EMPLOYEE OR EXPLOSIVE?

How Indian Workers Are Trained Like Suicide Bombers (And Fall Sick Like Them)

This illustration shows the tragic reality of the modern Indian employee, blending the image of a corporate worker with that of a suicide bomber to expose the invisible destruction caused by overwork, blind loyalty, and chronic stress. The office man wears a bomb vest, not of explosives, but symbolic of lifestyle diseases like diabetes, hypertension, and autoimmune disorders—silent killers ticking away under the pressure of deadlines, EMIs, and social expectations. With a phone in one hand and a briefcase in the other, he continues performing his duties, unaware that his real life is already detonated. The title "Employee or Suicide Bomber?" forces the viewer to confront the shocking similarity: both are programmed to sacrifice themselves for someone else's cause.

---

INTRODUCTION: WORKING TO DEATH, QUIETLY

You don’t need a bomb tied to your chest to be a suicide bomber.

In today’s world, an office chair, ID card, and a monthly salary are enough.

From the office clerk sweating under a fan in a dusty room, to the district collector in a government bungalow…

From the overworked IT engineer skipping lunch, to the CEO popping pills before meetings…

Most Indian employees are not “living.” They are being used up.

Not by God.

Not by terrorists.

But by systems that quietly ask you to sacrifice your health, family, time, and peace.

---

1. BRAINWASHED EARLY: YOUR TRAINING BEGAN IN SCHOOL

Suicide bombers are trained from childhood to follow orders and sacrifice everything for a “cause.”

You were trained from childhood to study hard and sacrifice everything for a “job.”

No one asked: “Do you enjoy it?”

They only said: “Get good marks. Get job. Be useful.”

By the time you got your first salary, your brain was already trained to obey and not question.

You’re tired, but you think it’s normal.

COMMON DISEASES:

Migraine, acidity, low immunity starts in college.

PCOD, IBS, hair loss, early greying starts by the first job.

---

2. BIG LIES: YOUR PROMISE OF HEAVEN IS RETIREMENT

Terror groups promise heaven after death.

Job systems promise heaven after retirement.

“Work now. Enjoy later.”

But you keep working. And getting sicker.

By the time you retire:

Your knees hurt.

Your BP is high.

You are taking pills for diabetes and thyroid.

You can't eat without antacids.

You can’t sleep without tablets.

Where is the enjoyment?

It never came. Only diseases did.

COMMON DISEASES:

Diabetes, blood pressure, insomnia.

Osteoarthritis, fatty liver, high cholesterol.

---

3. WHO ARE YOU REALLY WORKING FOR?

The suicide bomber dies thinking he helped his people.

You work thinking you are helping your family, your company, your country.

But have you checked?

The office clerk clears files that help rich contractors.

The engineer writes code that keeps people addicted to phones.

The CEO builds systems that spy, sell, and waste.

You are not serving. You are just being used.

COMMON DISEASES:

Neck pain, eye strain, carpal tunnel syndrome.

Anxiety, burnout, binge eating, emotional numbness.

---

4. LOYALTY KILLS YOU: AND THEN THEY CLAP

Bombers are praised for loyalty.

Employees are too.

“Never took a holiday.”

“Worked even when sick.”

“Loyal till the end.”

Then you die.

Heart attack in office.

Stroke in sleep.

Cancer from years of stress.

And the company says: “We honour his dedication.”

Too late.

COMMON DISEASES:

Heart attack before 40.

Stomach ulcers from years of stress.

Cancer linked to stress and sedentary habits.

---

5. FEAR IS YOUR FUEL

Suicide bombers act from fear: fear of failure, rejection, or being useless.

You too.

Fear of unemployment.

Fear of being judged.

Fear of disappointing your parents.

So you keep saying “yes” to more work.

More hours. Less rest.

No peace.

COMMON DISEASES:

Autoimmune disorders like Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, lupus, psoriasis.

Panic attacks, obsessive thoughts, acid reflux.

---

6. YOU ARE TRAINED TO OBEY, NOT THINK

Bombers are told: “Press the button.”

