Control, Not Service: The True Purpose of Government

Not to help you — but to stop you from helping yourself.

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I. The Illusion That Keeps You Quiet

You were taught that government is the parent of the nation.

It builds roads, educates children, gives electricity, manages disasters, handles pandemics, provides law and order, ensures justice, gives subsidies, maintains peace, protects the borders.

You clapped for it.

You blamed it when needed.

But you never questioned its fundamental purpose.

Look again. Beneath all the files, apps, speeches, offices, flags, and budget sessions — there’s only one job:

> Prevent people from rising.

Not rising in income.

Not rising in rank.

But rising in understanding, unity, and action.

Rising against the system itself.

The modern government is not an architect of justice — it is the world’s most sophisticated revolt-prevention machine.

Once you see this, everything else falls into place.

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II. A System Not Broken — But Built to Block You

1. Education: Factory for Tamed Minds

You call it a school. It’s a long-term behavioural correction centre.

Children sit in rows. Uniforms make them identical. Bells ring to signal time. They must ask permission to pee.

Questions are discouraged. Obedience is rewarded.

The syllabus glorifies Gandhi, but ignores Bhagat Singh’s anger, Ambedkar’s revolt, and peasant uprisings.

Your child never learns:

What’s wrong with the global economy?

Why does poverty still exist?

How does caste still operate beneath laws?

How did the Constitution get diluted?

Why?

Because an aware child becomes an aware adult. And aware adults don’t obey quietly.

Even IITs and IIMs — the pride of India — produce brilliant slaves who obey foreign bosses or become bureaucrats. They don't challenge the machine. They upgrade it.

You were never educated to become free.

You were trained to become useful — but harmless.

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2. Healthcare: Keep Them Weak, Keep Them Grateful

You think the government cares for your health?

Then why:

Are more than 50% rural health centres without doctors?

Are chronic diseases like diabetes, BP, thyroid, PCOD exploding across villages and towns?

Are Ayurvedic or natural healers harassed but medical stores sell ultra-processed “health” drinks endorsed by the State?

Here’s the truth:

Modern healthcare never aims to cure.

It manages your disease, so you depend forever — on medicine, labs, insurance, hospitals, schemes.

What does revolt prevention look like in medicine?

A healthy, self-reliant man doesn't need the system — he’s dangerous.

A sick man, frightened and dependent, is perfect. He won’t rebel. He’ll obey — for his prescription, his pension, his file to move.

Even mental health is being used to pathologize rebellion:

Angry at injustice? You’re “aggressive.”

Don’t want to work for corporations? You’re “depressed.”

Distrust modern systems? You’re “paranoid.”

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3. Media: The Weather Channel of Your Emotions

Don’t say, “The media is corrupt.”

Say: “The media is trained to manage the masses.”

Every channel, paper, and news app works like a mood thermostat:

Too much public anger? Inject a cricket win.

Too much unity? Show a temple-mosque fight.

Too much clarity? Distract with celebrity gossip.

What’s missing?

Deep rural journalism

Follow-up on RTI exposure

Coverage of Adivasi forest rights

Independent economic analysis of scams

The media isn’t broken — it’s performing exactly as needed:

> Keep the nation emotionally stirred, but intellectually asleep.

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4. Law & Order: Not for Justice, but for Order

You think police are for your safety?

Then why:

Do they arrive after crimes?

Why are dissenters arrested without charge, while politicians accused of violence roam free?

Why are rape survivors humiliated in courtrooms while loudmouth godmen with Z+ security get televised bhajans?

Law is not about justice.

It’s about maintaining the current structure — no matter how unjust.

Judiciary delays are not a bug. They are the method:

The slow crawl of justice keeps public anger from boiling over.

By the time your case is heard, you’re exhausted, dead, or hopeless.

Revolt is an emergency.

Law is the cooling system that buys time for power to regroup.

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5. Welfare Schemes: Pills to Prevent Explosion

₹6000/year for a farmer through PM-KISAN — just enough to buy two quintals of fertilizer.

Free rice at ₹1/kg — enough to prevent starvation, not malnutrition.

₹1000/month for women — not to liberate, but to tie them to the State emotionally.

Welfare is not empowerment. It is pain management.

It ensures that:

You don’t riot when inflation hits.

You don’t protest when jobs vanish.

You don’t gather when corruption is exposed.

This is not compassion.

This is risk control.

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6. Politics: Drama to Keep You Hooked

Politics in India is not governance. It’s theatre.

Every five years:

They make you believe your voice matters.

They ignite caste fires, regional sentiments, linguistic pride, religious wounds.

They make elections about emotion, not institutional change.

After elections:

Same corporates keep ruling.

Same policies return with new branding.

Same police, same judges, same mafias — all untouched.

Political parties are not rivals — they are rotating managers of revolt prevention.

The real enemy — the public that unites across religion and caste — is never shown the mirror.

