The Very Very Important Person (VVIP) Syndrome: A Democratic Hypocrisy

To be an ordinary citizen in India is to exist in a perpetual state of giving way. Daily, on the choked, pothole-ridden arteries of our cities and the dusty stretches of our highways, we are violently accustomed to the deafening, arrogant noises of hooters and sirens. These are not the sounds of emergencies; they are the soundtracks of the Indian “Very Very Important Person” (VVIP). What exactly do we mean by this term? In a true democracy, every citizen is supposed to be equal under the constitution. Yet, the VVIP in India is a modern-day monarch, a separate species of citizen who operates above the law, beyond accountability, and at the absolute expense of the common taxpayer.

Dark Side of India’s Feudal Hangover

The VVIP culture is the physical, auditory, and financial manifestation of inequality. Consider the visual spectacle of a minor politician’s convoy—perhaps a local Member of Legislative Assembly (MLA) or a regional leader. Their passage requires the complete subjugation of the public. Tens of imposing SUVs, usually painted in intimidating shades of black or white, equipped with illegal tinted windows, blinding strobe lights, and screaming hooters, block the roads entirely for their convenient, uninterrupted passage. Traffic police, who normally harass the common man for a missing document, turn into subservient traffic-clearers, aggressively pushing ordinary commuters to the margins of the road.

As the stature of the politician grows, so does the absurdity of the convoy. A cabinet minister or a chief minister might command a fleet of hundreds of vehicles. The red beacons (lal batti) may have been officially banned a few years ago in a spectacular PR exercise, but the culture of the red beacon never died; it simply evolved. Today, the red beacon has been replaced by aggressive multi-tone sirens, hazard lights kept permanently on, and an entourage of heavily armed security personnel hanging precariously out of moving vehicles, waving batons to clear the “peasants” out of the way.

But it is not just the politicians. The rot of the VVIP culture has deeply infected the permanent executive—the bureaucracy. Sub-Divisional Magistrates (SDMs), Indian Administrative Service (IAS) officers, Superintendents of Police (SPs), and countless other government officials routinely mimic this behavior. They travel with their own miniature convoys, their own sirens, and their own display of brute state power. Why? Simply to show off. To visually declare to the masses that they are no less powerful than the elected politicians.

Our government officials are technically “public servants.” Let that phrase sink in: Public Servants. Yet, they absolutely refuse to do actual service. Instead, they have masterfully inverted the democratic model, forcing the people of India to serve them. They follow an unwritten, strict feudal guideline: a person of power cannot, under any circumstances, travel alone or as a normal citizen to listen to the grievances of the public. The bigger the person, the more massive the convoy must be, simply to broadcast how unapproachable, untouchable, and powerful they are.

This is the grim reality of what we proudly market to the globe as the “world’s biggest democracy.” It is virtually impossible for an outside observer to imagine that the world’s largest democratic republic functions in this highly autocratic, medieval fashion. In India, showing off power has been the historical trend, it remains the defining characteristic of our present society, and tragically, it will be the blueprint for our future. This culture of unapologetic show-off will not die with time; recent online trends suggest it is metastasizing, growing even more pronounced and vicious as it intersects with the digital age.

The Digital Age of “Bhaukaal”: How Social Media Amplified VVIP Arrogance

If anyone believed that the newer generation of politicians and bureaucrats would dismantle this feudal system, the internet has proven them entirely wrong. We must look at the recent, deeply disturbing online trends surrounding VVIP culture in India. Today, the arrogance of power is not just displayed on the streets; it is aggressively broadcasted on social media platforms like Instagram, X (formerly Twitter), and Snapchat.

We are witnessing the rise of the “Systumm” and “Bhaukaal” (slang for absolute dominance and swagger) culture online. The children, relatives, and low-level associates of politicians and bureaucrats now routinely create high-definition “reels” set to aggressive, bass-boosted music, showcasing their fleets of Toyota Fortuners, Mahindra Thars, and Scorpios driving recklessly down public highways with hooters blaring. They actively monetize and gain social clout from their ability to break the law with absolute impunity.

