyani, with a chicken fry side dish and a boiled egg.

Even now, all the days on which Biriyani is prepared, is a festive day in home. Hope a day comes when I will prepare the Biriyani on my own and give the same happiness to my little friends, as that happened in our during my childhood.