The Sindoor Stunt: How a Bhagoda Turned Grief into a Photo Op

 

The Sindoor Stunt: How a Bhagoda Turned Grief into a Photo Op

Nautanki Gappu

Oh, what a spectacle! The Grand Master of Houdini politics himself has outdone every known stunt: our Prime Minister, the self-proclaimed ascetic-warrior, has decided to bestow Sindoor on women across India, a sacred ritual, traditionally reserved for a husband. But why bother with tradition when you can just cosplay as the guardian of marital bliss while 26 families are still counting their dead?

Let’s start with the basics. Narendra Modi: marital status? It’s complicated. He’s married because, awkwardly, he had to write it down on an MP declaration form. He’s not divorced; paperwork is too much admin. He’s not a widower; his wife is alive, breathing, and presumably as mystified as the rest of us. So, what is he? The closest descriptor: Bhagoda the runner, the escape artist, the guy who said "I do" and then promptly vanished like a bad magician.

And yet, here he is, handing out Sindoor like party favors. Because who cares if Hindu tradition specifies that Sindoor is placed by a husband as a sign of marriage and commitment? Technicalities! Rituals! Small print! Modi's here to rewrite 5,000 years of tradition with a few photo ops.

But wait, it gets better. According to the man himself, he spent 35 or 40 years, depending on the camera that he is in front of and the fools he is telling a story to. Which raises some interesting questions about his timeline. Did he start this heroic career in kindergarten? Before or after he squeezed in a bachelor’s and master’s degree from the prestigious WhatsApp University? The math is fuzzy, but who needs facts when you have blind devotion and good lighting?

This sindoor-distributing roadshow isn’t just tone-deaf; it's an insult layered in delusion. While families mourn, he's out here posing as the national protector of sindoor. News flash: real sindoor is not some cheap token to be dished out by politicians angling for votes. It’s sacred. It’s personal. It’s emotional. But try telling that to the cheering crowds of WhatsApp scholars nodding enthusiastically between forwarded messages of dubious provenance.

And the cherry on top? This same brave heart, this "56-inch chest," once bowed before the U.S. President and pulled back from military action when India had an upper hand. Courage! Valor! Or, you know, strategic retreat disguised as diplomacy, but sure, let’s call it protecting sindoor.

Meanwhile, his party members are busy blaming the Army for being “lazy” and calling a Colonel “the sister of terrorists.” Because when you can’t win wars or save lives, the next best thing is to point fingers.

The sindoor spectacle should enrage every thinking Indian. But don’t expect much from the Godi media, their job is to yell into cameras, froth at the mouth, and convince you that this bhagoda handing out sindoor is your knight in saffron armor.

Is he? If he truly protected sindoor, why are widows still crying? Why are there funerals instead of celebrations?

Sindoor isn’t just red powder. It’s not a prop for election theatre. It’s a symbol of life, love, commitment, things you don’t get to mock with a PR campaign.

But why let facts and feelings get in the way of a good show? In the land of WhatsApp degrees and TV anchors-turned-hype men, truth is whatever their leader declares it to be, tradition, history, grief, all sacrificed at the altar of a selfie moment.

Welcome to the great sindoor circus. Bring popcorn.