Itis amusing to watch political leaders shout, “We want justice!” inside Parliament and State Assemblies. They seem to forget that it is not they who need justice. It is the people who elected them.

Voters sent their representatives to legislatures so that they could secure justice in its most basic form—better education, food, shelter, potable water, healthcare, infrastructure, jobs and a life of dignity. Instead, many elected representatives appear more interested in disruption, confrontation and theatrics, often driven by little more than political ego.

We saw the Monsoon Session of Parliament get washed away without adequate discussion on several issues of public importance. Telangana is now witnessing a similar war of words between the BRS and the ruling Congress, where an issue that could have been settled with a simple apology has wasted the time of the Assembly and, ultimately, public money.

The BRS may maintain that its member committed no wrong. But the conduct of some of its leaders on the first day of the Assembly session hardly helped its case. They were seen on live television pushing and manhandling police personnel. Another member, Madhu, was heard making remarks allegedly referring to the Speaker. He later denied this and claimed he was referring to a police officer on duty. But even that explanation raises another question: abusing a police officer on duty, particularly with a caste reference, is hardly behaviour befitting an elected representative.

The confrontation eventually spilled over outside the Assembly and led to a clash between BRS and Congress workers near the farmhouse of Leader of Opposition K. Chandrasekhar Rao. The subsequent “purification” of the area with turmeric water and milk may have provided emotional satisfaction to party workers, but it did nothing for the people of Telangana.

This is precisely the problem. Political parties have become so obsessed with proving who is bigger, louder, and more powerful that they have lost sight of why they were elected in the first place.

A similar question must be asked of the decision of Telangana and Andhra Pradesh Opposition leaders K. Chandrasekhar Rao and Y. S. Jagan Mohan Reddy to remain away from their respective Assemblies. KCR has said he need not attend the House to listen to abuses from Congress leaders. Jagan, meanwhile, has demanded recognition as Leader of Opposition despite his party having only 11 MLAs in the Andhra Pradesh Assembly, which does not meet the prescribed numerical requirement.

But if political leaders like KCR are unwilling to enter the Assembly because they fear criticism or insults, what exactly is their role? Can we really call them seasoned politicians?

If they find the atmosphere unpleasant, they should confront it with facts, figures and arguments. If the government is failing, expose it. If its policies are wrong, demolish them with evidence. If it is not delivering, tell the people why. That is what an Opposition is supposed to do.

Sitting inside a farmhouse or palace and complaining about criticism is not leadership. These are the same leaders who go to voters with folded hands during elections, hug them, kiss their hands, and pose for carefully choreographed optics—preparing tea, making dosas, or sipping tea at roadside establishments. Yet once the election is over, some appear reluctant even to walk into the Assembly and face their opponents. If they are truly seasoned leaders, they should have the courage to face criticism and turn the tables on the government. They should work harder in their constituencies, listen to people, understand their problems, and present an alternative vision for the State. No MLA has the moral right to waste public money by refusing to perform the job for which he or she was elected. Public office is not a hereditary entitlement, nor is it a permanent privilege. It carries responsibility. The same applies to Parliament. Whether it is the BRS, YSRCP, Congress or any other party in the Opposition, the basic duty is the same: attend the House, debate, question, scrutinise, expose and propose. Then go back to the voters and explain the government's failures.

Instead, too much political energy is spent on trivial controversies, slogans and manufactured outrage. Leaders who should be questioning governments on policies and governance often spend their time questioning who said what to whom. If this is the political legacy they intend to hand over to Gen Z, perhaps even God cannot save the country.

Look at the issues that desperately need legislative attention. Buildings collapse, and students die. Schools and colleges function from unsafe or inadequate structures. Hostels lack basic facilities. Children are served poor-quality food. Food adulteration has become a serious concern, extending even to reputed establishments. Illegal constructions mushroom unchecked. Yet these subjects rarely generate the kind of political outrage that follows when a police officer stops a politician from entering an Assembly or Parliament in violation of the rules.

Then comes the predictable theatre

The Opposition blames the government. The government constitutes a committee. A few officials are suspended. The previous government is blamed. Political leaders make statements. Television channels debate the tragedy for a few days. And once the dust settles, everybody moves on.Nothing changes. The recent deaths of students in unsafe PG accommodation in Delhi should force governments and legislators to ask uncomfortable questions about the mushrooming business of unregulated paying-guest accommodation. But this is not merely a Delhi problem.

Hyderabad too is sitting on a powder keg Areas such as Ameerpet and several other parts of the city have thousands of students and young professionals living in cramped PG accommodations. Many buildings have questionable structural and fire-safety arrangements. Some may not even be properly registered with civic authorities. The GHMC should ideally have a clear database of such establishments and their safety status. But where is the sustained legislative debate on this?

The uncomfortable truth is that illegal construction survives because enforcement is often compromised. Officials who are expected to keep a hawk's eye on violations sometimes look the other way. The system of “hafta” and informal payments is hardly a secret in many parts of the country.

I experienced this myself nearly three decades ago.

I had submitted a building plan prepared by a reputed architect to construct a house. When I went to the municipal office to check its status, I was told the concerned official was away on a field visit. I made six visits without any progress. Finally, an official suggested that if I paid Rs 2,500, the plan would be cleared within a week.

I refused to pay, and on my next visit, however, the town-planning officer told me that the plan had been rejected. Interestingly, about a week later, after the intervention of the chairman of a housing corporation and a senior political leader, the same officer called me on the landline. His tone had changed completely. In the humblest manner, he asked me to come the next morning and collect my approved plan. This is how parts of the civic system have operated for decades.

The irony is that illegal and dangerous buildings are not impossible to identify. Dilapidated structures can be surveyed. PG accommodations can be mapped. Fire and structural safety can be audited. Illegal constructions can be demolished. Responsibility can be fixed.

What is missing is not technology or information. It is political will.

And political will is missing because powerful interests often benefit from the very system that politicians publicly claim to oppose.

That is why neither ruling parties nor Opposition parties consistently fight these battles. It is easier to stage a protest over a political insult than to take on the builder-politician-official nexus. It is easier to shout “We want justice!” in an Assembly than to demand accountability for a dangerous building in one's own constituency.

The fundamental question, therefore, is simple: Are our politicians really of the people, by the people and for the people?

Democracy cannot mean merely winning elections and enjoying the privileges of office. It means accepting responsibility after the applause ends.

Politicians may demand freedom from patriarchy, discrimination and every other form of oppression. But they should also ask themselves whether they are willing to free citizens from the far more entrenched colonial mindset of VIP culture, privilege, arbitrary power and impunity.

The people do not need more slogans about justice.

They need politicians who will actually deliver it.

(The author is a former Chief Editor at The Hans India)