It must have been quite a fire. Not the kind that warms your home on a winter night, or the one that crackles cheerfully in a bonfire. No, this was the sort of fire that had an unintended consequence—like revealing a judge’s personal piggy bank, a storeroom overflowing with bundles of cash.
The discovery should have sparked national outrage.
A judge, a custodian of justice, found with all that wealth in a manner fit for a crime thriller. But instead of handcuffs, instead of a high-decibel media frenzy demanding accountability, what does our system do? Transfers him to his home court.
"Your Honor, we recognize your hard work in accumulating such a vast amount of wealth. You must be exhausted! Please, take a short break, go home, sip some chai, and rest those weary hands that had to count so many cash bundles!"
Shame on us. Shame on the system that allows this.
Once upon a time, corruption had the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed. Bribe-takers would hurriedly brush accusations under the carpet, sweat glistening on their foreheads, eyes darting nervously. Now? They don’t even blink. There is no shame, no disgrace—only a lazy wave of the hand dismissing accountability.
The fire did what investigative agencies failed to do—it uncovered a vault of corruption. And yet, there’s no real scandal. The common man, who is harassed over the smallest tax error, watches in stupefaction as the elite remain untouchable. Ordinary citizens are thrown behind bars at the slightest provocation—an inconvenient tweet, a sarcastic remark, or a minor financial slip—but a judge with a storeroom of cash is simply transferred?
"We will investigate!" they say.
The world watches, amused. The last couple of times they pointed out fraud and injustice, either in the acts of a billionaire, the vanishing of free speech, corruption and India’s place on the hunger index, they were told they were prejudiced. Now they wait for the same reaction, maybe in stating that the cash found were actually Monopoly notes, or the fireman needed glasses, and they were court legal papers!
Oh India! Ye land of democracy, of justice, of ancient wisdom, now resembling a banana republic where the powerful live above the law, and the law-abiding citizens toil under its weight. The very judiciary meant to be our last bastion of hope stands exposed, not in robes of honour, but in bundles of currency notes.
Where is our rage? Where the indignation?
Have we grown so accustomed to filth that it no longer stinks? Are we, as a nation, so desensitized that we simply sigh and turn the page?
If this is the new normal, perhaps we should stop pretending. Remove the blindfold from Lady Justice’s eyes and hand her a calculator instead.
She’ll need it to learn to count cash, and please do show her how to use a fire extinguisher...!
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