LALGANJ (EAST UP): The year was 2015. Ganga Din was canvassing for the post of village pradhan when he went to a savarn (upper caste) home. He was offered water in a glass that was dirty and seemingly long unused. Ganga Din knew by experience why the glass was unclean. In homes practising social prejudice, a separate glass was often kept for scheduled castes.“I don’t need your water or vote,” he said. And walked away.
Nearly a decade after that incident, Ganga Din is a candidate for the Communist Party of India (CPI) from Lalganj, a constituency reserved for SCs in east Uttar Pradesh.
“I was used to people not drinking water from the same pot as me. After going to a Left students’ protest in Azamgarh 30 years ago, I found there was no concept of jaat-biradari (caste-community) in the party. We fraternised as equals,” he says. Dressed in a white shirt, jeans and sneakers, Ganga Din sits on a charpoy under a neem tree that barely acts as shelter from the summer sun. The marginal farmer’s son left school after class eight, but speaks with a sincerity and confidence that committed political workers often have. When the mobile phone rings, he greets the caller with the words, “Laal salaam”.
A typist in the local tehsil, Ganga Din knows he is not winning. In fact, he is unlikely to recover his deposit. His predecessors didn’t. The name Lalganj evokes images of a Red bastion. It’s not. In 2014, the CPI nominee from the SC-reserved seat, Hari Prasad Sonkar, got merely 10,523 votes (roughly 1.2%). In 2019, Trilokinath earned 8,843 (less than 1%). What’s the point then of contesting? “Election is a festival of democracy. We should participate,” he says.
BSP, SP and BJP are the major parties in fray. Indu Chaudhri, a 44-year-old teaching English literature at BHU, is the BSP candidate. BJP has repeated 2014 victor Neelam Sonkar, a 43-year-old PG from Gorakhpur University. Daroga Prasad Saroj, 71, is SP’s man. BSP is strong in Lalganj, winning three of the past five Lok Sabha polls, including 2019.
Ganga Din, 51, believes that CPI is much more active and popular than what the votes indicate. The party, he says, is liked by people for whom it works all year round. “But during polls, they vote for their respective castes. Kya karein, sab par jaat ka bhoot sawaar hai (What to do, everyone’s under the spell of caste.)”
It wasn’t always like this. Founded in Kanpur nearly 100 years ago, CPI was a major political force in the 1950s and ’60s. In 1957, it was the largest opposition party in LS. In 1962, the undivided CPI grabbed 29 seats, gaining roughly 10% votes. In other words, one of every 10 Indians voted for a communist govt. Even in 2004, the collective Left (CPI, CPM, Forward Bloc and RSP) got 61 seats, garnering 8% of the overall votes.
That seems so long ago. By 2019, Left’s vote shrunk to below 3% and the seats plunged to six, with CPI bagging two in TN. CPI also lost its coveted status of a national party in 2023. The decline is distinct in the state assemblies too where the Left was once dominant. In 1974, CPI had 16 seats in the UP assembly, now zero.
Ganga Din wasn’t surprised when a local BSP politico came up to him and said, “Comrade, aap kis party mein padey hain? Hamare pass aa jaiye. (Where are you stuck, comrade? Come with us.).”
But Ganga Din refused. He still believes. “I joined the communists because kamjoron ki ladai yeh party apna samajh kar ladti hai (it fights battles of the weak as its own).”
For him, this election’s key issues are education, unemployment, privatisation and price rise. “Paanch kilo free ration se kaam chalne wala nahi hai (five kilos of free grain isn’t enough),” he says. In its manifesto, CPI has promised to remove the 50% cap on reservations for SCs, STs and OBCs, and enhance the daily wage under MGNREGA to Rs 700.
It’s a motley gathering of communist workers in Mirza Adampur village. The cadres campaign doorto-door, travelling to sympathetic localities. Meeting elders, doing corner meetings in kasbahs, distributing pamphlets — that’s the job. “Don’t vote for helicopter politicians. Vote for the hansiya (sickle),” says Jitendra Hari Pandey, district head, Azamgarh to an aging voter.
Each local party branch is expected to contribute 1 quintal of wheat, worth approximately Rs 2,000, to the campaign fundtopped by donations by sympathisers. The estimated campaign spending is Rs 3 lakh, says Pandey. CPI has about 1,000 members in Lalganj constituency, he says.
Silver-haired Harigen, 74, is among the most senior CPI card holders in the area. Some things have changed for the better over the decade, he says, but some haven’t. A partyman for 50 years, he stopped using his surname long ago. Earlier this month, he realised the surname hasn’t stopped chasing him. During a ride on Kaifiyat Express, a fellow traveller asked his name, and thereafter, surname. “I said, I have stopped using Ram, my surname, because it revealed my caste and inconvenienced me. ‘You are insulting Ram,’ the young man said.” To this, Harigen replied, “I am not insulting anyone. Main sirf apni vyatha vyakt kar raha hoon (I am just expressing my plight). However, I apologise if I have offended your sentiments.” The youth folded his hands and said, “Koi baat nahin (It’s okay).” At that moment, it seemed, he too understood the elderly Dalit’s plight.
