Gulzar Singh’s final rites should have been a moment of silence, dignity and collective grief. Instead, the tragedy appears to have become another arena for the familiar political game of “you did it, no, you did it.” One side points a finger at the government, the other points back at the people, while in the middle stands a grieving family that deserves sympathy, dignity and answers—not political theatre.The whole episode is beginning to look less like a solemn farewell and more like a bitter game of political kabaddi. One player runs into the opposition camp, touches the government, shouts an accusation and tries to run back. Another player enters the field, pushes the blame in the opposite direction and claims victory. Raid! Blame! Counter-blame! Raid again! But this is not a sporting event. This is a human tragedy.
A dead man is not a political trophy. A grieving family is not a campaign platform. And a funeral is certainly not the place for competing political camps to fight over who gets the credit, who gets the blame and who gets the publicity.The most painful irony is that everyone suddenly wants to be seen standing beside the victim after his death. But when a person is alive and raising difficult questions, especially about Punjab’s drug crisis and the suffering of ordinary families, where are the voices then? Why does society become most interested in a victim only after tragedy strikes?
If Gulzar Singh had raised serious concerns about drugs or governance, those concerns deserved to be heard when he was alive. They should have been investigated when there was still time to act. Turning those concerns into political ammunition after his death does not solve anything. It only deepens the tragedy.The government has a responsibility to provide facts. If everything was handled properly, explain it clearly. If mistakes were made, accept responsibility. If somebody failed in their duty, take action. What Punjab does not need is another round of statements, counter-statements, social-media battles and political accusations.Civil society also needs to look in the mirror. Social workers, activists and ordinary citizens often rush forward to help families facing tragedy, and that compassion is valuable. But compassion must go hand in hand with facts, transparency and responsibility. Human suffering should never become a currency for publicity, influence or political bargaining.The saddest part is that the conversation can so easily move from “Why did this happen?” to “Who gets the credit?” That is where society must draw the line.
“ਅਰਥੀ ਉੱਠੀ ਤਾਂ ਚੁੱਪ ਰਹਿਣਾ ਸੀ,
ਪਰ ਸਿਆਸਤ ਦੇ ਨਾਅਰੇ ਆ ਗਏ।
ਜਿਸ ਘਰ ਵਿੱਚ ਸੱਥਰ ਵਿਛੇ ਪਏ ਸਨ,
ਉੱਥੇ ਵੀ ਦਾਅਵੇਦਾਰ ਸਾਰੇ ਆ ਗਏ।”
Death does not belong to any political party. Grief does not belong to the government or the opposition. The tears of a mother, father, wife, child or relative cannot be divided into political camps.
“ਮੌਤ ਕਿਸੇ ਧਿਰ ਦੀ ਜਿੱਤ ਨਹੀਂ,
ਮੌਤ ਕਿਸੇ ਧਿਰ ਦੀ ਹਾਰ ਨਹੀਂ।
ਜਿਹੜੇ ਅੱਥਰੂ ਵੇਚ ਕੇ ਰਾਜ ਕਰਨ,
ਉਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਤੋਂ ਵੱਡੀ ਕੋਈ ਲਾਚਾਰੀ ਨਹੀਂ।”
Punjab has suffered enough tragedies. People are tired of watching every tragedy become a political battlefield. They want answers, accountability and action—not another performance before cameras.Gulzar Singh’s final journey should therefore not become a political kabaddi match. Let the government answer the questions. Let the opposition ask legitimate questions. Let investigators establish the facts. But let the family grieve in peace.Before pointing fingers at others, everyone involved should ask themselves one simple question: Have we lost even a little bit of shame?Because when a man’s final rites become a political kabaddi match, the defeat is not of one party or another. The defeat is of our collective conscience.