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7. Technology: Comfort or Cage?

What happens when rebellion becomes digital?

It becomes trackable.

You tweet dissent? Flagged.

You donate to activists? Monitored.

You form a group? Geo-tagged.

You go silent for weeks? AI model checks behaviour shift.

You think smartphones are progress?

They’re handheld surveillance devices.

They give you dopamine and data — while giving them your habits, routines, fears, interests, locations.

Why is every protest met with an internet shutdown?

Because internet is not for expression — it’s for watching you express.

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8. Bureaucracy: Designed Exhaustion

Try filing a complaint against a corrupt officer.

Try claiming a land right.

Try applying for compensation.

You will face:

Multiple forms

Missing officers

Technical language

Rejections

“Come after lunch”

This is not inefficiency. This is anti-revolt architecture.

A tired citizen is not dangerous.

A confused citizen is not united.

A delayed citizen becomes a silent citizen.

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III. What Does the Government Actually Fear?

Not Pakistan. Not China. Not inflation. Not rape statistics. Not black money.

It fears:

Farmers gathering without leaders

Students refusing exams and raising real questions

Women asking about property, not just safety

Caste-oppressed groups questioning reservation as a political tool

Tribal communities reviving forest living

Citizens saying, “We’ll manage ourselves.”

Revolt means truth meeting unity.

The government’s job is to block both.

So they:

Insert riots

Buy rebel leaders

Inject hopelessness

Create fake causes

Delay the storm

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IV. You, the Trained Inmate

You think you’re free because you can scroll, shop, travel, and tweet.

But try to:

Educate your child outside school

Reject Aadhaar or PAN

Start a self-sufficient community

Refuse to vaccinate, digitize, or electrify

Speak boldly in your panchayat

Then you’ll see who really owns your time.

> You don’t live in a democracy.

You live in a mass simulation of consent.

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V. Real Revolt: Not Rage, But Removal

Real rebellion is not in burning a bus.

It is:

Walking away from corporate jobs

Refusing to chase degrees

Building food forests

Homeschooling with critical awareness

Forming healing circles, reading groups, off-grid collectives

Living so simply that you cannot be taxed, tracked, or threatened

The less you need them, the more dangerous you become.

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VI. Final Truth

The government does not exist to serve you.

It exists to make sure you:

Don’t unite

Don’t ask

Don’t break away

Don’t find your own strength

Everything else — education, schemes, speeches, policies — is the wrapping.

Inside is only this one thing:

> Fear.

Of you.

Fully awake. Fully connected. Fully independent.

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What Is the Government Actually Doing?

A long, layered, slow-burning courtyard conversation with Madhukar.

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Characters

Madhukar – rural healer and realist, 40s

Lalitha – retired government school teacher, early 60s

Rajendra – her elder brother, retired revenue officer, early 70s

Padma – Lalitha’s daughter, homemaker, 35

Kiran – Padma’s husband, works at a private bank

Ravi – their son, 17, studying for engineering entrance

Adhya – Madhukar’s elder daughter, 14, unschooled

Anju – Madhukar’s younger daughter, 10, curious and quick

Location – Front courtyard of Lalitha’s ancestral house, rural South India, early morning

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Scene: Early morning. Birds chirp, a cow is tied in the corner, idli batter is being steamed. Adhya is helping cut coriander. Anju is playing with a spinning top.

Lalitha (complaining): The transformer’s gone again. This is the third time this month. And don’t ask about the local PHC — doctor is never there. What is this government doing?

Madhukar (calmly): Exactly what it was built to do, akka.

Rajendra: Don’t start your riddles, Madhukar. Say what you mean.

Madhukar (looking up): The only job of government — in reality — is to prevent revolt. Everything else is just cover-up.

Padma (scoffs): You mean hospitals, schools, ration, schemes — all are just for that?

Madhukar: Yes. They don’t exist to serve you. They exist to keep you dependent, divided, distracted, tired, and quiet. Because a united, aware public is dangerous.

Ravi (glancing from his phone): This sounds like conspiracy theory.

Adhya (dryly, without looking up): That’s what people say when they don’t want to look deeper.

Kiran (raising eyebrows): Okay then. Explain. Start with schools. What’s wrong there?

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1. EDUCATION: A SYSTEM TO SUPPRESS THINKING

Madhukar: Simple. Education is not to create awareness. It’s to domesticate humans.

Children sit for hours. They’re ranked, compared, punished, made to obey bells and orders.

That’s not learning — it’s early-stage bureaucracy training.

Adhya (quietly): They never taught me how to grow food, resolve conflict, or ask why the river is drying. But I was expected to memorise the British monarchy.

Lalitha (defensive): But basic literacy and discipline are important.

Madhukar: Of course. But why hide everything that would create courage, community, or clarity?

Why no real history of peasant revolts? Why no deep analysis of how laws are made? Why nothing about land acquisition, forest rights, environmental destruction?

