In the second week of May, very shortly after the Bharatiya Janata Party won the assembly election in West Bengal and formed a government with Suvendu Adhikari as chief minister, I was invited to a felicitation organised by a locality in the Rashbehari constituency that I represent. The locality was not one my campaign team regarded as a stronghold of the party. On the contrary, our lack of activists on the ground in that area was a cause of utmost concern. This was compounded by the political culture of the locality — better known in local parlance as a ward, an administrative unit of the Kolkata Municipal Corporation — which was, to say the least, rough. In 2021, after the All India Trinamool Congress registered an emphatic victory in all the seats of Calcutta, many BJP supporters in this ward were hounded out of their homes. In one instance, supporters of the local AITC leader had a BJP activist paraded through the streets in his underclothes. The idea was to declare the ward BJP-free. The handful of BJP activists in the ward either retired from active politics or entered into a quiet settlement with the local AITC that involved staying away from any political activity locally.
In view of the ward’s troubled history and the atmosphere of fear that ran through the region, our election campaign in this corner of Rashbehari constituency was a journey of faith. With hardly any participation by the local unit, a few of us journeyed into the lanes and bylanes, handing out leaflets and propagating our message through a portable loudhailer. Yes, we were protected by a small posse from the local thana that stayed discreetly in the background. Thanks to this reassurance, it was possible to cover most households in this troubled ward. At the same time, our attempts to put up banners, posters and party flags were invariably thwarted. In terms of outdoor publicity, we were outdone at least 20 times.
It is a commentary on the dynamics that shaped the election of 2026 that on the morning of May 4, we found that in this ward where we expected to trail by at least a few thousand votes, we had established a narrow lead of some 400 votes. To us in the counting hall of a government school in Ballygunge, it was unbelievable. We had won on the strength of a quiet uprising against tyranny. Political organisation was relegated to the background as spontaneity prevailed.
The story, however, took an intriguing turn after midday on May 4 when it became clear to everyone that an uprising of silent voters had shown the mighty Trinamool Congress the door. When I returned about a week later to the ward that had caused us so much anxiety, I was surprised to find the main road draped in BJP colours. The welcome I received was tumultuous — not necessarily from the silent bhadralok army that had indicated its support through a discreet namaste or a thumbs-up sign. The boisterous lot that mobbed me for selfies and handshakes were, as I was told by those who knew the locality quite well, the foot soldiers of those local goons who had tormented our workers and ordinary residents for the past decade. Now they had conveniently changed colours.
This was not a phenomenon limited to a corner of south Calcutta, just a stone’s throw from the residence of the former chief minister, Mamata Banerjee. Comparing notes with party colleagues who had won from similarly difficult urban constituencies in and around Calcutta, a picture of post-election realignment was unmistakable. What had taken place in the aftermath of the collapse of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) in 2011 was now in evidence with the abrupt decimation of the AITC on May 4. The expedient shift in loyalties may have been a novel experience after over three decades of Left rule but it was not entirely unexpected in 2026, despite the fact that there was nothing resembling the post-poll violence of 2021 when over 300 BJP workers were killed and many thousands hounded out their homes.
That many people develop selective amnesia and proclaim they were always on the winning side after the verdict is a drearily familiar feature of national politics. This shift in support to the ruling party of India is in many cases quite harmless, although comic. What is disturbing in the context of West Bengal is that grassroots activity has been over-politicised since the growth of the Left in the mid-1960s. Consequently, it has become near obligatory for every local club and other locality organisations to seek political patronage. In the past 15 years, the AITC took this phenomenon to absurd heights that involved the needless politicisation of religious and cultural festivals and even sports. The shenanigans now being witnessed in the Tollygunge film industry are indicative of the damage done to society in West Bengal by this perverse politicisation.
Given this unfortunate legacy, it was inevitable that the BJP would be confronted with difficult choices after it became the ruling party. The president of the BJP’s West Bengal unit — a person who has been unwavering in his commitment to the cause since the early-1980s — acknowledged the problem of unwanted support quite early on. He immediately put a freeze on new membership and made it clear that those who debased politics in the past 15 years were unwelcome. However, the muddle has persisted because the AITC itself imploded and experienced a deep split. This has resulted in many of the now-discredited stalwarts of the Mamata Banerjee government cosying up to the BJP both at the Centre and in West Bengal.
Despite the moral outrage of the party faithful over accommodating the new army of opportunists, there is another argument that finds some resonance in BJP circles. Since the process of Hindu consolidation isn’t fully complete, there is a case for depriving the AITC of its soft Hindu underbelly in the wake of Mamata Banerjee’s internal difficulties. The question, however, is whether the BJP can apply a filter to this process of political enlargement and prevent the entry of those who are clearly undesirable.
Between 2011 and 2014, a section of those guilty of perpetuating Red terror entered the BJP with mixed results. At that time, a process of expansion and enlargement of influence was the priority for the state party. Today’s priorities are different and coupled with the responsibilities of managing a state government. There are no textbook guidelines to point the way towards managing the difficult journey from the margins to the centre of politics. The BJP will be tested in the court of public opinion over how well it balances the imperatives of party management with the state’s yearning for a new beginning.
Swapan Dasgupta is the finance minister of West Bengal. The views expressed in this article are personal