The Balcony People: A hidden demographic made its presence felt in Bengal polls

WE CAME TO call them “the balcony people”. As the Assembly election campaign took us deep into the interiors of South Kolkata, they were a ubiquitous presence whether in serene, leafy upper middle-class neighbourhoods or more cheek-by-jowl buildings in dim bylanes. Silver-haired citizens perched on chairs peering at life go by, sometimes with keen interest, but often with those telling blank or annoyed expressions that meant remembering was now an effort.

Most of them were women, inevitably clad in shapeless sharadins, those all-day housecoats or nighties that caregivers prefer elderly women to wear. Men of similar vintage were in singlets or typical Bengali loose half-sleeved tunics called photuas. A few lucky ones had younger family members standing alongside with guiding hands on their shoulders while some had attendants. But sadly, most of them sat alone, just watching life go by from their railing-ringed eyries.

During the initial days of the campaign, these senior citizens looked suspiciously at the bhadralok candidate waving at them as he walked around in the muggy heat distributing leaflets and exchanging pleasantries. After all, the times were such that any show of interest in “the other side” invited unpleasant visits from local muscle. Thus, even seniors whose faculties were not fading maintained carefully neutral expressions, even retreating into the recesses to avoid being seen.

On the second, third and fourth visits, though, the bhadralok candidate began to look familiar to those bespectacled and clouded eyes peering from countless balconies. He took to seeking them out too, looking up deliberately to catch their eye and smile. Some began to bravely smile back. Maybe his un-neta-like choice of shirt-and-trousers reminded them of loved ones who had left Kolkata to seek greener pastures. Maybe his smile just alleviated their loneliness for a while.

An entente gradually began to build between the bhadralok candidate and the balcony people, but imperceptibly. They are, after all, a demographic that psephologists, pollsters and even the press pay little heed to, as their balconies are beyond the reach of exit pollsters and social media influencers alike. Though apprehensive for a while, some balcony people realised they were not on the radar of the local incumbent’s famously efficient network of informers either.

The balcony people, to us, became emblematic of the grim reality of Kolkata. The former bustling hub of commerce, industry and opportunity had been abandoned by many if not most people of working age, across the economic spectrum. Left behind to pass their golden years alone were the balcony people, hoping for the day when Kolkata would tempt younger generations to return. “Can or will that ever happen?” they seemed to be silently asking the bhadralok candidate.

Voting in West Bengal was in two phases, with Kolkata’s seats falling in the latter one. The first phase saw a record-breaking turnout and news filtered to those waiting to vote. The balcony people, though so obviously alone and isolated on their perches, caught the zeitgeist. Hope has a way of wafting into the remotest recesses too. By the last day of campaigning, the balcony people were openly holding up their hands in aashirvad to the bhadralok waving at them.

There were initial frissons of fear on voting day in Kolkata as queues moved slowly, usually a sign of “booth jamming”. But this time the reason was different. A huge number of elderly people had turned up and were taking time to understand EVMs; for some it was the first time in years that they left their balconies to vote—for hope. And after May 4, that bhadralok, now MLA, looks up at them and says, “Ask your children to come back.” They smile and nod.