Pundit is an Indian word, but on the subcontinent, as everywhere else, it describes a fallible profession. Pundits predicted that the general election, which concluded last week and embraced 590 million registered voters, 14,000 candidates and just about as many issues, would be chaotic and its result incoherent. The pundits were dead wrong. The ever underappreciated Indian voters did what they have done in every general election the country has held since the first in 1951-52. They voted intelligently, peacefully, with their hearts--and a surprising consensus emerged among Bengali poets, Bihari serfs and Bombay clerks. Their loud, collective verdict: the Congress Party, led by Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao, had to go.

Rao resigned last Friday after the Congress suffered its worst electoral thrashing in a half-century. That verdict effectively ended the largely dynastical dominance that began with the Congress's first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, and was perpetuated by his daughter Indira Gandhi and her sons Sanjay and Rajiv. Rao, an enigmatic career politician who took the helm after Rajiv's 1991 assassination by Sri Lankan Tamil separatists, presided over a party with no core value except power. He will stay on until a new government is formed.

With more than 80% of the votes counted, the Congress was expected to win a mere 135 or so seats in the 545-member Lok Sabha, down from its previous total of 260. That's worse than the drubbing received by Indira Gandhi in the fateful 1977 election, the exercise that proved unmistakably that India's poor, illiterate masses fully comprehend the power of the ballot. Mrs. Gandhi was rebuffed largely because of her 21-month emergency rule, in which she suspended democracy, jailed opponents and forced sterilization on thousands.

Compared with that national nadir, Rao's five years at the helm were a veritable Golden Age, distinguished by economic reforms that might well remake India into another Asian economic tiger. But the voters couldn't have cared less; they were tired of the pouty, septuagenarian linguist--Rao speaks just about every language under the sun except populism--and a Congress Party that has long savored the perquisites of power, including illegal ones such as bribes and kickbacks. Said Sita Ram Pandey, a farmer in populous Uttar Pradesh state, shortly before casting his ballot: "Rao and the others are busy making money. They will not do anything for us." Agreed fellow farmer Kamal Nath: "Congress was very popular earlier, but the good people from the party are all gone. Nothing is left of it."

Not much indeed; voters rejected the Congress in just about every part of the country. The leading beneficiary was the Bharatiya Janata Party, or B.J.P., a Hindu nationalist organization that clinched the largest number of seats--about 180, including those of three election partners--and staked its claim to forming a government. Over the weekend the B.J.P. confirmed Atal Behari Vajpayee as its prime-ministerial contender, and he was furiously trying to woo coalition partners. Simultaneous efforts were being made by another political group, an amalgam of smaller parties called the National Front-Left Front, which won roughly 120 seats. A B.J.P. coalition would be inherently unstable; many of its aggressively pro-Hindu positions are anathema to more secular Indian politicians. Besides, patched-together governments in India have a habit of coming unstuck fast, no matter who puts them together. The coalition that replaced the Congress in 1989, when Rajiv Gandhi was booted out of office, splintered after 11 months, to be followed by another that lasted just four months. In 1977 the two governments that succeeded Mrs. Gandhi's disintegrated with similar speed. It's anyone's guess if India's new team will last months or years, though few are wagering on a long stretch of tranquillity.

Not many Indians were perturbed over the possibility of political instability at the top. The country has survived it before, and, in any case, the redrawing of India's political map is too compelling for a populace that considers politics a high form of interactive spectator sport. The biggest continental shift is the Congress plummet, although with more than 130 seats, the party still has the power to be an important ally, or adversary, for any coalition. Equally important is the rise of the once marginal B.J.P. as the only truly national party besides the Congress.

The other new electoral phenomenon is the success of several caste-based parties, which draw their votes from the lower tiers of Indian society. In Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, two regional parties won seats on caste platforms, and their leaders quickly flew to New Delhi to help assemble a National Front-Left Front coalition. Getting votes by appealing to caste sentiments was once considered a disreputable and dangerous political technique in a land that has suffered bloody intercaste conflict for centuries--although politicians, including those of the Congress, did so surreptitiously. Now that method is seen as a flowering of the democratic process, removing caste friction from the ghettos and villages and bringing it into the chambers of governance. As anthropologist and novelist Amitav Ghosh noted in the New York Times, "Today the caste vote in India functions in much the same way as the ethnic vote in New York City does." Many analysts predict that regional parties, representing individual states, are set to become more politically powerful in India than ever.

