Making the dedication of Shyam Saran Negi worthwhile
Like India’s first voter, a robust republic needs strong institutions and empathic functionaries
Shyam Saran Negi’s vote in 1951 was the beginning of a lifelong dedication to the democratic process. File photo: The Tribune
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WE are at the closing of the first month of another year. We are at another Republic Day. Not just a date. This is a happy and significant mark on the calendar, born out of sacrifice, setting the path that we, as a nation, chose. A path that despite its potholes and puddles has undoubtedly placed India on a trajectory that is quite a step away from the pitfalls and self-made traps that lie along a neighbour’s track. Needless to say, nothing worthwhile comes easily. Not life, not a republic — nor a democracy.
When VV Giri was President, I watched my first Republic Day parade. Sitting with my parents on tiered benches, on a perfect winter day in New Delhi, we watched him pass in the ceremonial landau. One later learnt that after Independence from Britain, the carriage came to India only on the toss of a coin with Pakistan. Metaphorically, at the start of the match that would shape the years to come, a coin had been tossed at the same time for both India and her neighbour. Both chose different roads.
Like today, on that long-gone winter morning, Giri was followed by the parade. There must have been bands, dancers and floats — and of these, I have no recollection. What one does recall, clearly, is a tall, lanky teenager with shiny shoes marching with a limp. As was pointed out: “His shoes are new and must be pinching.” Well, only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches. He must wear them till they break-in and become like second skin. Much the same may be said of our democracy.
In later years, from the window of a flat close to Old Delhi, one watched the parade at closer quarters. This was the last stage of the grand spectacle. Some of the marchers looked somewhat tired; as they twirled and swirled, some of the dancers could be seen laughing and almost gossiping with each other. This was both the surface of success and a glimpse of how the roots of democracy, diversity and institutions must be nurtured, day after day, year after year, for a nation to grow.
After India became a republic on January 26, 1950, the next logical step was the arrival of an electoral process. On the morning of October 25, 1951, Shyam Saran Negi, a schoolteacher in Kalpa, cast his vote. It was Wednesday and a working day in that still-remote pocket of Himachal Pradesh. He had gone early and as the booth opened, he did something that we almost take for granted today — casting one’s vote. In doing so, Negi, perhaps, did not realise that he was making history. He had just become the first registered voter of Independent India.
Kalpa, in today’s Kinnaur, was then known as Chini; the name was changed for obvious reasons after the Sino-India conflict of 1962. This was part of the former princely state of Bushahr and the primary route of communication through this was the old ‘Hindustan-Tibet Road’ that had been initiated by the British Governor-General, Lord Dalhousie, in the mid-19th century.
This tenuous link with the rest of the world and other roads would often snap when the snow came down and villages could remain cut-off for long periods through the winter months. As a result, it was decided to conduct the election process before these places became isolated.
Negi’s vote in 1951 was the beginning of a lifelong dedication to the democratic process. In the seven decades of his life that followed this landmark election, Shyam Saran Negi never missed a single election. This could be for the Lok Sabha, the Vidhan Sabha, or polls for local bodies.
Now comes the question, are we just an electoral democracy? Or does this idea go beyond that periodical, necessary and desirable exercise? This brings me to the time of the Covid months when all life on our planet, except human, seemed to thrive. At the time, many of the people I knew had either lost their jobs, or their businesses had been severely battered. Several have not recovered. In those days, I was going repeatedly to a government office for some work. The discussion turned to how badly casual labourers and certain businesses had been impacted.
A stray remark by a senior official, accompanied by a burst of laughter and embarrassed silence all around, said much. His words: “How does it matter if there is a shutdown? We work from home and the salary comes home.”
India’s first voter, Shyam Saran Negi, is remembered as a man who embodied the spirit of free and fair elections, which are the cornerstone of every democracy. A robust republic and the democracy it supports needs robust institutions and empathic functionaries. Only then can the dedication of men like Negi become worthwhile.
— The writer is a Shimla-based author
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