I can see him clearly from my window, standing tall in the arena with his bodyguards, though I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Whatever it was, it excited a wild roar from the audience that boomed up through the loudspeakers to the 20^th floor.

I knew why they were cheering. He was one of us. He cared. He saw we had nothing.

The crowd knew that. And they liked entertainment, accepting whatever gift he offered, even a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers pointing up as he illustrated some principle that others had forgotten. It didn’t matter what he was saying. The arena could have been full of slaves battling against beasts and they would have cheered with him. Because he knew what people liked.

He understood our history. He caught them out trying to whitewash our past, to make us ashamed of who we were. He was the only one who promised to fight for the freedom to say what we had been feeling all along, to howl out what was seething inside.

He was going to teach the gangs and thugs in our cities a lesson about law and order, which this country was founded on. People need to learn their history, or they will be forced to repeat it. He was going to bring back the jobs that were moved elsewhere.  He had cut the handouts to nations that didn’t need our help.  

Having served overseas, I know how deceitful those people can be. They value none of the freedoms we cherish. Given a chance they will stab us in the back.

Freedom has its enemies even at home, and the scum here were always trying to foil him, but he was able to outsmart them. He was brilliant at business, able to make his millions in a country where the odds were stacked against him, with the money in the hands of foreigners and people who placed their own community above that of the majority.  

He was one of us. He understood our deepest aspirations and our weaknesses. He knew we were endangered. Soon to be wiped out, like those species in nature.

He was for us. Or so we thought.

Turns out he didn’t really believe in much. It was always about him, the parades, the rallies, the ratings, the pictures showing foreign leaders begging for his goodwill, even the women he bragged about.

He betrayed us. He allowed violent criminals to be released early, while our youngbloods were left sacrificing their lives for corrupt nations.  He put his family, which included people with foreign allegiances, ahead of us.

He was out there in his element, gesticulating, saluting the crowd, promising them the moon, getting them riled up. In the cross-hairs, his face was turned towards me, clearly visible, as it deserved to be when something momentous was about to happen. His cheeks were flushed, excited by his own importance, yet still not getting who we really were.

– Inderjeet Mani

Author’s Note: “One of Us” was written in July 2020, when one of my favorite countries was roiling under grave threats.