I belong to literary circle and as a poet, writer, essayist and translator, my sensitivity has risen to the next level. It translates into the fact that though belonging to a privileged community, I am as seriously apolitical as a goose is in a wandering.
The title, in its initial impression may appear as a little bit strange as everybody around us in whatsoever way seems to be political in its either true or untrue sense. But I think being non-political nowadays should be declared as a privilege and honour because it is very tricky and you, as a person, are surrounded by the factors which affect the society the most.
In India, being 'non-political' is not a personality trait; it’s a logistical impossibility.
The situation compels me to quote Akbar Allahabadi when he said:

Qaom ke gham mein dinner khate hain hukkam ke sath
Ranj leader ko bahot hai magar aaram ke sath

(The leaders are so concerned that they bear the burden of enjoying dinner with the ruling officials. They are aggrieved but with their convenience and coziness.)
In a country where even the price of onions is a revolutionary act and every WhatsApp group is a miniature parliament, claiming you 'don’t follow politics' is like saying you live in Mumbai and 'don't really notice the humidity.'
If you are a non-political Indian, you aren't just a citizen; you are a suspicious enigma. WhatsApp group is the frontline of a civil war you never enlisted in. Every morning, between the' Good Morning' roses and the 'Eat soaked almonds' tips, lies a 500-word essay on why a bridge built in 400 BC is actually a secret 5G antenna. You just want to see photos of your nephew’s birthday.
But what is the actual conflict is that if you don't 'Like' the political forward, your Chacha thinks you’ve been brainwashed by foreign funding. If you do 'Like' it, your cousin from somewhere in a posh area of a metro city sends you a 12-part podcast series on the death of democracy.
The question arises what should we do in such a critically non-critical situation. You reply with the emoji. It is the Swiss Army knife of Indian neutrality. It could mean 'I agree,' God help us,' or' Please stop talking.'
I again wonder how India has evolved into a land of philosophers and intellectuals. Even an auto-rickshaw driver is a philosopher.
In India, the most dangerous political pundits don't work for news channels; they drive three-wheelers. You hop into an auto for a ten-minute ride, and by the second traffic light, the driver is asking you for your stance on the geopolitical implications of the latest state election.
Driver: 'Sir, what do you think? Is the development happening or is it just 'show-baazi'?Now it is your turn to respond but honestly.
You: 'I think the meter is jumping, bhaiya.'
He looks at you in the rearview mirror with pure disappointment. To him, you aren't a neutral party; you are a symptom of a failing nation. He spends the rest of the ride taking the longest possible route to punish your lack of civic engagement.
Then there is a specific moment at every Indian dinner party; usually right after the second round of Biryani round or paneer tikka, when the conversation shifts from 'How is your job?' to 'Who is the rightful heir to the throne of Delhi?'
Suddenly, the room is divided. On one side, the Bhakts; on the other, the Liberals. You are stuck in the middle, literally just trying to reach the mint chutney.
If you say the roads have improved, you're a fascist.
If you say you liked a specific documentary, you're an anti-national.
If you say, 'I think both sides have valid points,' both sides stop arguing with each other and join forces to tell you how 'privilege' has blinded you.
Being a poet, I once again remember a Urdu couplet:

'Jo bhooke hain, dharam ke naam par wo mar rahe hain
Siyasi log mil Jul Kar siyasat Kar rahe hain'.

Again coming to the title of this write up, being non-political in India means living in a linguistic minefield. You can’t use certain words without accidentally declaring your allegiance.

Careful, they belong to specific parties.
For instance, take the word 'development.'

Use this word with caution, or people will ask you to show them the flyovers.
'Protest' is the word you say too loudly and someone will offer you a shawl and a cup of tea on a sidewalk.
Then you think 'cricket' was a safe word. Wrong.
In India, cricket is politics with a leather ball. Even your opinion on the pitch conditions is secretly a commentary on the board’s administration.
On Election Day, your 'political' friends don't just vote; they post photos of their inked index fingers like they’ve just returned from the moon.
If you don't post your finger photo by 11:00 AM, the DMs start pouring in. 'Did you vote? Don't you care about the future? People died for this right!'
You end up going to the booth not out of a sense of duty, but because you can’t handle the peer pressure.
You stand in line behind a 90-year-old woman who has read three newspapers today, while you are secretly Googling' Who is the candidate with the Umbrella symbol?' because you like the aesthetic.
Being non-political in India is an exhausting full-time job. You spend more energy avoiding opinions than most people spend forming them.
But there is one silver lining: while everyone else is screaming at the TV or losing sleep over a tweet, you are the only person in the room who can actually hear the cricket score. And in this country, maybe that’s the most peaceful way to live.
So I think we all should try to be a little non-political, if not completely.

Email:-----------------------hasnainaaqib1@gmail.com