You are told: “Sign this. Attend that. Submit report. Join Zoom.”

No one asks: “Why?”

No one says: “Is this meaningful?”

You just follow.

Even when your back hurts.

Even when you haven’t eaten properly for days.

Even when your child hasn’t seen you for weeks.

COMMON DISEASES:

Spinal problems, piles, constipation.

Menstrual irregularities, hormonal imbalance.

Vitamin D and B12 deficiencies.

---

7. YOU THINK THIS IS YOUR CHOICE? THINK AGAIN.

The bomber believes he chose this path.

But he was trapped.

You believe you chose your job.

But you only picked from a few options: engineering, MBA, UPSC, IT, banking.

No one told you how to live without destroying yourself.

COMMON DISEASES:

Obesity, thyroid, depression.

Sleep apnea, chronic fatigue, skin allergies.

---

8. YOUR BODY IS THE PRICE YOU PAY

The bomber gives his life in one go.

You give yours drop by drop.

Late nights. Missed meals. Skipped movement.

You give up sunshine, sleep, real food, deep breaths.

One day you wake up and realize:

You’ve gained 25 kilos.

You’ve not laughed in months.

You’ve forgotten what hunger feels like — and what peace is.

COMMON DISEASES:

PCOD/PCOS in women.

Infertility in couples.

Autoimmune flare-ups triggered by overwork.

---

9. ONLY DEAD PEOPLE GET APPRECIATION

The bomber gets a photo on a wall.

You get a farewell email.

A plastic award.

A LinkedIn post with “hardworking, sincere, always helpful.”

No one noticed your pain.

No one cared about your early signs of illness.

But now, they miss you.

COMMON DISEASES:

Brain stroke during duty.

Unexplained sudden death (heart or brain).

Post-COVID complications after years of burnout.

---

10. REMOVE THE VEST. START NOW.

You are not born to serve institutions.

You are not born to be a tool.

You are not meant to:

Eat on schedule and poop on pills.

Smile with ulcers in your mouth.

Sit in AC while your lungs suffocate.

Earn lakhs and pay it all to hospitals.

Be a father who sees kids only on weekends.

Be a mother who works till her ovaries fail.

You can stop.

You can return to life.

The vest is stitched from fear, lies, and expectations.

You can cut it. With awareness, courage, and truth.

---

HEALING DIALOGUE

Title: THE MEDALS ON OUR COFFINS

A healing dialogue with Madhukar the Healer

Location: Madhukar’s forest home, 2 km from Yelmadagi

CHARACTERS:

Raghu (56): Retired bank manager, awarded multiple times for “25 years of loyal service.” BP, diabetes, insomnia, and knee pain.

Meena (54): Government school teacher, known for perfect attendance. Thyroid, joint stiffness, PCOD since 30s.

Ananya (30): IT project lead, awarded “Employee of the Year.” Has GERD, migraines, irregular periods, anxiety.

Arjun (27): PSU officer, recently promoted. Suffers from eczema, tension headaches, emotional shutdown.

Madhukar (43): Former professor, now lives off-grid with wife Savitri and daughters Adhya and Anju, grows his food, no digital life.

---

Scene: Sitting on the stone veranda. Morning. Silence. No mobile phones. Just birds and boiling neem water.

Raghu:

We’ve all been best employees in our lives. But… we’re not well. We’re not okay. My sugar won’t come down. I can’t sleep. Even in retirement, I feel hunted.

Madhukar:

You were never awarded for being well. You were awarded for being used.

Meena:

But what’s wrong in serving sincerely? I’ve never taken a single day off in 33 years. Children love me. Colleagues respect me.

Madhukar:

What about your body? Did it love you back?

You trained it to obey time, not life.

You ignored every period cramp, every joint pain, every cry for rest — and taught your daughters to do the same.

Ananya:

(Tears up)

I don’t know how to rest. Even on weekends, I feel guilty. I wake up with stomach acid and sleep with migraines.

Madhukar:

The acid is your body screaming:

“Stop swallowing lies.”

You are not supposed to live on screens and meetings.

