Appellate tribunals or a black hole? Where the Bengal SIR goes to bury a ‘second chance’

The Dr Syama Prasad Mookerjee National Institute of Water and Sanitation, which houses all 19 appellate tribunals set up by the Election Commission in West Bengal, is completely restricted. CAPF and West Bengal Police guard the gates, and no one is allowed in unless the judges have formally summoned them.

And yet, a steady stream of people keeps arriving at the barricades with documents in little bags, trying to figure out if this is where they’re supposed to be – if this is indeed the place where their names, and perhaps something more than their names, can be restored.

Earlier this week, the Supreme Court of India said that people whose names were deleted from the voter list can appeal to tribunals. If they’re found eligible, their names can be added back before April 21 and April 27, just days before voting in the first and second phase begins. 

On paper, it sounds like a second chance. But the ground reality is quite different. There are only 19 appellate tribunals in West Bengal to do this job, all housed in one building, a few kilometres from Kolkata in Joka. These 19 tribunals, headed by retired judges, are to adjudicate 27 lakh voters in a matter of days.

When Newslaundry reached the Joka tribunal, we expected long queues. Instead, we found confusion. People arriving with dense paperwork, hoping to be heard. The police are tasked with repeatedly explaining that there is no point in waiting. “You can only go in if you have been summoned.” There are no visible Election Commission officials outside to guide people. No clear instructions on what to do if you’ve filed an appeal but haven’t been summoned. Many said they came after hearing the news in the media or being advised by BLOs.

Dwijen Mitra, a tailor from Behala, arrived after hearing about it in the news. He has been on the voter list since 2011, he says. But this time, his name is missing.

He lost both his parents when he was three. There are no older family records he can easily produce. For the past 8 to 10 days, he has been moving between offices with a stack of documents, trying to get his name back in. Each day, he loses Rs 700 in income.

Not far from him stood Mrinal Kanti Biswas, a retired Subedar Major from 17 Rajput. He says he served in the Indian Army for 30 years. The idea that he could now be excluded from the voter list, despite that service and a pension, is difficult for him to reconcile. What does his service amount to if the system no longer recognises him as a voter? “We shouldn’t be harassed like this. I have voted thrice. It is just that my father’s name is mentioned as Ajit Kumar Biswas in some documents and as Ajit Biswas in others. It’s just this one issue. At least, I should have been allowed to meet judge Sahab.”

“Pita ke naam ke thode se mistake se agar delete kar diya toh dukh nahin hoga?” (If my name gets deleted because of a minor mistake in my father's name, won't that be upsetting?) 

Farzana Bibi had come with her own set of documents. Both she and her son have been removed from the rolls, she says, even though she has voted before. Her son now works in Bengaluru as a cook.

She spoke rapidly, moving between frustration and anger — “Hum log Bengali bolte hain toh hum log Bangladeshi ho gaye? Hum log Hindi bolte hain to hum log Bihari ho gaye? Jiska poora khandaan yaha janam leta hai, woh kahan jaaega?” (Speak Bengali and you are called Bangladeshi. Speak Hindi, and you are called a Bihari. What happens to those whose entire family was born here? Where will we go?) 

“We need to know why our vote has been cut, so we have come here. Now they say we can’t go in unless we’ve been called. We are going mad providing documents. Every day, there is a new set of rules, new offices to go to. We are spending Rs 200, Rs 250, Rs 400 just on xerox, who will refund us?”

She has been raising her children alone since her husband left years ago. “I am the mother and the father,” she said. “I can only provide my documents, not from my husband’s side.”

Lawyers trying to assist those cast out of the system are running into the same wall.

Arindam Das, an advocate at the Calcutta High Court, said he was denied entry when he went to the appellate tribunal on Friday. He has assisted around 105 affected voters from across West Bengal in filing appeals. None of them, he said, has received any notice of hearing so far.

“The Supreme Court has given us the liberty that you can approach the tribunal out of turn. That is why we went to the tribunal,” he said.

He pointed to the lack of transparency in how hearings are being scheduled, adding that the Election Commission should publish a clear, daily list of cases on its website.

Other lawyers reported the same problem. Advocate Kunal Bakshi, who has assisted around 30 people from Purba Bardhaman; Atanu Goswami, who has helped around 100 people from Murshidabad; and Habibur Rahman, who has represented around 150 people from Dakshin Dinajpur, said none of their clients has received hearing notices either. None of them has been summoned by the tribunal yet.

Das also flagged confusion in the appeal process itself. While the Election Commission has provided an online link to file appeals, there is no option to upload supporting documents. Many applicants have instead submitted their forms physically at tribunal centres across districts — without clarity on what happens next.

What is driving people to Joka is not just the prospect of missing a vote. When the Supreme Court of India observed that those left out can vote the next time, it reduced the issue to an electoral inconvenience. But on the ground, it is being experienced very differently.

For many, the voter list is not just about participation in an election. It is one of the few state documents that affirms who you are. To find your name missing — without explanation, while others in your family remain — is to be pushed into a space of doubt.

That anxiety runs through the stories we heard. It shows up as confusion that quickly turns into fear. Names disappear, reasons are unclear, and there is no communication on what comes next. People speak of moving between offices, of submitting documents repeatedly, of being told to wait without being told for what.

The urgency, then, is not only about April 23. It is about restoring a form of recognition that now feels uncertain.

In less than three days, tribunals are expected to process appeals in the run-up to the first phase of polling. The highest number of deletions has occurred in districts such as Malda and Murshidabad. If hearings are being scheduled, it is unclear how people from these districts are expected to travel to Joka at such short notice and be heard before April 21. If the process is meant to be remote or online, there has been little visible communication to that effect.

Elections are not just about who wins, but about the questions that often go unasked – and this time, they matter more than ever. Support our new NL Sena on the ongoing assembly polls to help us follow the missing voters, the shifting politics, and the stories that could shape India’s future.