Ladies and Gentlemen,
We’re often told who our enemies are.
They say the enemy lives across borders.
That he wears a different uniform. Speaks a different tongue.
And so, we must send missiles and grenades, drop bombs on homes —
Where children play, where mothers cook —
All in the name of victory.
But I say, my enemy is not seated in a far-off country.
My enemy is not a flag I’ve never seen or a religion I don’t understand.
No.
My enemy is right here.
He stands outside my gate, watching.
Waiting.
Like a hawk — ready to fleece me the moment the situation allows.
He is the rude auto guy, who argues, overcharges, and ruins every ride.
He is the cunning cab driver, who tests my patience and brings out the worst in me.
Not once. Not twice. Every single time.
The pothole on the road —
That innocent-looking crater that jerks my steering and risks my child’s safety —
That, too, is an enemy.
A silent, neglected, life-threatening enemy.
The inefficient bureaucrat, who makes me wait.
Who delays with a smirk.
Who forces me to pay bribes just to get what is already mine —
He is my enemy.
The corrupt government official, who plays dumb, drags files, and makes my dignity beg —
He is my enemy.
The politician, who offers grand speeches and fake promises during election time —
Only to vanish into the fog of power and privilege —
He is my enemy.
And the reckless rider —
The one who speeds down the wrong side of the road, no helmet, phone pressed to his ear —
Who gambles with not just his life, but mine —
He too, is my enemy.
So tell me —
When I have so many enemies at arm’s length,
Why should I care who renamed a piece of land a thousand miles away?
Why should I lose sleep over battles fought in Parliament,
When I can’t get a working streetlight outside my home?
Before you ask me to hate a foreigner,
Let me first survive my neighbourhood.
Before you ask me to fight a war,
Let me first cross the street safely with my child.
Before you hand me a flag,
Give me a government that works, a road without potholes,
A country where dignity doesn’t need a bribe.
Because until then,
My enemy is not there.
He is here.
At my gate.
And he wears many faces — familiar ones.
Thank you.