It’s unprecedented, not just in Bengal’s history, but in the history of Independent India’s electoral journey. As the second phase of assembly elections in the state clocked 92.6% polling Wednesday, taking the overall turnout in the two phases combined to 92.9%, the one entity that stood out, ensuring voters could come out of their homes and exercise their franchise without fear and intimidation, was the Election Commission of India (ECI).

On April 9, just two weeks before the first phase of polling, a delegation from Trinamool Congress (TMC) had met chief election commissioner Gyanesh Kumar in New Delhi in what turned out to be a massive point-counterpoint between Bengal’s governing party and the poll body.

Later that day, in an X post, the EC wrote: “ECI’s straight-talk to Trinamool Congress … This time, Elections in West Bengal would surely be: fear-free, violence-free, intimidation-free, inducement-free and without any raid, booth jamming and source jamming.”

Such direct and unambiguous messaging marked a departure from its typically restrained communication style, indicating a willingness to take a firmer line in a state long associated with electoral bloodshed.

Such categorical rebuttal in such blunt, unapologetic terminology was a first for the nation’s apex election watchdog. It was a clear indication that no matter what, ECI was determined to do exactly what it thought would be necessary to ensure free and fair polling in a state that has seen political violence and voter coercion before, during and even after the votes are counted in almost every single election since the late 1960s, escalating significantly in 1967 during the Naxalite movement, and until the last panchayat elections in 2023, when more than 40 people lost their lives. According to one estimate, between 2019 and 2021, around 130 workers from BJP — the principal opposition in the state — were killed in post-poll mayhem. National Crime Records Bureau data shows West Bengal recorded consistently high levels of political violence, averaging around 20 killings a year since 1999.

Given such a scenario, ECI’s push for what it termed as “fear-free, violence-free, intimidation-free, inducement-free” polling in the 2026 assembly polls in Bengal couldn’t have been any more right. Alongside the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) — which removed around 90 lakh names from the electoral rolls due to discrepancies — and the unprecedented deployment of around 2.4 lakh Central Forces personnel, Bengal witnessed a ‘bandobast’ like never before.

The approach has not been without criticism. Questions have been raised about the scale and execution of the voter roll revision, as well as the implications of deploying large numbers of security personnel from outside the state. Critics argue that such measures risk over-centralisation and may undermine local institutions, particularly the state police.

These concerns are not trivial, but they also point to a larger question: In a state where electoral malpractice and violence have been persistent concerns, what constitutes an effective guarantee of free and fair polling? The Commission’s actions in this election suggest one possible answer: Greater central oversight combined with visible enforcement.

And the results are there for everyone to see. In both the phases, voters, particularly women, were seen queuing up before polling booths from well before 7am, when voting officially started. My 72-year-old mother travelled 42km from the southern fringes of Kolkata to her polling booth in a North Kolkata suburb to cast her vote — something she had not done in the last 27 years. When I asked her why she took the trouble to vote after so many years, this was her reply: “I couldn’t have let go my right after taking the trouble of going through the SIR process.” The husband of our house help took a 34-hour train ride from Yashvantpur in Karnataka, where he works as a migrant labourer, to Howrah in an unreserved compartment — just to cast his vote.

These are microcosms of a broader macrocosm of voter enthusiasm, one that pulled people out of their comfort zones and into long, winding queues outside polling booths — battling the scorching May heat or ignoring torrential pre-monsoon showers. 

Yes, there is no denying that SIR was a rushed process that triggered a fair bit of inconvenience and in many cases resulted in deletions that can be contested in a court of law. Yes, the presence of security forces from other states in such huge numbers is an embarrassment for Bengal’s own police cadre. But just try and answer this question: In a state where false voting is rampant; where the state police have repeatedly been unable — whether due to failure or pressure from the establishment — to carry out their duties impartially, how else does the ECI ensure a level playing field?

A section of political observers, commentators, media persons and of course those representing TMC are crying hoarse over “Hindi-speaking”, automatic weapon-wielding personnel in uniform from other states on election duty in Bengal. But did those very people ever try to question why such a deployment became necessary in the first place? They have questioned the role of an extremely proactive police officer by the name of Ajay Pal Sharma from UP, keeping a hawk eye on hoodlums in Falta, South 24 Parganas, where TMC candidate Jahangir Khan was accused of voter intimidation. But did those targeting the IPS officer on social media ever spare even two words, questioning a system that has bred and fattened a political culture that rewards fearmongering in the guise of allegiance to the party in power?

It is important to ask these questions because only when we ask questions, is there a possibility to come up with concrete answers to a problem that has been hanging like an albatross around the neck of Bengal’s political ethos. With these assembly elections, ECI has set the cat among the pigeons. Those live images flashed across television screens all through April 23 and 29 during the two phases of polling tell a tale of trying to reverse a negative trend in right earnest, of trying to right a wrong, and most of all — a tale of what the administration and its apparatus can achieve if it decides to show a spine.

Elections will come and go, but let April 2026 be remembered as a watershed in Bengal’s political history, as the year that exorcised fear and allowed around 6.3 crore people to come out and vote, from the hinterlands to the cities, from the dustbowls to tony housing societies — without a single bomb being hurled, without a single bullet being fired, and without a life being lost to violence. 

Thank you ECI, for playing ‘the exorcist’.