ENGAGING THROUGH RESISTANCE. - Laila Banu

I traced the faint callouses under the fingers of my right hand, which clutched the placard. I found myself thinking about the incidents in the walking trail, especially the response of the people.

The morning chill pervaded our clothes as we walked on the narrow empty roads of a village. My right hand, as usual, clutched the "Vote Not for Sale" placard as my feet stepped forward towards the next destination. Suddenly, a milkman walked hurriedly opposite to us; I took a notice from the bunch and handed it to him. His shoulders brushed mine, and he came to a halt. His gaze shifted from the placard to my face, and he askedimpatiently, “What is this for?” I explained again, “We are students walking for 450 km forhonest voting.” He remained silent for a while, then he took a hundred rupee note from his pocket and stuffed it into my left palm. My fingers shook as I caught that warm note. He turned and started to walk again.

Another day, the sun was high as we walked without stopping. Light sweat gathered on my forehead as my gaze fixed on the vehicles driving past us. Anu walked two steps ahead of me. Suddenly, an ambulance with a ringing emergency horn drove fast; the driver showed a thumbs up after he saw our placard. I was stunned. Anu burst into laughter; she turned around and said, “Have you noticed? That ambulance driver showed thumbs up.” I lightly nodded my head. “Yes, I saw ”.

That was a windy day. My palm started to ache as I caught the board in place. Archanaa stepped on the steps of a medical shop. Sowmiya followed her. We waited for them both as we stood at the side of the road. A man stepped down from that shop and sat on his bike. His gaze fixed on our t-shirt while he paused for a moment. I showed the placard and approached him with notice. His bike had the MMK logo. His forehead was tense; his hand received the notice. His lips moved slightly as he read some line. Before I could speak, he said, “Good. Where are you from?” “We are from Erode.” “Through walking?” “Yes.” He took his wallet and handed me 400 rupees from the 600 he had. “Take this for expenses.” I said, “We don’t need this much.” As I was speaking, my friends gathered around us. He said, “No, you need it. Do you have cotton at your ears? ”. I turned towards my friends and said, “No, we have mufflers. We don't need cottons.” He was slightly irritated. “No, the wind was strong; without cottons you would get cold.” He got down from his bike and strode towards the medical shop and bought a pack of cotton. He stuffed it into my palm amidst our confusion, “Keep this”. Then he drove his bike away.

Our pace increased as we walked in line along the narrow roads. We walked on the right side of the road; the vehicles from opposite nearly brushed past us. We stopped at the side when we saw large vehicles. The sky had already turned dark, the cold wind blew strong, and we did not carry flashlights, so we used phones. At the left side of the road, a lady slowed down her scooty; her son stood at the front. She questioned Gowtham, who answered as the vehicles traveled between us. She nodded her head and drove away. As our map showed 400 meters to reach the staying place, a voice called us from the opposite side of the road.

That same lady, with her son waiting for us. We were surprised. She said, “Wait a minute. Drink something before you go.” We said, “Thank you. but we are going to our stay.” Our legs are already tired. Her son shouted, “No, you should come.” We all were almost convinced after hearing his voice; Sibi took the first step, and we followed him. She served us coffee as we talked about Munai with her. She was surprised, and her face glowed with joy. I have never seen someone this enthusiastic before; we suddenly became close like someone who has known for years. This kind of intimacy arrives only when the heart is true without doubt. That night dinner was not provided by anyone. But she gave us 500 for dinner after she learned we eat and stay through people’s help.

The morning started with resignation that the luggage needed to be carried by us. Everyone’s face filled with the dread of carrying luggage for the first time. Suddenly we got help: Venkatachalam of Nallor Vattam was willing to carry luggage to our stay. We are overjoyed. We started to walk energetically. We met Venkatachalam on the way; he got down from his friend’s bike. I was confused; how was he going to take the luggage then? I learned that he was planning to take that through the bus and reach the stay through his friend’s bike. Well, the imagination itself felt difficult for me. He did not even eat with us in the afternoon, and also in the morning he did not seem to eat. He stayed with us in Naripalli when the police blocked us at night. He even arranged an alternative stay 2 km from there. But at last we boarded the bus to Thanipadi around 9:30pm. We don't know how he reached Dharmapuri from Naripalli that night.

