Conversation with Bade Saheb: Episode 2
Editor’s Note: The “Conversation with Bade Saheb” series is a work of political fiction. The characters and conversations are imaginary. Any resemblance to real persons, offices, governments or events is purely coincidental. The purpose of the series is to explore ideas about governance, democracy and public life through satire and dialogue.
By Subrat Ratho
In the second episode of Conversation with Bade Saheb, Subrat Ratho uses wit and political satire to examine how governments, supporters and protest movements reshape narratives after compromise becomes inevitable.
I found Bade Saheb looking unexpectedly cheerful.
“Congratulations, Sir,” I said. “The Government has finally accepted the protesters’ principal demands.”
He looked up from his tea.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “you still think politics is about winning.”
“It isn’t?”
“It is—provided the other side doesn’t appear to have won.”
“But everyone says the Government has capitulated.”
“No, no,” he corrected me gently. “The Government did not capitulate. It merely undertook a carefully calibrated policy review in response to constructive stakeholder engagement.”
“I see.”
“The wording is important,” he explained. “It allows everyone to claim victory without anyone admitting defeat.”
I hesitated.
“But Sir, there is one group I feel genuinely sorry for.”
“Who?”
“The Government’s most devoted supporters.”
“Oh?”
“They spent weeks explaining that the protesters were anti-national, foreign-funded, politically motivated and agents of chaos. They exhausted their WhatsApp forwards and even risked ridicule in defence of the official narrative.”
For the first time that afternoon, Bade Saheb looked genuinely distressed.
“Yes,” he sighed. “A terrible burden.”
“You mean…?”
“Imagine their predicament.”
“I hadn’t.”
“They now have to perform one of the most demanding exercises in politics.”
“What is that?”
“Explaining why they were never wrong.”
“But…”
“My dear fellow, they cannot possibly admit that the Government has accepted the demands of people they spent weeks describing as enemies of the nation.”
“So what do they do?”
“They do what committed partisans have always done.”
“Which is?”
“They don’t rewrite history.”
“They don’t?”
“No.”
“What do they do then?”
“They merely issue a revised edition.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Yesterday the protesters were dangerous extremists.”
“Yes.”
“Today they are agitated citizens whose genuine concerns the Government, in its infinite wisdom, addressed before anti-national elements could exploit them.”
“But that’s a complete reversal.”
“No.”
“It isn’t?”
“It is called an evolution.”
“Will nobody notice?”
“Oh, many will.”
“And?”
“You see, my dear fellow, the first casualty of politics is not truth.”
“What is it then?”
He smiled.
“Embarrassment.”
“So they never feel awkward?”
“Only very briefly.”
“What happens after that?”
“They discover an astonishing new fact.”
“What fact?”
“That they had actually supported the Government’s present position all along.”
I stared at him.
“Memory,” said Bade Saheb, stirring his tea, “is a remarkably flexible faculty. It bends most easily in the service of loyalty.”
He looked up with a faint smile.
“The truly committed partisan possesses a rare gift.”
“What gift?”
“He can change his mind without ever experiencing the inconvenience of changing his opinion.”
I laughed.
“But surely this episode teaches the Government something?”
“Oh yes.”
“What?”
“That ignoring a protest is an excellent strategy…”
“…until it isn’t.”
He continued.
“Governments often assume protests are like toddlers. Ignore them long enough and they will eventually get tired and go home.”
“But this one didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the Government underestimated both the grievances and the depth of public support. It assumed the movement would remain confined to a few activists. Instead, ordinary citizens began identifying with the cause. Once that happens, politics respects arithmetic.”
“So the Government negotiated.”
“No,” he corrected me. “Negotiation is what others call it. Governments call it listening.”
“And the protesters?”
“They deserve credit.”
“For what?”
“For remaining peaceful, persistent and disciplined. Movements with those qualities are surprisingly difficult to demonise.”
He took another sip of tea.
“But they too should be careful.”
“Why?”
“Because movements united by one demand often become divided by many expectations.”
“And the Government?”
“The Government returns to its oldest ally.”
“Time?”
He nodded approvingly.
“You are learning.”
As I rose to leave, Bade Saheb asked me to wait.
“Oh, one last thing.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“The establishment first ignored the movement.”
“Yes.”
“Then it ridiculed it.”
“Yes.”
“Then it listened to it.”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow everyone will explain that this was the strategy from the very beginning.”
He smiled as he walked me to the door.
