In this thought-provoking essay, Subrat Ratho argues that the real strength of a democracy lies not in political parties but in ordinary citizens who step forward when they believe it is finally time to be heard.
As I watch young Indians come out onto the streets in swelling numbers, defying both the scepticism of the establishment and the knowing smiles of seasoned political commentators, I am reminded of Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s famous words in Parliament:“Sarkarein aayengi, jayengi; partiyan banengi, bigadengi. Magar yeh desh rehna chahiye.””Governments will come and go. Political parties will rise and fall. But this nation must endure.”
Time alone will tell what effect this movement has on the political establishment. But beyond the demands and the slogans, something else has unfolded—something I find deeply fascinating.
What has emerged is an unexpected glimpse into the mind of India’s urban middle class. Not the middle class imagined by television studios or social media algorithms, but the millions of ordinary citizens who quietly go about their lives and rarely make the news.
For years, our politics has been described through convenient binaries. One is expected to choose a side and stay there. Every issue is reduced to a contest between rival camps. Every citizen is expected to fit neatly into a pre-labelled box.
Reality, however, is rarely so tidy.
Many of those now gathering in public spaces seem remarkably uninterested in ideological labels. They are not asking for a revolution. Nor do they appear eager to replace one orthodoxy with another.
They are asking for something much simpler—and therefore much harder for politics to understand.
They are asking to be heard.
Not as supporters.
Not as opponents.
But as citizens.
That distinction matters.
Modern politics has become extraordinarily good at counting votes, measuring opinion polls and analysing electoral coalitions. It has become less adept at sensing the public mood between elections. Governments often mistake silence for approval. Political parties mistake electoral victories for permanent consent. Television debates mistake noise for public opinion.
The Cockroach Janata Party has reminded us of something many had forgotten.
Its members were invisible—until they were not.
They have no headquarters, no spokesperson, no whip, no official ideology and no election symbol. They are engineers, teachers, students, professionals, shopkeepers, homemakers and retirees. They disagree on almost everything except one thing: there comes a point when ordinary citizens feel compelled to remind those in authority that democratic legitimacy is not a blank cheque.
The seasoned political observer is often the last to recognise such moments.
That is hardly surprising. Political analysis tends to focus on parties, leaders, caste equations, campaign strategies and media narratives. It has fewer tools for understanding the quiet accumulation of public sentiment that eventually escapes those neat analytical frameworks.
To my mind, whether this particular movement succeeds is almost beside the point.
Movements come and go.
Governments come and go.
Even political eras come and go.
What remains is the recurring ability of ordinary Indians to surprise those who had confidently concluded that they had become indifferent.
Perhaps that is the most important thing the Cockroach Janata Party has revealed.
Citizens do not disappear.
They simply retreat into kitchens, offices, classrooms, commuter trains, housing societies and family WhatsApp groups—waiting patiently while experts declare them politically irrelevant.
And then, without warning, they reappear.
Not because anyone summoned them.
But because something, somewhere, convinced millions of ordinary citizens that it was finally time to step out of the shadows.
The wise government does not fear such moments.
It listens.
The wise opposition does not exploit them.
It understands them.
And the wise commentator does not rush to explain them away.
He first accepts that he did not see them coming.
History has a habit of arriving quietly.
The experts usually notice it only after the citizens do.