We stayed at Thanipadi for a day. the rest day. It was idle but energetic, a slightly suffocating state where there was no way to spend the energy. Fortunately at least we had the task of washing shoes. I, Archanaa, Sibi, and Anu reached the nearby tea shop in the evening, while Sibi returned to the stay. We turned around and walked on the roads, sightseeing the shops. We stopped at a shop to buy some things. When we were paying bills, we met a politician who sat at the owner’s seat. Coincidentally, he was Anu’s classmate’s father. We got introduced.

We spoke for 45 minutes on change can happen vs. change cannot happen. He felt our idea was ridiculous, as the people will not change; he lost in an election where he gave less money to the people. We felt ridiculous that he was not getting our point. He said if the difference is a 45-55 percent split, then there is a chance to change, but the difference is 98%-2%, which makes it impossible to convince the 98%. We argued that the change is always initiated by the 2%, not 50%. Then at some point, he seemed to not want to get convinced, as we took our leave.

We slept on banners in the library; on one side the fan was spinning nonstop to dry the clothes, and on the other side we slept peacefully without feeling the cold. That day we got ready leisurely, which surprised the village people, especially that lady who made arrangements for us there. Tharih took his leave through a milk van to reach the bus. There was no one to carry our bags, so we resigned ourselves and started to walk around 8:30 am. Then, that village lady decided to provide breakfast for us because she met Anu and Sowmiya, who walked a half kilometer before us. As I entered the lady’s home, I nearly burst into laughter. What I saw was Sowmi and Anu’s backs in a sitting posture doing something. As I neared, I clearly saw they were peeling off onions and cutting tomatoes. They both even helped in the kitchen; finally, we ate dosas while waiting for each one’s turn. Then we started to walk again. As we walked, a man on a bike slowed down and stopped near me; I gave him notice and spoke about things. He immediately asked, “Have you eaten?” Before I could respond, he opened his bag, which he kept on the bike tank, “Will you eat?” He was about to take his tiffin box. I immediately said, “No, we ate just now.” He sat on his bike in silence and then took his leave.

As we walked for 7 km, I spoke with an old woman about honest voting. She said, “We never got money for a vote. I value my dignity.” I was surprised; I immediately asked, “Will you give thumbprints that you will vote honestly?” She said, “Yes, absolutely.” I turned to Sibi, who walked behind me and now reached near, “white cloth.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Nirmal took it from me.” For the first time I felt intense emotion on the walking trail as I looked on the bending roads; for the next 1.5 km there was no sign of that Nirmal. He is someone who runs with luggage instead of walking. I turned towards Sibi, “Why did you give it to him?” He remained silent.

As we walked again, we finally saw a small cluster of houses near the bending roads. It was already near noon; the sun started to burn the side of my face. I adjusted my cap. Anu suddenly spoke, “We can ask help from these people to place our bags.” Then we explained to one of the families, who agreed readily; they even placed a cot outside to place the bags. Then, we started to walk again.

There are incidents where people were told, “I will not get money for a vote.” The first time I was surprised, then I started to predict their next line. “I will vote for Seeman.” This dialogue is like scripted. The second sentence always follows the first. I will just smile at their response and say again, “Don’t get money for a vote regardless of whom you vote for.” There are times when the vehicle riders shout "TVK" after seeing our placard. There are people who asked constantly, “Ok, no money for vote. For whom are you walking and asking for votes?” or “Ok, then for whom are you saying we should vote?” Also there are questions, “Ok. For whom will you vote then?” We would reply, “We will decide after the candidates are announced.” They cannot get our answer; they would think we are dismissing their question.

Another day, we walked on the highways, which were filled with construction workers on the stretch. The dust floated in the air towards our face, giving it a greasy look. We walked on the sides of the roads, which were leveled by a bulldozer. There was something strange; two machines were attached together, and two drivers operated to drop the Thar on the old road. The heat traveled towards us, even with a 10-foot gap. We all turned our heads and watched the car falling on the old road. Suddenly both the machines stopped. We were puzzled; we all lifted our heads to the drivers, who met our gaze. We all kept staring at each other for 3 seconds, then we realized they stopped their work for looking at us. We immediately straightened our backs and walked hastily. I showed my placard to them, and then they finally started resuming their work. We speculated that they might have thought we were also construction workers. because someone really asked us that days before.

