Conducting Election in Maoists' Den

On 14^th February 2011 when the world was love-drunk and celebrating V-day, I set out for Korukonda Block office on bike carrying a small airbag. I was supposed to join for the election duty there.

The journey was fantastic and was imbued with a romantic colour. I had worn my overcoat and it was left unbuttoned. As a result the waves of wind were blowing back my hair and the corner of the coat. The real life bike riding was just like Amitabh’s bike riding scene in the song ‘Rote hue aate hey Saab, Hasta hua jo jayega’ of MUKKADDAR KA SIKANDAR movie. I felt hero-like because at Malkangiri conducting election is life-challenging.

I packet of Good-day biscuit and tea that I had taken at home did not last long. So I stopped my bike at K.Gumma and took a light breakfast. I was moving in a group. The group was a jolly group comprising Shirish Sir, Sairam, Pradeep and Ray Sir. The road was wide and full of diversions. The movement of our bikes on each dusty diversion used to send thick smokes of dust into the air. And moving ahead tearing those dusty clouds was strenuous and sneeze-evoking. I headed the troop as I was singly riding the bike whereas others were in duos. In other words, I was feeding them a good deal of dusty air. 

We all reached Korukonda safely. We received our polling materials. The Block headquarters looked like a fair-ground. But the Election-fair was devoid of eatables and other basic amenities. The existing hotels were incapable to supply the suddenly increased food-demands. Mineral water bottles, biscuits, bread, ghutka, cigarette, and (wine, oops! I shall not mention) started disappearing from the vending shops. The increased speed of the vendors and the over-enthusiasm of buyers might have escalated the sensex of that block headquarters to a never-before height. 

We were all teachers who had already served in the district (Malkangiri) for more than 5 years. So finding a good acquaintance in any part of the district was the easiest job for us. As such, one old caught sight of us and his Ekalavya-like sincere request to have lunch in his home prompted us to keep his request and we headed towards his home. (I must mention that I am a strict vegetarian so I took brinjal fry and my other friends took fish fry.) Fish fry sketched a complacent smile on my friends’ faces and the brinjal fry gave me a regal gravity of a true presiding officer. I looked sternly at those fried brinjal pieces and they in turn looked me back. 

Our vehicle was ready by the time. It was exactly like a police-van with wide iron-netted windows. When Ajay (My colleague and the presiding officer of Party number 524) saw the police-van type vehicle, he vehemently opposed to go by that. He had enough reasons to behave so. Firstly, police vehicles were the prime targets of the Maoists. Secondly, at the time of election there was an air of sensitivity. Thirdly, the recent landmine attack on the BSF deputy commandants and his party was fresh in mind. 

However, the driver of the vehicle certified that there were no reasons to fear as his vehicle regularly plied in that route. These comforting words assured all of us and we boarded the mini-truck (OR02C0048). The vehicle was in its skeletal form. It’s rusted out body, vibrating chassis, kerosene-run engine, faded colour and worn out seats had transformed the journey into once-in-a-lifetime-memory. Tearing clouds of thick dust the vehicle marched ahead. One of my acquaintances, Mr Gopi Rath Mishra, who could be easily identified by his thick beards, was deployed in my Principal’s party. He had to wash his face a number of times because a good deal of dust particles used to settle in his beards during the journey. In the mid way the journey was unnecessarily delayed for more than half an hour because of Ajaya Sutar(Jr Lect in Odiya). He got down from the mini-truck and moved hither and thither defiantly and pointlessly. There are few persons in the world who enjoy making others wait them like vagabond rascals. And Ajay is the brightest example of that.

The vehicle left me and my party personnel in a half-demolished, door-less and windowless school building. That building reminded me of all the horror shows that were telecast when I was a child. I thought if Ramsay brothers came to this location then they could easily discover enough stuff for a new extremely horrifying tele-serial. In this remote corner of the district B.S.N.L. (Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited) mobile network assumes a meaning as follows: ‘B’ for Blocked, ‘S’ for Stopped, ‘N’ for Nil and ‘L’ for Lost. However, a specific vantage point far behind the above mentioned school was the communication point where from the inhabitants used to receive feeble Airtel Network signals. This means of tele-communication was a great solace to my young 2^nd polling officer as he was in his twenties and perhaps, had a girlfriend. Mobiles, girlfriends, SMS, MMS, Valentine’s Day fever are the common characteristics of contemporary young boys and girls. You can easily blast a rock into pieces but you can never separate mobile phones from these young people. I experienced this truth in real sense when I saw my 2^nd P.O. talking and standing glued to the signal-area for hours long. However, when I badly needed his assistance and could not find him by my side, my patience crossed all limits and my inner bad man came out with such a shout that for the next two days his mobile remained in some unknown corner of his bag.    In Odiya there is a proverb that to take out ghee from a container you have to bend your fingers.

The teacher of the concerned school was a fine genteel boy. He had two high voltage electric heaters and used them to prepare our food during the stay. This place had a great advantage that it was bereft of power-cuts. And the greatest disadvantage was that most people of this place were alcoholics. The outward conditions of the locality were unfavourable and sensitive. In addition, the inward situations of my polling party were no better. The security personnel attached to our party was a chronic alcoholic. He sang songs, babbled and spoke all sorts of obscene languages. He spoke such English that I forgot mine. My neighboring polling parties were seen to pray God at my ill-fate. One of my colleagues who was the Presiding Officer of party No 523 used third rated language to intimidate him. But all was in vain. What cannot be cured must be endured. If your teeth bite your tongue, do you remove your teeth angrily? 

I ignored that old drunkard and engaged other members in preparing required papers. A good thing with the fellow was that he used to respond to instructions when they were issued in English and with a commanding voice. I mean, I had to use the style of the commanders of the parade who shout, “Attention” or “Parade Rest” or “Forward March”. Even though drunk he responded to such loud shouts. For example I used to issue him instructions as follows, “Havildar, Carry the Box, Keep Quite, Stand Still, Hillo Mat, Sit in that corner, Stand under that tree (to avoid him).” However, the trick worked miracle. His subconscious brain got tuned to my commands and he worked like a Zombie.

On 14^th night we stayed with other polling parties in Tunnel Camp G.P. Day-long tiredness and the cumbersome journey soon pushed most of the polling officers into snoring mode. All were sleeping on the floor like logs of wood (a hazy photo attached with the post).

On Feb 11, a land mine explosion and Maoist ambush at Janiguda had resulted in 4 BSF officers’ death. My booth was just 1 km from that dreadful spot. So I was in terrible mental pressure. We were in the Lion’s Den. In the very morning we got up and prepared Roti and potato fry. The breakfast was not bad. Exactly by 7am I sealed the box although no polling agent was present. At 7.15 two polling agents arrived and questioned me how I could seal the box in their absence. I smiled at them and told, “You know nothing and keep quite. Tell your voters to come soon.” My authoritative glance proved to be effective. 

Polling was conducted smoothly and after lunch we returned in the same vehicle. At Korukonda Block I adroitly deposited all the polling materials and went to the relieving counter. A madam who, by birth, has been gifted with cute smiles handed over the relieving orders. So to say that gentle smile was the finishing touch of my election duty at Korukonda. (In the next post the experience of conducting the election in another block will be revealed)