The sense of neglect has not been confined to Tamil Nadu alone. Kerala, governed by the Left Democratic Front led by the Communist Party of India (Marxist), has responded with rare sharpness. Senior voices from the state government have argued that Kerala was treated as if it did not exist on the country’s fiscal map, pointing to the absence of announcements addressing its long-standing demands on infrastructure support, disaster mitigation, or fiscal relief for a state grappling with tight borrowing limits and high social sector spending. The tone of the protest reflects not just disappointment but a belief that the Centre has chosen political distance over accommodation.

West Bengal’s reaction has followed a similar trajectory, albeit expressed in the characteristically combative idiom of Mamata Banerjee. The Trinamool Congress leader dismissed the budget as directionless, arguing that it offered little to the common citizen and nothing of consequence to her state. For Banerjee, who has consistently framed her politics around resistance to what she portrays as a centralising and partisan Union government, the budget has reinforced a familiar narrative of exclusion rather than partnership.

What makes these reactions politically significant is that Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and West Bengal are all poll-bound, and in each case the Bharatiya Janata Party enters the electoral cycle as a challenger rather than an incumbent force. Historically, Union budgets in election years have often been deployed as instruments of political signalling, using infrastructure projects, institutional announcements, or sector-specific incentives to reshape local narratives and demonstrate central largesse. The expectation, therefore, was that the budget would contain proposals that could be marketed as state-specific gains, potentially boosting the BJP’s prospects or at least softening resistance.

The fact that this did not happen has led to a more unsettling interpretation: that the absence of special focus is itself a message, suggesting that the ruling party does not see these states as electorally recoverable in the near term. Instead of attempting to woo sceptical electorates through fiscal gestures, the Centre appears to have opted for a more uniform, national framing of the budget, prioritising macroeconomic discipline, broad-based infrastructure, and long-term growth narratives over targeted regional inducements.

This reading has been seized upon most forcefully in Tamil Nadu by M. K. Stalin, who has argued that the budget’s treatment of his state reflects the BJP’s lack of confidence and an implicit acknowledgement of likely defeat. From Stalin’s perspective, the reliance on generic schemes rather than Tamil Nadu–specific initiatives underlines a political resignation rather than oversight. The argument resonates in a state where the BJP has struggled to expand beyond a limited footprint and where regional identity politics remains a potent force.

Kerala’s case adds another layer to this analysis. The state’s relationship with the Centre has long been strained by ideological differences, particularly over fiscal federalism and social welfare priorities. The Left’s complaint that Kerala has been ignored taps into a broader debate about the shrinking fiscal autonomy of states and the perception that those not aligned with the ruling party at the Centre face structural disadvantages. In an election year, the lack of visible concessions risks reinforcing the Left’s argument that only a strong state-level mandate can protect Kerala’s interests.

In West Bengal, the political calculus is equally complex. Banerjee’s dominance in the state has so far proven resilient to sustained challenges from the BJP. A budget that does not attempt to alter this equation through headline-grabbing projects or state-specific financial commitments can be read as tacit acceptance that electoral arithmetic there remains unfavourable. For the Trinamool Congress, this becomes ammunition to argue that the Centre is indifferent to Bengal’s development needs, a charge that has previously found traction among voters.

From the BJP’s perspective, however, the strategy may not be as defeatist as critics suggest. One interpretation is that the party has consciously chosen to foreground a national development narrative over regional bargaining, betting that macroeconomic stability, infrastructure expansion, and welfare schemes with nationwide reach will ultimately matter more to voters than state-specific announcements. This approach aligns with the party’s broader ideological emphasis on strong central leadership and uniform policy frameworks, even at the cost of antagonising state governments led by rivals.

There is also the possibility that the BJP has recalibrated its electoral priorities, focusing resources and political capital on states where contests are tighter or where incumbency advantages can be consolidated. In such a scenario, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and West Bengal may be viewed as long-term projects rather than immediate battlegrounds, with organisational expansion and narrative building taking precedence over short-term fiscal overtures.

Yet this strategy carries risks. In a federal polity as diverse as India’s, the optics of neglect can be politically costly, particularly when regional leaders are quick to frame budgetary decisions as evidence of discrimination. The saree symbolism in Parliament, stripped of substantive follow-through, risks being dismissed as performative rather than persuasive. For voters already sceptical of the BJP’s intentions, the absence of tangible state-level benefits may harden perceptions rather than soften them. (IPA Service)