海角大神

It was a balmy April morning when I went with my parents to vote, driving to a high school at the end of a small town in Assam, my home state. My father had suggested that we cast our votes before noon to avoid any rush. But as we walked inside the gates at 11 a.m., the queues were already long. I soon learned, through chatter around us, that the voting machine had broken down three times that morning. Even as polling staff scrambled to get it fixed, voters had continued to patiently wait their turns.

Along with me in the women鈥檚 queue were young girls in salwar kameez聽and women in white-patterned mekhela chadors and brightly painted lips, exchanging greetings and asking each other about their journeys. Most had arrived here in Rajgarh the previous day, journeying by buses and trains from the towns where they now lived and worked. Two benches had been set on either side, where women took turns resting their tired feet. Each time a senior citizen joined the queue, there was a slight commotion as she was led to the front so she need not wait.

It was the first phase of the largest democratic exercise on earth: India鈥檚 general elections. It takes 39 days, about 1 million polling booths, and to reach the country鈥檚 nearly 900 million eligible voters. And this Thursday, it will all be over: India鈥檚 1.3 billion citizens will learn if Prime Minister Narendra Modi has won a second term.

The Election Commission has gone to great lengths to try to ensure that no voter is left out. In the remote state of Arunachal Pradesh tucked at the border between China and Myanmar, one polling team鈥檚 journey included a helicopter ride and a daylong walk. Another team of six officers to a village near the Tibetan border, setting up a voting booth in a tin shed for a single voter.

But this general election, however grand, also carries with it the shadow of division.

Five years ago, Mr. Modi rode into office on promises of economic growth. But today, with the unemployment rate , many associate his administration more with Hindutva, or Hindu nationalism, than creating jobs. To fans, it鈥檚 an overdue resurgence of national pride. To critics, it鈥檚 a dangerous turn toward polarization and conflict.

In Kolkata, where I now live, voters went to the polls on Sunday, May 19聽鈥� the very last wave. Curious, I walked down College Street, which had made news days before. Clashes between supporters of Mr. Modi鈥檚 Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and West Bengal state鈥檚 ruling Trinamool Congress (TMC) at Vidyasagar College had brought down a bust of the college鈥檚 namesake, an eminent Bengali scholar聽鈥� one of several violent incidents in the lead-up to the vote.

As I approached the college鈥檚 polling site, a tense hush took hold. Large troops of security forces made regular check-ins. Inside neighborhood lanes, men gathered to quietly discuss their votes, while TMC workers around a table helped people find their names on the voter list and directed them to booths. Many voters condemned the violence and blamed it on the BJP, telling me they no longer trusted its promises of development.

Businessman Abhishek Agarwal, however, called the recent scuffles normal politics, irrelevant to his decision. In the BJP, he sees clear agendas and decision-making.

鈥淭he nation comes first. I have friends abroad, and they tell me that now we are being recognized as Indians,鈥� he told me. 鈥淲e are doing very well internationally under Modi.鈥�

As the morning wore on, I left the subdued scene on College Street for the commotion of Sonagachi, Asia鈥檚 largest sex district 鈥� where police vehicles raced towards a tense scene between TMC and BJP workers and supporters 鈥� and hailed a taxi to Park Circus, a Muslim neighborhood.聽Roughly a quarter of West Bengal state鈥檚 residents are Muslim 鈥� a cause of frequent complaint for聽some Hindu residents, who say the number is growing and blame the TMC.

People arrived on bikes and rickshaws to cast their vote inside a school opposite a spacious field where kids played a game of cricket. Farmida Hussain, a housewife, sat under the shade of a tree to catch her breath.聽鈥淚t鈥檚 the time of roza [fasting, for Ramadan], so the walk here has made me a bit tired,鈥� she said, wiping her face with a handkerchief.

Politicians are using religion to stir up supporters, Ms. Hussain said, but that shouldn't guide their votes. 鈥淲hen a school is built or a water tap set up, it does not selectively benefit a Hindu or a Muslim; it benefits everyone living there.鈥�

鈥淚 have been urging people to vote sensibly because I believe that democracy is at threat,鈥� voter Shahnawaz Khan told me as he waited for his wife to finish her ballot. 鈥淭here have been clashes along religious and caste lines in the rest of the country. This was never the case in West Bengal. It鈥檚 slowly being provoked here as well, and we should stop that.鈥� Of all the hate crimes committed between 2009 and 2019, 聽鈥� the month Mr. Modi鈥檚 administration began 鈥撀燼ccording to the Hate Crime Watch database. Most targeted minorities, especially Muslims.

Driving back through the near-empty city, I looked at the faint spot of black ink still visible on the nail of my left index finger聽鈥� a reminder of my own voting experience in Assam.

Inside the school, officers admitted two voters at a time, checking IDs and looking for names in their thick stacks of paper. My index finger was marked with indelible black ink, my signature recorded in a register, and off I was sent to the electronic voting machine, with a button against the name and party symbol of each candidate.

Filled with both hope and dread, I took a deep breath and pushed. A beep confirmed my vote, and for a few seconds, a slip with my chosen party鈥檚 symbol appeared behind the glass, then slid into a locked box.

I walked out silently. It was hard to shake off the heavy weight of responsibility.

鈥淚 live in India, so it is my duty to come out and vote no matter what,鈥� embroidery worker Sheikh Abdul Kalam told me Sunday as he waited outside a polling booth. 鈥淭his is my identity. I can鈥檛 give it up.鈥