You consider yourself a common man.
You fight and struggle and suffer every day to exist somehow. And you’ve started to believe that no matter what, it’s the common man who always suffers.
What if I told you that you are not a common man? What if I told you that the common man never suffers? And what if told you it’s time for you to get rid of the “common man complex” and the “baggage” that comes with it?
You in?!
Alright.
But let me make one thing clear: this article is going to be a little uncomfortable to read (a lot, actually). Also, you’ll find it hard to swallow the facts I present in this article (you might even hate me for bringing them up).
But it’s alright. I believe that unless we face things as they really are, nothing can be changed.
So let’s not waste our time and face the cold, hard truth right away:
You are not a common man.
You are a taxpayer.
And…
It’s the taxpayer who suffers, not the common man.
The taxpayer is not common. He’s uncommon. Just as common sense is “uncommon.”
And, in case you forgot, let me remind you that you’re the one running this goddam country. Your shoulders are bearing the weight of the freeloaders, the pests, and the zombies. And guess what? When you work twelve to fourteen back-breaking hours in your office or on your business, you’re not working just for yourself and your family. In reality, you’re working your ass off for crores of people whose lives depend on you paying your taxes. I mean, where else do you think the freebies—the “Revadis” politicians throw among the “shoshit-peedit-vanchit” gang to secure their votes, come from?
And the irony is that yours is the most thankless job. No matter how much you work, no matter how much tax you pay, no matter how much you believe in “ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country,” nobody appreciates you. Nobody gives a fuck. On the contrary, you get insulted, humiliated, and belittled at every nook and corner.
You don’t believe me?
Alright. The next time you drive your car through artificially crowded roads (encroached upon streets), weekly markets, or an unauthorized colony, look around and acknowledge how you feel.
You’ll realize that you drive through a sea of illegal Rehadis (carts), shops, and weekly markets like a lamb trying to cross a field full of ferocious wolves. Only, here, instead of wolves, you face encroachers. And by the way, have you looked into their eyes? They fucking hate you. You just have to listen to their voice to find out that a tone full of arrogance and entitlement looms just around the corner. Ever thought why it is so?
Simply because they know that not you but they are the common people. And what do “common people” have to lose? Nothing.
Of course, think about it.
What do the freeloaders have to lose? What is their investment, anyway? Nothing.
In fact, Delhi, for them, is just a means to an end. They came here to exploit two things: Delhi’s resources and, your generosity.
And why wouldn’t they? You, after all, pay the GST, income tax, this tax, and that tax on time. Always. Because paying taxes makes you feel good. Even high at times. You feel as if you’re doing something grand, something noble. Well, at least the government propaganda machinery wants to make you feel that way. Yeah, what do they say? Pay your taxes for “nation-building,” right?
What Are You Scared Of?
But the point is: why are you scared of driving your own car, bought with your own money, in your very own city?
You know the answer.
Oh, come on. Don’t lie to me.
Deep in your heart, you know that just a scratch on the side door will cost you 5-10K. Easily.
But that’s just a hypothetical situation. How about making it real (in your imagination, at the moment)?
Okay, let’s do it.
Let’s say a footpath encroacher pushes his Rehadi forward. And his Rehadi gives your car an ugly-looking scratch, a long one. Now, even if you grab the so-called common man by the collar, you won’t be able to get anything out of him. Because a mob will gather around in no time to his rescue. “Leave him, please. He’s a poor man. A common man. You can’t expect him to pay for the repairs of your car, can you?”
And now let’s reverse the roles (just to see how it goes).
Let’s say you hit a Rehadi with your car and broke its wheel. Do you think you can get away without paying the common man to help him repair his illegal Rehadi? After all, you’re the “Paise vala Aadmi”—the bigshot traveling in an SUV. How can you hit some poor fellow’s Rehadi, break one of the wheels, and not pay for it?
So this is the situation you’re in:
You bought the car with your hard-earned money. Also, you paid taxes when you made the purchase. You paid the road tax. You paid for the insurance. And yes, you also paid the cess.
In other words, you paid whatever was asked of you. And you had no say whatsoever. It was a take-it-or-leave-it deal.
Now, you paid all the taxes which means that when you drive on the roads, you should have roads available to you. Instead, the roads are encroached upon by the battery rickshaws, the Rehadivallahs, the beggars, and the street hawkers. Now, you tell me: who’s the loser here?
You, of course.
And you know what? You’re an uncommon creature—a naive one, I might add. I mean who pays for something that he rarely gets to use? Well, you—the taxpayer, apparently.
And they are the common people… the encroachers, the gutkha-chewing-spitting gang members, the freeloaders, and the parasites.
