In every democracy, elections are celebrated as a festival of people’s power. But in the present Zila Parishad and Block Samiti elections, this “festival” in Punjab has started resembling a tragic comedy show, where democracy is not just bent—it is being body-slammed, punched, and dragged by its collar, much like the candidates themselves.
What should have been a dignified exercise of constitutional rights turned into a circus where nomination papers flew like confetti, and political workers treated them as if they were wiping cloths instead of legal documents. Instead of queues of voters, we witnessed queues of men ready to snatch, tear, and run—almost like they were auditioning for an action movie.
And then came the most heartbreaking, yet absurd, moment:
Turbans—the crown of Sikh identity—were being thrown in the air, tossed around like volleyballs, and trampled upon in the name of democracy. The election symbol for some groups might as well have been a flying turban, because that is all the public could see—turbans, turbans everywhere, except on the heads where they belong.
The scenes looked less like an election and more like a WWE live match held in a panchayat office. One candidate is filing his papers, the other is jumping over a table, while five workers are chasing another man who is desperately holding his torn nomination papers like a priceless treasure. If democracy had a face, it would be sitting in a corner crying, wondering what it did to deserve this humiliation.
Meanwhile, political parties proudly call this the “victory of grassroots democracy.”
If this is a victory, one shudders to think what a defeat would look like. Maybe in the next elections, candidates will enter the arena wearing helmets, body armour, and elbow pads—just to safely deposit their nomination papers.
What the Constitution envisioned as a peaceful, fair, transparent process has become a street-side comedy mixed with a full-scale battlefield. Elders watching the spectacle shake their heads and say, “Eh loktantra ae? Eh taan tamasha ae!” (Is this democracy? This is a circus!)
In the end, the only real winners were those who managed to escape with their turbans still tied and their nomination papers still in one piece. The losers? Democracy, dignity, and the expectations of millions who thought local elections would strengthen grassroots governance.
If this is the “act of democracy,” then Punjab has accidentally written a new genre:
“Political Comedy of Errors—Where the Turban Goes Higher Than Voter Turnout.”
A satire, yes—
But behind it lies a painful truth:
Punjab deserves better than this chaotic spectacle.