Every five years, they return. Pagliacci, the clown and Dud, the tightrope walker; Minnie and Mona the juggler-duo, and all the uni-cyclists, vying for the crown. Enough vitriol in their veins to put any GoT villain to shame.
As the world’s biggest democracy heads to the polls with as many as 879 million eligible voters ― chimerical dreams are on sale. Fake news, hate speeches and propaganda videos have taken center stage whilst pressing issues peek meekly from bygone manifestos.
If they did, the world would have been different. We understand the clarion call for Climate Action as we scout for trees that aren’t there; water that has long turned malignant and air that reeks of carbon. We, the dogs, aren’t happy with the state of affairs. Bears, elephants, and dolphins fare no better.
But I’m just a stray dog on the road, a low life, facing the wrath of the sun, day in and day out. No caste card or religion to root for, no poster boy or supreme leader that I trust in but I know when the dust settles it is going to be an even hotter year on record. We’d be engulfing more toxic air, the tree cover is going to dwindle even more and the plastic would be plastered all over the roads. But this ain’t no spoiler alert, you know this.
I hope I am wrong and things take a turn for the better. The little girl who pats me during her evening walks tells me they are planning a Climate change march at the school. Hope floats.
Also read: I’m a doggo in Bengaluru