NVN FRIDAY: INTERVAL
by Rajat Chandra Sarmah
They said this is your moment. So we sat— a few rows in— watching democracy adjust its lights. Promises entered first. Well-dressed. Fluent. They spoke in our language— better than we do, sometimes. Jobs arrived next— counted aloud, like blessings no one stopped to check. Cash followed quietly. No speeches. Just something understood without being said. We clapped. Not loudly— just enough. Somewhere between need and negotiation, we stopped thinking too much about what was ours and what was being offered. The button— small, decisive, mercifully simple. Press. Nothing to show later. Interval. Lights dim. Noise settles somewhere behind us. When the curtain lifts again, the stage is lighter. Fewer promises. Some things just not there this time. What was announced comes back “under process.” What was certain slows down— then disappears. We do not protest. We adjust. Survival stretches itself over the years. Dignity— it comes and goes. Outside, the posters fade first. Inside, something follows. Next election, they will return— with improved scripts, cleaner numbers, and our own words borrowed again. And we— seasoned audience, repeat believers— will take our seats before the lights come on. No one will ask what the first show changed. No one will ask why we stayed. The applause will begin on time. And we will give it— not because we believe, not because we forgot, but because we have learned.
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Rajat Chandra Sarmah is a poet and writer based in India. After a 36-year career in India’s power sector, he now focuses on literary writing. His work explores public memory, environmental crisis, social change, and everyday human endurance. His poetry has previously appeared in The New Verse News and other international journals.