With all these factors combined, the election was a dazzling reflection of the public mood and a debacle for the Congress. Despite Rao's reputation as a master of political strategy, he made two colossal blunders in the weeks leading up to the election. Earlier this year he allowed the Central Bureau of Investigation, which reported to him, to file corruption charges against nearly 30 politicians, including several of his own Cabinet ministers and B.J.P. president L.K. Advani. Rao was forced into action by an activist Supreme Court, but the measures he chose backfired. His idea apparently was to appear tough on corruption, but suspiciously enough, nearly all the individuals chosen for prosecution presented a threat to him politically: in particular Advani, but also such former Rao colleagues as Madhavrao Scindia, a charismatic member of a former royal family. Advani has not recovered; the B.J.P. replaced him as its prime-ministerial hopeful with party ideologue Vajpayee. Scindia, in contrast, split with Rao and, partly as a result, won his parliamentary race. In the end, the scandal seems merely to have reminded voters that corruption is pervasive, particularly in the ruling party. A more puzzling Rao misstep was a campaign alliance with Jayalalitha Jayaram, the highly unpopular chief minister of the southern state of Tamil Nadu, which cost the Congress as many as 28 Lok Sabha seats.

But even if Rao had played every card with consummate skill, he never really had a chance. The mood was anti-Congress, and hardly anyone was listening to the Prime Minister's appeals for national stability, economic reform or memories of the party's role in the glorious struggle for independence from Britain. Some politicians who broke from Rao before the election, such as former party heavyweight Arjun Singh, lost their parliamentary bids anyway--constituents punished them for ever having been associated with the Congress. Muslims, who comprise 12% of the population and have voted en masse for the Congress in election after election, this time steered clear. The anger against the Congress was so great that some Muslims were even willing to accept the B.J.P., which has threatened in the past to pull down certain mosques and still wants to revoke laws that allow Muslims to practice their own religious customs in civil matters. "Let the B.J.P. come to power," says Haji Ismail, a silver-bearded trader in Bombay. "So what? The Congress has fooled us for 50 years. It has to be defeated at any cost."

The widespread anti-Congress fervor makes it hard to assess the electoral success of the B.J.P.--in particular, to separate its genuine supporters from voters looking for a Congress alternative. The party's popular fortunes have been volatile over the past decade. In the late 1980s, the B.J.P. started gaining esteem as disenchantment with Rajiv Gandhi and his party mounted; B.J.P. politicians were considered less corrupt, as well as immune to the bickering and horse trading that led time and again to Congress splits. The B.J.P. drew its core support from small-business owners and traders of the higher castes, along with poorer Indians inspired by its pro-Hindu policies. But in 1992 the party's four-year agitation to demolish a 16th century mosque at Ayodhya in central India, allegedly built on the ruins of an ancient Hindu temple, came to a head when mobs of militant Hindus destroyed the mosque in the presence of the B.J.P.'s Advani. Moderate Indians, appalled by the ensuing Hindu-Muslim violence that killed nearly 3,000 people, abandoned the party. The B.J.P.-run state government in western Gujarat splintered in 1995, damaging its reputation for good governance, and Advani's prosecution for allegedly accepting $240,000 in illegal campaign contributions also hurt.

