Election time is
when the circus comes to town. Auto rickshaws with banners and loudspeakers start
blaring unintelligible gobbledy-gook, drowning the Koel’s lilting ‘cuhoo’, ‘cuhoo’ with unnecessary noise.
The phone beeps incessantly with sms’s asking me to vote for the glass,
spectacles, cycle, radio and other such symbols, Most, I didn’t even bother to
read. The ex-sarpanch[i]
of a nearby village, whose symbol was the glass, even though he professed to
represent the Congress party [whose official symbol is the hand], announced his
candidature for the Municipal Elections in Gurgaon with drumbeats that deafened.
And his supporters seemed to do little more than litter the street in front of
the building that I live in. When I
pointed out the mess to him, he said “Oh, don’t worry, we clean up everyday!” “Wouldn’t
it have been better to provide dustbins for them to throw their litter, in the
first place? “ I asked.
I take pride in
exercising my franchise and always talk to my domestic help about fulfilling
their civic obligations and this time was no exception. Taking cue from the
drumbeats, which made it impossible for me to do any work, I walked into the
kitchen. Isha, Mahipal and Priti had just made themselves a steel tumbler of
tea each. It seemed like a good time to chat, so I asked what they thought
about the upcoming elections. I expected to be greeted with the usual glum
silence and downward, evasive glances and after persisting, hear the usual, “what’s
the point, we don’t count” along with a host of complaints and excuses which I am
no stranger to, or be told that they had not been able to register as voters.
However, to my surprise, I found them not only looking forward to the election,
but that they had devised a rather ingenuous system in their respective
colonies to ensure their right was not subverted by the financial might of
various candidates, unashamedly tempting them in return for their votes.
They divide the
area by ‘Jaati’[ii]
which is not necessarily healthy, but it’s clearly a system that works. So Isha
said that their ‘team’ had all the Muslims from the area and his wife was the ‘agent’
of the candidate they had decided to support. Mahipal added that his ‘team’ had
been meeting for the last three Sundays, to debate who to vote for. And when
campaigning started in earnest, they had to ensure that no member of their ‘team’
succumbed to temptation. Something had really changed. I had never heard any of
this before. Maybe it was the municipal elections where they felt they had
greater clarity, but I also considered that the propaganda via television had
contributed to this changed attitude and maybe the recent spate of scams from
telecom to the commonwealth games had made them want to take greater
responsibility in governance. I was impressed.
Isha is a
decent, honest guy. Mahipal is too, but he’s more complex. He likes to be the
leader and often bullies me as well as the rest of the staff. Isha and his
family didn’t take any of the gifts offered, but Mahipal did. He had told me a
few days before that they were being feted in all sorts of ways and ‘sharaab’[iii]
was being freely distributed. He likes to have a peg or two over the week-end,
so I said, “one doesn’t know what kind of booze it is, so please don’t take
chances”. With palpable excitement in his voice, he replied: “Madamji, English sharab hai, ‘Bagpiper’ baant
rahe hai![iv] I
shut up because did I really know of what went on at that level. No-one ever
came to give us such stuff. The only candidate, who did campaign visibly, came
a year ago to assist in the processing of our voter identity cards. The initial
attempt failed, but he persisted and finally it’s thanks to his effort that I
was able to vote this year.There is clearly a distinction in the mind of the politicians with regard to what passes muster where. In addition to the whiskey, they were also offered unlimited Pepsi’s and money. And for about six to eight weeks prior to Election Day, some of the settlements were distributed free drinking water. Given that water in Gurgaon is virtually undrinkable unless you process it and for most, water is a scarcity, drinkable or not, it was a wonderful idea that dried up the day after elections because the said candidate lost.
I had listened
to Isha and Mahipal regale me with stories that seemed so unreal but Priti my
maid, corroborated. She and her husband are registered voters in U.P. and therefore
were not offered or took any gifts, but witnessed many receiving them.
I reiterated my
question. Both Isha and Mahipal chorused in unison. “Money is another matter altogether
and those who give money employ thugs to ensure that you cast your vote for
them”. I said “How can they? No-one can know who you’ve voted for.” Mahipal
replied, “Yes, but if you take money, you are bound, but booze and other stuff
does not make you beholden”. I asked “How, what’s the difference?” He replied
very quietly but firmly, “Paisa paisa
hota hai, Madamji. Imaan bhi toh koi
cheej hoti hai![v]
He’s worked with me for almost twenty years and neither he nor Isha is more than 35 years old. They live in rented rooms, which often don’t have a proper roof but what they call a kacchi chath,[vi] problematic in the rains, the blistering summer heat or bitterly cold winters. They both earn about eight thousand rupees per month, accrued through moon-lighting in addition to their regular day-time jobs. Both work 12-14 hours a day, seven days of the week. I give them Sundays off to rest but they prefer to work elsewhere instead.
We live in a country that is developing haphazardly. Technology and a growing consumer oriented culture have challenged traditional values and modes of communication. There is aspiration in everyone’s heart, including people like Mahipal and Isha. They may own mobile phones and that ilk, but they still can’t afford better housing. They are not well educated, barely literate at that, but they seem to have moral values that could put many to shame. They know that election time is the only time politicians pay any attention to them, but they voted for what benefited the larger interests of the community and not what enhanced their personal wealth by being bribed to vote with notes. They may not be rich but neither are their votes for sale to the highest bidder.
We live in a country that is developing haphazardly. Technology and a growing consumer oriented culture have challenged traditional values and modes of communication. There is aspiration in everyone’s heart, including people like Mahipal and Isha. They may own mobile phones and that ilk, but they still can’t afford better housing. They are not well educated, barely literate at that, but they seem to have moral values that could put many to shame. They know that election time is the only time politicians pay any attention to them, but they voted for what benefited the larger interests of the community and not what enhanced their personal wealth by being bribed to vote with notes. They may not be rich but neither are their votes for sale to the highest bidder.
These were the
people I probably interacted with the most, for I depended upon their daily
presence and effort to cook, clean and take care of my plants and home but I
had not been able to stand back and see them for who they were. Times had
changed and they no longer needed me to educate them. They had a strong sense
of what they considered right and wrong and were willing to take part in
something that earlier didn’t interest them. Development may be disorganized;
the technological revolution may be crowding our minds with information we
cannot process adequately, but these factors, however chaotic, had empowered
them in small, but definitive ways. They had found a voice. They were, it
seems, standing up for themselves.
[i]Village elder
[ii] Caste [in this case
religion]
[iii] alcohol
[iv] distributing
[v] Money is money,
madamji, self-respect also counts for something
[vi] Temporary structure/roof