In recent years, the internet has been flooded with outrageous incidents that highlight this exact rot:

• The VIP Offspring: We see horrific cases where the underage or inebriated children of powerful politicians and industrialists crash ultra-luxury cars into innocent citizens, killing them instantly. Thanks to their VVIP status, the state machinery instantly moves to protect the perpetrator rather than the victim. Police manipulate FIRs, blood samples are miraculously swapped, and the accused are let out on bail within hours, sometimes with humiliatingly trivial punishments like “writing an essay on road safety.”
• Toll Plaza Terrorism: Social media is replete with CCTV footage of politicians and their heavily armed goons brutally thrashing toll plaza employees. Their singular crime? Daring to ask a VVIP or their associates to pay a meager ₹100 toll tax like an ordinary Indian. The VVIP ego is so fragile that the mere suggestion of equality triggers extreme, mob-like violence.
• Airport and Railway Entitlement: We see viral videos of entitled VIPs holding up domestic flights because they arrived late, screaming at airline staff, or demanding that entire trains be delayed for their convenience.

These online trends confirm our worst fears: the VVIP culture is no longer just about security; it is a highly desired aesthetic, a status symbol, and a digital currency for the elite. It is the ultimate flex in a society that respects fear much more than it respects the rule of law.

The Fundamental Question: Why Reward the “Servant”?

So, let us ask one very simple, logical question: Why is this extraordinary, god-like treatment given to our so-called government servants?

If they are genuinely serving the country, if they are losing sleep over the welfare of the people, then why should such a VVIP treatment be structurally provided to them? What extraordinary, world-altering work do they actually do? And even if we assume, for the sake of argument, that they do their jobs well, why should doing the job they are handsomely paid for elevate them to a status above the very citizens who pay their salaries?

A doctor saves lives; they do not get a convoy. A teacher builds the future of the nation; they do not get a siren. A soldier guards the freezing borders; they travel in cramped, un-air-conditioned railway compartments. Yet, a politician whose primary achievement is winning a localized popularity contest, or a bureaucrat whose primary achievement is clearing a written examination a decade ago, demands the right to force the entire city to a standstill when they wish to travel to a lunch meeting.

The Colonial Hangover: Brown Sahibs Replacing White Masters

To understand this deep psychological sickness, we must look back at our history. After independence in 1947, we did not create a new, egalitarian system. Instead, we enthusiastically adopted the exact same administrative and social structures designed by the British Empire to subjugate us. We inherited the treatment of absolute superiority.

The British considered themselves an elite, above-class demographic. They were the colonizers. They were educated in different institutions, spoke a foreign language, dressed differently, and designed cities with “Civil Lines” and “Cantonments” to keep themselves physically segregated from the “dirty, unwashed” Indian masses. For over 150 years, they were considered the undeniable ruling class.

The tragedy of the Indian independence movement is that while the British left, their mindset stayed behind. Our own native people, having observed this treatment of absolute power from a distance for generations, began to dream of enjoying such VVIP treatment themselves. When the time came for the transfer of power to Indians, the new native leaders did not dismantle the master-slave dynamic; they simply took the master’s seat.

They wanted to enjoy the same intoxicating treatment. They wanted to be considered fundamentally superior to the common Indian. Enjoying absolute power and watching the masses serve you, fear you, and bow to you is a deeply addictive, pleasant experience for the ego. Our early politicians and bureaucrats experienced this rush of power after independence, and they locked it into place. Decades have passed, governments have changed, economic liberalization has happened, but the exact same class divide is still strictly followed. There is absolutely no looking back.

We often wonder whether the British, in their home country, treat their own citizens the way they treated Indians during the Raj. The answer is a resounding no. Today, Britain—the nation that once colonized half the globe—is one of the leading democracies in the world when it comes to the practical implementation of civic equality, humanity, education, health, and social equity.

Look at the modern British political system. It is a common sight to see the Prime Minister of the UK walking down the street, or Members of Parliament riding bicycles to the House of Commons, or the Mayor of London standing on a crowded subway train holding the handrail just like any other commuter. It is simply not seen in the UK that for an MP’s convoy, ordinary citizens are violently pushed off the road and life-saving ambulances are forcibly stopped.

But in India, this happens every single day.

