The morning sun had barely risen over the dusty roads of the constituency when the black SUV pulled up outside Aradhna’s modest campaign office. Two thick-set men in white kurtas stepped out first, their eyes scanning the empty street. One of them opened the rear door and nodded once. Aradhna climbed in without a word. She wore a simple cream-coloured saree, the kind she had chosen for election day, neat and respectable. Her hair was tied back, her face free of heavy makeup. She had expected a long day of smiling for cameras and shaking hands. She had not expected this.

The vehicle moved fast through back lanes, avoiding the main roads where party flags fluttered and loudspeakers already blared slogans. After twenty minutes the car slowed and turned into a narrow alley that ended at a low, windowless building. The walls were freshly whitewashed. A single iron door stood at the front. No party banners hung outside. No voters queued. The place looked abandoned.