Nearly a decade after that incident, Ganga Din is a candidate for the Communist Party of India (CPI) from Lalganj, a constituency reserved for SCs in east Uttar Pradesh.
“I was used to people not drinking water from the same pot as me. After going to a Left students’ protest in Azamgarh 30 years ago, I found there was no concept of jaat-biradari (caste-community) in the party. We fraternised as equals,” he says. Dressed in a white shirt, jeans and sneakers, Ganga Din sits on a charpoy under a neem tree that barely acts as shelter from the summer sun. The marginal farmer’s son left school after class eight, but speaks with a sincerity and confidence that committed political workers often have. When the mobile phone rings, he greets the caller with the words, “Laal salaam”.
A typist in the local tehsil, Ganga Din knows he is not winning. In fact, he is unlikely to recover his deposit. His predecessors didn’t. The name Lalganj evokes images of a Red bastion. It’s not. In 2014, the CPI nominee from the SC-reserved seat, Hari Prasad Sonkar, got merely 10,523 votes (roughly 1.2%). In 2019, Trilokinath earned 8,843 (less than 1%). What’s the point then of contesting? “Election is a festival of democracy. We should participate,” he says.
BSP, SP and BJP are the major parties in fray. Indu Chaudhri, a 44-year-old teaching English literature at BHU, is the BSP candidate. BJP has repeated 2014 victor Neelam Sonkar, a 43-year-old PG from Gorakhpur University. Daroga Prasad Saroj, 71, is SP’s man. BSP is strong in Lalganj, winning three of the past five Lok Sabha polls, including 2019.
Ganga Din, 51, believes that CPI is much more active and popular than what the votes indicate. The party, he says, is liked by people for whom it works all year round. “But during polls, they vote for their respective castes. Kya karein, sab par jaat ka bhoot sawaar hai (What to do, everyone’s under the spell of caste.)”
It wasn’t always like this. Founded in Kanpur nearly 100 years ago, CPI was a major political force in the 1950s and ’60s. In 1957, it was the largest opposition party in LS. In 1962, the undivided CPI grabbed 29 seats, gaining roughly 10% votes. In other words, one of every 10 Indians voted for a communist govt. Even in 2004, the collective Left (CPI, CPM, Forward Bloc and RSP) got 61 seats, garnering 8% of the overall votes.
That seems so long ago. By 2019, Left’s vote shrunk to below 3% and the seats plunged to six, with CPI bagging two in TN. CPI also lost its coveted status of a national party in 2023. The decline is distinct in the state assemblies too where the Left was once dominant. In 1974, CPI had 16 seats in the UP assembly, now zero.
Ganga Din wasn’t surprised when a local BSP politico came up to him and said, “Comrade, aap kis party mein padey hain? Hamare pass aa jaiye. (Where are you stuck, comrade? Come with us.).”
But Ganga Din refused. He still believes. “I joined the communists because kamjoron ki ladai yeh party apna samajh kar ladti hai (it fights battles of the weak as its own).”
For him, this election’s key issues are education, unemployment, privatisation and price rise. “Paanch kilo free ration se kaam chalne wala nahi hai (five kilos of free grain isn’t enough),” he says. In its manifesto, CPI has promised to remove the 50% cap on reservations for SCs, STs and OBCs, and enhance the daily wage under MGNREGA to Rs 700.
It’s a motley gathering of communist workers in Mirza Adampur village. The cadres campaign doorto-door, travelling to sympathetic localities. Meeting elders, doing corner meetings in kasbahs, distributing pamphlets — that’s the job. “Don’t vote for helicopter politicians. Vote for the hansiya (sickle),” says Jitendra Hari Pandey, district head, Azamgarh to an aging voter.
Each local party branch is expected to contribute 1 quintal of wheat, worth approximately Rs 2,000, to the campaign fundtopped by donations by sympathisers. The estimated campaign spending is Rs 3 lakh, says Pandey. CPI has about 1,000 members in Lalganj constituency, he says.
Silver-haired Harigen, 74, is among the most senior CPI card holders in the area. Some things have changed for the better over the decade, he says, but some haven’t. A partyman for 50 years, he stopped using his surname long ago. Earlier this month, he realised the surname hasn’t stopped chasing him. During a ride on Kaifiyat Express, a fellow traveller asked his name, and thereafter, surname. “I said, I have stopped using Ram, my surname, because it revealed my caste and inconvenienced me. ‘You are insulting Ram,’ the young man said.” To this, Harigen replied, “I am not insulting anyone. Main sirf apni vyatha vyakt kar raha hoon (I am just expressing my plight). However, I apologise if I have offended your sentiments.” The youth folded his hands and said, “Koi baat nahin (It’s okay).” At that moment, it seemed, he too understood the elderly Dalit’s plight.
