As I listened to Rahul Gandhi's emphatic, fact-backed, passionate proof of the Election Commission's complicity in massive voter fraud—proof worked out like a neat school project with all the answers right there—I waited for the Commission to do what any responsible guardian of Democracy should do: reassure the people of India that everything was in order.

Instead, what did we get? Rules. Regulations. Clause this, sub-clause that. It was like watching a patient collapse in front of the emergency room and the doctor—white coat on, coffee in hand—saying, "First fill the forms, please!"

"But he's dying!" you cry.

"Yes, yes, we understand," says the doctor, stirring his sugar, "but you see, according to Regulation 12, Form 4B must be completed in triplicate before we can even check his pulse."

It's funny till it's you gasping for breath on the stretcher.

I've seen the other side. I've seen my wife, a doctor, ignore paperwork, rush a patient straight into the ICU, and save a life. Rules can be filled later; a heart can't be restarted later.

That's why I know what I'm talking about.

Do you?

Do you, people of India, understand that it's not Rahul Gandhi's vote that's been stolen, not the Congress' vote—it's yours. Mine.

Our Democracy's vote.

Every time you shrug and say, "Ah well, politicians and their games," you miss the point. This isn't about one party crying foul because it lost. This is about the patient—India's Democracy—turning blue while the people in charge are busy checking if you've stapled the right corner of Form 17A.

And yet, here is one man—day after day, speech after speech—pointing to the fraud, the lies, the injustice. You may like him, hate him, call him Pappu, but you cannot deny that he's standing up while most others, including you, have chosen to lie flat and play dead.

But supporting him? That's tricky, isn't it? You might lose your friends, your WhatsApp group invites, even your seat at the colony's Diwali dinner. So instead, we slip into our comfortable armchairs, complain about the heat, the price of onions, and the traffic, while the ballot box is quietly stolen.

Let me put it plainly. If the Election Commission won't act without "forms," and we—the people—won't act because of "fear," then what's left? We'll wake up one morning to find the patient dead, the doctor on his third coffee, and the paperwork still pending.

So yes, support him. From this Independence Day, support anyone—left, right, or centre—who is bold enough to fight for the truth when the truth is being locked in a file cabinet. Because if we let this moment pass, we won't just lose an election—we'll lose the right to ever choose again.

And then, my friends, you can fill all the forms you want… but they'll be in triplicate for your own obituary…!