Dear future Prime Minister,
I wrote this while the counting was on, May 23, to be specific; but, now the future has become the present, and, umm, congratulations? I sort of had the feeling that it was going to be you, but I’m not naming you. Whether I like you or not shouldn’t be part of the question, you see, because it doesn’t matter if you have gotten elected anyway. Congratulations! You had a great PR team, give them a promotion.
Right now, I’m in college. I will graduate soon next year. Working hard and securing a seat in a good institution, which will later translate into a good job, may not be that difficult for me. I mean, I’m a savarna, liberal Hindu who doesn’t fall into the 10% reservation category which means I’m pretty much safe and will always be. But I’m a woman. Damn it.
Sometime back in a report, India didn’t turn out to be the best country for women, do you remember? I mean, of course, the party in power refuted the claims but we cannot all be as strong and privileged as the defense minister, some of them can’t even be good at self-defence (unlucky us, don’t tell Rani Mukerji we’ve let her down, please).
Wait, were you wondering where my list of demands is? You’re wrong – I don’t have any. I’m pretty much hopeless and not even a romantic yet (lol). I hope you like jokes, from that I mean I hope you don’t put people in jail for jokes.
Jokes are the only way I can make sense of this reality (political and economic) around me now. Also, memes are cool too. I’m sure you have been the face of almost all meme pages. That’s how we decide popularity now; popular opinion is, well, another thing all together.
Did you see that? How I began a sentence by telling you I’m hopeless and then told you my hopes? I may join politics, I mean I’m a hypocrite. But I understand that isn’t enough.
I would put in, here, a word on behalf of the minorities because my privilege comes with this overtly condescending liberal entitlement that makes me think I can pretend to be a mouthpiece for a minority and take over their narrative (I hope I didn’t take it too far). I would just say let the minorities live please, we have a duty of service towards them.
Absolutely forgot to ask you, how are you feeling? I’m sure you must be feeling great with all the flowers showering and the laddoos (I hope you’re not diabetic).
Can I be honest? I don’t know how the coming five years are going to look, honestly. I haven’t had the best time these five years (considering it was my prime time when I understood politics, power, rights and duties). I was, sort of, hoping we can maybe work together to change it but I feel like we’re on different pages as to the type of change that we want (obvious in a democracy). If I think you are who you are (and you are), then I’m scared.
I’m scared that the India I’ve been promised is on the ledge of a skyscraper and I’m desperately holding on to the idea of it as I watch it slip away, every second out of my reach. I’m scared for Kunal Kamra (he is a very nice person, I don’t know him but you should watch his videos, he’s a huge fan of the politics you brandish). Don’t scare us. You’re not supposed to do that. But I won’t end this letter without hope, just because some of us didn’t get what we wanted. It is now that we need hope more than ever.
I would like you to know sir, that this was not a test. The test has just begun. Victory in an election is not a license to go on with your ways, instead, take it as a chance you got from the people – who, by the way, are like natural disasters (very unpredictable). Provide more substance; we don’t need magic.
I won’t write down my commands, demands, wishes, requests or whatever you call it, I don’t see the point. I know you won’t read this, but just in case you do (remember what I said about hope, earlier?), best of luck with the next five years.
Kaafi Nationalist Insaan