When Politicians Speak - I Doubt

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞—𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

A politician’s words are not born from truth.

They are born from calculation.

They are not spoken from the heart.

They are manufactured in committees, polished by advisors, tested in surveys, and delivered in front of cameras.

When he says “development,” he means votes.

When he says “poor,” he means numbers.

When he says “youth,” he means a future market of followers.

When he says “nation,” he means himself.

This is not new.

It is as old as our history.

The king in his court, the priest in his temple, the landlord in his mansion — all promised justice, protection, prosperity.

But their promises were tools, not truths.

The throne was never built for the people. It was built to keep the people down.

They told us about Ram Rajya — but lived like Ravan.

They spoke of dharma — but used it as a whip.

They asked us to sacrifice — while they enjoyed abundance.

Centuries rolled.

The invader came. The empire grew. The coloniser ruled.

The same game continued.

Freedom was promised again and again, yet delayed, diluted, bartered in closed rooms.

The word “nation” became a bargaining chip, not a commitment.

Then came independence.

A new flag, a new anthem, a new parliament.

But the old habit remained.

Politicians still lived on promises, not delivery.

They gave us big words — socialism, secularism, progress.

But villages still waited for water.

Cities still drowned in poverty.

Families still went to bed hungry.

Decades passed.

The slogans changed — liberalisation, globalisation, development.

The stage lights became brighter, the microphones sharper, the cameras everywhere.

But the ground beneath remained the same.

A promise was still cheaper than a road.

A slogan was still easier than justice.

A handshake was still safer than real change.

Today the words are shinier.

Digital India.

Smart cities.

Start-ups.

Skill India.

But behind the glow, the struggles remain the same.

Jobs vanish.

Prices rise.

Farmers die.

Children beg.

And the leaders talk of glory, while people search for food.

Look closer.

Every election, the same theatre repeats.

One promises free electricity.

Another promises loan waivers.

Another waves the flag of religion.

Another divides by caste.

All promise temples, statues, subsidies, schemes.

And in the end, the people get speeches. The leaders get power.

I have seen ration shops with empty shelves.

I have seen hospitals where beds are missing.

I have seen schools with no teachers, children sitting on the floor.

I have seen job centers with long queues, and no jobs at the end.

I have seen potholes that survive more governments than families do.

I have seen floods every year in the same streets, while leaders cut the same ribbons again and again.

The folded hands before elections are not prayers.

They are calculations.

The garlanded stage is not devotion.

It is advertisement.

The manifesto is not a contract.

It is a trick of language.

I don’t believe their words because I have seen their silence.

Silence when farmers’ debts bury them.

Silence when women cry for justice.

Silence when corruption eats the system.

Silence when violence spreads like fire.

Silence when justice is delayed until it dies.

Their mouths open only when there are cameras.

Their tongues move only when there are votes.

Their promises fly high during elections.

But the day the votes are counted, we return to being invisible.

This is the universal pattern of politics.

Religion is used as bait.

Caste is used as a ladder.

Economics is used as a trick.

Nationalism is used as a mask.

And the common man is used as fuel.

India has been ruled by many tongues: Sanskrit, Persian, English, Hindi.

But the politician’s tongue has no language.

It bends with the wind, it changes with the season.

It speaks the language of survival, not truth.

That is why I listen, but I never believe.

Because belief is sacred. And their words are not.

Because trust must be earned. And they have lost it.

Because truth is simple. And their words are complicated.

The politician will continue to talk.

I will continue to watch.

But between his mouth and my ear, I will always keep a wall of doubt.

For that doubt protects me from becoming a slave to his lies.

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