The tragic death of seven innocent children in Jhalawar due to the collapse of a government school roof has plunged the region into unimaginable grief. Yet, instead of focusing solely on mourning, accountability, and providing immediate support to the grieving families, the state machinery appears more concerned with optics and convenience. Ahead of the Chief Minister’s scheduled visit, authorities are hastily constructing and repairing roads—including paths within the hospital premises—not out of compassion or urgency for the victims, but seemingly to ensure the CM's convoy experiences no discomfort. This glaring contrast between administrative priorities and human suffering exposes a deep-rooted insensitivity in the system.
The image of children’s lifeless bodies arriving at the district hospital wrapped in cloth, juxtaposed against the sound of bulldozers and cement mixers hurriedly smoothing roads, paints a chilling picture of misplaced governance. The hospital, which should be a place of solemnity and compassion at this moment, is instead being treated like a stage to host a political visit. Rather than directing energy and resources toward the victims’ families, counseling support, or even swift administrative action against those responsible for the crumbling infrastructure, authorities are scrambling to present a polished front for the CM. This performative governance doesn’t just disrespect the deceased—it insults the intelligence and emotions of every citizen watching.
What remains deeply concerning is that this rush to “beautify” the path for a political convoy may also be driven by fear—fear that a high-level visit might expose broader systemic rot beyond the education department. It is not just about one roof collapse; it’s about decades of negligence, corruption, and a lack of will to invest in public infrastructure. The education system, health system, PWD, local bodies—all may come under scrutiny if the cm truly witnesses the unvarnished reality. Hence, the hurried patchwork isn’t just cosmetic; it’s symbolic of a system desperate to cover its failures rather than confront them. But no amount of cement can pave over the cracks of this tragedy. The people deserve justice, not showmanship.
The image of children’s lifeless bodies arriving at the district hospital wrapped in cloth, juxtaposed against the sound of bulldozers and cement mixers hurriedly smoothing roads, paints a chilling picture of misplaced governance. The hospital, which should be a place of solemnity and compassion at this moment, is instead being treated like a stage to host a political visit. Rather than directing energy and resources toward the victims’ families, counseling support, or even swift administrative action against those responsible for the crumbling infrastructure, authorities are scrambling to present a polished front for the CM. This performative governance doesn’t just disrespect the deceased—it insults the intelligence and emotions of every citizen watching.
What remains deeply concerning is that this rush to “beautify” the path for a political convoy may also be driven by fear—fear that a high-level visit might expose broader systemic rot beyond the education department. It is not just about one roof collapse; it’s about decades of negligence, corruption, and a lack of will to invest in public infrastructure. The education system, health system, PWD, local bodies—all may come under scrutiny if the cm truly witnesses the unvarnished reality. Hence, the hurried patchwork isn’t just cosmetic; it’s symbolic of a system desperate to cover its failures rather than confront them. But no amount of cement can pave over the cracks of this tragedy. The people deserve justice, not showmanship.
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