No money for subsidies..!

Sir,” said the junior reporter running up to my desk, “sir, you’ve got to cover this in your column, there are three different morchas in the capital.” “So what’s new?” I asked with a bored expression. “Call me when there is no morcha.”
“Sir,” and the cub reporter, tugging at my arm again, “sir these are the morchas of all morchas. You’ve got to have a look.” I stood on the steps of Parliament House and gazed in front of me, a million people stood in three separate lines. One was a morcha of at least all the women in India.
“What are they shouting?” I asked, looking at a placard, bearing a gas cylinder. “Do they want the price of cooking gas to be lowered?” “Come closer sir,” said the cub reporter, taking me by the arm, “hear what they are shouting.”
“What!” I shouted, staring at the thousands of millions of Indian women in front of me. “I can’t believe what they are saying.” “And sir,” said the cub reporter, again leading me to the next morcha. “Listen to what they have to say?”
“They look like truck drivers,” I said. “They are,” said the reporter, “but listen to their demands.” “I can’t believe it,” I said, “I can’t believe that they are actually demanding what they are shouting for.”
“And sir,” said the cub reporter, again leading me away from the millions of truck drivers, “Come and see the last morcha.” “Who are they?” I shouted, looking at men and women, some city folk, some from villages and some tribals.
“The backward classes of our country,” said the reporter, “listen to their demands.” I stood dumbfounded, as the voices of millions of backward classes and tribes rose in one gigantic wave.
“What is happening to the country?” I asked. “The women of India are saying that they want the government to lift the subsidy on cooking gas. The truck drivers want the prices of diesel not to be subsidized again, and the backward classes don’t want any more reservations. Is this a dream? What has caused this sudden change of mind?”
“Look behind you,” said the reporter sadly. I looked behind into the building that housed Parliament. Inside I saw coffers which were empty, granaries that were cleaned out and offices that had no staff.” I looked at the cub reporter, and he looked sadly back to me. “Subsidies and props that should have been removed years back sir, have now ruined our country. The people are not wanting any money when there’s no money anymore to give, they know the damage has already been done..!”
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