Because a thinking citizen is a threat. Better to produce workers who obey.

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2. HEALTHCARE: A LOOP OF DEPENDENCY

Padma: But surely hospitals are needed. No one wants to suffer.

Madhukar: And yet people are suffering more than ever.

Why are so many in their 30s now permanently medicated — BP, diabetes, thyroid, asthma?

Why do hospitals only offer lifetime pills instead of lifestyle correction?

Rajendra: Not everyone believes in herbal or natural healing.

Adhya (firmly): Belief is for religion. This is science.

If a disease can be reversed with food, sleep, and exercise — why push pills?

Madhukar: Because healthy people don’t visit clinics, don’t buy insurance, don’t vote for free medicine.

They become independent — and independence is dangerous.

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3. MEDIA: DIVERSION AND EMOTIONAL CONTROL

Ravi: So all the news is fake?

Madhukar: Not fake. Carefully filtered.

You’ll hear about a celebrity’s divorce, but not about farmer suicides.

You’ll hear about temple arguments, not about land grab cases.

Kiran: So it’s about profit?

Madhukar: Partly. But more than that — it’s about managing mood.

Too much unity? Start religious tension.

Too much anger? Distract with cricket.

Too much protest? Silence it and twist the narrative.

Adhya: And we share it all, thinking we’re informed. But we’re just being emotionally handled.

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4. LAW AND ORDER: MAINTAINING POWER, NOT JUSTICE

Rajendra: But law and order are still essential.

Madhukar: Of course. But look deeper.

Who goes to jail? A poor man who stole to survive.

Who stays out? A politician who looted crores.

Try protesting a dam project — you’ll be arrested.

Try complaining about forest rights — labeled a Naxal.

Try exposing corruption — your phone is tapped.

Anju (whispers): What about stealing water?

Madhukar: If a tribal diverts a stream, it’s illegal.

If a company drains a lake, it’s development.

That’s law and order — it protects property and power, not people.

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5. WELFARE: DRIPS TO KEEP YOU FROM SHOUTING

Padma: But schemes help. At least the widow pension helps my friend survive.

Madhukar: I’m not denying the survival. I’m asking: why must she remain at survival level forever?

Why not ensure community land, collective farming, food forests, real employment?

Because that would make her independent of the government.

Instead they give you ₹1000 and take away ₹5000 worth of real security — soil, health, community, access to local resources.

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6. POLITICS: EMOTIONAL ENTERTAINMENT

Kiran: But we have democracy. We can vote. We can speak.

Madhukar: You vote between managers, not between systems.

Party A and B will both promote highways over forests, pharma over farmers, caste arithmetic over real issues.

Politics is just scheduled conflict to vent your energy.

But nothing foundational ever changes.

Adhya (to Ravi): Have any of your textbooks told you how the Constitution can be legally changed without public discussion?

Ravi (pauses): No.

Adhya: Then what are you actually learning?

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7. TECHNOLOGY: SWEETLY PACKAGED SURVEILLANCE

Ravi: What about all this internet and digital freedom?

Madhukar: It’s a trap made of speed and convenience.

You can watch what you like — until you challenge the system.

You can comment — until it gains traction.

You can organize a protest — until they geo-tag your group and shut the internet in that district.

Adhya: They track movement, purchase, language, typing style, location, photos, even deleted items.

It’s not freedom. It’s high-definition house arrest.

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8. BUREAUCRACY: EXHAUST THEM TILL THEY GIVE UP

Padma: It took me 6 visits to get my son’s birth certificate corrected. Why are they so inefficient?

Madhukar: That’s not inefficiency. That’s exhaustion by design.

Keep the poor and middle class running — filing, reapplying, chasing signatures, confused by process — and they’ll never organize, never question, never revolt.

Anju: Appa, remember the old man who came for oil?

Madhukar: Yes. He lost ₹3000 pension for 8 months. Wrong fingerprint. No one helped.

He spent ₹1000 travelling and still didn't get resolution.

And still he says, "System is good, just needs improvement."

That’s how deep the training goes.

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9. THE ONE THING GOVERNMENT FEARS

Lalitha (quietly): So what does this system fear the most?

Madhukar: Not violence. Not slogans. Not opposition parties.

It fears:

A family pulling children out of school to learn real things.

A woman saying, “I’ll grow my own food. I won’t need your subsidy.”

A village resolving disputes without police or court.

A group of farmers saving seed and saying no to loans.

A tribal community refusing to give up forest living.

These are acts of true revolt — because they make the system irrelevant.

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10. HOW TO REBEL WITHOUT MAKING NOISE

Ravi: Then what do we do? Break away? Protest?

Madhukar: No need to shout. Just withdraw. Strategically.

Reduce dependence.

Know local laws.

Heal yourself.

Teach your kids real history and real skills.

Say no to seduction. Say no to fear.

