I am an Independent Indian.
I like to take law in my strong bare hands and lynch people on the slightest of “suspicions”.
I feel proud to circulate messages of “nationalism”, hatred and bigotry on WhatsApp.
I laugh out loud at paper-puppet-politicians from opposing parties, accusing and hurling shoes at each other on prime-time news.
I endorse biased journalism, fraudulent news, and groupthink.
I censor films that are too “forward-thinking” or “women-oriented”.
I subjugate an entire people, interrogate them on a whim, use them as human shields and brand them as terrorists.
I use bombs to make a sound so that I can be heard.
I get silenced, talked over, stomped over, raped over and over again.
I believe that love is only in marriage and marriage is strictly between a man and a woman of ages six to infinity.
I consume products that make women more fair and women more unfaired and men more manly and godmen more godly.
I never consume beef, pork, and the likes.
In fact, I sleep on an empty stomach, most days.
I rewrite stories in history books to fabricate the truth of my past, present and future.
I endorse yoga and cow urine as the end-all solution to problems plaguing modern life.
I don’t get married to a lower-caste Hindu and hence save my family’s honour.
I don’t get married to a Muslim and hence save the subcontinent from Islamic domination.
I elect murderers as my representatives in the parliament, so they can apply their vocation to all of humanity.
I honour my prejudiced norms, values, and society.
I discriminate when I see a benefit, and shout “discrimination!” when I don’t.
I don’t pay my taxes and elicit taxpayers’ money into my holey pockets.
I solicit payments in cash (or kind) to provide you your rightful possessions.
I work hard and with honesty, but seemingly never hard or honest enough.
I let boys toil in unyielding labour.
I let girls soil in untimely labour.
I see my children born and die of diseases whose names I can’t pronounce, but they easily denounce.
I despair in disparity.
I thrive on inequality.
I rule through dysfunctionality.
I wash my sins at the temple, so I can sleep guiltless at night.
I wash my shins at the tubewell, removing blood off my sight.
I like playing the blame game when farmers commit suicide, tribals lose their homes, and children die in hospitals.
I make other people’s misery my source of consolation.
I indulge in mourning over buildings and the people they housed, “ill-fated to nature’s fury” of floods and earthquakes.
I support nepotism, I detest reservations.
I create fake certificates of birth, caste, income, marriage, and death.
I turn blind to the legless at the pedestrian crossing.
I relish meddling in matters next-door.
I applaud when misery befalls our neighbour.
I like forcing others to speak the same language and follow the same faith as me.
I am tolerant of misbehaviour, resistant to coexistence.
I abuse the domesticated and the marginalised.
I choose my words carefully, to woo and to please as they please.
I speak of secular diversity, and partake in divide-and-conquer.
I ad-lib the national anthem (and force others to, too) without thinking about bharat’s bhagya.
I savour the pretense of being unoppressed in a country of the oppressed.
I feel agitated and uptight when someone criticises my country, without comprehending why and what for.
I feel agitated and erudite when I criticise my country, then go for a relaxing holiday abroad.
I complain about left-wing and right-wing extremism over tea and biscuits.
I do social work because it adds brownie points to my resume.
I am too scared to be a voice of or for a minority, and so I chant with the majority around me.
At least I care for the country I live in, if not for the people within.
At least I care for what people think of me, if not for what I’d think of myself.
I am a multitude who stands mutilated.
An independent Indian, who always signs off,
With Jai Hind.