Restored Vote, Erased History: Gyanesh Kumar, Bhasmasura and Mohini

We had been voters of Patna for over three decades. In August 2025, when I approached the election officials to transfer my constituency from Digha to Phulwari Sharif — in the same city—where we had shifted. But the officials stated that my wife’s and my names didn’t exist in the voters list; they were deleted.

Perplexed, I showed them my wife’s and my voter ID cards and said, “We have been voters for well over three decades. We have been voting since the days when the Election Commission didn’t have the practice of issuing ID cards even. We got the cards issued in our name when the EC issued it. Why are our names missing?”

“No problem! You fill the Form-6, and your name will be restored”, the official said. In a hurry to get our names restored, I and my wife filled Form-6, as prescribed by the official, pasting our pictures and signing at the designated space.

We got new ID cards delivered to us by the Indian postal service in a month. The cards had new EPIC numbers. But they were for the Digha Assembly constituency. I was happy that our right as voters had been restored, but wondered what happened to our voting history.

Now the former Chief Election Commissioner Dr S.Y. Quraishi’s positio, that the Form-6 had been legally designed for the first time electors and Form-8 was meant for correction, updates or restoring details. Now again I have got jittery figuring out why the election officials got us to fill Form-6 instead of Form-8.

The question agitating my mind is: “When the Election Commission deletes a citizen who has voted in Patna for over three decades, and then re-issues them a brand new EPIC card via Form-6 as if they were an 18-year-old first-time voter, does that constitute a restoration of rights or erasure of history?”

A journalist by training, I was taught to keep the people’s cause above my personal grievances in my journalism by my editors H.K. Dua in Delhi, and A. J. Philip and P. S. Sen in Patna when I made my debut as a reporter in 1987 at the Hindustan Times. I normally avoid beginning my columns or reports in first person, detailing my own grievances.

Going by the “ideals and ethics” that my editors had taught me, I had been keeping my grievance to myself. However, an elderly professor friend associated with a government-aided university in Delhi shared with me a similar story; I thought that I had got the “solid peg” to write this column. The professor and his wife had been voters in Delhi for over three decades. He, too, when shifted from South Delhi to Faridabad and approached the election officials to change his address of his constituency recently. But he found that his and his wife’s names had been deleted from the electoral rolls.

I called him early this morning (Sunday) to procure exact details—viz., the name of his wife, the name of the polling stations concerned, etc.; he refused, pleading, “Please don’t mention my name. Don’t quote me. I can be subjected to lots of harassment you cannot even understand. I am very supportive of the Generation Z activists, you and other journalists who are raising their voice against the highhandedness of the Election Commission. But coming out in public on the issue might create lots of problems for me in my advancing age”.

With the deadline of this column approaching, I decided to begin it with my own story with the hope that many of its readers might find their own grievances echoing in this text. Still, this column doesn’t intend to defame or tarnish the image of a particular individual or a constitutional functionary, but to catch up and follow on from the millions of Indian voters who have had their names deleted from electoral rolls and are running from pillar to post to restore them.

Many of them might be in the grip of the same “fear” that my professor friend finds himself in. This column is in solidarity and support of those keeping their mouth shut for fear of retribution. But my hat's off to the Generation Z activists fighting against the robbery of their voting rights by the Election Commission of India—the institution meant to ensure and guard the voting rights of the citizens.

Legend of Bhashmasur and Mohini:

It’s hard to find a parallel to the present Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar in the history of the Indian electoral system, or even that of other democratic countries of the world. But Indian mythology and folklore probably have his parallel in an ambitious ‘asura(demon), Bhasmasura, who earned the boon of immortality by his penance to Lord Shiva.

The demon performed breathtaking penance to appease Shiva. Pleased by his unyielding devotion, Shiva appeared and offered to bless him with whatever he wanted. Bhasmasura asked for an absolute power: whosoever's head he touched with his right hand should instantly burn to ashes (bhasma).

Known for his easy generosity (audhardaani), Shiva granted the wish without hesitation. No sooner had he received the power than Bhasmasura decided to test it—on Shiva himself. Driven by the lust and greed to possess Goddess Parvati, spouse of Lord Shiva, the demon lunged toward his benefactor.

Knowing the absolute nature of his own boon, Shiva fled across the realms with Bhasmasura in relentless pursuit. Seeing the cosmic order threatened, Lord Vishnu intervened. Vishnu transformed into Mohini, an enchanting dancer of matchless grace and beauty.

Mohini appeared in Bhasmasura’s path, instantly captivating the demon. Spellbound, Bhasmasura forgot his pursuit of Shiva and begged for her hand in marriage. Mohini agreed, but on one condition: he had to match her movement for movement in a dance of love, proving himself a worthy partner.

Intoxicated by lust and pride, Bhasmasura accepted the challenge. As Mohini began to dance, he mirrored every pose, step, and hand gesture seamlessly. Mohini gradually accelerated the tempo of the dance, keeping Bhasmasura completely focused on matching her fluid physical posture. In a swift, graceful movement, Mohini rested her right hand atop her own head (Kati-Hasta posture).

Immersed in the passionate exercise to get Mohini, Bhasmasura mirrored the motion and placed his boon-laden right hand on his own head, instantly reducing himself to a heap of ashes. The myth endures as a timeless folk metaphor for unbridled arrogance destroying the very vessel that holds it, proving that power without wisdom ultimately consumes itself.

People: The Actual Shiva

Prime Minister Narendra Modi, apparently, has a penchant for posing and looking like Shiva. The spectacle of Modi playing damroo (pellet drum), ashes smeared in forehead, and attired in saffron to look like an ancient saintly figure, on the premises of the Kashi Vishwanath temple in Varanasi, is still fresh in the memory of people.

And apparently acting like Shiva, his government has blessed Gyanesh Kumar with the “boon of immortality”. “No law can punish him in his office as the CEC or even after he ceases to be the CEC. Neither the President of India nor the Chief Justice of India nor any person holding the position of authority across the world enjoys the immunity from the law as much as Gyanesh enjoys; he is a law unto himself”.

However, while bestowing the “boon” on Gyanesh Kumar, the Prime Minister forgot that he was not Lord Shiva. In the Indian shastras (scriptures) and philosophy, Shiva is not an individual but a metaphor of the existence and power of the universe. And in the context of the modern democratic system in India, they are the “people” who represent Shiva and who have entrusted Modi to serve them.

So, the youths agitating at the Jantar Matar and beyond actually represent the power of Shiva. This column wishes to produce the youths to produce a “Mohini” from among them to drive the demon robbing the voting rights of the Indians to ashes.