Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Assam Elections: The 27 vs 72 Guwahati Central Gamble




















Is Kunki Chowdhury Doing A Zohran Mamdani?



A 27-year-old University College London (UCL) postgrad with no political pedigree is taking on a 72-year-old BJP stalwart in Assam's most closely watched urban seat. The parallels with New York's viral new mayor are striking.


In one of the most watched contests of the 2026 Assam Assembly polls, 27-year-old Kunki Chowdhury has officially entered the electoral ring, bringing a high-academic pedigree and a fresh "inclusive regionalism" vision to Guwahati Central. She is an Assam Jatiya Parishad (AJP) first-timer with no political family behind her, “knocking on every door”, playing carrom to break the ice and speaking to young voters about drains, parking and skill centres — the unglamorous but urgent business of a city long ignored by those who govern it.

The optics are impossible to miss. Less than a year ago, Zohran Mamdani — a 33-year-old assemblyman from Queens — went from one per cent in the polls to becoming New York City's mayor, powered almost entirely by a ferociously smart, platform-native social-media campaign and genuine grassroots conviction. The question now being asked in political circles in Guwahati, as polling day on April 9 approaches, is whether Kunki is scripting her own version of that story.

A postgraduate in Education Leadership from UCL and a BBA graduate from NMIMS Mumbai, Kunki told the Assam Tribune: "I did my masters in London and then joined my family business. The opportunity to join politics came only last month when the AJP approached me — I decided to come to politics to bridge the gap between the government and society." 

That gap — between Guwahati's lived reality and the rhetoric of those who represent it — is exactly what her campaign is organised around. Her five concrete promises address drainage, skill hubs, parking, garbage disposal and the gas pipeline scheme — the neglected basics of a city that has heard grand promises for decades.

Across the constituency, her opponent is a vivid contrast. Vijay Kumar Gupta, 72, the BJP's long-time party worker, reacted to his Gen Z opponent by declaring there are "no challenges" for him in this election. He brings the full machinery of India's ruling party — buses, organised rallies and a well-funded social media operation — along with decades of institutional heft. 


His reported promise to transform Guwahati into something resembling "Switzerland, Shimla and Shillong" has, according to local reports, attracted satirical treatment online — terrain on which Kunki is rather more comfortable.

The Mamdani parallel is not merely cosmetic. Mamdani weaponised youthfulness and educational credibility, turning establishment outsider status into an asset. His team used Instagram, TikTok and YouTube in ways that prioritised authenticity over polish — running into the Atlantic to advertise rent freezes, referencing Bollywood films to explain wealth inequality. 


He captured 78 per cent of voters aged 18 to 29. Kunki's instincts appear similar: her door-to-door campaign, documented through shareable video clips and images circulated via her own social media handles, including carrom and cricket on doorsteps, follows the same grammar of unscripted, tactile, eminently viral political content.

The demographic arithmetic is hospitable to exactly this kind of appeal. Assam has 72.83 lakh youth voters aged 18 to 29 — a rise from 69.35 lakh in 2021. In Guwahati Central, with its approximately 1.91 lakh urban electors, young voters frustrated by waterlogging and joblessness represent a formidable base if consolidated.

Where the parallel strains is in resources and runway. Mamdani had over a year of sustained campaigning and access to 70-plus content creators boasting a combined following of 77 million. Kunki was asked to contest barely a month before polling. She is running a digital insurgency against a party with state-level resources and a Chief Minister whose own social media presence is nationally formidable.

But what distinguishes her candidacy from mere youth tokenism is that her educational background is substantive, not decorative. She has not shied away from critiquing the BJP's flagship Orunodoi welfare scheme as "superficial," arguing that cash transfers are no substitute for sustainable livelihoods and advocating instead for skill-building integrated with employment. This is not the language of political apprenticeship. It is the language of someone who has thought carefully about systems and is applying that thinking to a political context for the first time.

Young voters in the constituency echo mixed views — some praising welfare schemes, others demanding jobs, better college infrastructure and reduced textbook prices. It is precisely this constituency — educated, restless, unpersuaded by freebies — that Kunki is betting on. Whether Assam's political terrain will reward that bet is the question that May 4 will answer.

Friday, January 30, 2026

Reels, monkey antics and rubbish: When civic sense takes a Himalayan tumble












Somewhere between the plains and the first hairpin bend into Himachal Pradesh or Uttarakhand, something curious happens to the average tourist. Civic sense quietly disembarks. It simply disappears. 


What follows every long weekend is now painfully familiar. Tourists from the plains storm the hills like they’ve won a lifetime supply of irresponsibility vouchers, transforming snow-capped serenity into a giant, litter-strewn tailgate party. 


Having pored over the endless circus in news clips and social media feeds — those viral jams, trash avalanches and tone-deaf shirtless antics — one cannot help but chuckle bitterly at the annual ritual: plenty of selfies, zero self-awareness.


Behold the majestic 13-km Manali-Patlikuhal jam, where Delhi-NCR and neighbouring states day-trippers ditch their low-slung sedans and porter luggage like reluctant sherpas, auditioning for Survivor: Himachal Edition. 


Shimla-Manali reels under 8,000-10,000 vehicles daily, trapping even the culprits for 24-hour marathons in their own chaos — three lakh invaders projected, because why plan when you can honk? Cops play human Tetris to free the mess, while locals ponder if Everest was this exhausting.


Nullahs bloated with plastics, Tirthan Valley’s pristine brooks auditioning as Delhi’s next landfill. Apparently, 70% NCR tourists mistook ‘leave no trace’ for ‘leave your trash’. Viral Sissu clips capture sunroof revellers boozing through a 40-day tourism ban, as if ‘customs’ meant ‘costumes for clowns’. 


Mussoorie, the so-called Queen of Hills, chokes on wrappers while polite foreigners play cleanup crew - talk about role reversal with a side of rubbish.


Sari-stripping in Manali? Pistol-waving at Parwanoo-Shimla tolls? These gems have ministers begging for ‘civilised conduct’ on sacred Dev bhoomi, as if hill etiquette came with a spoiler alert. Shimla’s Mall Road? Locals’ no-fly zone amid selfie zombies and VIP tantrums, nothing screams ‘holiday’ like treating apple carts as photo props.


Uttarakhand's 2023 pledge to assess limits in 15 towns - from Mussoorie to Pithoragarh - gathers dust, ignoring NGT pleas for tourist registration tied to parking and rooms. Himachal splurges Rs 3,000 crore on tunnels and tamashas, blind to sewage tsunamis and landslide encores post-Joshimath. 


Activists like Anoop Nautiyal scream into the void: revenue’s golden egg hatches scarcity, smog and sobbing locals. Who needs limits when selfies are infinite?


At the heart of this seasonal circus is entitlement. A belief that paying for a hotel room includes the right to block roads, ignore rules and treat fragile ecosystems as disposable backdrops. Authorities respond with fines, caps and barricades, but enforcement has limits. Civic sense, unfortunately, cannot be outsourced to the traffic police.


So, what’s the solution to this recurring theatre of the absurd? Perhaps it is time for a radical idea: treat hill towns like places where people actually live. Drive less, walk more. Carry your rubbish. Lower the volume. 


Cap homestays, ape Sikkim’s plastic purge, slap ‘civic deposits’ refunded minus your landfill donation. Ban sunroof DJs, snow-illiterate cars and blast PSAs: ‘Hills ain’t your highway, hotshot’. 


The mountains have been patient hosts. The question is whether tourists can learn to be guests rather than invaders. Until then, civic deficient nomads will keep re-enacting Mumbai rush hour at 10,000 feet, one flung bottle at a time.