A few years ago, I was in a college group chat where the hot topic of discussion was political leadership. As expected, Mr. Modi was the favourite of the majority. Everyone had their own reasons for wanting to vote him into office for successive terms.
Some wished he would remain Prime Minister for the next 10 years, some for the next 20, and a few even hoped for the next 30.
As usual, I was the odd one out. I said that, given the circumstances at that time, I would prefer Mamata Banerjee as the next Prime Minister. Immediately, people began pouncing on me—listing her so-called pro-Muslim stance, her allegedly anti-industrial approach, and so on.
I simply told them one thing: my choice was based on the scenario **at that moment**. There were still almost three years left before the next election. A lot could change. Something might happen that makes Modi more deserving in my eyes, and I might even choose to support him. Or Mamata Banerjee might introduce innovative ideas that could convince even my friends to reconsider her.
My opinion was never that she *must* become the Prime Minister at any cost. I had no personal attachment or emotional investment in her leadership. It was just an evaluation based on the situation as it stood.
But what I find troubling is how sentimental our democracy has become. People make political choices as if taking lifelong vows. What is there to get so emotional about that you dedicate your life to a politician? Wanting someone to be Prime Minister for 20 or 30 years—how does that even make sense?
It is understandable when someone unexposed to the wider world feels this way, driven by limited information and inherited narratives. But it saddens me when educated people adopt the same unexamined arguments and behave no differently.
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