As we neared the site of the tribal health initiative, we stopped at a place where there was a small cluster of hotels, a bus stop, and houses. But there were no tea shops anywhere. I have never seen a village where for kilometers there were no tea shops. I, Archanaa, and Sowmiya sat by a water tank. Suddenly an old woman approached us; she asked, “I got a wound on my leg; can you give me medicine?” I was stunned as we exchanged looks. My mind began to work again; my gaze shifted to my white t-shirt and sandal-colored gloves. I laughed slightly and replied, “We are not nurses; we are students who are walking 450 km for honest voting.” She did not get it. She asked again, “Can you give medicine?” I said, “We don’t have one.”

There was another incident; we walked on a service road on some highway. The sun was high. A mother travelled with her daughter, who may be in 11th or 12th grade. Her daughter gazed at our placard and t-shirts and asked her mother to stop. Her mother did not give ear to her; she rode her scooty. That girl extended her hand to get the notice; I tried to give it, but they drove away. Her face filled with longing to know why we are in these white t-shirts. This was my first time seeing something happen like this; her face got imprinted in my mind.

There are people who say, “We will not get money for votes.” They will pause, “because we are the ones who distribute money in our village.” When they are saying the second sentence, their tone and voice will be raised slightly, and then their face will be filled with pride. As if they are not in the place to get but to give. We would say, “Don’t distribute money,” and then move on.

When we put forward this honest voting, they would put forward their perceived societal problems. That was always the closure of TASMAC shops. We would explain, There are others to do that; we are asking you to vote honestly. Sometimes we need to get out of that conversation because they don't listen to what we are saying and start to speak about the problems of the TASMAC shop in their village. One day when we met such an old lady, her daughter-in-law stood behind her with an apologetic smile. When we departed, I told her, "Vote honestly." She smiled and nodded her head.

There are people who say something like, “Who is going to follow this? People are always like that. In this village no one listens to this; they would fight with the politicians if they got less. Also, there are comments like, “Who is giving money for a vote?” Their words will be irritated that they are not getting their rightful money. We would say, “Even if they gave, don’t receive it.” Most of the time, this reply will make their face dark.

There are also responses saying, “Why are you saying this to us? Say to the politicians to not give money for votes.” We would reply, “We are working on both sides, but you don’t get money for votes.” Then they will say,. “If we don’t get the money, the politician will keep all,” we would explain. “That was looted money; don’t get a part from that loot.”

There are many such incidents with the people, whose response falls generally into few categories after they see the moral message of “our vote not for sale.”

1.     The most common response is nodding their head, that they will vote honestly. What I see here is not agreement, but a polite gesture that says they are not engaging in the idea that is put forward. This type of polite gesture is used day to day in our lives, which does not show serious thought in our minds.

2.     There is another group; they nod their heads for honest voting, and they also care about the logistics and safety of us. They would just ask about where we are staying and food. like those.

3.     The next common response is, "All are like that; who will listen?" Here the person does not speak about himself but says not only me but my village is like that. They hide behind the group identity rather than facing their own choices.

4.     The next group is someone who says there are other social problems.

5.     Say it to the politicians, not us.

6.     The next one is the passive supporters. They would give thumbs up while driving.

7.     The next group is disagreement. They would get emotional and agitated. They would have peak-level engagement with the idea despite resisting. Their arguments are mostly rationalizing their stance, which happens only when there is a moral conflict between their action and theory.

8.     The rare response is helping people.

9.     The rarest is the thumb imprinting group. They will not ask, "Do you want help?" They would just give a thumb impression that they will vote honestly and take their leave. There are also people who helped us and accepted the vow of honest voting.

From these responses, as I said before we can categorise on level of engagement. Even if the positive response looks good, I have a doubt whether they internalized the concept. But the disagreement group are the ones who internalize the concept of honest voting, even if they deny it was not like that. That kind of disagreement was born of helplessness and lost trust in the democracy. What I have observed is people are engaging emotionally, not intellectually.

Intellectual engagement is rare with this moral message. Their empathy or denial comes first, reason second. The ideological clarity is only needed for the initiators, as we need to sustain the cost of uncertainity. The oscillators in the middle needed social proof of what is possible to change. Then the stubborn one will change, seeing the majority?

- Laila banu