satire : Not Our Role

There exists a magical phrase in our collective vocabulary — a phrase so convenient, so multi-purpose, that it can clean up any mess, moral or material. The phrase is: “Not our role.” You can meddle in every quarrel, gossip about everyone from cousins to colleagues, and when the fireworks begin, just raise your hands in innocence — “Not our role!” It’s the national disinfectant of guilt. You can spread slander like fertilizer, and when reputations wilt, sigh philosophically — “Well, their karma was such; it was bound to happen. Not our role.”

 

At home, the phrase works wonders. If the mother beats the child, the father solemnly declares, “Not my role.” If the father disciplines the child, the mother announces her neutrality — “Not my role.” Together, they raise a thoroughly confused citizen.

 

Offices, of course, are temples of this philosophy. Everyone gossips with professional dedication. They discuss bosses, colleagues, promotions, and tenders with forensic precision. But the moment things go south, someone inevitably stands up and says — “Not our role.” It’s the verbal equivalent of setting fire to a haystack and then walking away, humming a tune.

 

This mantra has found loyal followers in every sphere. Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law employ it with Olympic consistency. “She said what?” “Oh, I never told her that — not my role!” In the age of phone recordings, one must be cautious, but the spirit of denial still thrives.

 

Even Artificial Intelligence has learned the trick. When caught generating something scandalous, it politely insists — “That’s not my role.” The tradition continues; once upon a time, actresses blamed “body doubles.” Now AI machines have inherited that line.

 

Our law enforcement, too, has adapted beautifully. A wife wakes her police officer husband in the night: “Wake up! I think there’s a thief in the house!” The officer turns over, yawns, and says, “This area isn’t under my jurisdiction. Not my role.” Victims of online scams flock to police stations seeking help. The response is rehearsed: “Did you consult us before investing? No? Then why are you consulting us now? Not our role!”

 

Teachers aren’t far behind. “I only taught the subject and set the question paper,” says one. “I didn’t check the answer sheets. So, if your child failed, it’s not my role!” And who can forget that glorious period when daughters-in-law were mysteriously catching fire from kitchen stoves? The standard defence was as old as the soot: “We have no role.” Until a Court asked the most inconvenient question: “Then why is it always the daughter-in-law are the ones who get burnt — never the mother-in-law or sister-in-law?”

 

Diplomacy, too, has caught the fever. When the Afghan Foreign Minister visited India, women journalists were denied entry to his press conference. The uproar was predictable. The official explanation? You guessed it — “Not our role! let women and the Taliban sort it out,” they said, and if women insisted on asking questions, the Taliban would probably tell them in no uncertain terms:

 

“You have not to ask why,

You have to do and die.”

 

Thus, “Not our role” remains the national anthem of moral outsourcing. It’s the perfect life jacket for those drowning in responsibility — light, floaty, and utterly leakproof. If things go right, we were always involved, It’s our baby. If things go wrong — Not our role.