THE KING IN THE NORTH

“We know no king, but the king in the north…. He’s my king. From this day, until the last day.”

Welcome to the world of National Populism.

A heady mix of supposed rejection of the establishment, aka liberal democracy and secularism where a one party state led by a single authoritarian leader rules.

And where his (haven’t seen any hers yet) rhetoric, (it would hardly be called a voice) supposedly speaks for the common people.

This is the world today. Where reason and sanity and common sense seem to have decided, like Tormund and Ghost, to take off into the snowy woods leaving us, mere mortals to witness the horrific onslaught of fire, brimstone and ashes.

The atmosphere seems about right. It is 11 am on a Saturday morning and I am drenched in a pool of sweat, while I mouth unmentionables inside my head. Simple chores around the house have become an endless battle with my clothes sticking stubbornly to various body parts and numerous showers do little to dissipate the rank humidity that permeates every pore, every layer of  body and strata alike.

Meanwhile all else is status quo on the battle front. 

A press conference of sorts was arranged last evening. “First ever press conference” the ticker read. Alas, apart from a fixed reading out of various achievements by the party president, the head of the government maintained a stoic silence, hand on chin, a picture of aloof detachment, fakiri perhaps?

All campaigning, as per the Election Commission’s directives were to have ceased as of last night. No one said anything about photo ops apparently and the main stream media, unashamedly continue to plaster visuals of deep reflection and purported meditation. Religious fervour and devotion, covered frame by frame throughout the day with social media abuzz with hashtags.

People will ask what is wrong with that? Absolutely nothing of course. It is after all a man’s personal time.

It is also true that the media can allow the man his privacy. Lesser mortals have been neglected otherwise. But sadly enough, that is not the case. 

For reasons best left unsaid, there seems to be no let up at all, and there is only this, the single narrative that is being churned out, on almost every channel (with the exception of a handful), that of a larger than life, chest size included, ultra-masculine, singular saviour of the masses.

What do we need saving from though is the question that needs to be addressed.

The large part of the Indian population comprises of one single religion, 79.8% (827 million) Hindus with 1.79% being Sikhs (19 million) , 0.74% (8 million) Buddhists and 0.40% (4 million) Jains. That is a staggering 854 million people. Compare that to 138 million Muslims and 24 million Christians; their combined numbers being still 700 million less than  that of the general populace.

So take a long hard look in the mirror. Each one of us.

Who is this that we need saving from?

Who are we? I mean really who are we?

“When you are accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” 

For many in this nation that I am proud to call my own, equality unfortunately is still a distant reality.

But, the world is shrinking and social media for all its negatives, has shown to the many here, especially the downtrodden, that we are all equal.

We are human. Men and women. All equal. All one. Not one greater. No one lesser.

And that is frightening.

For those accustomed to believing that someone can and always should be beneath you, equality suffocates. It threatens the established, the norm, the parampara if you will.

“Chamar to chamar hi rahega..”

For those who have never had to fend off unwanted stares and premeditated judgements because your eyes were slanted and you were a tad too pale, equality horrifies.  

“Kya kya khate ye log…”

For those who have never had to work endless hours daily in servitude, serving cups of chai and pani, whilst fading obscurely in the background, equality mortifies.

“Mera bag kaun uthayega....?”

Perhaps not this year. 

Perhaps never. 

Maybe sooner.

Monday morning we will know who will sit on the Iron Throne. If at all.

Thursday by day end we will know who will fill the halls of Parliament. If at all. 

Until then one thing is certain.

“Respect is how the young keep us at a distance, so we don’t remind them of an unpleasant truth.” 

“What is that?”

“Nothing lasts.....”