Furthermore, the British political culture holds its leaders to a standard of decency. It is rarely seen that British MPs make nonsensical, highly abusive, deeply bigoted speeches in parliament and face zero consequences. But India witnesses all these things regularly; in fact, such behavior often guarantees a ticket for the next election. It is almost unheard of in the UK that politicians convicted of rape, murder, extortion, and other heinous crimes are allowed to sit in parliament, influence legislation, and lead massive election campaigns. In India, criminal records are often viewed as a badge of “winnability.”

Also, it is common in the UK and other Western democracies for an MP or a Minister to resign immediately over minor ethical breaches, performance failures, or public outrage (such as the recent ‘Partygate’ scandals). In India, demanding a resignation for non-performance or ethical corruption is treated as a joke.

These situations of accountability are standard in the nation that ruled us for over 150 years. They treated us inhumanly during the colonial era, which is historically understandable because we were a conquered populace to them. But the burning question remains: Why do our own politicians and our own government servants treat us like a conquered populace today? —

The Ultimate Human Cost: When Sirens Silence the Wails of the Dying

The true cost of the VVIP culture is not just measured in hurt egos; it is measured in human lives.

There are countless, deeply tragic instances—documented heavily by the media yet quickly forgotten by the state—where a critical patient inside an ambulance has died simply because the ambulance was forcibly stopped by the traffic police to allow a VVIP convoy to pass smoothly.

Imagine the sheer horror of that scenario. Inside the ambulance, a fellow Indian citizen is taking their last, agonizing breaths. A family is weeping, begging the police officer to let them pass. The paramedics are desperately trying to keep a fading heart beating. But outside, the state apparatus is immovable. The barricades remain shut. The police officer, fearing suspension from his superiors, turns a deaf ear to the wails of the dying. And for what? So that a politician, lounging in the air-conditioned backseat of a luxury SUV, scrolling through their phone, does not have to experience a two-minute delay in reaching a ribbon-cutting ceremony.

This is not a failure of traffic management; it is state-sanctioned murder by apathy. It represents the absolute nadir of human empathy. We allow people to die because of a medical emergency, yet we halt the very machinery of life for a VVIP’s convenience. What does this say about the value of an ordinary Indian life in the eyes of the Indian state? It says that a taxpayer’s life is fundamentally worthless when weighed against a politician’s schedule.

The Economics of Arrogance: Bleeding the Taxpayer Dry

Readers must deeply internalize one fundamental, undeniable fact: all of this mind-boggling VVIP treatment is provided solely on the money of the common people.

It is the public’s hard-earned money, sometimes quite literally blood-stained money, collected relentlessly in the form of direct and indirect taxes, that is spent on sustaining the VVIPs. Every time a poor laborer buys a packet of biscuits or a liter of cooking oil, they pay Goods and Services Tax (GST). That tax money does not go toward building a better school for their children; it is siphoned upwards to fund the aviation turbine fuel for a Chief Minister’s chartered helicopter.

Just to give them VVIP treatment, the state hemorrhages billions of rupees annually. The question that must be asked loudly and relentlessly is: What extra work do they do to deserve this?

Let us look at the financial dichotomy of the Indian republic. Who is working hard to earn the money, and who is spending it effortlessly? On whom is the largest share of the nation’s wealth being spent? The ordinary people—the middle class, the salaried employees, the small business owners—get an insultingly small return on the money they surrender in the form of taxes. They get broken roads, collapsing bridges, heavily polluted air, understaffed government hospitals, and a deeply corrupt lower bureaucracy.

While the taxpayer suffers, the VVIPs get every possible premium facility carved out of the tax pool. They get world-class, heavily subsidized education for their children. They get immediate, top-tier health treatment at premier institutes like AIIMS, often flying in specialist doctors from abroad at the state’s expense. They get the best, unadulterated food, luxury bungalows sprawling across acres in the heart of the capital (Lutyens’ Delhi), free electricity, free water, and heavily subsidized canteens.

And they receive all of this not because they work incredibly hard to serve the people, but simply because they occupy a chair of power. They just do their fundamental duty—and as we all know, they frequently don’t even do that duty properly. They skip parliamentary sessions, fail to read the bills they pass, and ignore their constituencies for five years until the next election. Yet, they still retain their VVIP facilities for life, complete with lavish pensions.

