I am perpetually hopeless when it comes to politics in India. Remember the scene from Rang De Basanti where the gang is eating at a dhaba? I’d totally be Karan from that film saying things like, “Haalat dekhi hai is desh ki? Aur kisi ko padi bhi hai”? (have you seen the state of the country? does anyone else care?)
In short, I had completely lost faith in any on-ground change happening in our country. But a few days ago, something changed rather dramatically. Let’s start from the beginning.
My family moved from East Delhi to Ghaziabad in the year 2012. I was in the 10th standard. We were excited about moving into a bigger house. We’d all get our separate rooms, ample parking space, and a huge balcony for our evening chai; life was set. But the one thing missing from our picture-perfect home was the road right outside it.
It had been broken even before we had moved, and would stay broken for many more years to come. Other than the inconvenience it caused while driving, it ensured a constant supply of dust during the aforementioned evening chai. I even had a scooter accident right outside my house, courtesy of gravel on that road. So clearly, things needed fixing.
People in my neighbourhood had understandably been upset at this lack of basic public service. And it’s not that anyone political party is to blame. We’ve seen MLAs of both BJP and BSP during the Chief Ministership of Mayawati, Akhilesh Yadav and Yogi Adityanath. But roads in our constituency haven’t changed. In order to pacify the local populace, a small patchwork would be done here and there, but it would not last more than a few weeks. Both my mother and sister have made numerous calls to our local leaders’ offices but received no resolution. As Sunny Deol said in Damini, all we got was “Tareekh pe tareekh”.
During the 2022 UP Election campaign, on a Saturday afternoon, a few women campaign workers from the ruling BJP were sloganeering and chanting “Jai Shree Ram” and “Bharat Mata Ki Jai” outside on the street. They apparently were recording and live-streaming it on Facebook. We had just had our lunch and I was watching Shark Tank on my iPad. Just as Namita Thapar was about to say, “I’m Out”, I heard my main door slam shut and saw my sister running behind the workers on our CCTV monitor.
Now a quick word about my sister. Her name is Prerna Lidhoo, and she’s a journalist herself. And if I’m Karan from Rang De Basanti, the nihilistic, hopeless youth, she’s definitely Flight Lt. Ajay Singh Rathod. Always willing to do the right thing, no matter what. And as she ran behind those BJP workers, I felt a familiar urge to follow in case things got out of hand. So with my iPad in hand, I drifted outside.
What happened next can be seen in the video report I published on Youth Ki Awaaz. The BJP workers first asked us to stop recording and then tried to use every trick in the book to avoid answering our questions. At one point, they even claimed that my sister and I don’t even live here. Our only point was that if you’re sloganeering and live-streaming your party’s message, you might as well pan down a few degrees and show people the road that you’re walking on. People should know both sides of the story.
The video got massive traction online and started a much-needed conversation about seeking accountability from our leaders. It got more than 6.5 lakh views on Twitter and was shared by everyone from Kumar Vishwas to Akash Banerjee and RJ Sayema. Unsurprisingly, some opposition parties tried to co-opt the video to attack the BJP. But as I said, this was not about any particular party. The BJP was the one in power, chanting outside our house. So we asked questions of them.
Meanwhile, inside our house, the situation was tense. One of the women in the video had threatened to bulldoze our front gate. My father was concerned that publishing the video would ruffle someone’s feathers unnecessarily. But all we had done was ask a simple question, right?
Thankfully, the video received a lot of support from the internet. People even posted pictures of roads from their localities, tagging us to raise their voices. And as for our front gate, it was still intact. My purpose of making the video was fulfilled. Anyway I didn’t expect one video to magically change the condition of the roads outside my house (Karan from Rang De Basanti energy). Normal life continued.
Cut to three months later. At 5 o’clock in the evening, I grabbed my car keys to go and pick up my mother. What I witnessed in front of my gate felt unreal.
The patch of road in front of our house had been fixed. Laid in front of me was happiness in the form of thick, black tar. Trust me, the fragrance of a newly made road far surpasses the smell of a petrol pump or the whiff of a new book. If time had permitted, I’d have walked barefoot on that road (thankfully, I didn’t). I first clicked a picture and sent it on our family WhatsApp group with a message saying, “Mubaarak Ho”.
Now the purpose of this article is not to say, “look how one video from two angry young folks would make the ruling party correct their course” (No ‘David vs Golaith’ melodrama, please). The point is that no matter what the consequences would have been, we asked a question. A basic question about a small patch of road. And according to me, that is what a democracy is.
Even if the road wouldn’t be fixed, I’d be happy that we stood up to the people in power when it was time. It is hard for us working-class mango janta to go ahead and fight elections. But what we can and must do is ask questions and seek accountability. That is the biggest national duty of all citizens, I feel.
As someone in a film once said, “Koi desh perfect nahi hota. Usse perfect banaana padta hai” (no country is perfect. We have to make it perfect). Our country can definitely be made perfect, one question at a time.
While other members tried writing letters and nudge the local MLA to act, the video triggered many others to take action and demand improvement by bringing attention to the issue.
You, too, can #StartTheChange by talking about an issue that matters to you. Publish your story today.