One of the nicest things about choosing people to represent us is how we never really know much about the process itself
The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation headquarters in Fort is illuminated in the colours of the Indian flag on August 14, 2024. Pic/Atul Kamble
The World Economic Forum always tends to get a little breathless when it refers to any elections in India. A few years ago, for example, while describing elections to the Lok Sabha in 2019, it called them ‘the biggest exercise in democracy in the world’. The statistics cited were admittedly impressive: there were reportedly 1 million polling stations set up, with 10 million officials brought in to manage things, and more than 100 million first-time voters. It’s a lot to take in, but I have always been surprised by how this massive exercise always appears to operate as if under a fog. I always feel as if the more impressive facts I am presented with, the less I can make sense of what is going on, even at a local level.
Consider the recent Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections. I have been a witness to the noise surrounding them for a long time now and have watched as it has grown over the years, much as the city’s budget has. Given how much money is at stake, and how much some people stand to get richer just by winning, I suppose it makes sense for something so serious to start resembling a reality TV show. The lines between politics and entertainment have been blurring for years, thanks to the all-pervasive influence of that other big democracy, the United States. It’s why we have begun to adopt so much of what they do, from the raucous televised debates to the mudslinging that masquerades as rallying.
And yet, despite the years I have spent watching this spectacle unfold, I must confess almost complete ignorance about many aspects of it. Why did Bombay not have an election for four years, for instance, and how was this allowed to happen without any intervention from anyone in power at the state level? There were probably laws in place to prevent this, but no one said a word, and a city of 23 million people just convinced itself that this was okay. It’s the sort of thing that reminds me of how little I understand the electoral system.
When I think about what we were taught in school — about Parliament, voting rights, even the way candidates are chosen — I can see now just how inadequate those lessons were. All we were given was a big picture, never details about how our neighbourhoods were to be managed, or by whom. This may explain why the turnout at most elections is so abysmal, and why more than half of Bombay’s residents choose to do other things on days when they are meant to get out and choose a representative.
Then again, maybe it’s designed to be this mysterious on purpose. Perhaps someone in government decided a long time ago that the less everyone knows about local politicians, the better. It would explain why Bombay’s corporators appear in public just weeks before an election, then disappear until the next one. Maybe we’re all supposed to put on detective hats and solve puzzles about sanitation, water supply, waste management or roads, with the help of clues.
Think about the number of people in senior positions at the BMC and ask yourself if you can confidently describe what their jobs involve. We all know there’s a municipal commissioner, but I wouldn’t be able to explain what the 24 deputy commissioners do. Reporting to them are heads of departments for everything from disaster management and gardens to the fire brigade, followed by lower-ranking officials who presumably spend their days ordering the paving and repaving of roads.
There are over 200 electoral constituencies in the city, each of which has multiple corporators in charge, none of whom ever take responsibility for the mess their respective localities are in. Maybe the air of mystery surrounding these men and their roles is designed to absolve them all, allowing them to stand for elections again despite failing to accomplish anything. It’s easier to forget something when one is given little to remember in the first place.
There’s another possible explanation. Apparently, 81 of 452 candidates contesting the Mira-Bhayander Municipal Corporation were found to have a criminal record, with cases ranging from fraud and assault to rape and attempt to murder. When candidates like these want to become the voice of a city, it stands to reason that transparency is the first thing to disappear. That would also explain how and why India today is governed by men with no education, intelligence, integrity, or signs of a conscience.
When he isn’t ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira
Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.
Subscribe today by clicking the link and stay updated with the latest news!" Click here!
