Want to know why democracy is so entrenched in India and why no politician in last over six and a half decades, barring a period of about two years starting 1975 (Emergency imposed by late Indira Gandhi) has dared to tinker with it.

Come to Kelabadi, a lower-middle class labour slum, settled on the foothills of Dalli mines on the outskirts of Dalli rajhara, a town of around 40,000 people bustling on borrowed railway and Bhilai Steel Plant land. The slum comprising municipality ward numbers 11 and 12 is a replica of India, containing as much diversity as its largest whole. It has roughly 2,000 people (over 1,100 voters) from different castes, religions and states living in perfect harmony.
 
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The residents of the slum have their quota of despair and aspiration like fellow Indians living in other parts of the country. And yet they have democratic ethos running through their veins. They are extremely proud of being nationals of the most populated democracy on earth and will do anything to protect and enrich the democracy. For them, elections are not just an exercise of their free will to elect governments – they are an essence of their existence.

The exercise sustains them. They cannot do without voting the way they cannot do without eating food.

“Jaise khana khana zaroori hai, vote dalna bhi zaroori hai (the way eating food is essential, voting is also essential)”, Kanta, a young housewife living in ward 11 who contributes to her husband’s income by collecting and selling firewood in the market, puts it matter-of-factly.

Her nextdoor neighbor, Roopotin Bai, is in complete agreement with Kanta. Her expression has a special glow as she poses with the voting slips of her five-member family her anganwadi in-charge Khileswari Devi delivered to her earlier this week.

Kanta’s words find an echo in almost every lane, bylane, nook, corner, bridge and slope of Kelabadi. Come November 19 and Kanta, Roopotin and her ilk will flock to a primary school in Kelabadi which houses booth numbers 192, 193 and 194. Though this time around, the election commission has first time provided the ‘NOTA (None of the Above)’ option to voters, none of them wish to invoke it.

Even the young, better educated and first-time voters say they will stay off the button and instead make use of their franchise to elect a responsive government.

“Loktantra ko banaye rakhne ke liye vote dena padta hai. Hum wahi karenge (voting is a must to sustain democracy. We will vote),” claims Chander Dev Mishra, a middle-aged man originally from Azamgarh who is relatively better off (lives in a pucca house and runs two dumpers in mines) in poor Kelabadi where one can buy a mud house for as less as Rs 20,000.

First-time voter Suresh Thakur doesn’t want to invoke NOTA and will instead use his ‘mat-ka-daan’ to inject a new government and new ideas into the system.

Problems aplenty        
At any time of the day and night, Kelabadi has clouds of red dust hovering over its horizon, kicked up by trucks carrying iron ore from the hills nearby. This happens despite the fact that the trucks frequently sprinkle water on the main road slicing the settlement into two. It is never clear how much water the dust will need to settle down because during the rains the sand turns into squelch making it difficult for any pedestrian or two-wheeler to get out of the hovel.

In August this year, the slum faced a major scare when water from a small stream (called nallah, or drain, locally, as its water is a waste of washed iron ore) gushed into mud houses on its banks, bringing parts of them down with its ferocity and speed.

The slum has never heard of sewerage, bathes and washes clothes in the nallah and collects drinking water from common taps. Over 99 per cent of the residents relieve themselves in the open. Parts of the slum have no electric connections and seem to be living in medieval ages. Unemployment is rampant as most of the elderly residents are part of the over 16,000-strong work force which was once employed in mining in and around Dalli rajhara. The work force has been reduced to around 3,000 in last one decade as Bhilai Steel Plant (BSP) has not filled up for retirements and resorted to mining by private contractors and heavy machines.

Unemployment and harsh living conditions have become excuses for alcoholism as men can be seen stuttering around during any time of the day. On an average, an alcoholic person spends Rs 50 on his daily intake of liquor.  Women sustain households mainly by collecting firewood from the forest surrounding the settlement.

