Geetanjali Krishna: Bahadur and the dance of democracy

Do you need a general handyman or a watchman madam?" a young Nepali asked me politely the other day. His name was Dev Bahadur, and he'd recently immigrated and was staying in his uncle's room while looking for a job. "Right now, I have a temporary job sticking posters and handing out election leaflets for a political party, but now that the elections are here, I urgently need to find another job soon," he said. I asked him how he landed such an interesting, albeit short-lived job. "The party needed people like me who wouldn't look out of place in a low-income area to go there to stick banners and posters - thus, I got the job."

Since he'd been involved with campaigning at the ground level, I asked him to tell me what he'd observed. Bahadur said, "I've been impressed by how my party's functionaries have gone door to door and conducted small neighbourhood meetings. It's a change from the election campaigns I've witnessed in Nepal, where usually our leaders address large rallies in big cities." The election fever rarely reached his remote Nepali village. "In my village, carom and cricket invite more comment and interest from people like me, than elections," he grinned. In comparison, he felt that the Delhi elections had managed to mobilise a lot of people like him.

"Political parties are all raising issues that affect common people," he said. "Electricity, water and housing are issues that matter more to people like us than they do to people like them…" This wasn't something he had ever felt with elections in his country, Bahadur said. Observing the campaigns of the other parties has also been interesting, he said. "Most parties have been coming to the slums and talking to people. But what impressed me the most was a truck I saw with a full-screen television on which the prime minister was delivering a speech. The TV was so large that I felt as if I was listening to him in person."

Just then, the theme song of his party rang out for the nth time, Bahadur smiled, "I'm sure this music will continue to echo in my ears long after the elections. Whenever I listen to it, it reminds me that ordinary people matter in national politics." The election campaign has been so gripping that Bahadur now wonders what he'll do once it is over. "Right now, perfect strangers pass time together, discussing politics. The slums are alive with the sounds of campaign songs. Once the election is over, everything will be back to normal. How boring will that be!" he said. I asked whether he was likely to be offered a permanent job by his party. "If they win, there's a chance that they will offer me a more long-lasting job," he said. "But if they lose…I'll be back to square one."

He again asked if I could help find him a job. He'd studied up to Class 10 and was willing to undertake any type of work, he said. I couldn't promise anything, and said so. He stuck a poster on a nearby gate and, as he took my leave, said, "having worked so hard for the election campaign, all I want now is for my party to win. I have a gut feeling that my fortune is linked with that of my party." I watched him disappear down the road, marvelling at how so many years after India became a democratic republic, this was one of the first instances when people like Bahadur felt involved with the election process. Whether Bahadur gets a job or not, one thing is clear - people like them have finally come centre stage in Indian politics.