In this world you will find only two things: khuda (God) on the roads, and khed (condolence/regret) on people’s tongues. These days khed is being expressed with great fanfare. Wherever you look—there’s khed. Trains are late on railway platforms? Khed. Until the Railways has expressed khed a hundred times in an hour, they won’t even let you board.

Open social media and you’ll see khed in every possible style. During COVID, there was such a flood of khed that if someone accidentally posted a garlanded photo on their wedding anniversary or birthday, people began to express khed. Now khed has been Anglicized as well. No need to write a long lament—just type “RIP” and the job’s done.

Leaders are maestros at expressing khed. Early in the morning their PA hands them ten locations for khed: a few tiye ki baithak (funeral gatherings), some flood- or drought-hit areas, and the site of a bridge or mine collapse—these are their sacred workplaces. Expressing khed is a kind of farming: from the seed of khed grows a bumper crop of votes.

Netaji’s car always carries a ready floral wreath. If, anywhere en route, they spot a crowd with drooping faces, their khed starts blooming automatically—“We regret that…” Then Netaji asks, “Alright, what exactly are we regretting?” Once briefed, he completes the sentence—like filling in the blanks.

The public too gives leaders ample chances to express khed: sometimes crushed at a rally, sometimes trampled at a satsang, sometimes run over on a footpath by some rich guy’s car, and sometimes buried under a bridge.

There’s even a horse race of khed—a scramble to reach the victim’s home first. If the opposition gets there before you, your little khed tail stays tucked in your pocket. The entire khed halwa is eaten by the opposition. Newspapers also value only the biggest khed. The smaller regrets don’t get column space at all.

Khed too has categories: VIP and BPL. The BPL category of khed is seasonal—it appears only during elections, stuck like a lapel pin to Netaji. For the remaining five years, it’s as if nothing happens in the world. It feels like good days have arrived everywhere. The public sits there sucking on a tablet of maje ka churan (fun-powder).

As elections arrive, khed is expressed for every problem of the common man. The dust of neglect coating his hunger, unemployment, and inflation is wiped off once again. The khed derby begins; every party places bets on its own horse. Whoever is Khed Samrat, skilled at shedding crocodile tears, gallops ahead.

Issues are specially foraged to express khed. Old issues, long buried, are exhumed. Many topics are such that even if you express khed a hundred times, the public still finds them new—like “murder of the Constitution,” Emergency, Nehru, Gandhi, Savarkar. These are wrapped like Egyptian mummies in the alchemy of political maneuvering—preserved so they don’t rot, and always look fresh.

Potato and petrol prices were made precisely for expressing khed.

The BPL kind of khed is expressed only when the incident is extremely tragic—when people die in bulk, get crushed or buried. Otherwise, it won’t qualify as khed. No newspaper wallah, no social thinker, no leader—nobody will squander their precious khed-nidhi (regret-fund) for free.

But when needed, nothing can stop them from distributing khed. They’ll dig to the depths of pataal to find a reason. And if nothing turns up, they’ll unearth old corpses—those same issues on which khed has been performed many times before. But khed will be done—most certainly done.

The other kind—VIP khed—belongs to the influential. This khed is such that if a VIP soul gets even a scratch, it erupts instantly. If Netaji catches a cold, a dozen sycophants will rub their noses raw while wiping Netaji’s nose, all the while expressing khed! For the well-connected and powerful, even the country’s Sensex seems to offer khed. Let the PM’s forehead get a crease of worry, or let there be the briefest “Bhaiyo aur behno…”, and the Sensex may collapse expressing khed. If a VIP’s dog dies, the whole city throngs to express khed.

The government should just declare a “Khed Diwas”—clear the backlog in a single day. Build a Khed Smarak (Regret Memorial) and even a Khed Stadium! There should be a khed competition during elections too. The candidate who scores the highest in expressing khed should be declared the winner. At least then, after every election, we could stop expressing khed over the plight of the EVMs.

Officers in every department are also virtuosos of khed. Files with the accelerator of bribe attached move forward; the rest stay bogged down in the slush of official khed. “Khed hai, janaab. We understand your problem, but what can we do! We’re trying. It’s the government system—it takes time.”

The police and legal departments are a bit different. They don’t express khed themselves; they compel clients to express it. Doctors are adept at it: “We regret we could not save your patient.” After that, the patient’s attendants begin to express khed for the doctor: “We regret we could not save the doctor from being beaten up.” What to do! The family eventually understands, but the chhote-mote neta, the self-interested goons, and the compensation-hunters also express khed—and that’s their preferred method of doing it.

Newspapers aren’t behind, either. They express khed with the family and hurl curses at the hospital doctors. Newspapers keep an entire page reserved for these khed-expressers. If khed can be bundled with an advertisement for their establishment, the pull is even greater. If the rust on business can be washed off in the Ganges of emotion—what’s the harm?

I too face a lot of khed these days. I send my writings for publication, and the reply comes: “We regret we cannot publish your piece.” Their khed makes my soul scold me: why do I keep them busy all day, making them express khed? It must hurt! I, too, am now expressing khed over my pieces being sacrificed at the altar of editorial discretion.

— डॉ. मुकेश ‘असीमित’

 मेरी व्यंग्यात्मक पुस्तकें खरीदने के लिए लिंक पर क्लिक करें – “Girne Mein Kya Harz Hai” और “Roses and Thorns”
Notion Press –Roses and Thorns

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