In the land where the powers-that-be reside, they have an exceptional knack for prioritization, so profound that it often leaves the common man wondering whether governance is an intricate game of chess played with blindfolds. Take, for instance, the latest developments: two new government orders that surfaced, one for the fire-ravaged families of Marwah and the other to purchase luxurious Scorpio vehicles for 90 newly elected MLAs.
The 70 families of Marwah, who recently lost everything in a devastating fire, must have breathed a sigh of relief when they heard they were getting assistance. And why wouldn’t they? A generous sum of 1.7 crores was earmarked for them. That’s right—just a humble 2.43 lakhs per family! Just enough to build a cozy little shelter—if only time travel were possible and they could transport themselves back to the early 1900s when construction costs were somewhat affordable.
But why should they worry about something as trivial as shelter? After all, it’s almost winter! The government is teaching them a valuable lesson: winters in Kashmir can be endured with grit and determination—and maybe a few blankets. Who needs a roof over their head when the warmth of governmental empathy is so strong?
Yet, amid the cold indifference of bureaucracy, a ray of hope still flickers in Kashmir. Kudos to those who voluntarily contributed to the fire victims of Marwah. Their actions deserve appreciation, for they have, in a true sense, proved that humanity is still alive in the valley. While the state may falter in its responsibilities, these kind souls have stepped in to remind us that compassion still thrives. They didn’t wait for orders or excuses—they acted. Now, what the victims need is sustained financial assistance or building material. The community must not stop here. These families are on the brink of a harsh winter, and every brick, every donation, is a testament to the resilience and spirit of Kashmiris.
Meanwhile, in the hallowed halls of political power, another pressing issue arose: the dire need for new Scorpio vehicles for the 90 freshly minted MLAs. These hardworking representatives, burdened with the heavy load of governance, absolutely must travel in style and comfort. After all, nothing screams “public service” like rolling into a constituency in a luxury SUV. The cost? Oh, just a modest ten times more than what was allocated to those 70 homeless families in Marwah. You see, the budget for their vehicles has been carefully calibrated to match the stature of the people’s representatives—far above the concerns of the plebeians freezing in makeshift tents.
One mustn’t underestimate the importance of a good Scorpio. It’s a symbol of resilience, much like the families of Marwah, who are clearly being trained in the fine art of surviving with nothing. Scorpios will glide effortlessly over the rough roads of politics, while the residents of Marwah navigate the rough terrain of life without basic necessities.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. There’s a lesson to be learned here. When the government talks about welfare, it means “well, fare” as in, those who govern shall fare well. It’s a subtle linguistic twist that the common folk might miss. Welfare, after all, doesn’t mean distributing wealth equally—it’s about making sure those in power are well-prepared to fare through the coming years in sturdy, air-conditioned vehicles.
As the Scorpios roll out onto the streets, perhaps the families of Marwah can take solace in the fact that their government hasn’t forgotten them. No, they’re just ensuring that the elected representatives have the smoothest possible ride while they occasionally glance out of their tinted windows at the tents and temporary shelters dotting the landscape. If they happen to see a family shivering in the cold, they can give them a knowing nod, a nod that says, “We’re all in this together, just in vastly different ways.”
After all, nothing brings people closer to their government than shared experiences—whether it’s the sting of winter or the smooth hum of a Scorpio’s engine.