Every small act of self-reliance is a nail in the coffin of this manipulative system.

Adhya: We can live with less and still live fully. That’s what the government cannot tolerate.

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Final Silence

The idli pot hisses. A bullock cart passes. A distant loudspeaker announces a new scheme for women.

Rajendra (softly): I served 30 years thinking I was upholding governance.

Maybe I was just helping hold back revolt.

Lalitha (to Madhukar): What if people realise this too late?

Madhukar: They already are.

But slowly. Like how the soil drinks the first rain — silently.

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We’ll Start From Here

– where the same family begins quiet, practical rebellion — not with slogans, but with changes in food, education, health, income, time, and habits. No fluff. No poetry. Just raw, layered realism grounded in Indian village life.

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Characters (Same as Before)

Madhukar – rural healer and guide

Lalitha – retired school teacher

Rajendra – her brother, retired revenue officer

Padma – homemaker

Kiran – private bank employee

Ravi – 17, exam-bound student

Adhya – 14, unschooled

Anju – 10, curious and alert

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Scene: Two weeks after the previous discussion. Morning courtyard. Idli breakfast again. Ravi looks tired. Lalitha reads an old school logbook. Adhya is teaching Anju basic Kannada.

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1. THE FIRST STEP: SCHOOL DOUBT

Padma (hesitating): Madhukar… we’ve been talking. About what you said. About education.

Kiran (softly): We never thought outside school. But Ravi’s burnt out. Constant coaching, no joy, always sick.

Ravi (looking up): I memorise formulas. But I can’t fix a tap or grow a single spinach plant.

Lalitha: It was never like this when I taught. But now... it’s a grind.

Adhya (quietly): Learning should make you more free. Not more afraid.

Madhukar: Then stop making the fear your routine.

Education begins the day you say — “Let’s learn what we need, not what they sell.”

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2. THE SWITCH: LOCAL LEARNING

Madhukar (to Ravi): What if you took 3 months off after your exam? No tuitions. No screens. Just work with hands and head.

Fix things around the house

Learn to cook

Go to fields with Anna

Study Constitution with me

Read books banned or ignored by syllabus

Start keeping a thought log

Speak to elders about land, caste, irrigation, migration

Learn one rural craft — weaving, carpentry, anything

Ravi (surprised): That would actually feel like breathing.

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3. THE FOOD SHIFT

Padma (awkward): We’ve been buying frozen parathas and masala oats for quick meals.

Adhya: Those aren’t food. They’re lab experiments.

Lalitha (half-joking): She scolded me for buying packaged rasam powder.

Madhukar: If your gut is sick, your mind can’t be strong.

The first rebellion is in your plate.

Let’s make a new rule:

Cook at home, using local grains: ragi, jowar, kodo

Prepare ambali, buttermilk, fermented dosa batter

Avoid refined oils, white sugar, packet snacks

Pick seasonal, unpolished food

Collect seeds. Save them. Exchange with neighbours.

Padma (nodding): Let’s try. At least one meal a day, local and real.

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4. THE DOCTOR WITHIN

Ravi: I get migraines. Doctor gave pills. Didn’t help.

Madhukar: First observe your cycle.

When does it come?

What did you eat before?

Are you holding breath?

Any delayed bowel movement?

Are you clenching your jaw?

Do a simple log. Use castor oil pack on your belly. Breathe deep. Cut screens.

Healing starts with observation, not prescription.

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5. THE MONEY EXPOSURE

Kiran: I calculated. Between EMI, petrol, school fees, and groceries — we’re chasing our own tail.

Madhukar: That’s not failure. That’s the system functioning perfectly.

It trains you to consume your own life.

What if you:

Dropped one unnecessary expense per month

Bought from local farmers directly

Did skill exchange — one neighbour teaches maths, another fixes pumps

Created a local barter loop: food for labour, time for grain, services for services

Reduced paid services by re-learning lost family skills

Padma (curious): This is what my grandmother used to do. Before salaries. Before apps.

Madhukar: That’s not backward. That’s anti-dependence.

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6. THE MEDIA FAST

Adhya (to Ravi): Try one week. No news. No Instagram. No OTT. Just books, radio, or silence.

Ravi (half-serious): I might go mad.

Madhukar: No. You’ll go clear.

Let the brain reset. Learn to sit with discomfort. That’s how resistance builds.

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7. THE LAND RECLAIMED

Rajendra: The back acre is lying empty. Dry soil. Cracked.

Adhya: Let’s revive it. Compost. Mulch. Plant once the rain starts.

Madhukar: We’ll build a living seed bank there.

Every plant grown without market seeds is a political statement.

Anju (wide-eyed): So soil can protest too?

Madhukar (smiling): Yes. Every grain you grow is one coin you don’t give to the system.

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8. THE POWER OF WITHDRAWAL

Padma: I still feel scared. What if we’re isolated? What if people laugh?

Madhukar: They will. Then they’ll ask for help.