The pent up anger is finding an expression now in the run up to the assembly polls. People are cut up that their representatives at various tiers – it is part of Kanker Lok Sabha Constituency represented by Sohan Potai of BJP, Dondilohara assembly seat currently held by the same party’s Nilima Tekam and municipal representatives Congress Councillor Narmada Sahare (Ward 12) and BJP Councillor Ratan Thakur (Ward 11) – who have failed to get them the most basic of amenities.

Election scene: options galore
There are 11 candidates in the fray. The BJP is wooing the constituency with a new face Hori Lal Rawte, a former forest officer. The party has denied ticket to Tekam, an erstwhile royal from Dondilohara kingdom, who obviously failed to hit the ground to meet people’s expectation. Banwari Lal Markam, a senior BJP worker who failed to get party nomination, is in the fray as an independent.

The Congress has pulled Anila Bhedia from the family of Bhedias who have represented the constituency several times in the past. Domender Bhedia and Jhumuk Lal Bhedia represented the place in the assembly in the past. Congress’ Anita Kumaiti has rebelled against Bhedia’s nomination and is fighting as an independent.

The electorate also has the option of choosing Janak Lal Thakur, a two-time MLA and erstwhile associate of legendry labour leader late Shankar Guha Niyogi. Thakur has been bolstered by support from Jan Mukti Morcha, a splinter branch of Chhattisgarh Mukti Morcha headed by Niyogi’s son Jeet. In short, it is a triangular with kamal chhap (BJP’s lotus), punja chhap (Congress’ hand) and patang chhap (Chhattisgarh Mukti Morcha (CMM)’s electoral symbol kite) pitted against each other.

Time to seek compensation
In parts of Kelabadi, there are murmurs of election boycott. But the call of duty will be too strong to resist.

Shobha Ram, a tailor whose house was demolished to make way for a railway track to Rowghat Project (in Narayanpur) on January 31 this year, threatens to boycott election. He is yet to be compensated for his house and is living in a rented accommodation in Bajrang Chowk, a part of the labour camp. “We’ve not been rehabilitated. Who do we vote for?” he asks and then goes on to answer his question, “but then voting at least would make me feel like an Indian citizen.”

Ram’s neighbour Ramesh Sarathi is aggrieved there is no light on a slippery slope which leads down into his street. Sarathi claims to have knocked at several doors for the same. He says the MLA told him to petition Dalli rajhara municipality for the same and the municipality in turn gave him an assurance. His regret is that the BJP MLAs win in the name of Raman Singh and do not work. Yet he will definitely exercise his right as a citizenship and cast his vote. He will take bath in morning, wear good clothes and put his best foot forward on November 19. “I want to be calm and composed and not get confused. After all I will be required to make an important choice.”

Kamlesh Devangan, a machine operator employed in Raipur, too will travel to Dalli rajhara to exercise his right. This is the first time that he will be voting. He will be voting for development. “I am very excited. My vote will be for development and street light,” Devangan states. He wants to make an informed choice and thus do not miss reading at least one newspaper in a day. He will also be observing behavior of the candidate. “I will see how one talks and behaves in public,” he notes. Like Devangan, Tameshwar Bhuarya, a student of electrical engineering, is also brushing up his knowledge of politics. Besides, reading Dainik Bhaskar on next door general store, Bhuarya also watches News 24 and Zee Chhattisgarh. For Bhuarya, qualification and background of a candidate will matter the most.

For Kumari Lalit Bhai, a daily wager and Sumintra, a widow hawking vegetables, the election will be an opportunity to inquire about compensation for their houses which collapsed during flood in the downstream (nallah in local parlance) that flows through Kelabadi. About half a dozen houses in Bajrang Chowk collapsed during the flood in August this year. The government got the damage surveyed but house owners are still to be compensated. “We will only vote if we get compensation,” Sumintra threatens. The duo is aware that the candidates promise everything during the campaign but will seek concrete assurance. “wo bolte hain hao naa hao naa banayenge (they say yes we will make them). But we are ready with cross questions,” Lalit Bai claims.

