After Kerala’s 70th birthday, it’s time to stop dreaming and start demanding accountability.
Seventy years after Kerala was born out of the merger of Travancore, Cochin, and Malabar, the promises that once inspired generations have largely evaporated into political speeches and glossy manifestos. Every November 1, as the state celebrates its formation, leaders gather to recall the “model Kerala story” a narrative of progress, literacy, and welfare. But beneath the celebratory slogans lies a painful truth: the promises made to the people have too often turned into empty words, drifting aimlessly like plastic waste in our rivers.
The vision of a clean, safe, equitable Kerala remains a mirage. Farmers continue to live in fear not of drought or flood, but of wildlife that roam freely into their fields. Over 900 people have lost their lives to animal attacks in just seven years, yet the same law that shields wildlife leaves the farmer defenseless. Forest officials, once the custodians of balance, are now seen as traitors by those who toil on the land. Where are the governments that promised to bring order and safety to rural Kerala? Their promises should indeed be thrown into the Arabian Sea for they have become as hollow as the slogans that echo through election rallies.
The dream of a clean, green Kerala is collapsing under the weight of garbage and apathy. Plastic waste continues to choke rivers, and heaps of uncollected trash mar the beauty of our tourist destinations. Successive governments have spoken about “waste-free Kerala” and “smart cities,” yet even the simplest promise a permanent waste collection system near every home remains unfulfilled. What has emerged instead is a token system of monthly cleanups and empty photo opportunities.
Tourists who once admired Kerala’s pristine charm now walk through littered streets and polluted waters. The sight is a betrayal of the very image we sell to the world: “God’s Own Country.”
Kerala’s streets were once seen as the safest in India, but fear now lurks everywhere from rising crime and drug addiction to political violence in campuses. Universities have been turned into battlegrounds for political youth wings rather than spaces of learning. Instead of nurturing knowledge, these institutions have become tools for power and propaganda. When political criminals control student unions, how can we expect real education or reform?
Kerala’s economy, burdened by debt and dependent on remittances, is gasping for reform. Governments continue to borrow heavily, not for growth but for survival to pay salaries and interest. The working class bears the brunt through rising taxes and inflation. Yet no government has offered a clear, time-bound economic roadmap to revive agriculture, small industries, or job creation. Every election brings new “projects” that end up as half-built monuments to political vanity.
It’s time political leaders stop treating the state treasury like an ATM for populism. People work to build lives, not to finance corruption. Let the parties announce a concrete plan drafted by economists, not by speechwriters.
Nowhere is political hypocrisy clearer than in the debate over the outdated Forest and Wildlife Protection Act of 1972. State leaders weep for farmers on local platforms, but in Parliament, they echo the Centre’s rigid line on conservation. They cannot speak two languages one for Kerala and another for Delhi. If wildlife management and road policies depend on central approval, let them admit it before elections. Let them tell the truth: who really holds the power?
Kerala’s people, among the most educated in India, often fail the test of democratic vigilance. The power of the ballot is treated as a ritual, not a responsibility. Every election, the same cycle repeats promises made, votes cast, and five years of silence. Democracy has become performance, not participation.
The people must reclaim their sovereignty the very right they won through the freedom struggle. It is not enough to criticize after the fact; accountability begins when the voter’s name enters the rolls. A manifesto without a timeline is a lie. A leader without a plan is a liability.
As Kerala marks its 70th year, let this be a moment of reckoning, not routine celebration. The time has come to demand deadlines for every political promise on waste management, wildlife safety, public health, education, and economic reform. Let citizens insist that every claim made in election ads be backed by transparent data, periodic progress reports, and legal enforceability.
The dreams of the people clean roads, safe homes, just governance should not remain poetic metaphors. They must become policy realities.
If politicians continue to trade in lies, then yes let their manifestos be consigned to the Arabian Sea. But if citizens rise with awareness, unity, and courage, a new Kerala can still be born not from promises, but from accountability.
Because real freedom, after all, is not merely the right to vote it is the right to demand truth.