Dude, aren’t you seeing it? The nation is under siege!
A monstrous calamity has struck!
Humanity has been shaken to its core!
And here you are — lazing on the bed, flipping through channels, cursing the government, and forwarding a few rusty poetry guns from old warrior poets on WhatsApp.
Come on, man — the country is in trouble! Do something for the motherland!
Do something so powerful that it pierces the chest of the ones who inflicted these wounds!
At least show some "gamm" (grief), bro!
You haven’t even heard our plan, have you?
Just wait till evening... We’ll join the Candle March!
Oh, what a sight it’ll be! Face shining in candlelight, an aesthetic tribute-type photo session — pure vibes of solemn patriotism!
Meanwhile, mom-battis (candles) are fluttering coyly in glee —
"Lo bhai, the Mom-Batti Veers have arrived to rescue us!"
Just like the government launched the ‘Kranti Veer Yojana’, here’s our grassroots-level "Mom-Batti Veer Yojana".
It’s a bit "chalu" (cheap-style), but hey — it works.
Ever since Edison invented the electric bulb, the dreams of candles had pretty much melted away.
Nobody cared about lighting candles; the national pastime was blowing them out.
Birthdays became candle-massacres — the more candles you snuffed out, the louder the applause.
The cake sizes grew, the candle-count skyrocketed.
Candles became mere props for extinguishment in the grand festival of life.
But then someone had an epiphany:
"Yaar, candles aren't just for blowing out; they can actually be lit too!"
It’s their naisarghik pratibha (natural talent)!
Thus began the era of lighting candles at graves.
Awaiting death became fashionable.
Picture this:
Father’s on a ventilator in ICU, doctors have thrown up their hands, ventilator’s about to be unplugged.
Hospital bills are piling up.
Boss refused advance salary.
So the son — our modern-day Rama — buys candles.
Not to save his father’s life, of course —
but to light up his grave!
He had left his father's life in darkness while he chased foreign dreams; now he’ll illuminate his father’s afterlife with a couple of wax sticks.
Still, the candles grumbled,
"Yaar, this is too small-time! We deserve mass ignition!"
They dreamed of ousting those bloody bulbs once and for all.
Once upon a time, Diwali diyas (earthen lamps) tried to steal their thunder — but diya brought its own oil and had limited shelf life.
Soon, even Diwali wasn’t theirs anymore —
the market was flooded with shiny Chinese fairy lights, twinkling and dazzling until nobody remembered candles existed.
Factories closed.
Blind children, who used to make candles, were back on the streets begging for survival.
Tragedy upon tragedy.
Then came the awakening!
Our ever-alert society bred a new species: bheediyes (wolves in human form),
specialists in ripping apart humanity — just so our "Mom-Batti Veers" could have a reason to shine.
These bheediyes, polished and savage, decided to unleash chaos.
They knew their countrymen loved a good kranti (revolution):
Fast on hunger strikes, roar in press conferences, fire up fiery speeches till the enemy’s teeth rattle.
Then — cue candles!
It’s a win-win:
A heart-wrenching tribute for the dead +
A polite middle finger to the wolves:
"Bro, humko accha nahi laga... FYI."
Somehow, the Candle Revolution caught on like wildfire.
This land, once known for blood-soaked uprisings and sacrificial bravery,
now fights with — candles.
The bheediyes have returned.
They’re everywhere — cities, villages, mohallas (neighborhoods).
No caste, no creed, no color bars —
just pure, rabid savagery.
And guess what?
Their puppet-masters — the sly siyars (jackals) and crafty lomdis (foxes) —
are sitting upstairs, raising these monsters.
The plan?
Wreak just enough havoc to ignite a revolution...
but don’t break any lathis (batons) in the process.
And we?
We, the people, are lighting candles with full zeal!
Each gali, mohalla, institution, political party is bursting into a frenzy of candle marches.
Such a mohak (enchanting) atmosphere!
A visual treat for the Instagram generation!
In the old days, people took bullets and climbed gallows for a revolution.
Now?
First, arrange for media coverage.
Ensure no one’s baton breaks.
Pose glamorously with a candle.
Upload.
Done and dusted — Kranti achieved!
The Mom-Batti Revolution welcomes everyone!
Even bheediyes are invited:
"Aaja bhai, kranti karein! (Come brother, let's do revolution!)
Tonight, chauraha (the town square) will be lit up!"
Newspaper photographers are on standby:
"Bro, as soon as the candle’s in hand, snap the pic!
I’ve already spoken to the editor — my pic must be the front page!"
Thus, the mighty Mom-Batti Veers have gifted this nation a brand new path —
where revolutions glow prettily in candlelight,
and bravery is measured in photo ops.
