Revdis & rosogollas – new poll symbols!

Here is the darker shift. What once passed as competitive welfare has mutated into open political intimidation. Ajit Pawar’s declaration — You have votes, I have funds… If you reject, I will too — exposes a leadership class that wields public money like private muscle. This brazenness unfolds even as India shoulders Rs285 lakh crore in public debt, nearly Rs2 lakh per citizen, raising a stark question: how long can a democracy tolerate power exercised with such impunity?

Since Prime Minister Narendra Modi first weaponised the phrase revdiculture at a Bundelkhand Expressway event in July 2022, it has become his preferred shorthand for competitive welfarism — even as his own government has leaned on the very playbook he once condemned. Modi has warned that parties “seeking votes by promising freebies” are jeopardising India’s fiscal health and long-term development.

Days later, in remarks widely reported by PTI, he sharpened the charge: governments that run on reckless giveaways are “robbing the poor to benefit the rich.”

A few months later, speaking in Madhya Pradesh — as reported by The Times of India — he claimed taxpayers “resent money wasted on freebies.” In principle, the argument is defensible. In practice, it collapses the moment it encounters India’s electoral machinery.

Over the past three years, the freebie battleground has not only intensified, but also turned decisively bipartisan. Every party deploys pre-election welfare. Every government leans on it. Every election cycle inflates it. Welfare is no longer merely a developmental intervention; it has become India’s most reliable political instrument.

Bihar offers a textbook illustration. With elections approaching, the Nitish Kumar government launched the Women’s Employment Scheme, giving Rs10,000 as seed capital to women for micro-enterprises. As design, it promotes livelihoods; as timing, the signalling is unmistakable. The Election Commission’s 2025 data shows women voted at 71.8 per cent, comfortably outpacing men.

New numbers reveal Bihar unveiled nearly Rs3,200 crore worth of schemes in the pre-poll window — youth allowances, enhanced pensions, expanded Jeevika support and women-centric income aid. Welfare these certainly are, but their timing leaves no real separation between policy design and political gameplan.

Madhya Pradesh presents an even sharper example with the BJP’s Ladli Behna Yojana. Launched in March 2023, months before the Assembly election, it offered Rs1,000 a month initially, rising to Rs1,500. The scheme now costs over Rs22,000 crore annually. Its political impact was instant: women voters shifted in large numbers, helping the BJP secure a sweeping victory. Welfare or revdi? The lines blur the moment timing becomes the determinant.

Rajasthan mirrored a similar trend with the Congress government’s Indira Gandhi Smartphone Yojana. Free smartphones and data for 1.35 crore women and girl students were framed as digital empowerment, but the compressed 10–20 August distribution window and mass rallies made the electoral intent impossible to miss. For a fiscally stretched state, the budgetary hit raised further questions.

This syndrome, by now, has become uniformly national. An Indian Express analysis of eight major Assembly elections found that governments together spent Rs67,928 crore on pre-election welfare announcements. Maharashtra alone accounted for Rs23,300 crore — free power, cash transfers and the Majhi LadkiBahin Yojana. Freebies have become the common political tongue — spoken fluently across ideological divides.

And the Centre is no exception. Its messaging is often more sophisticated. Modi’s Lakhpati Didi pitch — essentially an expansion of long-running SHG support — has been repackaged into a flagship political project. The target expanded from two crore to three crore lakhpati women, making it a central campaign theme across multiple states. NaMo Drone Didi, while visionary, remains limited in scale but offers irresistible political imagery: rural women piloting agricultural drones.

The youth platform, Mera Yuva Bharat (MY Bharat), launched in October 2023, is another politically timed initiative. Critics argue it is more narrative architecture than structural employment reform, but its political value is evident in a climate of rising youth anxiety.

This exposes the central contradiction. Modi attacks freebies as corrosive, yet the Centre’s own election-year schemes operate on the same logic. The difference is not intent but branding.

Even the Reserve Bank of India has begun sounding alarms. In its 2024 and 2025 analyses, the RBI flagged rising fiscal stress driven by election-season subsidies and untargeted transfers. It warned that free power, free transport and pension expansions pose long-term risks to macroeconomic stability. When the central bank comments on political trends, the severity is self-evident.

This backdrop leads to India’s next political storm centre: West Bengal. Welfare here is political identity. Mamata Banerjee’s Lakshmir Bhandar, Kanyashree, Rupashree and Swasthya Sathi are embedded into Bengal’s social fabric, shaping both household economics and emotional allegiance.

So when Modi declares “Bengal next”, Mamata pushes back with charges that Delhi has withheld GST compensation and blocked MGNREGA funds. Whether fully accurate or partly rhetorical, the allegation carries enormous political weight. The TMC frames Bengal’s welfare model as a cultural right. The BJP retaliates with Central schemes — Lakhpati Didi, PM-Awas completions, SHG credit pushes and tribal packages — accusing the state of poor implementation. Revdis versus rosogullas will be the underlying narrative — Delhi’s critique against Bengal’s pride.

The intensity will inevitably flood into Assam, where Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma has crafted his own welfare architecture: Orunodoi transfers, scooters for girl students, debt relief, household subsidies and periodic waivers. His rhetoric, often provocative and polarising, adds another layer. In Assam, expect Sarma’s acid tongue — not just welfare schemes — to dominate a campaign steeped in confrontational rhetoric, with regulators scarcely intervening.

Then comes Uttar Pradesh, the fiercest battleground. Modi and Yogi Adityanath will foreground Central welfare completions — PM-Awas, Ujjwala refills, PM-Kisan augmentation, Lakhpati Didi pushes. The Samajwadi Party will revive memories of free laptops, community-targeted schemes and youth allowances. Both sides will accuse the other of freebie politics while expanding their own. The bidding war will escalate.

And this is the crux Modi can’t dodge: the man who condemned revdis now heavily relies on them. The debate is not about whether welfare is good or bad. Many schemes deliver genuine social value. The real problem is selective morality. When the ruling party offers welfare, it is framed as empowerment. When the Opposition does it, it becomes revdi culture. In reality, everyone participates; the only difference is branding, timing and storytelling.

The irony is complete. Every party rallies against freebies in theory but deploys them enthusiastically in practice. Indian elections today run as much on welfare promises as they do on ideology — often more.

What complicates this further is the economic cost. India’s combined Centre–state public debt stands at roughly Rs285 lakh crore — nearly Rs2 lakh per citizen. As debt deepens, taxpayers face an inevitable rise in direct and indirect levies. If corporate CSR funds are nudged to finance government schemes, society’s genuine need-based development priorities get sidelined.

Revdis and their rosogulla variations are no longer mere giveaways. They have become political currency, undeclared election symbols voters never see on an EVM but fully understand. The sustainability of this model is uncertain, but the trade-offs are increasingly visible.

Perhaps the real question is no longer whether freebies are good or bad, but whether India can afford to keep escalating them without acknowledging who ultimately foots the bill. When a deputy chief minister tells voters, “You have votes, I have funds… If you reject, I will too,” it signals a disturbing new brazenness. India’s political discourse is sliding faster than even cynics imagined. We must stop, reflect, and keep questioning where this trajectory is taking us.

(The columnist is a Mumbai-based author and independent media veteran, running websites and a youtube channel known for his thought-provoking messaging)