By Robert Clements
A Five-Star Jacuzzi…!
Wow! Haven’t we as a nation mastered the art of pretending normalcy? You know, that fine, delicate, absolutely baffling art of putting on a straight face and saying, “Everything’s fine!” Even when our world is going up in flames?
It’s like we are in a small, rickety boat in the middle of a storm, and as huge ships throw lifelines to us, we shout back, “No thanks, we’re good!” before vigorously bailing out water with a leaky bucket.
The first lifeline was thrown by a developed nation saying we ranked somewhere far behind on the Hunger Index. “Nonsense!” we shouted back, “Our people are well-fed!” And before anyone could point at the skeletal children staring from village corners, we launched a campaign to ban hunger reports.
The next two lifelines, those meddlesome attempts to highlight our dwindling freedom of speech and the rise of religious persecution, were flung back even faster. “How dare they question us! We are the land of tolerance!” we roared, while quietly making space in jails for those who dared to raise their voices. “There’s no water in our boat!” we kept yelling, even as the rising tide reached our necks.
And so, our great pretension of normalcy continues!
Boy, do we have a masterclass in pretending normalcy right now. I mean, think about it. We’ve just had two of the most massive stampedes in human history – the Kumbh Mela and the Delhi railway station – and what do we get?
A big, fat, whopping pretension about the number of deaths.
“Just a minor mishap,” the authorities say, casually stepping over piles of bodies. “No cause for concern.”
But, hey, who needs truth when you can pretend ‘normalcy,’ right? It’s not like people are going to fact-check or anything. And even if they do, the death certificates mysteriously reveal nothing! How convenient!
They might make some noise in Parliament, but we have a majority! A loud, chest-thumping, desk-banging, democracy-choking majority! And nobody in the country notices the giant elephant in the room.
Actually, forget the elephant. It’s now a whole circus. And yet, here we are, marveling at the tricks instead of questioning the clown running the show.
Nobody’s even noticing our leader’s hugs aren’t working anymore!
Once, our leader’s hugs were magical! The mere embrace of a foreign dignitary could solve economic crises and open up billion-dollar deals. But now, after repeated crushing bear hugs, world leaders seem to be gently stepping back, preferring an awkward wave from a distance. Our country, however, continues to pretend everything is peachy. “We are beloved everywhere!” we declare, even as international meetings happen without us.
And our boat? Oh, it’s definitely still afloat. Absolutely. Ignore the bubbles rising to the surface.
The government’s got its best “nothing to see here” face on, and they’re trying to project a sense of normalcy, even as facts, figures, and, well, actual bodies pile up.
It’s like they’re trying to say, “Hey, don’t worry about the dead people, let’s focus on the pretty lights and nice music!”
Ah yes, the distractions! Those pretty lights and nice music are the ‘religious fervour being purposefully stoked,’ the renaming of roads, the ‘us versus them’ propaganda, and, of course, our own taxpayers’ money magically appearing in voters’ bank accounts before every election.
Meanwhile, our little boat sinks. And the orchestra plays on.
And if you think this is all too much, let’s talk about Manipur. Oh, wait, we aren’t supposed to! The state has been burning for months, torn apart by ethnic violence, bloodshed, and sheer human suffering. But where’s the outrage? Where’s the action? Nowhere! Because, my dear friends, acknowledging the fire would mean putting out the fire, and that’s not on the agenda. Instead, let’s just pretend Manipur is fine, brush the devastation under the carpet, and move on. Just like we did with Kashmir, just like we do with everything uncomfortable.
But, you know, folks, pretending normalcy only works for so long. Eventually, the facade cracks, and the truth comes tumbling out.
It’s like holding up a broken chair and insisting it’s a throne. You can keep up the act as long as no one dares sit on it. But the moment reality takes a seat? Boom! Down you go. And when that happens, watch out. Because let me tell you, the backlash is going to be epic.
At first, the people whisper. Then they murmur. Then, slowly but surely, their voices rise. And when enough of them realize that their cries for help have been drowned out by official denials and government-sponsored circus acts, there’s no telling what happens next.
Maybe they stop watching the magic show and start asking questions.
Maybe they stop cheering at the firework displays and begin wondering why there’s no electricity in their homes.
Maybe they look at their empty plates and realize that slogans don’t fill stomachs.
Or maybe—just maybe—they stop pretending too.
So go ahead, keep pretending like everything’s fine. Keep putting on that straight face, and keep telling us that nothing’s wrong. But deep down, we all know the truth. And, eventually, that truth is going to come to light.
Because, my friends, no matter how much you pretend, you can’t plug all the leaks forever. The boat is sinking. The tide is rising. And whether you like it or not, the water is coming for us all.
Until then, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the boat ride. Laugh at the waves, touch the water filling the boat, and keep believing you are having the time of your life in a Five-Star jacuzzi..!
(The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to [email protected])