Ah yes, our very own Motormouth—what would television do without him?

Or perhaps a better question—what would the nation not hear without him? Silence, maybe. A bit of peace.

Possibly a complete sentence!

Every day, he pops out of his studio like a jack-in-the-box wound too tight, and lets loose.

There he is, pointing fingers, flailing arms, breathing fire—and this time, it’s the judiciary under attack. The Supreme Court judges. The last group still bravely flipping through that now-battered book called the Constitution.

All because one high court judge was caught with a little more cash than character. Now, most of us would take that incident and quietly let the law take its course. But not our Motormouth. He’s got his chance and with the enthusiasm of a man chasing his own echo, he’s hurled the entire judiciary into the same sack, tied it up with suspicion, and lobbed it straight at our morning coffee or evening tea.

And people watch. Eighty million, he says. That’s more than the number of people who read the Constitution he so gleefully tramples on.

To his followers, I say gently: Before you jump to join Motormouth’s motorcade, take a peek under the bonnet? You might find the ‘motor’ running, not on truth or logic, but on that heady cocktail of hate, bitterness, that stems from another source, one that has got him in a stranglehold, and uses his motormouth to huge advantage!

Don’t be dazzled by the volume. Switch off the sound one day and just watch—you’ll notice that the real performance is in the fury, the flared nostrils, the finger stabs at the camera. There’s a reason his microphone seems permanently winded—it’s trying to catch its breath.

And underneath all that energy you’ll find passion, but not any passion for truth or justice!

But Mr Motormouth, what happens when that same judiciary you mock is the one we turn to when our rights are trampled? When a false case comes knocking, or a bulldozer comes rumbling outside our homes?

That’s when you Mr Motormouth and I will need the same Constitution, you deride!

Our judges aren’t perfect. But when they do rise—against the odds, against pressure, and yes, against noise—it gives us hope. And hope is not something you’ll find in a studio that confuses rage for relevance.

So yes, if we truly care for this our Indian Republic—and I believe we do—let’s not allow one man’s theatrics to drown out the institutions we depend on. Let’s not hang the Republic on a Doorknob, as his show title and name might cheekily come close to suggest.

No, let’s hang something else there.

Preferably you, Motormouth yourself—figuratively, of course. With your decibel dial turned down, and a small note: “As an anchor, you allow others to speak, and give your motor some rest!”

Now, where did I keep the remote..?

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