The Krishna Love (Wattpad India Awards Winner)

Prologue - A Political Tool

Run boy run! This world is not made for you

Run boy run! They're trying to catch you

Run boy run! Running is a victory

Run boy run! Beauty lays behind the hills

Run boy run! The sun will be guiding you

Run boy run! They're dying to stop you

Run boy run! This race is a prophecy

Run boy run! Break out from society

"The truth is subjective. Food for someone will be poison for others," a wise man had tried to convince the boy, only if he had listened.

Here we have our boy, Sid, ordinary among the ordinary people. The boy, however, owned one extraordinary trait (or should we say a bad habit?). That's seeking answers. Yup, it all started with questions like who am I? What am I doing here? What is the purpose of my life?

Fast forward to now, a ripple of doubt blocked his heart. The only question that remained relevant to him was, why did I try to seek questions and ended up like this?

In most of the stories, we have a protagonist. Then there is an inciting incident. The main character gets a goal. In the end, he achieves it, and that's that.

Never in a million years, Sid pictured that his story would take off when it probably should hit the end.

Here was he now, sandwich between two political ideologies. If you'd ask him, the boy couldn't explain how and when he ended up like this. He just wanted to share his wisdom journey of truth through a well-known medium.

Oh boy, he was so naive not to understand that we're living in a post-truth age. An age where truth is not accepted until it serves a particular agenda.

It didn't take long for him to realize the political identities are nothing but a form of human ugliness that pops up in every era. The caste system, racism, and now political correctness.

A left-wing activist walked up to the chair onto which Sid was sitting. His eyes were already grilling the boy with salty questions.

He raised his chin a bit, and with his scintillating wit, he threw a question. "Do you agree that we're living in the most intolerant times?"

"I see intolerance in every part of the world," Sid replied, his answer sounded normal. His eyes preferred to look down at the floor because the glaring sights of the people were bringing him down.

"Let's talk about our country." The leftist folded his hands at the back of his waist, and with that same raised chin continued. "Don't you feel sick when a group of totalitarians mob-lynched a poor man from the minority community?"

"Yes, that's very sickening," Sid said, nodding.

There were some bursts of groans coming from right-wingers, and that made all of the social justice warriors grin ear to ear.

"I must add, however, if there is an attack on the majority community for the same religious reasons. I consider it as an act of intolerance as well." The boy completed his sentence through the outburst of groans.

"Exactly!" A right-wing activist sprang up from his seat. "When a guy from the majority gets killed by so-called oppressed people, these leftists and social justice warriors never bat an eye. Only if it's the other way, all hell breaks loose. I'm glad you brought this up, kid. Do you agree with me?"

"Yes, sure." Sid gave a curt nod innocently.

And... There he lost it, an abiding uproar of cheers burst out like a firecracker. The chants of "truth alone triumphs, truth alone triumphs," rumbled across the place.

It took a minute for everyone to simmer down. When it did happen, everybody's eyes locked at Sid, there was a distinct look on particular faces that conveyed a message: "Knew he belonged to an alt-right group."

Sid got up from his seat as he got the drift why everybody was applauding him or rather which political ideology was doing it. "Listen up," he said in a loud voice. "I just meant any violence is deplorable, and the aggressor should receive severe punishment. Just stop interpreting me politically—"

The silence was the last thing that remained in this hall; every social justice warrior was flipping out. Sid could've won a Nobel Prize for his altruism elsewhere, but here he was presented with diatribes.

The left-wing activitist summed up the commotion for the boy. "Now, you are talking like a fascist, Siddhant. Stupid boy, why do you want to inspire these agents of chaos?"

Sid's hands reached his head, and his brow furrowed like the popular Jackie Chan meme. He couldn't take any of these allegations in the first place.

"How am I a fascist?" He snapped.

"You should be on our side, boy," the right-wing star said.

"No!" Sid burst out, "I don't believe in your political ideology either. I find it problematic."

"Problematic?!" The right-wing activist's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You should go to Pakistan, and see for yourself how minorities are treated there."

"No! I'm an Indian, why should I go to Pakistan?"—He heaved a sigh as his hand reached to his temple—"Why don't you guys just stop misinterpreting me?!"

The right-wing activist and left-wing activist exchanged looks.

"Why don't you scoff this leftist first, who is nothing but a downright anti-national!" The right-winger spoke at the top of his lungs. "At least you of all people have the stomach to call out the left's hypocrisy. Tell me, do they ever mind when a Hindu gets mob-lynch?"

"So that's how you justify mob-lynching of minorities? Eye of an eye?" The leftist star snapped back.

"We are just protecting our culture."

"By killing innocents? Your culture is regressive, which doesn't believe in freedom of speech."

The heated argument between this yin-yang didn't seem to take pause, Sid became all ears to their reasoning, and his neck appeared like the audience in a tennis court.

Over and again, one question haunted his mind. WHY!? Why did he take part in this debate competition?

If he agrees to what the right-wingers say, he's a fascist or totalitarian. If he agrees to what leftists say, he's anti-national or traitor. Above all, it dawned on him that he has become nothing but a political tool in their hands.

Welcome to the post-truth world.