Standing inside the oldest coal mine of India in Raniganj, West Bengal, amid black dust, I could feel a song reach my ears. The women singing in a synchronised voice as they continued to dig for coal. It was solace, one that lingers on. Like Bertolt Brecht once wrote: In the dark times, will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times.

The song was often disrupted by an explosion for mining and the synchrony in the air was replaced with thick black smoke. As a lone reporter with no photographer accompanying, it was intimidating for me to navigate the coal belts and talk to the villagers in the area which has suffered from land subsidence due to mining. With friends sending messages cautioning to be careful, I was apprehensive.

The road led up to abandoned homes, broken walls, and soft soil where over 160 families still live, refusing to let the government stuff them into pigeon-holed one-room flats as part of their rehabilitation programme. “What about our land? Who will compensate us for our uprooted lives?” — these are the prominent questions in their minds.

As the State election wave recedes and campaigning parties go back, a common refrain in these parts is ‘they didn’t deliver on poll promises’. From the coal mines of Raniganj to the forests of Jhargram to the deleted voters of Murshidabad to the violence-hit people of Malda, anger over failed promises echoed from people.

Beyond Raniganj, though the landscape shifts, the disgruntlement is the same in Murshidabad too. In a district where some of the richest beedi barons of the area contest elections to represent the poorest electorate, the distance between political wealth and everyday poverty is massively wide.

These Muslim-dominated areas have been some of the worst-affected in the special intensive revision (SIR) process. The people say political parties sought their votes but did not restore their names in the electoral rolls. In Samserganj constituency, over 74,000 voters have been deleted, one of the highest in the State. The polls are over but their feeling of betrayal continues to simmer. These are some of the highest migrating populations outside the State, because meaningful work in these parts is sparse.

In these parts, it is a life of uncertainty for many. Parts of their homes have been lost to Ganga erosion; what remains stands precariously, yet continues to be inhabited. Several residents say their names no longer appear on voter lists. Between the loss of land and the absence of documentation, their security and identity remain unsettled, with compensation yet to arrive despite repeated efforts.

On the other side of the river lies Malda. Though constituencies change, river erosion, lack of jobs, and deletion of voters remain a common crisis. The tension in the lanes of Malda’s Mothabari constituency was palpable, with local people largely tight-lipped. Many have been arrested for laying a siege to seven judicial officers in protest against the SIR process and their names being put under adjudication. Now, they spend sleepless nights fearing harassment and arrest by the National Investigation Agency. No amount of assurance seems to make them speak to reporters.

When access becomes uncertain in such volatile situations, sometimes silences are read as responses, as conversations fail to flow organically.

Many districts away, in Purba Bardhaman’s Kalna area, hundreds of potato farmers have sustained massive losses due to over-production and crashing market prices. “What good will all this talk do? You cannot bring back the person I have lost. Have some water and leave,” a grieving son of a potato farmer who died by suicide told me. Political parties gave assurances, but that was all.

Parties have made lofty promises of upliftment for the marginalised in Jhargram too. But people say polls come and go but their lives have not changed.

Across communities and districts, the complaints are not against any one political party or government. The frustration of having been failed by the system run deeper, sometimes generational.

Sometimes, such encounters in villages go off the script, where a reporter’s presence makes them feel like some help will follow, with many bringing documents and asking if their names can be restored to the electoral rolls and some asking if a compensation can be arranged for the loss of crops or their homes. Many even ask if they will be detained or deported if their names do not feature in the electoral rolls. You sit in silence. The questions do not stop, even though clarity may not follow.