On most mornings, elections in West Bengal have followed a familiar script — noise, numbers, denial and then acceptance. But May 4, 2026, was different. This morning, Bengal didn’t just watch the results. It felt. For Pradip Banerjee, who lives in Burdwan and has been voting since 1977, this election was unlike any other election he has ever witnessed. "... I have witnessed the Left come to power, seen the Left depart, and watched Mamata (Banerjee) rise… But on the morning of the counting day, as I went to make tea, I noticed my hands were trembling. I was surprised. This isn't something that is supposed to happen," he told Timesnow.in. The Bharatiya Janata Party swept the elections, winning 207 seats, uprooting Mamata Banerjee after 15 years
of undisputed rule. TMC were reduced to 80 seats.What unsettled him even more was an abrupt phone call. “My grandson is 22 years old, studies in Kolkata, and never ever talks about politics. He called me at seven o'clock that morning. All he said was, 'Dadu, how are you feeling?' Nothing else. Then he hung up. In that brief moment, I understood—this time, it is different.” That was it. No debate, no opinions. Just a shared, unspoken anxiety.
West Bengal Election 2026 Results: Why People Tracked It Like Tendulkar's Score
The feeling was strangely familiar. Not political. Almost sporting. It was like watching the great Sachin Tendulkar bat in the nineties. As Tendulkar readied himself for battle, an entire nation lay awake in quiet anticipation, restless at times, hopeful on most occasions, almost believing that his brilliance held the power to soothe millions, as if peace itself would arrive when he scored runs.For the 67-year-old, the West Bengal Election 2026 results seem to have brought back memories of the past, when he so wanted India to win, riding on Tendulkar's brilliance, even against hope. This time, he wanted the incumbent out. “It was like keeping an eye on the scorecard when Sachin Tendulkar used to bat,” he said, adding, “...Every ball felt like everything could collapse.”"My son had left me an app to keep track of the counts. I don't really understand how to use it properly, yet I kept checking it over and over again. My wife would say, 'Eat first.' I’d reply, 'In a little while.' It went on like that for three hours… When the lead kept swinging back and forth… That seesawing sensation... I wouldn't call it anxiety; it was something else entirely—something even heavier than anxiety. I’ve witnessed enough elections to know that an early lead means nothing. And that, precisely, is the problem. The more you know, the greater the fear," he said.It wasn’t just Mr Banerjee; across Bengal, that same subtle tension travelled through households, family WhatsApp groups, and office corridors. Of course, most avoided social media out of fear of being persecuted, just in case the early leads went wrong and the TMC were back.
In Howrah, Susmita Bose, a school HOD with 25 years noticed a quiet shift. "I have been teaching and observing people for twenty-five years. Anxiety is nothing new to me. But what took me by surprise this time was who was feeling anxious. At our school, there is a senior teacher who has been teaching for twenty-eight years and has never uttered a word about politics. On counting day, I saw him speaking to someone in a hushed tone; when I approached, he immediately fell silent," she recalled."And in our family WhatsApp group, a space usually reserved solely for family photos, my brother-in-law shared a news link. No commentary, just the link itself… When those who typically never speak begin to stir, you realise that the winds of change shifted long ago," she said."Calling it anxiety would actually be underselling it,” said Kolkata’s Susham Banerjee.“I’ve never seen this level of engagement before across age groups, professions, or backgrounds. Everyone had an opinion, and more importantly, everyone wanted their opinion to matter. Unlike previous elections… It was personal,” he said."There was a general belief that it would be difficult for any party to challenge the current leadership in West Bengal. But beneath that, there was a strong desire for change. A feeling that this election could shape a better future for the next generation in terms of jobs, development, and safety. It felt like watching India play in the 90s against Pakistan and
Tendulkar was still at the crease. As long as he was there, you believed there was hope," he said. "From around 10 am, people were glued to their screens. Every small shift in leads felt like a turning point. When the margins were close, you could literally feel the tension, that constant knot in the stomach. It wasn’t just about numbers on a screen. It was about a collective hope to move away from what many see as stagnation, lack of development, and concerns around governance," Susham told Timesnow.in.And then there were those who saw it as something even bigger. A voter from Tollygunge described it as “release, the kind you felt when
Argentina national football team finally lifted the World Cup in 2022. Relief. Closure. Hope.”"This time, it felt like it was the present government vs. the people of Bengal. Right from the moment the early trending numbers started coming in, it felt like people were about to get what they had wanted for the past five years—an end to this regime. Yes, I was checking the updates at frequent intervals. You don’t often get to see a regime change in West Bengal," he said.The want for change and fear of no change were real across Bengal. Many refused to speak out of fear of being “caught”, if the results flipped or violence picked up in the state. This was the reality they had been living with for years. The fear was evident, and so was the hope.