This isn’t about fighting outside. It’s about not funding your own trap.

You can’t control inflation — but you can control what you eat.

You can’t change school boards — but you can change what your child learns.

You can’t fix global trade — but you can fix your family habits.

You can’t stop surveillance — but you can stop over-sharing.

You can’t remove the government — but you can remove its hold on your body, food, child, time, and thought.

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9. THE NEW ROUTINE

Lalitha (listing in her notebook):

Monday: One new food tried

Tuesday: One new law or rule studied

Wednesday: One seed planted

Thursday: One useless expense cut

Friday: One child taught outside syllabus

Saturday: One neighbour helped

Sunday: One full family meal with phones off

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10. FINAL REFLECTION

Ravi (quietly): Appa, why didn’t anyone tell us this before?

Kiran (honest): Maybe we were too busy proving we’re “moving forward” to notice we were actually sinking.

Rajendra (softly): I thought I was building a nation.

Maybe I was just helping maintain a cage.

Adhya: We’ll start from here.

Small things. Slow. But this time — awake.

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A Year Later: The Quiet Revolt Grows

— a grounded, raw follow-up on the family’s journey. Not idealised. Not poetic. Some things fail. Some work. And new traps are revealed.

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Characters (Same as before)

Madhukar – rural healer, mentor

Lalitha – retired teacher

Rajendra – retired revenue officer

Padma – homemaker

Kiran – private bank employee

Ravi – 18 now, post-exam break

Adhya – 15, unschooled

Anju – 11, sharp and curious

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Scene: Same courtyard. Rain clouds gathering. A dry breeze. Millet kanji boiling in a clay pot. A big notebook lies open on the mat — their first year’s notes.

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1. STARTING WAS EASY — MAINTAINING WAS HARD

Padma (tired smile): I thought doing something new would be the hardest part.

But no — it’s continuing that drained me.

Kiran: We stopped buying chips, sugar, fancy soaps. But after six months, the kids complained. Neighbours mocked. Even Amma’s sister said we’ve become “primitive”.

Ravi: I tried reading about political systems and forest laws. But I got overwhelmed. Everything connects to something else. I stopped.

Adhya (gently): That’s okay. It’s not failure. It’s the system fighting back. It wants us tired.

Madhukar (nodding): Systems don’t collapse when people oppose. They collapse when people quietly withdraw energy.

That’s harder — and slower.

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2. WHAT WORKED

Lalitha (checking list):

Ambali became a daily drink.

They started growing greens and turmeric behind the house.

Ravi now cooks once a week — without complaint.

They reduced phone use on Sundays.

Anju can now identify 25 local medicinal plants.

A neighbour copied their seed-saving model.

Adhya (adds): Ravi also helped a nearby family build a compost pit.

Ravi (shrugs): It was good. Smelly at first. But it made me feel like I fixed something real.

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3. WHAT FAILED

Padma: We tried studying the Constitution chapter-wise.

Only reached till Article 17. Then life took over.

Kiran: I made a group to discuss withdrawal from banks and shift to cash/barter.

No one came after week 3. One guy even asked if I’d joined some cult.

Lalitha: I wanted to stop using all processed masalas. But when guests came, I gave in and used the packet ones.

Adhya: That’s fine. Resistance isn’t all or nothing.

Madhukar: Exactly. This is not a movement. This is repair.

Repairs take time. And patience.

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4. THE UNEXPECTED PRESSURES

Ravi (frustrated): The biggest shock was how teachers and relatives responded.

One teacher told me: “Don’t waste time with soil and cows. Focus on JEE.”

A cousin said: “Your father has gone mad. No school, no ambition.”

Anju (with innocence): One aunty asked Amma, “Why are your daughters always in lungis and mud?”

Padma (smiling faintly): I told her — “Because we want daughters who know where food comes from.”

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5. NEW TRAPS REVEALED

Kiran: I realised something. Even when we stop chasing things, we can fall into ego-traps.

“We are more organic than them.”

“We are more conscious.”

“We know the system is broken, they don’t.”

Adhya: That’s just another version of separation. The system survives when we isolate ourselves — even mentally.

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6. THE SHIFT IN LANGUAGE

Lalitha (flipping notebook): These are words we’ve stopped using:

“Busy”

“Career”

“Productive”

“Competitive”

“Development”

“Forward family”

Padma: And these are words we started using more:

“Enough”

“Local”

“Slow”

“Repair”

“Bhoomi”

“Cycle”

“Truth”

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7. SLOW RIPPLE EFFECTS

Madhukar: The lady down the street now brews patharchatta kashaya for her gallstones. She never trusted leaves before.

Ravi: A friend in town asked for notes on millet meals after he got gut issues.

Anju (proudly): Our compost pile has earthworms now!

Adhya: Even if one neighbour changes how they think about land, school, or pain — it’s a win.

