Once upon a time, Punjab had a man who made millions laugh — and then one day, he decided to make millions believe. Bhagwant Singh Mann, the comic voice of Punjab’s everyday struggles, took off his stage costume and put on the Chief Minister’s turban. The people clapped, cheered, and said, “Let’s give him a chance.” Three years later, the laughter continues — but for very different reasons.
Mann’s journey from mic to ministry is a script Bollywood could not have written better. He began as the man of the people — witty, emotional, full of promises. But soon, the same quick humor that once brought applause now seems to echo through empty government halls. When Punjab asked for policies, he gave punchlines. When the state demanded accountability, he delivered one-liners. And when Delhi whispered instructions, he nodded like a loyal student waiting for the next joke cue.
He promised a “nava Punjab” — a new, bright, debt-free, employment-filled paradise. What Punjab got instead was a “laugh track government” where every crisis is followed by a photo-op, every policy is half a performance, and every press conference feels like an open mic night. The electricity bills rose, the farmers protested, and industries packed up — but Mann smiled through it all, as if applause could fix inflation.
It often seems that the only file moving quickly in Punjab is the one faxed from Delhi. Bhagwant Mann, the official Chief Minister, behaves more like a class monitor — repeating whatever the principal (in Delhi) decides. Kejriwal speaks, Mann echoes; Kejriwal plans, Mann promotes; Kejriwal promises, Mann applauds. The constitutional Chief Minister seems trapped in a political puppet show where he’s both the performer and the prop.
And yet, the irony couldn’t be sharper. Mann once joked about corrupt politicians who “forget the people after getting the kursi.” Today, he sits on the kursi surrounded by the same bureaucracy, the same broken systems, and the same Delhi decisions he once mocked. Punjab, watching this transformation, feels like an audience that bought tickets to a comedy show and ended up in a drama they can’t leave.
Under Mann, the government has become more about spectacle than substance. The Aam Aadmi Party’s rallies are grand, its social media louder than its policies, and every small development is advertised like a national revolution. The tragedy is that behind the laughter, Punjab’s real problems — unemployment, farmer distress, drug addiction, and debt — continue without punchlines.
Still, one must admire Bhagwant Mann’s ability to stay cheerful. No matter how grim the headlines, he smiles for the cameras, waves to the crowd, and posts a cheerful tweet. Perhaps he knows what many leaders forget — in politics, timing is everything. And in comedy, timing can save even the dullest act.
So, as Punjab waits for results, Mann continues his performance — part leader, part entertainer, part obedient student of Delhi. His government might not have solved Punjab’s crises, but it has surely added one thing to political history — the first ever “comedy government” that managed to make people laugh, cry, and sigh all at once.
Satirical Poem: “Hasda Punjab, Ronda Janta”
ਹਾਸੇ ਵਾਲਾ ਮੁਖ ਮੰਤਰੀ, ਗੰਭੀਰਤਾ ਗੁਆ ਬੈਠਾ,
ਕੁਰਸੀ ਮਿਲੀ ਤੇ ਸਕ੍ਰਿਪਟ ਦਿੱਲੀ ਦਾ ਪਾ ਬੈਠਾ।
ਕਹਿੰਦਾ ਮੈਂ ਕਰਾਂ ਬਦਲਾਵ, ਪਰ ਹੁਕਮ ਆਵੇ ਓਥੋਂ,
ਜਿਵੇਂ ਕੌਮੀਡੀ ਸ਼ੋਅ ਚ, ਡਾਇਰੈਕਸ਼ਨ ਆਵੇ ਹੋਥੋਂ।
ਪਿੰਡਾਂ ਚ ਕਰਜ਼ੇ ਵਧਦੇ, ਫੈਕਟਰੀਆਂ ਚੁੱਪ ਨੇ,
ਰੋਜ਼ਗਾਰ ਖਤਮ, ਪਰ ਸਟੇਜ ‘ਤੇ ਤਾਲੀਆਂ ਕੱਢੇ ਸੁੱਪ ਨੇ।
ਮੁੱਖ ਮੰਤਰੀ ਸਾਡਾ ਹੱਸਦਾ, ਜਨਤਾ ਚੁੱਪ ਚੁੱਪ ਰੋਂਦੀ,
ਦਿੱਲੀ ਮੌਡਲ ਦੇ ਝੋਨੇ ‘ਚ, ਪੰਜਾਬ ਦੀ ਆਸ ਖੋਂਦੀ।