As Assam enters the crucial phase of panchayat election campaigning, political leaders continue to tout promises of development and social upliftment. Loudspeakers echo slogans of progress, banners line the dusty village roads, and motorcades parade symbols of change. But for Chadro Mura, a 60-year-old resident of Ledo’s Hamukjaan Gaon Panchayat, Ward No. 6, all that noise carries little meaning. His life remains untouched by the promises that politicians make during every election cycle.
Chadro Mura sits under the fading tin roof of his bamboo house. Termites have eaten through the wooden beams. During rains, water seeps through, pooling into the cracked cement floor. He watches another political procession pass by without looking up. He says he has seen too many speeches, too many leaders, and too little action. His family belongs to a marginalized indigenous community, and they have waited for years for proper housing, ration cards, electricity, and access to healthcare. None of it has arrived.
Years ago, local officials surveyed his home and promised inclusion under the Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana. Mura filled out the forms and submitted the documents. He visited the local panchayat office several times to follow up. But each time, officials either told him to wait or claimed that the records had gone missing. He eventually gave up, exhausted by the bureaucratic cycle that seemed designed to wear down the poor.
As his health declined, Mura sought medical attention at the nearest government health center. But he could not afford medicines that the dispensary failed to provide. His appeals for financial help under any state-run health scheme also led nowhere. No official visited his home for verification. No healthcare worker returned his calls. Even as ministers spoke about Ayushman Bharat and rural wellness, Mura’s illness worsened in silence.
His son, who works as a daily wage laborer, manages to bring home some income. But the earnings barely cover food, let alone medicines or repairs for the damaged house. With no piped water, the family continues to fetch water from a distant stream. There’s no toilet, and no one from the sanitation department has reached out in years. Yet Mura continues to hear politicians claim success in rural hygiene and public health during every campaign.
Ahead of the polls, local party workers arrived in the village to request votes. They distributed leaflets promising jobs, housing, water supply, and cash assistance. Mura did not bother to ask them any questions. He said the answers had always remained the same and the promises had always been broken. He pointed to a bundle of election pamphlets from earlier years, stacked beside his cot. He said he collected them to remember the names of those who had let him down.
The administration insists that it has initiated programs for inclusive development. Officials claim that schemes like PMAY, Jal Jeevan Mission, and National Food Security Act are reaching rural beneficiaries. However, stories like Mura’s reflect a gap between paperwork and ground implementation. Village-level monitoring mechanisms remain weak, and many citizens continue to fall through the cracks. In Ledo, several other families from similar backgrounds share the same plight.
As the panchayat elections approach, Mura remains skeptical. He says he no longer expects anything. But he still hopes that someone, someday, will see his house, listen to his story, and realize that development cannot just be a speech—it has to be seen, touched, and lived. Until then, he watches the campaigns roll by, as his bamboo home stands like a fragile reminder of promises yet to be fulfilled.
As Assam enters the crucial phase of panchayat election campaigning, political leaders continue to tout promises of development and social upliftment. Loudspeakers echo slogans of progress, banners line the dusty village roads, and motorcades parade symbols of change. But for Chadro Mura, a 60-year-old resident of Ledo’s Hamukjaan Gaon Panchayat, Ward No. 6, all that noise carries little meaning. His life remains untouched by the promises that politicians make during every election cycle.
Chadro Mura sits under the fading tin roof of his bamboo house. Termites have eaten through the wooden beams. During rains, water seeps through, pooling into the cracked cement floor. He watches another political procession pass by without looking up. He says he has seen too many speeches, too many leaders, and too little action. His family belongs to a marginalized indigenous community, and they have waited for years for proper housing, ration cards, electricity, and access to healthcare. None of it has arrived.
Years ago, local officials surveyed his home and promised inclusion under the Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana. Mura filled out the forms and submitted the documents. He visited the local panchayat office several times to follow up. But each time, officials either told him to wait or claimed that the records had gone missing. He eventually gave up, exhausted by the bureaucratic cycle that seemed designed to wear down the poor.
As his health declined, Mura sought medical attention at the nearest government health center. But he could not afford medicines that the dispensary failed to provide. His appeals for financial help under any state-run health scheme also led nowhere. No official visited his home for verification. No healthcare worker returned his calls. Even as ministers spoke about Ayushman Bharat and rural wellness, Mura’s illness worsened in silence.
His son, who works as a daily wage laborer, manages to bring home some income. But the earnings barely cover food, let alone medicines or repairs for the damaged house. With no piped water, the family continues to fetch water from a distant stream. There’s no toilet, and no one from the sanitation department has reached out in years. Yet Mura continues to hear politicians claim success in rural hygiene and public health during every campaign.
Ahead of the polls, local party workers arrived in the village to request votes. They distributed leaflets promising jobs, housing, water supply, and cash assistance. Mura did not bother to ask them any questions. He said the answers had always remained the same and the promises had always been broken. He pointed to a bundle of election pamphlets from earlier years, stacked beside his cot. He said he collected them to remember the names of those who had let him down.
The administration insists that it has initiated programs for inclusive development. Officials claim that schemes like PMAY, Jal Jeevan Mission, and National Food Security Act are reaching rural beneficiaries. However, stories like Mura’s reflect a gap between paperwork and ground implementation. Village-level monitoring mechanisms remain weak, and many citizens continue to fall through the cracks. In Ledo, several other families from similar backgrounds share the same plight.
Local civil society groups have visited Hamukjaan in the past and flagged such cases. Some volunteers say that political negligence and bureaucratic apathy continue to delay or deny basic services to vulnerable households. They have documented stories of people excluded from government lists due to minor clerical errors, name mismatches, or simply lack of follow-up. These issues persist even as leaders pledge digital governance and administrative efficiency.
Chadro Mura still hopes for change. He doesn’t expect instant miracles, but he wants acknowledgment. He wants leaders to see his struggles not just as statistics but as realities demanding attention. As election speeches grow louder, his quiet resilience speaks volumes. He holds no grudge, but he holds on to hope. And that, perhaps, is the most unspoken demand of democracy—to be seen, to be heard, and to be helped when it matters most.