By all measures, the integrity of India’s democratic process hinges on the credibility of its institutions. Among the most crucial of these is the Election Commission (EC), the body constitutionally entrusted to ensure that every vote cast is not only counted, but also counted fairly. Recent developments, however, compel us to ask an uncomfortable question: Has the EC lost the independence and authority it once worked hard to claim?
Last week, Congress leader Rahul Gandhi held a press conference that has since sent shockwaves through India’s political landscape. Gandhi claimed that over one lakh votes in the Mahadevapura assembly segment—part of Bangalore Central Lok Sabha constituency—were fraudulently inserted or manipulated. He alleged widespread duplication, fake addresses, invalid photos, and bulk registrations at single residential addresses. The Congress’s data, reportedly compiled through six months of on-ground verification, paints a troubling picture. If even part of it holds true, we are looking at a case not just of local malpractice, but of systemic electoral compromise.
The Mahadevapura case is significant not merely because it may have decided the Bangalore Central outcome—where BJP gained a decisive lead only in that segment while losing the remaining seven—but because of what it may reveal about larger patterns. The case can be seen as a kind of dipstick test—just as checking one grain of rice tells you whether the pot is cooked, probing one assembly segment can reveal broader electoral rot. The anomalies found here raise legitimate concerns about what might be happening elsewhere across the country.
Indeed, such concerns are already surfacing. On Sunday, the Goa Pradesh Congress Committee (PCC) president held a press conference in Panjim, alleging that similar manipulations have occurred in South Goa, mirroring what Rahul Gandhi exposed in Bangalore. While the details are yet to be verified, the very nature of such allegations calls for urgent and impartial inquiry—not denial.
The EC’s response has been deeply disappointing. Rather than investigate the claims with the seriousness they deserve, it issued a defensive retort, daring Rahul Gandhi to make the accusations “under oath.” It has refused to share soft copies of electoral rolls, denied access to CCTV footage of polling booths, and even changed its own rules about the retention of such footage mid-way through the verification process. This is not how a transparent body behaves.
To many observers, this signals a disturbing slide back to the pre-T N Seshan era, when the EC was largely seen as a faceless department working under the shadows of the ruling government. It was T N Seshan, as Chief Election Commissioner in the 1990s, who brought the institution into the limelight—asserting its autonomy, cracking down on electoral malpractices, and instilling a sense of fear among political parties that the rules would indeed be enforced. It is no exaggeration to say that the Indian voter’s faith in elections grew stronger under his tenure.
But today, that faith is again under pressure. When citizens start doubting the fairness of elections—especially after concrete allegations and ground-level evidence—democracy itself is imperilled. Like the judiciary, the EC must not only function impartially, it must be seen to function impartially.
Importantly, the issue is not confined to Mahadevapura. Gandhi's team has made similar allegations in Maharashtra, and more recently, the Supreme Court has pulled up the EC for its mishandling of the voter list revision in Bihar, where lakhs of voters were reportedly excluded without due process. The court has ordered the EC to file regular updates—a rare and public form of institutional accountability. Together, these instances form a test case for Indian democracy. Whether the EC passes or fails will define the nature of our republic for years to come.
Goa, like every Indian State, has a stake in this conversation. We’ve had a long tradition of high voter turnout and civic engagement, but none of that matters if voters begin to suspect that their ballot might be nullified by invisible hands. Even in constituencies where results appear uncontested, the integrity of the process must be unimpeachable.
What must the EC do? First, it must drop its defensiveness and engage with the evidence presented—openly, scientifically, and humbly. Second, it must publish the digital electoral rolls, with appropriate privacy safeguards, to allow for third-party audits. Third, it should restore access to polling day footage where discrepancies are alleged. Lastly, it should cooperate with judicial oversight when instructed, rather than resisting accountability.
The point here is not to vilify the EC, but to demand that it live up to its constitutional role as a neutral umpire. The crisis of trust is not irreversible, but time is short. The EC must choose—either remain tethered to the principles laid down by Seshan, or risk becoming an instrument of political convenience.
For the sake of every Indian voter—whether in Mahadevapura, Mumbai, Patna or Panjim—the Commission must act. Democracy, after all, is not just about casting votes, but believing they were counted honestly.