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8. THE BIGGEST WIN: TRUST

Padma (serious): I don’t panic anymore when we don’t have things.

Earlier, I would rush to buy. Now I pause. Look around. Ask.

Kiran: I used to say, “We need money.” Now I say, “We need clarity.”

Lalitha: And I’ve stopped defending the government.

When someone says, “Modi is trying,” I say, “Trying what?”

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9. MADHUKAR’S CLOSING WORD

Madhukar (softly):

> You don’t need big revolutions.

You need to stop participating in the daily betrayals of your own mind and body.

Every day you:

Cook your own food

Sit with your child without agenda

Refuse another subscription, chemical, scheme, or drama

Say no to fear, even silently

…you are shaking the system.

And that’s enough.

That’s how people outlive empires.

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10. FINAL MOMENT

Thunder rumbles. A light drizzle begins.

Ravi (smiling): I’m not done withdrawing.

But I’ve started returning — to myself.

Adhya (closing notebook): This was just Year 1.

Let’s see how deep we can go in Year 2.

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The Pushback: When the System Notices You

— A raw, real, and layered continuation. The family faces external interference after a year of quiet rebellion. There is no idealism. No happy ending. Just tough choices and silent strength.

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Characters (Same)

Madhukar – rural healer, mentor

Lalitha – retired teacher

Rajendra – retired revenue officer

Padma – homemaker

Kiran – private bank employee

Ravi – now 18, preparing for open learning path

Adhya – 15, unschooled

Anju – 11, free-thinking

Location – Their home and nearby taluk office

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Scene: Morning. A government jeep passes. A man in white shirt and sunglasses takes photos near their compost heap and seed beds.

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1. THE INSPECTION

Padma (worried): That jeep came again. Same man. Took photos of Adhya’s outdoor class and our grain drying mats.

Kiran: Someone must’ve reported us. Maybe the neighbor. He said we were making kids “wild”.

Lalitha: I asked the man who he was. He mumbled “Block Office.” No ID shown.

Adhya (calm): This was bound to happen.

Madhukar: Yes. The system tolerates rebellion only if it stays invisible. Once it becomes repeatable, they come for you.

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2. THE SCHOOL LETTER

Three days later, a letter arrives.

> “Your child Ms. Adhya has not been registered in any approved institution. As per RTE norms, this is a violation. Kindly report to BEO office within 7 days.”

Padma (reading again): But she’s learning more than any school teaches.

Kiran (angry): I pay taxes. I feed my child. Who are they to question our home?

Ravi: The system doesn’t want educated kids. It wants certified followers.

Madhukar: Go and speak, but don’t argue. Just document everything. Stay calm. This isn’t about law. This is about intimidation.

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3. THE BANK BLOCK

Next week, Kiran’s account is “under verification.”

> “Suspicious rural transactions. Clarify source of cash deposits.”

Kiran (furious): I’ve shifted to cash. Bartered with villagers. Traded castor oil for vegetables. Now they’re punishing me?

Madhukar: Yes. You exited their digital net. They want you back in their visible, taxable, traceable matrix.

Padma: But it was our small freedom.

Madhukar: Freedom is always seen as non-compliance.

---

4. THE SOCIAL SHAMING

At a temple event, a few relatives corner them.

> “So your kids are not in school? You’re setting them up for poverty.”

“No fridge? No TV? Why are you trying to live like forest people?”

Padma (later, in tears): It hurt. We gave up so much for peace. But now people think we’ve lost status.

Lalitha: They don’t understand. They're still trapped.

Adhya (gently): Amma, they’re not mocking us. They’re just afraid.

If we are right, then their entire life has been a lie.

---

5. THE POLITICAL ENCOUNTER

An MLA’s assistant visits the village. Hears about “the family not sending children to school.”

He comes with a gift bag – biscuits, scheme pamphlets, and free coaching registration.

> “You must align with national priorities. We can’t allow backward movements.”

Madhukar (to assistant): We are not backward. We are back to basics.

That scares you because if it spreads, you lose control.

---

6. INTERNAL DOUBTS RETURN

Ravi (restless): Maybe I should just join a college and stop this drama.

Everyone is watching us. Amma is stressed.

Padma (tearing up): We started this to heal. But now the system is pushing harder. What if they take legal action?

Madhukar: This is the cost of exiting the machine.

You stop being a statistic — they come to stamp you back.

Adhya: Then we must make peace with this path.

Walk it knowing that resistance will be lifelong — and mostly invisible.

---

7. HOW THEY FIGHT BACK

Kiran opens a secondary account under a cooperative society, keeps barter records

Padma joins a WhatsApp group of homeschooling parents across India

Ravi takes a field internship with a millet revivalist in Karnataka

Anju begins documenting native plant uses with Lalitha

Lalitha writes a letter to the BEO explaining their “open home learning” model

Adhya begins a blog titled “What I Learn Outside School”

The family keeps a log of all officials who visit and their questions

---

8. SYSTEM GETS CONFUSED

The letter from BEO is followed up, but after the visit, no immediate action is taken.

