If the hijab controversy during the BJP’s tenure in Karnataka was condemned for politicizing religion in education, what should one make of the Congress government now allegedly asking a student in Shimoga to remove his jenuvu—a sacred thread worn discreetly under the clothes by Hindu Brahmin males? Is this tit-for-tat politics at the cost of personal faith? Or simply the inevitable result of voting in a party that has long been accused of identity appeasement under the guise of secularism? Let’s cut through the noise: a hijab, however religious, is worn visibly and may raise concerns over adherence to uniform codes, especially during exams. The jenuvu, on the other hand, is invisible to all but the wearer. No rational argument can be made for its removal in the name of discipline or security. This isn’t about equal treatment. Its about political retaliation wrapped in bureaucratic indifference—or worse, ideological disdain. The real tragedy isn’t just the act. It’s that such incidents are no longer outliers. They’ve become patterns—symptoms of deeper political pathologies. And the electorate, knowingly or not, enables them. Let’s be blunt. Voters in Karnataka handed the reins to a party known for cultivating vote banks through symbolic gestures and caste calculations. Did they think appeasement politics would suddenly become inclusive? Or that freebies like free electricity and bus rides would magically transform political character?
Now, those same voters watch as the government revisits religious quotas for Muslims, despite constitutional limitations, and backs a caste census so riddled with inconsistencies it enraged entire OBC communities like the Vokkaligas and Lingayats. Is this what was promised in the manifesto? Or is it what always comes hidden in the fine print of “secular” governance? What’s happening in Karnataka isn’t isolated. In Himachal Pradesh, the Congress government has been caught red-handed misusing temple funds—not to preserve heritage or fund community welfare, but to plug a budgetary black hole and allegedly bankroll ghost advertisements for a defunct newspaper tied to the party’s legacy. If this isn’t political entitlement on public money, what is? This is where voters must wake up. When you vote for a party based on short-term gains—cash, subsidies, caste pride—you also sign up for its long-term agenda. And that agenda may not always align with your values, your dignity, or your rights. Good governance cannot be expected from parties whose politics is built on divide-and-rule—be it by caste, by religion, or by economic class. And when governments lose their moral compass, it’s usually because the electorate lost its political memory. But here’s the good news—democracy still gives you the steering wheel. Each vote is a reset button, an opportunity to demand better. Electing governments that polarize in the name of parity is not progress. Choosing leaders who pit one faith against another to score ideological points is not justice. The removal of a jenuvu may seem like a small act, but it reflects a big problem: a state machinery that no longer respects private belief because it is busy appeasing louder, vote-rich lobbies. The next time a party offers you a handout, ask what it might take in return. The price may not be in cash—it could be your silence, your faith, or your child’s dignity in an exam hall. So, let the voter beware. Political accountability doesn’t start in the assembly. It starts in the polling booth.
