In the grand democracy of India, where every Chief Minister dreams of autonomy, Punjab has achieved something truly unique — a two-in-one government. Officially, Bhagwant Singh Mann sits on the throne of Chandigarh. Unofficially, the strings seem to lead all the way to Delhi — where Arvind Kejriwal, without any constitutional post in Punjab, appears to be the invisible hand that signs without signing.
Kejriwal, the self-proclaimed savior of taxpayers, entered Punjab politics like a modern-day saint of simplicity — armed with muffler, mission, and microphone. He spoke of transparency so bright that even the sunlight felt shy. Yet today, the people of Punjab often joke that the state has turned into an ATM — Always Transferring Money — to Delhi’s “model governance.” Every big project in Punjab now seems to carry two stamps: one from the Punjab Secretariat, and another invisible one from Delhi’s living room.
Bhagwant Mann, once a roaring comedian, now plays the serious role of the Chief Minister — but sometimes it looks like he’s still reading lines written by someone else. When Kejriwal visits Punjab, the corridors of power suddenly brighten, ministers line up like students before the headmaster, and even files seem to move faster. Kejriwal speaks, and policies bloom; Mann speaks, and approvals are awaited. The people of Punjab, watching this show, often wonder — is it a coalition, a classroom, or a command center?
In the official records, Kejriwal holds no authority in Punjab. He’s neither MLA nor minister. Yet, his shadow seems longer than the Sutlej River — stretching across the finance department, the education board, and sometimes even the Chief Minister’s speeches. His party slogan says “Ik Mauka Kejriwal Nu” — and Punjab, it seems, gave not just one chance, but a whole state.
The irony is delicious — Kejriwal built his career by opposing remote control politics, claiming Delhi was strangled by the Centre. Today, he appears to have built a similar control system of his own — just that this time, the remote sits in Delhi, and the device blinks in Chandigarh.
And while Punjab struggles with debt, unemployment, and crumbling health systems, the Chief Minister still insists that “Delhi is our elder brother.” The people smile and reply, “Yes, but elder brothers are supposed to send money — not take it.”
Still, one must admire Kejriwal’s genius. He has mastered the art of political invisibility — leading without leading, ruling without ruling, and influencing without accountability. He can claim success for Punjab’s achievements but blame failures on “local mismanagement.” It’s the perfect setup — power without pressure, credit without consequence.
In this political drama, Punjab remains the stage, Bhagwant Mann the actor, and Arvind Kejriwal — the ever-present director, adjusting lights and dialogue from Delhi. The curtain may rise and fall, elections may come and go, but one thing remains certain: as long as the remote control works, the show will continue.
Satirical Poem: “Delhi Da Remote”
ਮੁਫ਼ਲਰ ਵਾਲਾ ਜਾਦੂਗਰ, ਦੂਰੋਂ ਚਲਾਏ ਰਾਜ,
ਭਗਵੰਤ ਬੈਠਾ ਕੁਰਸੀ ਤੇ, ਫੈਸਲੇ ਹੋਣ ਕਾਜ।
ਦਿੱਲੀ ਬੋਲਦੀ ਪੰਜਾਬ ਚ, ਕਾਨੂੰਨ ਬਣੇ ਇੱਥੇ,
ਪਤਾ ਨਹੀਂ ਸੀ ਲੋਕਾਂ ਨੂ, ਮੁਖ ਮੰਤਰੀ ਦੋ ਹੋਣ ਇਕੱਠੇ!
ਪੈਸਾ ਉੱਠਦਾ ਲਹਿਰਾਂ ਵਾਂਗ, ਚਲਦਾ ਜਾਵੇ ਦਿੱਲੀ,
ਕਹਿੰਦੇ ਨੇ “ਰੰਗਲਾ ਪੰਜਾਬ”, ਪਰ ਜੇਬਾਂ ਹੋਈਆਂ ਖਿੱਲੀ।
ਕਿਸਾਨ ਰੋਵੇ, ਨੌਜਵਾਨ ਭੱਜੇ, ਕਰਜ਼ਾ ਵਧਦਾ ਜਾਏ,
ਕਹਿੰਦਾ ਕੇਜਰੀਵਾਲ, “ਮਾਡਲ ਮੇਰਾ ਚੱਲਦਾ ਜਾਏ!”