BLOs preparing for the D-Day
The three Booth Level officers (BLOs) appointed for booth numbers 192, 193 and 194 in Kelabadi are preparing to contact every voter before the election day. They will visit every household under their jurisdiction to deliver voting slips. “I’ll go to every house and request people to exercise their right. This is part of my job,” says Khileshwari Devangan, an anganwadi worker and BLO for booth number 193. Devangan has names of all her voters on her fingertips.

While 13 voters have moved out of her booth, 25 new have moved in. Khileshwari is waiting for the updated electoral rolls. So does Bhagwat Sahu and Abdul Kalim, municipality employees and BLOs for booth numbers 192 and 194 respectively.

By authenticating each voter of their booth – first by checking the printed rolls and then by being physically present in the polling station on election day – the trio would help in detecting bogus voters and thus contribute to making the voting area sacrosanct.

Kishan Lal, a Bhilai Steel Plant employee, considers elections the largest festival. “This is the real festival. The elections make a difference. Things do get better and have got better.  Voting ensures people’s welfare,” Lal avers. He is amazed by the kind of technology and education that has seeped into the country over the years. “Now we have television, radio, newspapers and internet. Technology has brought about a huge change,” Lal, who is originally from Rajnandgaon, says.

Shy of door-to-door campaign
Political parties have so far avoided door-to-door campaign because they do not want to face the anger. Instead their campaign vehicles - rickshaws covered with posters from all four sides making them look like adorned squares and Mahindra jeeps are playing their records inside the nooks and corners of the ward. The vehicles of the Congress, the BJP, the CMM, Gondwana Gantantra Party’s Tukaram alias Tekula and National People’s Party’s Ghanand Thakur can also be seen roaming around in the streets of Kelabadi.

While Thakur, a Union leader and contemporary of Shankar Guha Niygoi, is banking on his appeal among members of Chhattisgarh Mines Shramik Sangh, labour branch of the CMM and peasantry settled in the villages of Dondi and Lohara blocks of the constituency, Thakur claims to be the only ‘matiputra pratyasi’ (son-of-the-soil candidate).  Janak Lal represented Dondilohara constituency in Madhya Pradesh State Assembly from 1985 to 1990 and 1993 to 1998.  He is flaunting accessibility factor as his USP. People in Kelabadi claim that Janak Lal was always available to them during his tenure as MLA.

The campaigning vehicles are major source of entertainment for the voters apart from making an impression on voters who are still undecided on whom they will vote for. The vehicles will help the voters to identify the symbols. The campaign is a major source of succor for unemployed youth. “The campaign only influences voters who are associated with a particular party. To people who have decided, they are a means of entertainment,” says Panna Lal Sahu, a BSP worker, residing in Kelabadi.

Election, a great leveler
For Shravan Kumar, who got retrenched from a mine five years back, the voting will be a great leveler as he and top managers of the BSP will queue up at the same booth to punch in their preferences. “Sab raja praja ko line mein lagna padega (The rulers and their subjects will stand in the same queue),” says Kumar, who is originally from a part of Bastar.  For his wife, Fatkan Bai, the vote will be a means to retain her ration card which gets her 25 kg rice and 10 kg wheat every month under the BPL quota.

Kumari Bai, however, looks at elections as a means to frame laws and enforce them. “Kanoon banane ke liye aur kanoon ke raksha karne ke liye vote dete hain (we vote for legislation of laws and their enforcement),” she claims. Pramila Devi, assistant to an Anganwadi worker, feels that elections are mandatory to retain democracy and independence in India. “If we don’t vote, foreigners will capture our country,” Devi says reciting ‘Ye loktantra hai, vote hamara mantra hai (this is democracy. Vote is our mantra).”

Discourse turns political
As the voting day comes nearer, one can hear people discussing politics on tea stalls, hotels and hair salons. One finds labourers working in the mines debating election prospects of different candidates. Apparently, people are trying to gather information about candidates and programmes of the political parties. People like Shravan Kumar claim that the discussions help them zero on their choices.