You are not supposed to digest pressure.

Arjun:

But we have no choice, Madhukar. I’m in a government job. Respect, promotions, future security… how can I say no?

Madhukar:

The suicide bomber also says yes — for future rewards.

What if you’re already dying… in slow motion?

Raghu:

(Tense)

You’re comparing us to terrorists?

Madhukar:

No. I’m comparing your conditioning.

Both are told: Obey. Suffer. Sacrifice. Die.

You were called “ideal employees” — not “healthy human beings.”

Meena:

But we’ve done everything right. No vices. No laziness. Raised our kids responsibly.

Madhukar:

Yes.

And what has it given you?

PCOD

Insomnia

Thyroid

Skin rashes

Emotional numbness

Addictions to phone and praise

You raised your kids to repeat the same mistakes — just more digitally.

Ananya:

(Quietly)

I keep achieving things. Yet, I feel empty.

The awards, the parties, the salary hikes… nothing lasts.

I want to rest. But I’m scared I’ll become nothing.

Madhukar:

That’s because you’ve only been something when you are doing.

Your whole life, your worth was tied to action.

But healing begins in inaction.

Can you dare to pause — and still feel valuable?

Arjun:

What would we do instead? How can we live without being “productive”?

Madhukar:

Plant one seed.

Watch the sky.

Help your parents digest their truth — not their food.

Fix your gut. Your thoughts will fix themselves.

Learn how to be, not how to prove.

Meena:

What about the years we gave? The years we broke ourselves?

Madhukar:

Grieve it.

Then bury it like a burnt field.

And start again — not as employees, but as people.

Raghu:

We’re afraid, Madhukar.

Afraid of being useless.

Afraid of what others will say.

Afraid to be called failures.

Madhukar:

So was I.

Until I realized:

Success is what makes you sicker.

And failure is the first breath of freedom.

Look around.

No one here has “a job.”

But we work every day — to live. Not to earn death.

---

Three Months Later

The family has stopped ordering food.

Ananya quit her job and is now writing about workplace trauma for other women.

Arjun applied for a long leave. Touched soil for the first time.

Raghu walks barefoot every morning with no purpose. He smiles more.

Meena has stopped watching the clock.

Her periods returned naturally after 8 years.

---

Twelve Months Later

They sold their apartment.

Leased a half-acre near Yelmadagi.

Built a simple house.

Grow 30 varieties of vegetables.

No awards on the walls.

Only life.

They often say:

“We used to be the best employees.

Now, we are the most alive humans we know.”

---

AWARDS ON OUR COFFINS”

they called him the best employee

twenty-five years of no questions,

no leaves,

no noise.

he was the kind of man who typed pain into reports

and swallowed blood like chai.

they gave him a clock when he retired.

his own body had stopped ticking years before.

she was a perfect teacher.

every day at 7 sharp,

she ironed her bones and wore her ovaries like shoes.

never missed a day.

never listened to her knees.

the children loved her.

her uterus did not.

the daughter —

pretty, bright, employee of the year,

migraines in the inbox,

stomach ulcers under lipstick,

sleeps with Excel, wakes with reflux,

has more friends in Slack than in real life.

she thinks this is freedom.

it’s just a glass office cell.

and the son,

young, fresh,

already peeling at the edges.

eczema like a warning label.

he quotes policies like gospel,

but can’t say what he feels.

numbness is his only survival skill.

they come to the forest

not for therapy

but because

they’ve finally

burnt out enough

to see the smoke.

Madhukar doesn’t smile.

he listens.

he says one sentence

that cracks them all:

“You didn’t live.

You got used.”

and just like that

the medals fall from their chests.

the posture drops.

the lies melt.

they don’t ask what to do.

they just sit

on mud.

in silence.

for the first time,

they feel

themselves.

no HR,

no promotions,

no pay.

only

sunlight.

bare feet.

a strange joy

in being

nothing

and

finally

alive.

because if loyalty means sickness

and service means suicide

then call them traitors —

they’ve chosen to live.

and there are no awards

for that.

---