The Election Commission’s (EC's) decision to extend the enumeration deadlines for the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) in several states should, in principle, come as a relief. Given the chaos of the past few weeks, the extension is not just welcome but absolutely essential. Booth Level Officers (BLOs) across the country have been pushed to a breaking point, juggling impossible workloads, contradictory instructions, and, in too many tragic cases, unbearable pressure.

Reports of BLOs dying by suicide, teachers protesting coercion, and district officials brushing off their suffering have created a disturbing picture of an exercise that began without the slightest preparedness. Ordinary citizens, too, have been left anxious about deletions, mismatches, and sudden demands for documents. Against this backdrop, the extension feels like the first sensible decision in an otherwise mishandled revision drive.

However, even as the EC finally acknowledges the reality by giving more time, from a modest three days in Tamil Nadu and Gujarat to a full fifteen days in Uttar Pradesh, the speed and opacity with which it is pushing through the process has become impossible to ignore. To give the country’s largest state only one day between publishing its draft rolls and the qualifying date of January 1, 2026, borders on the absurd.

The timeline is technically accurate because the EC’s own notification now sets the draft roll publication for December 31, 2025, following the enumeration until December 26. But accuracy on paper does not automatically translate into credibility in practice. A revision exercise of this scale demands patience, transparency, and public trust. Instead, what we are seeing is a hurried, almost breathless rush toward deadlines that no one, except the EC, seems to believe are realistic. When an institution that once commanded near-universal respect begins to operate with such haste and without offering clear explanations, suspicion is inevitable.

That suspicion has only deepened since the Bihar SIR. Forty-five lakh deletions cannot simply be brushed aside as routine cleansing of the rolls. The EC has still not shared any detailed, disaggregated data on whether the SIR identified non-residents or foreign nationals, despite these categories often being invoked to justify such intense revision drives. The Commission has spoken about removing deceased, shifted, or duplicate voters, which are all perfectly legitimate objectives.

However, the absence of a public breakdown does little to reassure a citizenry already on edge. The fact that 13 lakh new voters were added in Bihar complicates the narrative further. If such a large number of genuine voters remained unenrolled until the SIR, it shows the inherent weakness of the EC’s regular processes. And if lakhs were struck off wrongly, which many citizens and opposition parties allege, then the SIR risks becoming a tool that marginalises the very groups it claims to protect. The fear and panic reported among migrant workers, women, and minorities cannot be explained away by slogans of “cleansing” or “modernisation.”

Much of the anxiety surrounding the SIR also comes from what has unfolded on the ground. Reports of distress among Booth Level Officers, including suicides, protests, and widespread complaints of unmanageable workload, have been documented by multiple news organisations. Teachers in Ahmedabad spoke openly of feeling pressured and overwhelmed. At the same time, the EC and district officials have consistently denied that any coercion occurred. What we are left with, then, is a troubling contradiction: enumerators in several states allege unbearable pressure and stress, while the official line insists that everything is under control. The Supreme Court’s suggestion that overburdened workers may be replaced “case by case” is hardly comforting; it only highlights the cracks already visible.

It was against this tense and mistrust-filled backdrop that Parliament took up a two-day debate on electoral reforms. On paper, this should have been the perfect moment for an open and honest national conversation. After the turmoil of Bihar, the distress among BLOs, and the growing perception that the EC’s functioning has become increasingly partisan, the country deserved clarity. Instead, what unfolded was the usual political skirmish: predictable, noisy, and largely pointless.

Quite expectedly, Rahul Gandhi and the Opposition placed their concerns squarely on the table. They accused the EC of a steep decline, of allowing itself to be captured by the government, and of complicity in what they described as “vote theft.” They demanded transparency, safeguards, a proper mechanism for auditing deletions, machine-readable rolls, and longer retention of CCTV footage. Whether one agrees with their exact phrasing or not, the concerns are not fringe or fabricated; a large section of the public shares them. However, the government responded not with reassurance but with ridicule.

Instead of answering legitimate questions about the EC’s opacity or the peculiar urgency surrounding the SIR, the home minister chose to turn the debate into a political mud fight, accusing the Opposition of inventing allegations and insisting that the revision was necessary to keep “infiltrators” out. This argument, dusted off periodically to justify sweeping revisions, still lacks concrete evidence. If the numbers are real, where are they? If the threat is genuine, why has the EC not presented data? Silence, in such moments, only deepens distrust.

Furthermore, the open letter released a few weeks ago, signed by 272 “eminent citizens,” which attacked Rahul Gandhi for his “venomous” remarks and advised him to file formal complaints instead of questioning officials, adds yet another twist to the narrative. Rather than addressing substantive concerns, it reads like an attempt to shame or silence those who raise questions. In a democracy, citizens are not meant to be lectured into submission when they demand accountability; institutions are meant to respond with transparency and courage.

The most disappointing aspect of the entire episode is that the parliamentary discussion, although timely and necessary, yielded nothing of value. At a moment when India desperately needs to rebuild trust in its electoral architecture, both the government and the EC seem determined to pretend that nothing has gone wrong. BLOs continue to work under pressure, citizens continue to queue up in confusion, and opposition leaders continue to shout into what increasingly feels like a void.

It is important that a conscientious public constantly reminds itself that a democracy cannot function on autopilot. Allegations as serious as those made by Rahul Gandhi cannot be dismissed simply because they inconvenience the ruling establishment. The public’s faith in elections is not unlimited; it rests on the belief that the system is fair, transparent, and accountable. The slogan “free and fair” election, uttered by election officials incessantly, cannot remain just a slogan. The EC’s extensions may be necessary, but without clarity and openness, they do little to restore confidence. Unless the EC, the government, the judiciary, and the Parliament treat these concerns with the seriousness they deserve, the SIR will not be remembered as a reform, but as another moment when India’s electoral democracy drifted further away from the people it is meant to serve.

P John J Kennedy is an educator and political analyst based in Bengaluru.

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