Every election cycle produces two results: one declared by the voters, and another manufactured by the perpetually disgruntled. The 2024 Andhra Pradesh verdict—an emphatic 164 out of 175 seats for the ruling alliance—has now been subjected to what can only be described as statistical theatre, staged by a familiar ecosystem of suspicious media houses and politically aligned “analysts.”
The latest attempt? A breathless article questioning how polling percentages rose between 5 pm and the final consolidated figures, suggesting that lakhs of votes were mysteriously “added” in the dead of night. The insinuation is clear: a mandate this large must be illegitimate.
Let’s dismantle this calmly—and firmly.
First, turnout figures released at 5 pm are provisional snapshots, not final tallies. Anyone even remotely familiar with the Election Commission’s process knows this. Updates at 8 pm, 11:45 pm, and in subsequent days reflect data compilation from tens of thousands of booths, reconciliation of forms, and inclusion of postal ballots. The Election Commission of India has, for decades, followed this structured protocol. Turnout revisions are not anomalies—they are administrative normalcy.
The so-called exposé performs acrobatics with percentages, slicing time intervals and extrapolating per-minute voting rates to argue “physical impossibility.” But this analysis conveniently ignores ground realities: voters who are in queue at closing time are legally entitled to vote; booth-wise variations are natural; and staggered reporting from rural and remote areas inevitably causes statistical jumps when aggregated centrally.
To pretend that data consolidation equals data manipulation is either ignorance—or intent.
What’s more revealing than the arithmetic, however, is the pedigree of those amplifying it.
The article is circulated by an e-paper whose credibility has long been in question, and authored by an individual whose primary qualification appears to be lineage—son of a former Congress minister—and degrees from ideologically loaded campuses like Jawaharlal Nehru University and Harvard University. Academic credentials are welcome; political inheritance is not disqualifying. But neither substitutes for evidence.
Curiously, this same voice once held a significant media position under a regional leader, resigned at a politically convenient moment before elections, and now re-emerges as a neutral auditor of democracy. Even more ironic is the article’s viral circulation among networks aligned with parties that are currently allies within the NDA framework. Political memory, it seems, is shorter than a news cycle.
And then comes the audacity of demanding that the Election Commission “open records for inspection,” as though India’s constitutional machinery functions at the whim of every columnist with a spreadsheet.
The Commission’s processes are transparent, layered, and subject to judicial scrutiny. If there were genuine irregularities, legal remedies exist. Parties with vast organizational networks and booth-level agents across the state—representing both winners and losers—would have objected formally and immediately. They did not.
Instead, we are treated to dramatic phrases like “stolen mandate” and comparisons to other “doubtful” elections. This is not democratic vigilance; it is narrative manufacturing.
Consider the larger absurdity. The same political forces now casting doubt have themselves celebrated landslide victories in earlier elections under the same electoral framework. Were those mandates also “miracles”? Or does suspicion apply selectively—only when defeat stings?
Democracy cannot function if every decisive verdict is declared fraudulent by those who fail to secure it. An 81% turnout in a politically charged state is not evidence of conspiracy; it is evidence of participation. High engagement is a strength of Indian democracy, not a glitch in its software.
Let us also address the insinuation that increases in turnout disproportionately benefited certain constituencies. That argument collapses under its own logic. Variations in late reporting affect all regions; unless one alleges systemic collusion across thousands of booths—presiding officers, polling agents, security personnel, and observers—the theory quickly descends into fantasy.
The real danger here is not arithmetic error; it is erosion of trust. When media platforms with visible partisan leanings amplify half-baked conjecture, and when politically entangled commentators masquerade as detached economists, public faith becomes collateral damage.
India’s electoral process has survived far sterner tests. It has conducted polls across insurgency zones, mountainous terrains, and coastal belts with precision envied globally. To reduce that institutional credibility to a late-night percentage update is not scrutiny—it is sabotage.
Democracy deserves better than insinuation dressed up as investigation. If there is evidence, present it in court. If there is grievance, file it formally. But to weaponize provisional data, spin speculative mathematics, and circulate it through aligned media networks is not courage. It is calculated mischief.
The Andhra verdict stands—not because it is beyond question, but because questions require proof. Until then, sensationalism remains what it is: noise masquerading as noble doubt.
