Sanctimonia Binocs, Bhubaneswar, 30 August 2025
Hark, ye perpetually bewildered and morally disoriented citizens of Sanctimonia! A new and most bewildering development has rocked our kingdom. Our king, a man whose every expression now screams “cognitive dissonance,” is in a tizzy. His kingdom has, in a shocking turn of events, been certified as the “safest city for women.” Yet, our king knows, with the grim certainty of a man who has read the royal crime reports, of the rampant atrocities taking place—the dowry deaths, the daily harassment, the quiet terror in the eyes of his female subjects. He is paralyzed, unable to address this glaring contradiction, for the truth is as clear as the holy morning sun: the status of women in Sanctimonia is nothing short of deplorable.
This baffling paradox extends to the kingdom’s men as well. In a tragic and deeply ironic twist, a lawyer, a man sworn to uphold the law, has committed self-immolation. Not at the hands of political enemies or a corrupt system, but because of relentless torture by his own wife and mother. The very gender our kingdom claims to protect has become, in this instance, the source of a man’s despair, a contradiction that no one, least of all the king, knows how to address.
But the contradictions don’t stop there. A new plague has descended upon Sanctimonia: the fraudulent motivational speaker. These saffron-clad charlatans gather large crowds by day, their words promising enlightenment and prosperity. By night, however, their “followers” become their victims. They keep a meticulous record of their loyal devotees and, under the cloak of darkness, burgle their homes, their hands, once raised in blessing, now busy with theft. It is the latest, and most brazen, activity of the godmen’s men.
Meanwhile, our Law Minister, a man whose ambition is as boundless as his indifference to real crime, is busily erecting barricades. The time is nearing for the queue darshan of the Holy Triad, and he is a man of orderly vision. The netizens, however, are filled with a new and profound worry: if the Law Minister can enforce queues for darshan, will he not, in his relentless pursuit of control, eventually ticket the prasad as well?
The political intrigue, however, has a new and intriguing twist. The Jester in Green, once a beacon of moral authority, is now under attack. Other senior Jesters have come forward, not to support him, but to break his spirit and take his place. The king, who was little scared of the Jester, is happy with this infighting. His advisor and his wife are even willing to take the place of the Jester, a new dynasty of fools-for-hire in the making.
The netizens, caught in this swirling vortex of contradictions, are worried about a different kind of price hike: the rising cost of milk and, now, vegetables. They have no recourse, no one to turn to but the Holy Triad, their prayers a desperate plea to save a kingdom that seems determined to save no one but itself.