Now, can I share an uncomfortable truth with you?
Nobody cares for you—neither the society nor the government. You are, my friend, a minority. And despite being a minority, (a micro-minority, to be precise), you’re supposed to pay for the free ration, free education, and free treatment for others.
It doesn’t matter if you’re struggling to support your family. Or your kids’ education. Or your parents’ treatment. You are supposed to take care of your fellow countrymen (the illegals too), come what may.
What About Me—the Taxpayer? Who Cares About Me?
Are you kidding? You’re on your own. Obviously.
You’re not more than a cow—a cash cow. A cow in Bharat is sacred. It’s called “Gau mata”—the holy mother, but only as long as she gives milk. As soon as the milk stops, she loses her right to be “holy.” After her prime, she’s just a nagging bitch waiting to be kicked out of the house (if that sounds good to you).
And you’re no different: The system wants you to keep your head down, pay your taxes on time, and shut up.
“But is it fair to call a human being a parasite, like you just said a couple of paragraphs above?” you protest.
See? I told you that you’re not “common.”
And I get it, I do. I know you are a decent, respectful person with a sense of dignity and respect for all fellow human beings. But do you see that same respect, that same thankfulness in the Rehadivala’s eyes when you blow the horn at him to pass through?
Did you ever see in a common man aka “Gareeb Aadmi’s” eyes some respect for you? Something like, “Oh, sir, thank you so much. It’s because of your hard work and generosity that my ten-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter are getting free education.”
Or: “I am so grateful for the taxes you pay so on time. My sick mother got free treatment in a government hospital just last Tuesday.”
Or: “I could not survive without you and your hardworking family, of course. We can never repay you for what you have done for us.”
Never.
Instead, you find hatred in their eyes:
“What? Are you asking me to remove my Rehadi from this road? Who do you think you are? Can’t you see there’s no space, and you’re coming in here with your car like crazy?”
Agreed, nobody should be called a parasite. Because that’s kind of insulting. But then no one should live on others’ blood. There’s a reason it’s called “blood, sweat, and tears.” It’s how you earn for your family. And forgive me for being blunt but when someone sucks on your money, they’re essentially sucking on your blood. And one who survives on others’ blood, is a parasite (whether we like the sound of it or not).
What About Politicians? Don’t they Care About the Taxpayer?
Really?
Tell me when was the last time you heard a political leader say the word “taxpayer” in an election rally?
Never, right?
You see, the politicians are familiar with three words only: “Shoshit.” “Peedit.” “Vanchit.” And that’s just about it. Heck, they never even mention that the schemes and Revadis they so freely distribute come from the taxes you pay. But yes, they always remember to remind the people:
“Our government did this. Our government did that. Oh yes, our government did that too.”
You don’t exist, O taxpayer.
And by the way, why should the politicians care about you? Why would you even think such a thing? I mean, you’re not their vote bank. Their vote bank is the hordes of zombies to whom they distribute freebies and “empowering schemes”.
Also, why should you blame them for not caring for you? Isn’t it true that you rarely go to the polling booths, anyway (of course, you have your reasons)? Whenever elections come, you see that as an opportunity for a weekend getaway in the hills.
“So does that mean I can’t make politicians care about me?” you ask. Of course, you can, and I think that you should. You must. But for that to happen, you’ll have to cancel your “weekend getaways” and go to the polling booth (and drag your taxpaying neighbor too) in record numbers and vote.
In a country like Bharat, the only way to force the government to work for you is by becoming a “reliable vote bank.” If you can establish yourself as someone the local candidate can count on, you’re in. Otherwise, why should a politician give a rat’s ass about you? You are just a cash cow to him waiting to be milked any time he wishes. Simple as that.
Also, don’t fuss much about the party and the candidate. It doesn’t really matter—as long as you vote to make the candidate win. Now, when your candidate wins, make sure to do some aggressive arm-twisting. It’s the same strategy the “common people” have been using for years now.
Let me repeat: Aggressive arm twisting.
Hold Your Head High—You Are a Taxpayer
Listen:
We both know that you are a hardworking person—you inherited this trait from your parents.
Now, do I need to remind you how many times your parents killed their desires so they could pay for your education?
Do I need to remind you how many times they got humiliated by the rotten, dysfunctional system?
And do I need to remind you that your parents sacrificed their goddam life so you could have a brighter future?
And they did all that for what?
So you pay your taxes, surrender to the status quo, and do nothing about it? Hell, no.
Stop insulting yourself. Don’t consider yourself a common man. You’re not “common.” People who pay taxes are uncommon—and you should be proud of being one.
Straighten up your spine, hold your head high, and demand the life your family deserves.
Speak up.
The only way out is through.