Introducing to you – MMM’s grandmother
The Man from Madras Musings has been writing this column for several years and apart from his good lady, also known as She Who Must Be Obeyed, no other relative of his has ever had so much as a mention in this space. MMM does not like nepotism; to the extent that when the rest of the world referred to the late Chief as Uncle, to MMM he was always Chief. But be that as it may, MMM is happy to introduce you all to his grandmother, who is a hundred and is full of beans. And yes, she voted. At the booth. Not for her this voting from home. Grandaunt makes a special entrance too.
When Grandaunt proudly exercised voting rights
And that reminded MMM of grandaunt, several years senior to grandmother and her constant companion for decades before leaving this world some years ago at the age of 99. Grandaunt too loved the elections and the sight of grandmother going to the booth reminded MMM of the times when grandaunt exercised her franchise. She belonged to a generation that had seen the freedom struggle and so for her there was only one party. But she still managed to keep everyone guessing and extract her entertainment from it.
Pattima and the party that mattered
These days voters are asked to log on to a portal to check their allotted polling stations and also get their voter slips. But those days were not like that. Political parties called at home with your voting chits and while handing them over requested you to vote for their candidate. Grandaunt looked forward to these visits and when the campaigners came made it a point to look extra feeble (she was as strong as a horse) and tell them that was most likely the last election she would vote in (she lived to see many more) and even that was doubtful in the extreme as she was so weak she did not know how she could make it to the polling booth.
This would immediately bring forth a barrage of offers from the campaigners. Pattima should not worry about such things they would say. After all, why were they there if they could not help her, they would exclaim. From the party that according to grandmother won freedom she would refuse all offers of help. Her logic was that they having sacrificed much in the past ought not to be burdened with her demands. But the Opposition was a different matter altogether. To them she would be all sweetness and light. And from them she would extract the promise of a car to take her to the booth and bring her back.
Grandaunt’s regal visit to the polling booth
On election day grandaunt would be ready and waiting at the verandah of the house. A frisson of excitement went through the place as the car appeared and she was ushered into it, the household assembling on the doorstep to see her off. She always made it a point to carry the voter slip given by the Opposition and on entering the booth would promptly discard it and vote for her favourite. And then she made the journey home in the Opposition’s car, with a cheeky grin. She had pulled a fast one over those who dared contest against the only party that mattered. And so it happened, election after election.
Cherishing voting rights in secrecy
She had another principle – never to divulge whom she voted for. We guessed it but she never publicly expressed her choice. It was the same with grandmother in this election. Someone asked her as she emerged from the booth as to who got her vote and she admonished the person by wagging her finger at him. It is amazing how that generation cherished its rights. Perhaps because it was hard won.
Our recent article on the subject in ‘Madras Musings’ can be read here
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