Cockroaches, Comedians, and Criminals

NILIM KASHYAP BARTHAKUR

I may be in jail after this article because freedom of the press feels like a joke in this country, yet here we are. The powerful wear the T-shirt of democracy but behave like something else entirely. Comedians get treated like dangerous criminals while the real decision-makers, the ones whose mistakes touch millions, often sip tea and issue statements that change nothing. It is the kind of plot that would make even a Tamil cinema hero throw up his hands and ask for a rewrite.

Picture this: A student from an ordinary family wakes up early every day for a whole year. He or she studies late into the night, often under pressure from family members who keep asking about results and plans. The aspirant risks an entire precious year, sacrifices fun, sleep and sometimes even health, all for one big chance at a better life.

The exam day finally arrives. He pours everything into it with full focus and hope. Then a few cowards find the loopholes, leak the paper, and the whole effort turns to ashes. Do you think that student can face the same exam again with the same fire burning inside? Do you think he or she can sleep peacefully at night after giving their absolute best, only to watch the system fail them so badly?

Not a chance. The anxiety eats away. The trust breaks. The lost year haunts. This is not some made-up story. It happened again with NEET this year, and it is sadly not the first time in our country. Yet the minister and the authorities sit comfortably in the same chairs as if nothing serious went wrong.

This is the system we are stuck with, run by corrupt and incompetent politicians who face no real fear. If one of them actually resigned over such failures, it might create a healthy scare among the others. They would start thinking twice before repeating the same mistakes. But right now nobody fears anybody because the rot feels equal from top to bottom. The same comfortable web protects everyone.

In May 2026, remarks by Chief Justice Surya Kant, widely perceived (despite clarification) as likening unemployed or activist youth to “cockroaches” and parasites, ignited outrage. Abhijeet Dipke, a political communications strategist, turned the insult back on the insulter.

CJP emerged as satire, a parody party name echoing the ruling BJP, a cockroach mascot in a suit, memes, dark humour about jobs, leaks, and power. It exploded: millions of Instagram followers in days, surpassing major parties. What began online as absurdist reclamation became street presence at Jantar Mantar, protests demanding Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation over NEET irregularities.

To protest against the system, thousands gathered at Jantar Mantar. The energy grew stronger day by day. Then Sonam Wangchuk joined them. The veteran activist from Ladakh sat on an indefinite hunger strike. Some people immediately started calling him anti-national and even a China agent.

But let us look at who this man really is. Born in 1966 in Uleytokpo, Ladakh, Wangchuk emerged from a childhood marked by an education system that felt alien to the high desert he called home. After a dramatic escape from rigid schooling as a boy, he funded his own way through mechanical engineering at what was then REC Srinagar.

He returned not to chase conventional success but to remake the system that had failed his peers. In 1988, with fellow students, he co-founded the Students’ Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh (SECMOL). The goal was radical in its simplicity: education rooted in local culture, ecology, and practical wisdom rather than rote memorisation of distant plains.

Operation New Hope, launched in 1994 in partnership with government and communities, transformed government schools. Matriculation rates climbed dramatically. Wangchuk designed a solar-powered campus that needed no fossil fuels for heating, cooking, or lighting,  a living laboratory in a region where winter temperatures plunge below minus 25 degrees Celsius. His most celebrated innovation, the Ice Stupa, emerged around 2013 as a response to climate change’s cruel arithmetic in the Himalayas.

His most brilliant idea is the Ice Stupa. Ladakh loses water because glaciers shrink and winter streams waste away. Wangchuk designed tall cone-shaped ice towers that catch and store that water. They look like giant traditional Buddhist stupas. In spring, they melt slowly and feed the farms exactly when needed. Simple pipes, freezing air and community effort. Villages loved it.

The project fights climate trouble and helps people survive. Wangchuk also started the Himalayan Institute of Alternatives, where students learn by solving actual mountain problems. A parliamentary panel recently called it a model worth copying across India. His work helps border communities stay strong and self-reliant. That indirectly supports the Army and India’s strategic needs in tough high-altitude areas.

Awards followed- the Ramon Magsaysay in 2018, the Rolex Award for Enterprise, Global Award for Sustainable Architecture, and others. He founded the Himalayan Institute of Alternatives, Ladakh (HIAL), an experiential university without traditional classrooms, emphasising real-world problem-solving. A parliamentary panel recently praised HIAL as “exemplary” and urged UGC recognition.

Wangchuk’s work has bolstered sustainable habitation in high-altitude border areas, indirectly aiding strategic resilience and communities that support India’s frontier presence. He is, in short, the rare figure who strengthens the nation by making its most vulnerable regions more livable and self-reliant, not through rhetoric but through ice, sun, and stubborn ingenuity.

Yet in 2026, this same man sat on an indefinite hunger strike in Delhi.His health started slipping as the fast continued. He lost more than eight kilograms. Blood pressure dropped. Energy faded. Doctors watched closely. He stayed calm and determined. If he dies in that protest, the whole democracy should be changed to a dictatorship because a system that lets such a man pay with his life while protecting the powerful has already lost its soul. His fast was not for drama.

It was one more push for promises kept and for accountability that students also deserve. After Article 370 changes, Ladakh was promised strong protections. Sixth Schedule status for local control over land and culture. More jobs. Real democracy. Some small steps happened, but the big safeguards kept waiting.

Wangchuk had fasted before in freezing Ladakh. This time in Delhi, he linked everything together. He reminded everyone that the struggles in the mountains and the struggles of students in cities are connected. Both are about broken promises and lack of real care from those in power.

We have studied in school that democracy is of the people, by the people, for the people. In India, it has quietly turned into- of the politicians, by the politicians, for the rich and powerful, while the common man watches the show with growing frustration. It has become a joke now.

To force a politician to resign, the one because of whom many students have taken their own lives and fallen into deep depression, ordinary citizens have to protest for days on end. But true accountability would mean that anyone who fails at their duty gets removed immediately. That rarely happens here. This is India, where the whole system often works this way.

Wangchuk’s life offers the perfect contrast. He builds ice that saves water. He creates schools that actually work. His efforts help keep border areas alive and supportive for the nation. Now he uses his own body to highlight what words alone could not.

This story is bigger than one man or one protest. It is about a country where creativity meets frustration every single day. Where students risk everything and often get disappointment in return. Where an innovator from the mountains has to starve to be heard. The powerful sit and calculate their next move. The young keep creating new ways to speak. The rest of us watch and wonder how long this show will run before someone finally changes the script.

For now, the cockroaches keep marching, and Wangchuk keeps holding on with whatever strength he has left. The plot is still unfolding, and the tickets are cheap if you can find a place in the crowd. Just bring your own sense of justice. You will need it more than ever. The question is simple. How many more fasts, how many more protests, how many more lost years will it take before the T-shirt matches the reality inside?

Mahabahu.com is an Online Magazine with collection of premium Assamese and English articles and posts with cultural base and modern thinking.  You can send your articles to editor@mahabahu.com / editor@mahabahoo.com (For Assamese article, Unicode font is necessary) Images from different sources.