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What if a foreign company could disrupt India’s military communications during a war? What if a few clicks thousands of miles away could affect our drones, weaken our defences and give an enemy the upper hand? Should India throw open its doors to Elon Musk without asking some tough questions? Can the glitter of high-speed internet blind us to the dangers of handing over a vital national lifeline to a private company?

Imagine two lives separated by three generations. One belongs to a small-town schoolteacher in the 1970s. The other belongs to his grandson, an IT professional today. The difference is nothing short of a revolution.

June 25, 1975, is recorded as a turning point in the history of Indian democracy. On that day, then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi declared a state of Emergency in the country. The period, which lasted until March 21, 1977, saw severe restrictions on civil liberties, the imprisonment of opposition leaders and the imposition of government censorship on newspapers. Today, during Narendra Modi’s tenure as Prime Minister, a section of the opposition, journalists and civil rights advocates accuse the government of creating an ‘undeclared Emergency’. Comparing the two periods raises an important question: Are the circumstances really similar, or have the methods of putting pressure on political dissent changed?

What happened to the two crore jobs a year? Are our rivers really cleaner? Are our cities smarter, or just better at putting up smart boards? Has corruption gone down, or have we simply learnt to live with it? And after twelve years, how much of the distance between promise and delivery has actually been covered? These are not academic questions. They are questions people ask over tea, at railway stations, in offices and inside their homes.

What has happened to our political leaders? Democracy demands questions, arguments and accountability. Governments must face scrutiny, and opposition parties must challenge those in power.

They promised to change the country. Yet the streets show the same scene: red lights ahead, wailing sirens behind. Ordinary people sweat in traffic while leaders’ convoys slice through, no longer kings on elephants but rulers in SUV caravans.

Even if we accept that a few rotten elements have entered the media, and that some activists misuse the Right to Information, is it fair to put the entire community in the dock? In law, medicine, the judiciary, and politics, black sheep exist everywhere, but does that make the whole system guilty?

Tamil Nadu Chief Minister C Joseph Vijay recently appointed his personal astrologer as an Officer on Special Duty in the Chief Minister’s Office. The news spread like wildfire. Reports claimed that this very astrologer had ‘predicted’ years ago that Vijay would one day rise to power. Within hours, political circles erupted. Alliance partners objected. Rationalism, constitutional values, and scientific temper were invoked. Eventually, the government was forced to retreat.

Congress politics today resembles a caravan lost in the wilderness, the path unclear, the guide uncertain. Under Rahul Gandhi's leadership, the party repeatedly stages what can only be called political ‘crow feasts’, where every half-baked statement, every hasty decision, and every weak strategy hollow out its credibility a little more. The country wants a strong opposition, but Congress often appears like a wounded traveller, one more interested in finding excuses than reaching a destination.