There is a new virus going around, and no, it is not airborne or waterborne – it is mic-borne. The symptoms are unmistakable: compulsive wisecracks, uncontrolled sarcasm, and a chronic inability to distinguish governance from giggles. Punjab’s Chief Minister, Bhagwant Singh Mann, once infected professionally, now appears to be in full relapse.
Zinger of the season
At a recent political gathering – hard to say whether it was a rally or a roast – Mann looked squarely at the audience and, with the smugness of a WhatsApp forwards philosopher, launched his zinger of the season: ‘One Nation, One Husband.’ This, in response to Prime Minister Modi’s fondness for ‘One Nation, One…’ schemes. No, it wasn’t an ad-libbed line in a local skit competition; this was the elected head of Punjab, addressing the future of federalism through matrimonial satire.
Indian politics could use a little lightness. But when the leader of a border state with a budget deficit the size of a Himalayan glacier, a persistent drug menace, and farmer suicides that don’t even make the news anymore, decides the best use of his podium is to take potshots at the prime minister’s bachelorhood, one begins to worry whether the comedian ever truly left the comic.
Professional entertainer
Bhagwant Mann’s descent-or ascent, depending on one’s taste in tragedy – into political stand-up is not entirely surprising. He was, after all, a professional entertainer. But unlike Ukraine’s Volodymyr Zelenskyy, who traded his mic for statecraft and kept it that way, Mann seems to believe statecraft is just another set. His governance model is part Chalaak Chacha, part Pind Vaale Punchlines, and full Kapil Sharma Show, minus the laugh track.
The grandmaster of metaphor
If there were a national registry for accidental comedians moonlighting as public servants, Mann would now rank right next to Rahul Gandhi – the Grandmaster of Metaphor, who once tried to explain inflation using potato chips, democracy using broken mic cords, and China using Google Maps. Of course, Rahul’s punchlines are rarely deliberate; that is what gives them their avant-garde edge. Mann, on the other hand, is deliberate and still not funny.
Not to be left behind in the comedy relay is Telangana’s newest meme material, the PCC chief Mahesh Kumar Goud. Just the other day, with all the gravitas of a man who had mistaken a Maoist camp for a meditation centre, Goud blamed the Modi government for not initiating talks with Naxals. As though the only thing stopping the Maoists from embracing the Indian Constitution was the lack of a Google Meet invite.
The Gag Sabha
Picture this: ‘Hello Comrade Raju? Yes, we were thinking Friday. No, not at the hideout, let’s meet halfway. No guns. No grenades. Just vibes.’ Apparently, in Goud’s worldview, democracy is a group therapy session, and the Maoist insurgency is merely a scheduling conflict.
Perhaps Mann, Rahul, and Goud should form a troupe: ‘The Gag Sabha’. Their manifesto would be short: Less GDP, More LOL. Fiscal deficit? Crack a joke. Border security? Drop a punchline. Constitutional breakdown? Parody it. The possibilities are endless when you abandon policy and embrace parody.
To be fair, Modi’s own communication style is far from shy of theatre. His penchant for dramatic pauses, abbreviations, and serialised governance slogans – Swachh Bharat, Digital India, Startup India, One Nation-One Whatever – has created a branding ecosystem that often overpromises and underdelivers. But at least it pretends to be about policy. Mann’s ‘One Nation, One Husband’ doesn’t even bother with the pretence. It is not a jab – it’s a joke. And a lazy one at that.
Mockery of democracy
What does this say about the state of our opposition? You may ask. Once a crucial pillar of democratic correction, it now seems more preoccupied with gathering likes on reels than ideas in Parliament. From Mann’s wedding-themed jabs to Goud’s Naxal counselling ideas, the critique of government policy has been reduced to an open mic night at a college fest.
This new genre – performative oppositionism- demands no nuance, no data, no policy counter. Just the confidence to hold a mic and the memory to deliver lines. And maybe, just maybe, the arrogance to believe that applause equals accomplishment.
We are a nation of 1.4 billion people, run by one party, heckled by one-liners, and informed by one app at a time. Not ‘One Nation, One Election.’ Not ‘One Nation, One Ration Card’. What we are living through is One Nation, Too Many Jokers. Democracy may not be a joke. But it is increasingly being told like one.