The bank account is restored after in-person explanation.

The MLA’s office doesn’t return.

Madhukar: You know why? You didn’t panic. You didn’t attack. You held the mirror quietly.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

---

9. MADHUKAR’S FINAL WORD (AGAIN)

> “The system survives on your fear, your guilt, your shame of being different.

The moment you own your rebellion calmly, they lose leverage.

Don’t expect applause.

Don’t expect safety.

But if you stay rooted, your life becomes a seed.

Not for revolution.

But for remembrance — of what life was before control became normal.”

---

10. FINAL MOMENT

The monsoon arrives early. The compost is steaming. Adhya watches birds eating fallen neem fruit. Ravi sharpens a sickle.

Anju: Amma, what if the police come next?

Padma (smiling): Then we’ll offer them kanji.

And let them see a family that’s finally — alive.

---

The Network Begins: Quiet Families, Quiet Fires

— where the ripple becomes real. Other families begin withdrawing — not in crowds, not with slogans — but with vegetables, decisions, and refusal. This is not a movement. This is an epidemic of calm rebellion.

---

Characters Expand

Core Family

Madhukar, Padma, Kiran, Lalitha, Ravi, Adhya, Anju

New Families Introduced

Shivamma – mid-40s, widow, 2 sons, earns by selling greens

Gopal & Latha – small farmers, had sent kids to city school

Meenakshi – anganwadi worker, frustrated with fake metrics

Rafiq & Sajida – weavers, struggling with digital payments

Raghav – private tutor, reconsidering his role

---

Scene: A small village hall. No mic, no banners. Just mats, steel tumblers of ragi drink, and notebooks. About 12 adults and 8 children sit. Madhukar writes one line on a slate:

> “We don’t need to attack the system. We just need to stop fueling it.”

---

1. SHIVAMMA’S STORY: SAYING NO TO SCHOOL FEES

Shivamma (nervously): I pulled my younger boy out of the private school.

They wanted ₹18,000 for uniforms, “digital classroom fee”, “activity fund”.

I said no. Started teaching him using farm work, local Kannada books.

Now he’s helping with vermicompost. He made a maths chart using tamarind seeds.

Adhya (smiling): That’s more real than any smartboard.

Shivamma (quietly): People called me cruel. “You’re making him poor.”

But he sleeps peaceful. Eats fresh. Learns by asking.

---

2. GOPAL & LATHA: RETURN FROM ENGLISH DREAM

Latha: We sent our boy to Bengaluru. Hostel school.

Came back last month — with ulcers, anxiety, no interest in land.

Gopal (ashamed): We thought English meant success.

He didn’t even know what millet looked like anymore.

Madhukar: You didn’t fail. The system did.

Now let him breathe. Let him get dirty again.

---

3. MEENAKSHI: INSIDER BREAKS SILENCE

Meenakshi: I work in anganwadi. We send fake reports.

Say children are thriving. They're not.

Say nutrition packets were given. They weren't.

Say we taught. But we were filling forms.

I started telling mothers — feed fermented rice, not packaged mixes.

Now 4 mothers ask me weekly how to make kanji.

Padma (teary): That’s real service.

Meenakshi: It’s small. But I sleep better now.

---

4. RAFIQ & SAJIDA: WITHDRAW FROM DIGITAL

Sajida: Every order we got online, the platform took 30% and paid late.

Rafiq: So we stopped. Told customers: come home, see how we weave, pay in cash, or trade cloth for groceries.

Madhukar: How’s it working?

Rafiq: Fewer customers. But cleaner. Human.

No OTP, no delay, no cheating.

---

5. RAGHAV THE TUTOR: NEW ROLE

Raghav: I used to coach 10th students to vomit syllabus.

Now I meet 4 kids under the banyan tree. We study what matters.

Forest laws

Water cycles

Soil health

Basic law

Rights and food politics

We also cook once a week. Parents first mocked. Now they send rice.

---

6. BUILDING A VILLAGE NETWORK

Adhya draws a chalk circle on the floor. Inside: names of families doing small withdrawals.

Adhya: If we share:

Seeds

Compost

Books

Skills

Tools

Safe food

Facts

Solidarity

…we create a village immunity from the system.

Ravi (marking names): That’s 9 families already. That’s enough to not feel alone.

---

7. PUSHBACK COMES AGAIN

One school threatens legal notice to Gopal.

Meenakshi is warned for “spreading misinformation.”

Shivamma’s brother accuses her of “killing her child’s future.”

Rafiq is pressured to “go digital or lose clients.”

Raghav’s old colleagues ridicule him.

Madhukar: They don’t fight because they believe.

They fight because they’re afraid your disobedience will spread.

