satire: Floods? Sing a Hymn!

  

(former film star turned politician’s advice; when she visited her flood-hit constituency)

 

Just when you think politicians can’t possibly surprise you anymore, one of them manages to outdo every expectation. Their talent for the absurd truly knows no bounds. Take, for instance, our beloved ex-movie-star-turned-politician. When floods devastated her constituency, she suddenly remembered — oh yes! — she actually has a constituency. And if she didn’t show up, those soggy, homeless voters might just dry up their affection, come election time. She thought she may not be with them but she should appear to be with them in their hour of grief.

 

So off she flew — all makeup, bangles, and misplaced confidence — to visit her people living in what the government lovingly calls ‘shelter homes’ i.e. nothing but make shift tin shed.  In simpler language: tents, tarpaulin hellholes. Nevertheless, shelter home sounds classy and has a Govt. angle to the whole thing, you know? Like a flood-themed Airbnb.

 

Now, tragedy struck: she’d left her bottle of glycerin at home. Without it, how could she shed those trademark cinematic tears? Genuine ones were obviously out of stock. Helping people wasn’t part of the script either — no budget, no will, and definitely no guarantee that the ‘High Command’ would even give her a ticket next election. Thankfully, the district officials had already done most of the real work. But there she was, strutting around as if she personally ordered the clouds to stop raining.

 

“How are you? Getting food? Two meals? No discomfort, right? You’re comfortable here?” she cooed in her limited Hindi vocabulary, the kind she used in those old films before the dubbing artists saved her scenes. Only this time, there was no dubbing — this was a live performance, no retakes, no filters, just pure political theatrics.

 

Meanwhile, the District Collector and his entourage hovered around her like extras desperate to impress the director. They explained every little thing as though she were their boss — as if one frown from her could have them all transferred to Timbuktu. Of course! they too were busy posing for photographs, trying to look like Raj Kapoor in a disaster film.

 

Now, our glamorous politician doesn’t visit her dusty district more than once or twice a year. Who would? There is no airport. There’s no vanity van, no red carpet, and the only crowd screaming her name is begging for either employment or free ration, not photographs or even autographs. Within minutes, her makeup began melting. 

 

The drama was wrapping up nicely when inspiration struck — she decided to sing a bhajan! (A devotional hymn, because clearly, God was the only one still working) The Collector, terrified of being labelled communal (anti-Hinduism/anti religion) immediately joined in. Then his staff, fearing transfers, followed suit. Soon it became a divine chorus of bureaucrats and clerks belting out hymns like their promotion depended on it — which, to be fair, they probably did.

 

There was so much devotion that for a moment, people actually forgot all about the flood. Cameras clicked, hashtags were born, and one pre-coached woman tearfully announced that after singing with the actress, all her sorrow had vanished — at least for the duration of the song.

 

And that, dear reader, is this star-turned-politician’s greatest contribution to society: she makes people forget their misery. Maybe not forever, but at least for the duration of the film when she is dancing and singing. A new formula has now emerged for the political playbook:

If there’s an earthquake — organize a dance.

If there’s a flood — sing a hymn.

If crops fail — play music

If there’s a pandemic — throw a concert.

If prices rise — hold a fair.

If there’s a fire — start a circus.

 

Because why solve problems, it is a costly affair full of pains and bottlenecks.  Instead, why not just perform? After all, in today’s politics, tragedy is just another genre — and every disaster, a photo-op