The first light of morning falls on a moving sea of feet. Young men shoulder kanwars, barefoot pilgrims circle sacred hills, and groups of friends climb mountain trails, singing bhajans. Phones stay tucked away, cameras keep clicking, and the name of God rises with every step. This is today’s pilgrimage in India.

The camera rolls. A grand haveli fills the screen. A portly Seth sits on his gaddi, surrounded by ledgers and cash boxes. Nearby stands the familiar Munimji of old Hindi cinema, Kanhaiyalal, with a sly smile and a thick account book. Someone asks for help; he calculates the cost.

Bipolar disorder is casually described as ‘mood swings’. The phrase makes a serious illness sound like ordinary bad temper. It is anything but that.

How many times must a woman speak before the system listens? How many headlines must scream before a powerful man is made to answer for an alleged sexual crime?

Picture it. A woman walks onto a public stage. She questions the government. She takes on her opponents. She defends her party without flinching.

Indian politics is changing faster than desert sands in a storm. Yesterday's kingmaker is today's survivor. Yesterday's fortress is today's house of cards.