[English Translation of Op Ed article in Bengali in Anandabazar Patrika]
West Bengal is now a state governed by the Bharatiya Janata Party — unbelievable as it may appear. With the change comes a new wave of hope as well as uncertainty and trepidation. Many really believe that Bengal may now, at long last, witness some development. Bengal's half a century long drought where industry, investment and employment are concerned may finally see some relief. Our young men and women may perhaps escape the grip of chronic unemployment, at long last.
At the same time, a dark shadow has descended over minorities. They are afraid, and not without reason. Anxiety and panic have spread more than sorrow over the defeat where leaders and supporters of the All India Trinamool Congress are celebrating. Political and physical vandalism has already begun — party offices or dens, sometimes even homes and properties of leaders and friends of the TMC are under attack. Even before the swearing-in of the Chief Minister, the personal secretary of Suvendu Adhikari was brutally murdered in what appears to have been a mysterious and pre-planned act. Investigations are still continuing. Several other deaths have also been reported. It is even being said that once the central security forces withdraw, further settling of scores may follow. Incidentally, the same thing happened after the 2021 election, something that the BJP highlighted extensively in the national media.
Meanwhile, an intense debate is raging across India: whether the Election Commission played a role in this victory and defeat. A new and complicated process was introduced this time, replacing the orderly voter-roll revision procedure followed for 75 years. It was called the Special Intensive Revision, or SIR. Names were deleted from the voter lists in the name of “cleansing” or purifying the rolls. Sometimes it was said this happened because of mapping exercises; elsewhere people were informed that their cases were “under adjudication.” More than a crore citizens were effectively told to stand in line before irritated officials and prove that they were indeed who they claimed to be. Since Independence, Indian citizens have never faced such harassment merely to exercise their right to vote.
Let us recall some history. Under the direction of India’s first Chief Election Commissioner, Sukumar Sen, officials had gone door to door persuading citizens to register themselves on the electoral rolls. Thereafter, that became the accepted norm. Twenty-three Chief Election Commissioners — including legends such as S. P. Sen Varma, Peri Sastri, T. N. Seshan and J. M. Lyngdoh — followed that system. But our 25th Chief Election Commissioner did not follow the familiar tine tested path. Under the new rules that he introduced, vast numbers of citizens had to undergo immense suffering merely to become voters or retain their names on the rolls.
After forty-one years in government service — including four years in the Election Commission — I firmly believe this SIR was not a governmental project; it was a weapon crafted by high-powered corporate lawyers and high-paid strategic planners. The computer programme or source code used this time was never disclosed. But one thing became clear: the programme was far from neutral regarding names and identities. It appeared capable of identifying and removing names of certain community members. How lakhs of people in Bengal suddenly came under the category of “under adjudication” is now widely known, but totally inexplicable.
In an unprecedented order, the Supreme Court decided that in Bengal alone the entire matter would be handled directly by judges themselves. District officers were removed, and 700 judicial officers were brought in from various places to handle mountains of paperwork. “Mountains” is no exaggeration — the judges truly had to shoulder a Himalayan burden. In the end, it was found that altogether 9.1 million voters had their names deleted. About 2.7 million people filed appeals or review petitions in protest. Many more lakhs never even came to know that their names had been struck off the rolls.
Another directive of the Supreme Court was equally unprecedented and far-reaching: Section 24 of the Representation of the People Act was effectively suspended this time. Under this provision, district election officers had, for the past 75 years, quickly heard and disposed of such appeals. But under the new order, these cases would now be handled by High Court judges. Since the process took far more time, the final outcome was that the 2.7 million applicants were ultimately unable to vote in this election. William Shakespeare’s Hamlet had once said that there are more things in heaven and earth than our minds can comprehend. Scholars are now analyzing what the electoral arithmetic might have been had these people been allowed to vote, and what impact excessive deletions in certain areas produced. But there is little doubt that a large section of Muslim and women voters in the state was removed from the electorate. And those votes were likely subtracted mainly from the Trinamool’s tally.
There are several other undeniable factors here. The first is the enormous public anger against corruption, political bullying and the economic decline under the Trinamool government. Even educated middle-class voters — who had long supported the party though they disliked it, mainly to prevent communal forces from coming to power — eventually shifted toward the BJP out of frustration. Yet what this means for minorities remains uncertain, because already loud cries of “Jai Shri Ram” are echoing across the state. For fifteen years, one struggling section of Bengal's youth has survived by working as delivery agents for app-based food delivery and e-commerce companies or through petty hawking. Their blood boiled as they watched local political strongmen with little education rise from mere huts to massive houses through party connections and illicit wealth. The youth who are in their 20s and early 30s have been relentlessly pounded by the high flaunting propaganda of Narendra Modi and his spin bowlers ever since they were teenagers — for well over a decade. Naturally, many are taking this very seriously while considerable numbers are hopelessly indoctrinated. Why would they not vote for Modi? Why would they not join in his slogans?
Everyone now waits eagerly for industry, investment, employment and development. Many are delighted that, for the first time in 49 years, the same party governs both the Centre and Bengal. After two generations of bitterness, people are understandably relieved; the state has indeed suffered much. For half a century, governments at the Centre did not extend genuine cooperation to this perennially oppositional State. But if a “double-engine government” is truly indispensable for industrial growth and investment, then how did Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Maharashtra and Telangana progress so far without this? And why are Uttar Pradesh (excluding Noida), Bihar and Madhya Pradesh in such a poor condition? But such arguments and counter-arguments notwithstanding, one can only pray and hope that investment comes to Bengal and employment opportunities increase.
One final word. Just because the BJP has won once does not mean Bengal has abandoned its liberal culture, or that we too shall drown in religion, communalism and caste like parts of northern and western India. It cannot be denied that the values of Bengal’s two-century-long renaissance have eroded considerably and that many are suddenly afflicted with aggressive Islamophobia caste pride. Yet Bengal’s culture, language and values still remain sufficiently strong.
Let us remember that Muslims hold a special place within Bengali society. Two-thirds of all Bengali speakers in the world are Muslims. Eastern Bengal or Bangladesh demonstrated this by not handing victory to religious fundamentalists. One hopes that the same progressive culture will surely not allow divisive forces to grow unchecked in the western part of Bengal. What people truly desire is economic development — not violence in the name of religion or politics.