May 2001: Sukumar Roy, a retired schoolteacher, received a couple of guests at home on the eve of the polls.

The two, who introduced themselves as “Kamtapuri freedom fighters”, their faces covered in handkerchiefs and one of them carrying a country-made pistol, told Sukumar he should not vote. None of his family members should, the duo added, as they were “CPM supporters”.

Sukumar, his wife, son and daughter-in-law did not vote. Not even in the 2004 Lok Sabha elections.

May 2006: The man in his early sixties insists he is not a Left supporter ? “it’s just a misconception that all schoolteachers are” ? wonders where his tormentors of 2001 are and asserts that he will vote.

“We will definitely vote on the 8th. But tell me, have you seen any of those so-called freedom fighters?”

That is one question everyone here is asking ? from pan shop owners and professionals to party workers.

Once feared, the Kamtapur Liberation Organisation (KLO) has lost much of its clout in what used to be its hotbed ? Kumargram and Dhupguri. Many of its members, disillusioned by the lack of impact, have already moved into the mainstream.

At the CPM’s Dhupguri office, where a group of militants had gunned down six partymen, inclu-ding se-nior leader Gopal Chaki, in August 2002, politicians now sit relaxed.

The smile on the face of the five-time MLA from Dhupguri, Banamali Roy, seated in the middle of the room, said it all. “Over the past five years, we have gradually regained our mass contact and we are confident of winning this seat with a much bigger margin. Local boys who had been caught up in the KLO movement have been brought back into our fold and rehabilitation programmes have been arranged for all those militants who have surrendered,” said the veteran, now chief of the Jalpaiguri zilla parishad. “The fear factor is gone.”

The Centre for Develop-ment of Human Initiative, an NGO, had led the drive to rehabilitate the militants, aided by the government’s Operation Navadisha.

The surrendered militants were first counselled. Their needs assessed, they were provided vocational training and helped with bank loans and techni-cal expertise to set up individual ventures. Their families were told the possible fallout of their sons being branded militants.

Ajit Roy, who trained with the Ulfa in Bhutan, is among those who laid down arms. Roy was counselled and later given a power-tiller under the Rashtriya Sama Vikas Yojna.

He is now campaign- ing for the RSP’s sitting MLA from Kumargram, Dasarath Tirkey.

“I don’t want to even talk about my past,” he said.

Kumargram, the frontier area hemmed by Bhutan and Assam, epitomises the change. The abandoned barracks and infrequent police patrol tell the tale of fear that once was.

“Last time, we could not deploy polling agents in all booths in the area,” said senior RSP leader Premananda Das.

“But things have returned to normal and the KPP (Kam- tapur People’s Party), whose candidate had polled around 13,000 votes in 2001, has not fielded a candidate in Kumargram.”

For those like Sukumar Roy, the former schoolteacher, it’s the normality that matters. “We can now go out in the evenings,” he says.

But he also rues the fact that the Opposition ? read the Trinamul Congress ? did nothing to make the townsfolk secure. “I haven’t seen Ashok Burman (the Trinamul candidate of Dhupguri) anywhere,” he says.

Others agree. Pramoth Oraon, a trader, points out that unlike 2001, when the KPP’s Atul Roy was a force to reckon with, the outfit is a non-entity this time.

In a seat considered a CPM stronghold, the KPP had polled over 18,000 votes in 2001. Five years on, the party’s Mitali Roy is “invisible”.

“She will lose her deposit,” says Oraon.

(Names of voters changed on request )