The New Delhi Times, a compelling cinematic piece, featured the legendary Shashi Kapoor as the protagonist, playing a leading journalist attached to one of the premier newspapers in New Delhi.
This film hit the silver screen in 1986 – the year when Top Gun burst onto the global screens with unstoppable energy, instantly sending millions of young girls into a collective frenzy over the devastatingly handsome, 24-year-old Tom Cruise.
Portrayed as a daring fighter-pilot in his full glory, Cruise was captured riding motorcycles with breathtaking speed that seemed to rival the roar of a jet engine itself, all while clad in that legendary patched jacket that made him look like one hell of a vision – bold, rebellious, and utterly unforgettable.
It was an era of big hair, cassette tapes, and handwritten letters, not to forget postcards. My entire generation and I were not even born. There was no social media, no algorithmic feed dictating our moods, and by default no ‘social dilemma’, no infinite scroll stealing our attention, no phubbing.
People took evening strolls under open skies, sat in restaurants or around family dinner tables and actually talked to one another. They ate without counting calories or scanning every morsel for potential carcinogens.
Delhi was far less congested, and the rest of the country was even quieter. Cats and babies were still given bowlfuls of milk without anyone worrying about lactose intolerance.
But even then, there were politicians who conspired, robbed and smuggled, killers who killed for a few hundred or thousand bucks, melon kings and sheep people, who could be incited into rebellion with no sweat, women were beaten up and burnt for dowry, or thrown away into an asylum after being branded mad, just for convenience.
The surface looked simpler, but the menace of human greed, cruelty and manipulation was very much alive and breathing.
It is interesting when Anwar, the photographer journalist, replies to a question posed by Senior Pandey, played by A.K Hangal, about whether anything has changed since the Britishers have left the country – “Kya badla hain kuch?”, to which Anwar replies, “Badla hain uncle, bohut kuch badla hain. Pehle bahar ke log hua karte the, ab apne ghar ke log hain” (Yes, uncle, a lot has changed. Earlier, there used to be outsiders. Now it is our own people).
Forty years later, that single line feels more relevant than ever, echoing across the decades with sharpened clarity and urgency in our present context. We are practically living in an idiocracy today, a society where corruption rules supreme, unchecked and pervasive in every layer of public.
The ruling party and the Opposition alike are filled with masqueraded opportunists who display no real interest whatsoever in the development or betterment of the country, prioritising personal agendas over collective progress.
Social media, meanwhile, is flooded with unnecessary information that pours in ceaselessly, corrupting and maiming our brains like a subtle epidemic that knows no bounds, quietly eroding our ability to think critically or focus deeply.
In 2026, the ruthless politicians, gullible masses, corruption, hunger, arson, rape, and murder have all become more vital and brazenly out in the open, no longer hidden but displayed with startling openness and frequency. Yet the most dangerous continuity that remains unchanged—the one Anwar so incisively pointed out – is still the enemy within.
This internal threat, born from our own ranks, continues to undermine society from the inside, proving that while much has evolved on the surface, the core vulnerabilities of greed and betrayal endure with undiminished power.
The film’s message, once a reflection of its time, now serves as a haunting mirror to our own era, reminding us that true change must begin by confronting this persistent adversary within ourselves and our systems.
As four states race towards the formation of new governments, the basic issues remain the same – poverty, unemployment, gross inequality, oligarchic monopoly, rampant corruption, vandalism and communal tensions, all the more aggravated, all the more brazen, now than ever before.
In Assam, the situation remains critical, with people in the most quizzically enigmatic position than ever before – with turncoats running for vital constituencies, hooligans shouting drunken slogans, mudslinging and personal attacks taking a hitherto unprecedented point, not to forget the Zubeen issue, alive than ever before, as Bohag approaches. At the end of the day, we all need to brace ourselves for more turbulence in the days to come.
Also Read: Aizawl 1966 to Manipur 2026: India’s long habit of looking away