NEW DELHI // When the mayor of New Delhi made a recent appearance at a residents' convention, she came armed with a bevy of the usual crowd-pleasers. Arti Mehra spoke about how the city's bureaucracy was being streamlined, how public bribes would be stamped out and how transparency was being extended to all municipal agencies. But the crowd had little time for it. "This should not be an election speech," one attendee said. They wanted to get down to the real business of life in the city - and the mayor would have little choice but to listen. "I live on the fourth floor and I get no water," said an elderly attendee, stepping up to the microphone. "I pay 50,000 rupees [Dh3,780] per year in taxes. Do I have a right to water?" Another resident railed against squatters - the landless masses who build makeshift camps near established neighbourhoods. "The amount of dirt they spread," the woman began. "It's unhygienic. At least, clean them up." "My neighbourhood is the worst in the city," another man said. "The roads and drains are a mess." On the surface, they were the usual issues bedevilling a rapidly growing capital: electricity shortages, the proliferation of plastic bags, and the reliability of tap water. But the people airing those grievances represented more than sporadic voices of urban dissent. As presidents of neighbourhood associations throughout the city, the delegates represent hundreds of thousands of citizens - and a strong, emerging political voice. The United Residents Joint Action Convention met for the third time in three years last month, growing from a group that could scarcely fill a table to more than 100 delegates from across the city. Most remarkably, these resident welfare associations, or RWAs, represent a group long criticised for apathy in urban politics - the middle class. Compared to the throngs of Delhi residents who occupy the lower economic tiers, the city's middle class has never been the most viable electoral target for politicians. Non-residents, squatters and villagers have traditionally been easier to placate. "They become a vote bank," said Alpana Kishore, a social activist who attended the event. Traditionally, city politicians would focus on those masses, promising to legalise their settlements and even going as far as handing out residency cards to non-Indians, allowing them to vote. "There are so many illegal immigrants in Delhi, coming from Bangladesh. Many have been given voter ID cards by politicians who will then register them as Indians." As a result, Ms Kishore said, city politics has been reduced to voting factions, with particular candidates courting certain groups and ignoring others. But the group most often ignored is the least populous and typically the least politically inclined - the middle class. "We are marginalised, in a funny kind of way," Ms Kishore said. "Because nobody's interested in our vote. Like everywhere, the middle classes and the upper classes are apathetic about voting. The ones who really get what they want are the underprivileged who say, 'I will only vote for you if you give me XYZ.' "If they're living in a slum locality, they want their land regularised." When such a settlement - usually little more than a collection of wood and tarpaulins - is regularised it becomes a legal colony with rights to water and electricity - a sore point with more established residents who see the settlements as drains on precious public resources. But by banding together, RWAs aim to play the numbers game, too. "This becomes something where the politician has to pay attention," Ms Kishore said. Appropriately, the conference was dubbed An Agenda for Delhi. The neighbourhood associations are aiming to set it. "If there is any leadership in Delhi, it's sitting in front of me," said Sanjay Kaul - who heads the non-governmental organisation People's Action - referring to the RWAs. "We want to take it to a point where if we raise our finger, we can change policy." Mr Kaul's NGO remains the driving force behind honing the city's middle class into a formidable political lobby. "He has taken on this mantle," Ms Kishore said. "I would say he has almost single-handedly put it through. He has had the vision to look ahead and says: 'Look, this is what we need'." A lean, animated speaker, Mr Kaul's communications background has been put to the test, trying to get myriad voices to speak as one. But there is little denying that on the green lawns of Constitution Club last month, the group drew its largest crowd yet, along with some of the city's most senior politicians, including the ministers of health and education. Mr Kaul reminded the crowd to consider politicians "our servants, who take money from us to do a job". Members of United Residents Joint Action claim the movement is not a political platform, nor is it affiliated with any party. But politicians, such as Arti Mehra, the mayor, know it is a new voice well worth heeding. Even if, at times, it sounds like a cacophony of complaints. ccotroneo@thenational.ae

Middle class finds a political voice
When the mayor of New Delhi made a recent appearance at a residents' convention, she came armed with a bevy of the usual crowd-pleasers.
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