The Great Indian Con Job
As usual, I was driving to work when I noticed something familiar — and unsettling.
Scores of people were walking along the pavement, all moving in one direction — towards the Vidhana Soudha.
There must have been at least ten thousand of them. Some on foot. Others packed into buses, trucks, tempos, and every form of transport imaginable.
The occasion was obvious: the swearing-in ceremony of the new government in Karnataka.
But something didn’t add up.
I looked more closely at the milling crowd. They didn’t look like party workers. They didn’t look politically charged or ideologically invested.
They looked like poor, tired villagers — herded into Bangalore for a spectacle they likely knew very little about.
That’s when a few uncomfortable thoughts began forming.
I made a mental list.
One: These people were not here out of love for a party or belief in a government.
Two: Their presence was incentivised — through cash, food, clothes, alcohol, or a combination of all four.
This isn’t unique to one party or one state. It is the standard operating procedure for political events across the country.
Political parties need numbers. They need crowds. They need optics.
And the poor are a reliable, inexpensive resource — perfect for filling grounds, waving flags, and ensuring that leaders never speak to empty stands.
Now consider a simple hypothesis.
If these attendees were well-to-do, economically secure, and informed — would they travel from far-flung villages, sit through heat and dust, and listen to day-long political sermons they have no real stake in?
Obviously not.
If someone asked you to climb into a truck, endure discomfort all day, and return home with a speech echoing in your ears — in exchange for some money and clothes — would you?
Unlikely.
And that’s where the con becomes clear.
It suddenly makes perfect sense for those in power to ensure that this mass of people remains exactly where it is — economically fragile, dependent, and available.
Because the moment prosperity truly reaches them, the rallies dry up. The crowds disappear. The spectacle collapses.
Which explains why we keep hearing grand slogans about “growth for all” and “inclusive development” — while very little actually changes on the ground.
Now I understand why.
I call this the Great Indian Con Job.
Many erudites and intellectuals prefer to call it democracy.
We are told we are witnessing 8–10 percent growth. But that growth is largely confined to urban islands — insulated by air-conditioned offices, English newspapers, prime-time debates, and curated optimism.
The rest of the country exists outside this cocoon.
Its reality is documented quietly — in obscure reports and documentaries that never make it to mass media.
India is often described as a one-billion-strong economy.
But of that billion, how many actually contribute meaningfully to the economy? And more importantly — how many truly benefit from it?
That question, unlike the slogans, rarely gets answered.
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