Raghav opened his eyes and looked at the world. He wiped the morning sweat from his face and sat up. Quickly, he reached for today’s newspaper, switched on the TV, and tuned in to his favorite party’s news channel. Like a moth to a flame, he absorbed every word, drawing in all the good things his party had done. Even if the accomplishments were small, he convinced himself that they were just stepping stones toward a better India, one that his party would build.
Every evening, after a long and tiring day of work, he never blamed the political leaders who had failed to improve the economy enough for people like him to lead better lives. Instead, he gathered with his village friends and defended his party passionately. “No, they are doing this for us. This nation is being built step by step for us,” he argued. Whenever they pointed out issues like the crumbling economy, poor infrastructure, rising poverty, he never wavered. “What would the other party even do?” he asked. “At least these leaders are not fostering the family politics of some people. At least our leader has a plan.”
One day, while walking through the village square, he noticed a comedian performing on a makeshift stage. The man held a microphone, and a crowd had gathered around him. Raghav stopped for a moment, just to see what was happening.
“Politicians are like marketing experts,” the comedian said. “They make us buy things (material or immaterial ) by creating a false demand for security or pride.”
Raghav was taken aback. He didn’t like people taunting his “gods”, the ones he looked up to every morning from inside his small hut, with its palm-leaf roof, its bulky old television, and its creaking table fan that rotated noisily.
But the jokes weren’t just insults, they pointed out things Raghav had never really thought about. “We treat them like gods,” the comedian continued. “But tell me, when was the last time a god took your money in taxes and gave you a broken road in return?”
More laughter.
Raghav, though angry at the comedian at first, found himself thinking as the performance went on. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering, Why are the roads still not finished? It has been 15 years. Why is it that my life has never gotten better? What have they actually done for me?
That night, he couldn’t sleep.
In the morning, he switched on the TV as usual. But this time, he wasn’t just hearing what was fed to him, he was paying attention. The headlines that once seemed normal now looked different. He saw contradictions, empty promises, repeated failures. He switched to a different news channel and came across a report about a two year long project that was supposed to change lives. The government had once boasted about it, but now it was just silence. Before, he might have ignored this. Now, he wanted to know why.
The next evening, when his neighbor started saying, “Our leader is the only hope,” Raghav hesitated. He wasn’t ready to argue yet. The words that he wanted to speak of still felt familiar, still felt right. But for the first time, he wasn’t entirely sure he believed them. A part of him wanted to ask, Why? Why do they keep saying the same things year after year? Why are the same problems never solved? Why had I never questioned any of this before?
Doubt, he realized, was the first step toward thinking for himself.
For the first time in years, Raghav wasn’t just listening. He was questioning. And that was the most powerful thing of all.
For more insights into the events that lead to me writing about this short story have a look here :
https://ajayan.substack.com/p/your-rights-are-your-only-power