If there is one thing I would happily burn tonight, it would be India’s national factory of fake news. Not a symbolic spark, but a proper Indian bonfire, the kind that crackles loudly, attracts a crowd, and can be seen from several mohallas away. Because this factory has grown too big, too confident, and far too influential.

This is not a cottage industry anymore. It is a full-scale operation, running twenty-four seven, powered by prime-time shouting matches, anonymous forwards, and patriotic background music played at a volume meant to drown out thought. It manufactures fear with precision, outrage with flair, and enemies on demand. Business has never been better.

The raw material is simple. Whisper a half-baked message. Add an old video from another country. Sprinkle a few Sanskrit words or national symbols for authenticity. Throw in a threat to religion, culture, or the nation, preferably all three. Seal it with the warning “Forward before it is deleted.”

What is tragic is how eagerly we queue up to consume it. No one pauses to ask who wrote it, why it exists, or why it conveniently blames the same group every single time.

Our factory is especially skilled at converting complex Indian realities into neat villains. Farmers become traitors. Students become anti national. Journalists become enemies. Minorities become permanent suspects. Anyone who asks questions is accused of weakening the nation. In a country built on debate, disagreement has been declared dangerous.

Prime time television acts as the showroom.’ Doorknob’ or a name close to that, waves files dramatically, speaks faster than facts can breathe, and pronounces verdicts long before investigations begin. The nation is constantly told it is under threat, which is exhausting, but also addictive. Fear keeps ratings high. Calm does not.

The owners of this factory remain comfortably out of sight. They benefit from distraction. While citizens argue over invented controversies, real issues quietly slip past. Unemployment. Inflation. Education. Healthcare. These are boring topics. They do not trend well against outrage.

But as the fire burns tonight, there must be an uncomfortable truth admitted. This factory runs because we keep supplying electricity. Every reckless forward. Every unverified clip. Every smug “I knew it” message adds another shift to production. We are not just victims. We are unpaid workers.

So if we are burning anything tonight, let us burn our own carelessness too.

Let us burn blind loyalty that replaces thinking.

Let us burn the habit of equating criticism with betrayal.

Let us burn the thrill of watching someone else be humiliated in the name of nationalism.

Imagine an India where disagreement is not treason. Where faith is personal and patriotism is quiet.

As the ashes settle, may the new year bring discernment to you who’ve lost your thinking these last ten years. Here’s your chance to rationalise untruths, rethink false promises and rejuvenate the bheja fry, your brain had become these last ten years.

And in that smoke, my country will finally breathe again..!

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