---

8. STRATEGY SESSION: DEFEND, DON’T FIGHT

Madhukar lists quiet defence techniques:

Document everything

Speak respectfully, never plead

Invite officials for food, not arguments

Don’t go public too fast — build slow

Avoid TV, avoid newspaper limelight

Form informal parent circles

Study basic law (RTE, RTI, health rights)

Barter quietly

Keep logs of harassment

Adhya: And never go alone. Always take one elder or witness.

---

9. A FAMILY FALLS BACK

One family — Latha’s cousin — re-enrolls their child in city hostel after taunts.

Latha (sad): They said, “We can’t fight this long.”

Ravi: It’s not a fight. It’s a way of living.

Padma: And every person walking away reminds us to stay soft, not superior.

---

10. CLOSING MOMENT

Anju serves kanji in steel tumblers. On the wall behind, someone’s chalked:

> “We do not resist to change the world.

We resist so that the world doesn’t change us.”

The families sit. No ceremony. No slogan. Just a shared gaze of people who have nothing to sell and nothing to fear anymore.

---

THEIR ONLY JOB IS TO KEEP YOU QUIET

they call it nation-building.

they call it public service.

they call it progress.

but the only job the government ever had

was this:

keep you from breaking the goddamn machine.

---

THEY START WITH YOUR TODDLER

put him in uniform before he can speak

teach him to raise a hand

not in protest

but for permission to pee.

ring bells.

rank them.

shame them.

make them say, “what’s the correct answer, sir?”

they don’t want thinking kids

they want timid office furniture

with blood and EMIs.

---

THEY DRUG YOU EARLY

first it's sugar, then screens, then school

then four pills a day by the time you’re thirty-two.

you ask, “why can’t I breathe?”

they say, “take this inhaler forever.”

you ask, “why is my back hurting?”

they say, “must be stress. here, swipe this.”

you never ask what poisoned you.

you just ask who can sell you the antidote subscription.

---

THEY MILK YOUR PAIN FOR VOTES

before elections — roads are patched.

after elections — land is snatched.

a new scheme every six months

so you don’t notice

your old well is dry,

your child’s lunch is from a plastic packet

and the hospital needs your Aadhaar to save your life.

---

THE MEDIA IS THE KINDER WHIP

they don’t shoot you anymore.

they seduce you.

slowly.

with cricket.

with celebrity cleavage.

with temple noise.

with rap songs about money and pills.

you don’t realise your resistance has been replaced

with "I support this party because at least they’re doing something."

---

THE LAW IS A MOUSED TRAP

they say “all are equal before law”

but you know

if you slap a minister

you’ll vanish.

if a minister slaps your sister

he’ll contest again next year.

the jail is full of poor people.

not because they steal more.

but because they can’t pay to sin with permission.

---

WELFARE IS A MUZZLE

₹1000 rupees a month.

a grain bag with the ruler’s face on it.

photo-ops with the weak,

but never a soil test

never a rainwater tank

never a forest right given back.

just a pat on your head

and a barcode on your wrist.

---

THE INTERNET IS YOUR COLLAR

they told you “digital freedom.”

but the screen is the cell.

they know your favourite time to cry,

they know what scares you,

they know when you poop,

and what you’d give up to be liked.

you posted a meme,

they archived your future.

you shared a video,

they mapped your neighbours.

---

ELECTION IS JUST EXHAUSTION CYCLE

five years of betrayal

followed by one month of drama.

flags. free biryani.

loudspeakers blaring

that your life will change this time.

and even if you know it’s a joke

you vote

because you forgot what not voting feels like.

---

THEY DON’T FEAR YOUR VIOLENCE

they’ve got bigger guns.

bigger PR.

better cameras.

they’ll paint you red.

label you terrorist.

airbrush the blood off your corpse.

but what scares them,

really

is you

growing your own okra.

pulling your kid out of school.

trading milk for wheat.

refusing the subsidy.

healing your gut

with castor oil instead of crocin.

---

THE SYSTEM FEARS SELF-RESPECT

it fears the man who walks.

it fears the woman who says “no more pills.”

it fears the teen who won’t sit for a government job.

it fears the family who says —

“we will not participate in this circus anymore.”

---

THEY DON’T WANT YOU DEAD

dead men don’t pay taxes.

don’t vote.

don’t need data.

they want you barely alive.

tired. distracted. chemically dependent.

just awake enough to work,

just numb enough to obey.

---

AND WHEN YOU BREAK FREE

they’ll come with forms.

letters. fines.

concerned officers.

they’ll say: “you can’t live like this.”

you’ll say: “we already are.”

they’ll say: “you’re not part of the nation.”

you’ll say: “maybe the nation doesn’t deserve me.”

---

SO NOW WHAT?

plant anyway.

read anyway.

disobey quietly.

stop clapping for your own leash.

and when they ask,

“what exactly are you fighting for?”

tell them —

> “I’m not fighting.

I just stopped surrendering.”

---