In the next 73 days, 96.8 crore Indians will cast their vote. Reportedly, 2,600 parties are also in the fray. Being one of the largest democracies in the world, our elections are touted to be a carnival. And they have been – 2014 was packed with thrilling hope and imaginative fervour, while 2019 was laden with punchy josh. But this election season, where the numbers are so high and the ‘democratic’ stakes higher, the mood is neither punchy nor thrilling. Rather, on the eve of the first phase of voting today, the electoral landscape seemed grim.
I was in Rajasthan’s Fatehpur, the heart of the Shekhawati belt, trying to find one un-decaying haveli, and one crowd of politically spirited men or women.
“Isn’t it election time yet?”, I enquired on the streets.
Maybe, yes, don’t know were some standard responses that came my way. However, one befitting reply summed it all: “Haan, Delhi ke chunaav hain (Yes, it’s Delhi’s election).”
It’s being fought between Narendra Modi and Rahul Gandhi, he added.
A reply that was cheerless, dispassionate and indifferent. A reply that suggested his disinterest in even voting.
No election fervour
About a hundred kilometres beyond in Churu, the chunaavi mood was lacking. Churu, which reportedly is witnessing a fight that is being contested on the age-old battle lines of caste. Rajput-Jat rivalry has intensified in the town amid fears that the Bharatiya Janata Party could alter the Constitution and do away with reservation. The fight is so tight that it is giving the local candidates hives.
The 400 kilometres from Jaipur to Churu, passing through Sikar and Jhunjhunu, were devoid of any election paraphernalia – even though the constituencies were supposed to vote today. The only political accessories dotting the smiting landscape – dramatic in its aridness – were life-sized hoardings of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s guarantees. No highway dhaba or tea stalls were decorated in political hues. There wasn’t any hustle, bustle, or campaigning, and no animated nukkad sabhas (street corner meetings) were being conducted for any party or candidate. Neither electric poles nor walls were plastered with the gleaming faces of local candidates, nor dhinchak election music ripped through sleepy neighbourhoods. No Modi masks were on sale, and no live screens played election adverts. I didn’t even see Election Commission publicity; no hoardings or noise called voters to vote.
All around, an apathetic mood prevailed.
Be it the Communist Party of India – Marxist (CPI-M) comrade Amra Ram or BJP leader and two-time MP Swami Sumedhanand in Sikar, or the Congress’ Rahul Kaswan and BJP paralympian Devendra Jhajharia in Churu, the local faces seem to matter little. Though in Churu, there is more to the local matter. The Jats of Churu are determined – united in their bid to defeat BJP’s Rajendra Rathore and put a lid on his politics. Rathore, a Rajput, had reportedly played a role in slicing Kaswan’s ticket from Churu, which has not gone down well with the Jats. And looking at the arithmetic – Jats + Muslim + Dalit votes, there is an overwhelming undercurrent that has given rise to a fight, a contest that from the inside, is more local than national.
But there is a but.
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Old faces don’t matter
Ten years later, after two elections of much hope and josh, of pitting Modi versus Rahul, 2024 seems to have become just Delhi ka chunav, Modi vs Rahul Gandhi. Modi ki guarantee, Viksit Bharat, to the Opposition’s Modi chor hai (Modi is a thief), the cliches have hit rock bottom. The repeated propaganda has started to cause fatigue. The local faces who won or lost on the faces of Modi or Rahul have finally become obsolete. They no longer matter. Their promises mean nothing, their charm over their caste also remains unsettling. Kaswan, the sitting MP backed by his father’s formidable legacy and himself charismatic and politically capable, has little to no sway over his young Jat bhais and behans. Nor is Amra Ram’s unwavering commitment to farmers and their plight that big of a deal. For them, Modi is the continuing glimmer of hope. He has the ‘Karishma’.
Yes, it is the young who have made this election season unimaginatively ashen. They are the reason why the 2024 Lok Sabha election feels dull and colourless on the ground. In the India of the young, the old have become outdated. Their ideologically driven politics, their natural idealism, is finding little to no political expression. Their economic woes, social instability, and political temperaments are being ignored. The electoral culture that was once about being together in person, in loud and passionate and even partisan ways, has gone for a toss. A lid has been put upon it.
Reels have replaced the commons. The social media-savvy young have taken over the electoral culture. After all, in the din of young voices who are more rapturous on Instagram and Facebook and express their identity politics through reels and videos, the ground has become eerily calm. The old have become disillusioned with politics and their netas, while the new continue to be thrilled in their shrill.
Gone are also the days when the patriarch or the matriarch of the family would define family members’ political identity and voting patterns. Today, the young and the brash seem to influence the old. And for them, politics is not ideologically driven; it is religious. It is about Ram Rajya, Ram, Modi’s ‘Karishma’.
So, no, there was no noise about the BJP or Congress. No loudspeakers blared BJP party songs, no pamphlets highlighting Congress policies and priorities were thrown, and no supporters of local candidates went door-to-door hollering names and slogans. But yes, glaring orange flags were seen fluttering, motorbikes donning Ram flags were seen whizzing as Ram songs sliced through the electoral air.
In the apathetic election season, the mood is swelling but in bhakti. There is an eerie silence on the ground, which is as harsh and blazing as the crude summer sun. The joy and the josh of the past two Lok Sabha elections is lacking for now. Will the upcoming phases in other parts of the country be as noiseless as this one? Only further travels will tell. But in the Shekhawati region of Rajasthan, elections are as depressing and shabby as the lifeless, decaying havelis of Fatehpur.
Shruti Vyas is a journalist based in New Delhi. She writes on politics, international relations and current affairs. Views are personal.
(Edited by Zoya Bhatti)