By Geetha V P
In the theatre of the absurd that is today’s Congress, winning a decisive election is no longer the climax — it is merely the cue for the real entertainment to begin. Kerala just handed the UDF a thumping 102 seats out of 140, with Congress bagging a historic 63. A comfortable majority. A clear mandate. A golden ticket to governance. Yet here we are, weeks later, watching the grand old party transform victory into a vicious, leaking, ego-drenched circus — all because the high command cannot locate the “appoint CM” button on its dynastic remote control.
While Rahul Gandhi parades across the country like a tireless messiah, arms wide open, voice dripping with outrage against the Modi government, his own victorious troops in God’s Own Country are busy stabbing each other in the back over who gets the red beacon. The man who wants to dethrone Delhi cannot even install a chief minister in a state that just knelt before his family’s legacy. Revolutionary energy for the nation, mysterious paralysis for Kerala — such are the mysterious ways of the Congress high command.
The holy trinity of Rahul, Priyanka, and Sonia possesses unmatched skill in delivering lectures on democracy, federalism, and “respecting mandates.” Yet when a real mandate falls into their lap, they enter a state of catatonic indecision. One can imagine the scene in Delhi: urgent meetings about saving the Constitution, while the Kerala file gathers cobwebs next to cold cups of filter coffee. Declaring a chief minister, it seems, requires more intellectual rigour than challenging a twice-elected Prime Minister.
Step into the ring, K.C. Venugopal — national organising secretary by designation, chief ministerial candidate by obsession. While drawing a handsome salary to unify the party across India, he is gleefully deepening divisions in Kerala. The same high command that issues instant diktats on alliance strategy and tweet protocols has suddenly taken a vow of silence. Venugopal campaigns, loyalists leak, ambitions clash like cheap swords, and Delhi plays the role of disinterested spectator. This is what “inner-party democracy” looks like under dynastic Bluetooth: total chaos until the family finally nods.
The contrast with UDF allies is brutally funny. IUML, Kerala Congress, and others sit like disciplined adults watching a toddler throw a tantrum over toys. No public sulking, no planted stories, no ego explosions. The senior partner alone is busy turning a victory lap into a dogfight, proving once again that in Congress, the biggest threat is never the opposition — it’s itself.
And where are the usual TV gladiators? The Jairam Ramesh variety — those sharp-tongued non-playing captains who can eviscerate the BJP with three-minute monologues and viral clips. When the battle is against Modi, they are ferocious. When the house is burning in Kerala, they discover the benefits of strategic muteness. Their outrage is reserved exclusively for external enemies. Internal incompetence apparently deserves respect.
The people of Kerala, armed with 96% literacy and world-class political cynicism, have every reason to feel royally cheated. They voted for development, stability, and governance. What they got is a sleazy daily soap titled Who Wants to Be Chief Minister? — produced by the Congress high command, directed by indecision, and starring overambitious satraps. The mandate was loud. The response has been embarrassingly mute.
Rahul’s national revolution is cinematic: yatras, hugs, slogans, packed rallies. Actual governance in a winnable state? That is painfully mundane. Why waste time banging heads in Thiruvananthapuram when you can deliver soulful speeches about saving democracy from safer venues? Why solve a problem today when you can promise to solve the entire country tomorrow?
This episode is pure Congress 2026 — expertly converting electoral success into self-goal. They win Kerala and immediately begin fumbling it away through classic dynastic dithering. They preach federalism but practise suffocating remote control. They demand accountability from the Centre while offering zero accountability to their own voters.
The chief minister’s chair now stands as a mocking monument — not to power, but to paralysis. The clowns are still fighting, the ringmaster remains on tour, and the literate audience of Kerala watches with rising contempt as their decisive verdict is answered with pathetic indecision.
The revolution can wait, Rahul ji. First, fill the damn chair. The joke has gone on long enough.
