This year, the IPL and the Assembly elections in four States and one Union Territory are running parallel to each other. While West Bengal and Assam are done with polling, D-day for Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and Puducherry is May 16. This time around, the voice of the BJP is being heard somewhat louder in all of these places where, previously, the lotus stood not a shade of a chance.
Things change, even if familiar patterns are visible everywhere: dynastic politics, dictator-style regimes, cross-party permutations and combinations, the old spanner in the works. There’s cynicism among voters and high-decibel criticism. Yet, Assam recorded a voter turnout of 84.76 per cent!
I suppose this is one of the things that makes democracy stick, despite all the hair we’re losing just pulling it out in despair. The fact that people take the trouble to cast their vote, the faith they have that their vote counts.
A familiar visual trope during elections is the image of a really elderly person being carried to the voting booth. We may be home to the highest levels of illiteracy in the world, but where the mind is fearless about being invested in exercising this fundamentally political decision — it’s my right to vote and I shall — that defines what it means to be a democracy, it doesn’t matter a dot. To put it differently, being able to make that decision is what matters, that’s literacy.
It works, somehow
Maybe even more than this is the fact that we are a democracy at all, that despite all the glitches and hitches and britches, we cobble together, we have had governments that, in principle, worked and somehow continue to deliver something, even if it’s not entirely palatable to everybody. It stalls Parliament and rides on slogans, for every step forward it takes, it seems to take three back, and don’t even talk about corruption, healthcare, education…
It reminds me of a Mulla Nasruddin story. It seems he hopped on to a double-decker bus one day and went to the upper deck, but he was back down in a jiffy, wearing a look of utter shock on his face. “What’s the matter?” the bus conductor asked. “There’s no driver!” Nasruddin said.
Yes, indeed, it often seems as though the India bus has no driver, but it stays on the road, follows traffic signals, trundles towards its destination. With hundreds of languages, every kind of religion being practised and consequently sentiments being vulnerable to hurt, and cultural practices as diverse as the cuisines of the world, it would appear there’s no meeting ground. Yet, this largest populated democracy in the world survives, its leaders come together to make things happen (sort of), it hobbles along. Too snaily for most of the fast and the furious generation, but carrying everyone along is seriously slow business. Talking, convincing, building consensus takes time. Democratic systems require a foundation of dialogue and the ever-present possibility of change.
Power of the people
The reason it has not disintegrated or fallen victim to the shenanigans of rogue elements, even though it might often seem it has, is because of the power of the people to make choices, even in the toughest times. It’s easy to browbeat a bunch of people into accepting a point of view: that’s what Hitler did through artful oratory and coercion. It’s more difficult holding on, on matters of principle. There was a brief, dark period during the Emergency when it seemed as though our candle of freedom would go out, but the natural forces of a vibrant democracy that was geared to hear the voices of free expression, quickly rallied to shine a light and we were back on the rails.
How that happened is a story this generation must listen to — or read about in journalist Coomi Kapoor’s brilliant, objective, moving book, The Emergency. I would call it required reading. That includes our leadership today, to remind themselves of what they were, what they’ve become and what they can be.
The Constitution
That’s the reason why I would also like to return to the Constitution, a remarkable document that demands to be read. It is made in the name of the people of India, as the preamble sets out: “We, the people of India, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a sovereign, socialist, secular, democratic republic and to secure to all its citizens: Justice, social, economic and political; liberty of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship; equality of status and of opportunity; and, to promote among them all, fraternity, assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the nation…”
The preamble itself is enough to give you goosebumps: right there, in those first few lines, it reminds us that we are a free nation, we have the right to many freedoms, and the responsibility of many duties. That freedom comes with a price, the price of patience, the willingness to work towards taking reasonable decisions in a fair and equitable manner, and allowing each other the space to be different without being disruptive. Most important, it gives us the right to say no. This is our holy book.
Then, why do I feel I’m caught between the Devil and Dead Sea with regards to whom to vote for on May 16? Will it be NOTA, none of the above, its symbol on the EVM designed by NID Ahmedabad?