Meanwhile, the general public, who worked the absolute hardest, burning the midnight oil to earn a living, pays the ultimate price. The common man funds the VVIP’s luxurious life while struggling to pay his own child’s school fees.

The Security Paradox: Fear in the “Family”

Perhaps the most glaring hypocrisy of the VVIP culture is the obsession with heavily armed security—the coveted X, Y, Z, and Z+ security covers.

Indian politicians frequently address the public from massive rally stages, using emotional, familial rhetoric. They call the citizens “my brothers and sisters” (Bhaiyon aur Behno). They claim that the entire 1.4 billion population of India is their “family.” They loudly boast that they are the beloved leaders of the masses.

If this is true, we must ask them directly: You are among us. We are all Indians. If we are your brothers and sisters, why don’t you treat us as fellow equals? More importantly, why do you desperately need Z+ security in your own country, to protect you from your own citizens, from your own so-called brothers and sisters?

If you truly consider India as your family, and if you are genuinely loved by the people for your developmental work, then why do you need commandos with assault rifles to protect you from them? What deep-seated fear makes you so profoundly insecure from your own people, right in your own home?

Do you surround yourself with Black Cat commandos because there is a genuine threat to your life, or do you do it simply because a convoy of commandos is the ultimate status symbol, the modern equivalent of a king’s royal guard? Do you want to show yourselves off as superior, exactly like the British, or does the heavy security stem from the subconscious, terrifying guilt of knowing that you have not done enough for the country and the people? What exactly is the fear? The fear is that the common man, once awakened to the reality of this exploitation, might finally demand what is rightfully theirs.

The Verdict: A Bleak Future and the Demand for Change

Will India ever organically rid itself of such an inhuman, degrading act of VVIP culture?

The answer, tragically, is a BIG NO.

It will not change because the very people who have the power to dismantle this system are the ones benefiting the most from it. Our so-called “servants” are the lawmakers. They make the rules in the name of the Constitution, but they have carefully kept the power to modify the laws and guidelines to exclusively suit their luxury. If the common people want to change anything, the political class will simply not allow it, because who in their right mind would voluntarily donate their luxury and give up their god-like status?

Our elected servants will never allow their luxury lifestyle to be downgraded to the precarious, stressful lifestyle of the common citizen. They will fiercely protect their class superiority. To reiterate: in 1947, only the Britishers changed; the rulers did not. The native VVIPs simply replaced the Britishers, adopting the exact same inhuman, exclusionary rules.

We still boastfully call our parliament the “Temple of Democracy.” What absolute rubbish. If it is a temple, then the politicians have established themselves as the untouchable deities, and the taxpayers have been reduced to the desperate devotees, continually offering sacrifices in the form of taxes just to survive. We taxpayers are feeding the VVIPs, fattening them up, while we ourselves have become the modern-day economic slaves of these very VVIPs.

We must relentlessly ask the hard questions. The British made draconian rules to make us slaves. Why do our own leaders maintain those rules?

After all, the political and bureaucratic elite are enjoying a five-star luxury lifestyle entirely funded by the taxpayer’s sweat. At the exact same time, the taxpayer is dying on the streets due to a sheer lack of hospital beds or affordable treatment. The common Indian remains trapped in multi-generational poverty due to a lack of basic nutrition, remains uneducated because of a collapsing, underfunded public school system, and is crushed daily by the atrocities of a broken system—whether it is an agonizingly slow judiciary, a corrupt policing structure, or a hostile civic administration.

When you look at the stark data regarding health, hunger, and per capita income for the bottom 50% of our population, ordinary Indians are living a life comparable to the impoverished citizens of Cambodia or Sub-Saharan Africa. Yet, our VVIPs—funded by these very impoverished citizens—live lifestyles that rival the wealthiest elites of Switzerland or Monaco.

This grotesque inequality cannot stand forever. The taxpayer must issue a simple, non-negotiable demand to the state: Stop the VIP theatrics, dismantle the convoys, and return to us at least 50% of the value of what you forcefully collect from us in the form of taxes, delivered through functioning schools, world-class hospitals, and safe roads. Until then, the phrase “public servant” remains the greatest, most insulting lie ever told to the Indian people.