Opinion Former CEC S Y Quraishi writes: Amid Bihar SIR row, EC should revisit its own stellar record

Elections in India are not merely about voting — they are about reaching the last citizen, wherever they may be.

Few would associate democratic participation with altitude or archipelagos. But consider Indira Point, the southernmost tip of Great Nicobar Island. This booth lies 1,400 km from the Indian mainland and just 145 km from Indonesia — but election officials ensure it is equipped like any booth in Delhi or Chennai. At the other extreme is Tashigang in Himachal Pradesh, perched at 15,256 feet, the world’s highest polling station. Accessible only via a hair-raising mountain drive from Kaza, it serves a mere 65 voters. Temperatures drop to -35°C, oxygen is thin, and satellite phones are often the only link to the outside world. Before Tashigang, Hikkim, another village in Spiti, held the title, standing at a still-impressive 14,400 feet.

Equally astounding is Warshi, a village near the Siachen Glacier. Here, officials travel 180 km from Leh simply to keep the EC’s promise that no voter has to travel more than 2 km. It ensures that five citizens of the village get to vote. In Almi, Himachal, a 15-km trek over seven hours connects officials to a village of 185 voters.

Perhaps the most poetic symbol of India’s democratic supply chain lies deep in the Gir Forest of Gujarat. Until 2019, a booth was set up exclusively for Bharatdas Darshandas, the sole priest at a remote Shiva temple. A staff of six trekked into lion territory just for one man. In Arunachal Pradesh, a lone voter still lives in a dense forest accessible only via a full-day trek.

The electoral supply chain encompasses not just physical materials but digital systems, energy backups, health protocols, and legal safeguards.

Every booth receives EVMs and VVPATs (Voter Verifiable Paper Audit Trails), signage, seals, indelible ink, voter slips, PPE kits (post-2020), and sometimes tents, chairs, and water canisters. Over 4,00,000 vehicles, 1,700 air sorties, and 135 special trains were deployed in 2024. In areas unreachable by road, donkeys, camels, elephants and helicopters take over. EVMs are stored in GPS-monitored strongrooms with triple-layered security. Each polling booth is manned by five trained officials inside and five outside. They undergo orientation in machine handling, crowd control, and legal codes. Election duty, though temporary, is supported by a vast training-and-deployment pipeline akin to a seasonal workforce on a national scale.

Real-time dashboards, turnout tracking apps, encrypted VPNs, satellite uplinks, and mobile networks support live data flow. Media centres run 24×7 during polls. To ensure poll purity, the cVIGIL app processes complaints, most resolved within 100 minutes. In off-grid booths, solar panels, battery banks, and diesel generators ensure that voting continues without interruption. Fuel dispatches are pre-planned.

CAPF, state police, and Home Guards secure over 1,60,000 sensitive booths. EVMs are sealed with barcodes and dual locks. CCTV footage is monitored live; tamper-evidence is embedded at every step. Millions of disposable items — masks, gloves, water bottles, paper forms — are collected, segregated, and handed over to municipal agencies or recyclers. Each polling station is not just equipped to conduct an election, but to leave no trash.

What’s striking is how closely the Indian electoral process mirrors modern supply-chain thinking: Just-in-time deployment; reverse logistics in EVM returns, audits, and redeployments; quality control via mock polls and VVPAT audits; inventory management using digital asset tagging and real-time monitoring; cold-chain-like protocols for sensitive equipment even in hot deserts and snowy mountains.

From the manufacturing of EVMs in Bengaluru and Hyderabad factories to the return of machines to strongrooms after polling, India’s electoral chain is a closed-loop system of enormous complexity. That it runs mostly without breakdowns speaks volumes.

India’s elections are often cited as a festival of democracy. But behind them lies a mind-boggling effort of logistics, planning and last-mile delivery. They showcase the state’s ability to perform with remarkable discipline and neutrality.

In the corporate world, last-mile delivery is often where ambition falters. But elections in India invert this logic: The system is designed not to extract maximum profit but to guarantee maximum inclusion. No voters are too remote, too few, or too inconvenient. The electoral process ensures the ballot reaches them as a constitutional obligation. In elections, the last mile isn’t the problem — it’s the purpose.

The Indian electoral supply chain is a reminder: Democracy is not just a value. It is a logistical miracle.

The reliability of India’s electoral logistics stands in stark contrast to several advanced and developing democracies where last-mile failures have derailed entire elections. In Nigeria, the presidential election in 2019 was abruptly postponed just hours before polling because materials could not reach polling stations in time. In the UK, the US and Australia, voters were turned away in recent years when ballot papers ran out. Such breakdowns are virtually unimaginable in India, where the scale is exponentially greater, yet even the most far-flung booth — from Himalayan ridges to oceanic islets — is operational on time, with full supplies, and fail-safe alternatives.

It reflects not just planning prowess, but a deeper national commitment to the sanctity of the vote. It is not for nothing that the Election Commission of India is considered a Vishwaguru!

The writer is former Chief Election Commissioner of India and the author of An Undocumented Wonder — The Making of the Great Indian Election