By winning the largest number of parliamentary seats, the B.J.P. is plainly back as a power to be dealt with, though no one is certain how seriously. The election "is a turning point in the rise of the B.J.P.," says V.A. Pai Panandikar, director of New Delhi's Center for Policy Research. "It has emerged as the dominant political force in India." Others disagree, pointing out that party leaders haven't demonstrated the simple ability to win an electoral majority. "This is the best they have ever done," warns political analyst Ashis Nandy, "and their best isn't good enough." The B.J.P. may have trouble persuading other parties to support it in a coalition. The Congress is unlikely to join with its historic archrival. The two communist parties have refused to cooperate with an entity that whips up religious sentiments, believing that politics of that sort could destroy India. "If the B.J.P. comes to power," says Anil Biswas, a central-committee member of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), "the dismemberment of the country looms very large." Significant regional parties such as Uttar Pradesh's Samajwadi Party compete with the B.J.P. in local elections, splitting the votes between higher and lower castes. "Our primary aim," says Samajwadi's leader Mulayam Singh Yadav, "is to defeat the B.J.P."

For Big Business, both local and foreign, the election has brought confusing, and largely gloomy, tidings. The stock exchange in Bombay dropped late last week, and the rupee weakened. Most analysts believe the basic reforms of the Rao era--in particular, industrial deregulation--will remain intact. The main worry is that the measures Rao failed to push through--including politically painful decisions such as allowing factory shutdowns and cutting farm subsidies--won't be touched by the new government, especially after the voters' eloquent expression of apathy toward economic reform. Potential foreign investors are likely to be scared off by a coalition that is not led by the Congress. "Just a perception that the Indian government wasn't welcoming foreign investment anymore could slow it dramatically," predicts R. Balakrishnan, senior vice president of Bombay's DSP Financial Consultants. Both the B.J.P. and the communist parties, which are significant members of the National Front-Left Front grouping, support only selective opening of the economy to foreign firms. Last year the B.J.P. and its ally cousin party in Maharashtra, the Shiv Sena, nearly killed one of India's biggest foreign investments ever, a $2.8 billion power plant being built by Enron Corp. of the U.S., until Enron agreed to reduce its profits. And no matter what collection of parties controls the government, businessmen foresee an era of coalition infighting leading to an eventual government collapse--and they wonder if anything will get done in that situation. "With all the hassles, who's going to be minding the store?" asks Balakrishnan.

Plenty of noneconomic issues must be confronted as well: the eight-year-old separatist conflict in Kashmir, relations with archenemy Pakistan, pressure from the U.S. to sign the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. The B.J.P. has promised in the past to activate India's nuclear-weapons program--India exploded a device in 1974 but says it hasn't assembled any more bombs--and no one knows whether the party would fulfill that promise. Many Indians like the idea, seeing it as a strengthening of their country's profile on the world stage. "The government would be naturally reluctant to make decisions that would jeopardize its continuation in power," warns Nani Palkhivala, a former ambassador to Washington, on the dangers of a coalition. "It would make populist decisions. It would not lead the people--it would be led by the people. And that's a great danger in India." P. Chidambaram, a former Rao Commerce Minister who defected from the Congress last month, asserts that it's not impossible for a coalition to make challenging policy decisions. "We must make it possible," he says.

That's the victor's spirit. Chidambaram has whipped up his own alliance of 39 newly elected parliamentarians, and these gentlemen were being courted by both the B.J.P. and the National Front-Left Front. The public's spirit is similarly high. For almost forgotten in all the furor over who might make it to power and who might be chosen as Prime Minister is an equally important achievement: the elections of 1996 were probably India's most honest ever. The independent election commission, run by a no-nonsense bureaucrat named T.N. Seshan, strictly enforced a set of campaign rules few politicians had ever bothered to read before. That toned down a lot of the color of past elections: there were fewer banners and sound trucks, and taxi drivers complained about lost business--candidates who normally would have hired cars were afraid of overspending. But violence and vote buying decreased dramatically. It was a relatively quiet campaign--but, more than in any other election in the past 45 years, the message was loud and unmistakably clear.

--Reported by Meenakshi Ganguly/Ayodhya, Maseeh Rahman/New Delhi, Eapen Thomas/Bombay and Dick Thompson/Calcutta

SPLIT DECISION

No party won a majority in the 545-seat Lok Sabha, India's parliament. Preliminary results show that there will be a scramble among at least three political groups to form a coalition government.

According to computer projections, the seats for the groups are:

B.J.P. 160-170

N.F.-L.F. 110-120

Congress 130-140 Others 120-130 (Includes allies of all three groups)