Delhi Assembly elections: At bottom of income ladder, AAP secure, wobbles as voters climb up

In Shaheen Bagh, some say they are hurt by Kejriwal’s unwillingness to speak up on “Muslim” issues — his equivocation on the Tablighi Jamaat controversy during Covid, during the anti-CAA sit-in, and the communal riots in Northeast Delhi. But even the few who say they are turning away from the AAP are more likely to mention newcomer AIMIM, rather than the grand old party. Asaduddin Owaisi’s party has put up candidates in only two seats, both accused in the 2020 riots cases, both fighting the election from jail.

“AAP has given us school, hospital, free electricity and water… Chhoti seat pe AAP, badi seat pe Congress (AAP for assembly, Congress for Lok Sabha). But this time, mind disturbed hai, there is also Owaisi saheb”, says homemaker Mahzabeen.

So, what is it likely to turn on, this election, which is basically a contest between the dominant AAP, which has ruled for 11 years, and its challenger BJP, in its third term at the Centre but 27 years out of power in Delhi?

On one side is the AAP government’s provision of “suvidha” or amenities.

At the top of the list is subsidised electricity (upto 200 units free) — this is cited most frequently. Free water is only a half-formed promise in a city where water supply is erratic and its quality poor — which may explain Kejriwal’s attempt in the last few days of the campaign to stoke spectres of Yamuna’s “poisoning”.

From the auto driver in Burari to the car repair worker in Shaheen Bagh, from the student and small shopkeeper in Sangam Vihar to the electrician and driver and domestic worker who lives in the JJ clusters of Andrews Ganj, Madipur and Govindpuri, and even the retired government servant in Rajouri Garden, they say the water in the tap is not fit to drink, they pay for bottled water daily. Then, there are free bus rides for women.

The mohalla clinic and the renovated government school are, of course, in a different category — even the AAP’s opponents cannot label them as “revdi” or “freebie”. But both have been routinised and the clinic is less of a success story. Both also face questions of neglect and slipping quality.

On the whole, be it the free electricity and bus ride, or the better functioning government school — they matter, most of all, for the large and ever growing numbers at the city’s bottom-most rungs, who came from all over the country in search of work and a better life and education for their children.

To those struggling daily for a foothold in India’s capital, they offer something to hold on to. In these sections, the AAP retains support, despite patchy delivery.

In Govindpuri’s Bhumiheen Camp, brick and rubble lie scattered on the dusty undulating ground. Camp residents say they were served a notice two years ago, and a few months later, the bulldozers came. Many were relocated and rehabilitated elsewhere, but many continue to live amid the uncleared debris of the demolished homes of erstwhile neighbours.

“We got a stay order but our homes were also rattled by the bulldozer. Even now, when it rains hard, they shake”, says Geeta Ghosh. She came to Delhi a three-year-old from a village in West Bengal’s Uttar Dinajpur. “If we take a place on rent, what will we eat? We can’t go back to the village, it used to get flooded,” she says. “Hum tike hue hain khandahar ke beech (that’s why we are staying put amid the ruins). At least Kejriwal gives us free bijli-paani.” “Itni meherbaani hai (we are grateful for what he gives)”, says Santoshi.

In Indira Camp in Andrews Ganj, Road Number 3, Lali huddles with her large family in a flimsy shelter on a pavement. Kejriwal is for the “footpath wallahs”, she says. “I was 4-5 years old when I came to this camp, now my grandchildren live here.” Members of her family work as domestic helps, drivers, sanitation workers. “Kejriwal will not evict us from here. People here feel our jhuggis will not be safe if the BJP comes to power.”

In the JJ colony in Madipur, adjoining Rajouri Garden, water gushes from the colony’s single tap in fits and starts, for two hours in the morning, an hour in the evening. It is not fit to drink, residents buy bottled drinking water everyday, but “bijli maaf, dawa maaf, bus free, aur kya chahiye”, says Ram Chandra, driver.

Availing the facility of free bus rides means a long trek for the women of Madipur’s JJ colony since the nearest bus stand closed down. And yet, says Rajesh Kumar, who works as a raj mistri: “The free bus is far away, school is theek (okay) even though education is kamzor (weak). But we are saving Rs 500 every month in household expenses because at least our electricity is free”. “Chhote aadmi ki chhoti chhoti suvidha (small things matter for the weak)”, says Sunil.

As you move up the ladder of income, privilege and opportunity, however, beyond the “chhote aadmi,” the most vulnerable sections and the minority, where many still swear by AAP, the story changes, you hear voices from the other side of the political divide.

In these sections, among other things, the desire for change, the boredom with the same, that the AAP once became a receptacle for, and which helped make it the most successful start-up in India’s recent political history, is now benefiting the Modi-BJP — whose main USP in Delhi is less in its promises made to individual labharthis, where it must take second place to the AAP, and much more in PM Modi’s invocation of larger, powerful wholes of “desh”, India in the world, big “development”.

Over the last two elections, too, both AAP and BJP, locked in constant combat, have shared the same split ticket awkwardly — Dilli mein Kejriwal, Centre mein Modi. In this election, however, there may be new empty spaces on one side, and spillovers from the other, that frame the AAP’s challenge more sharply than before.

(Tomorrow: Desire for change, boredom with the same)