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By:

C.S. Krishnamurthy

21 June 2025 at 7:45:51 pm

A Spade Has No Party

There is something reassuring about a spade. It does not ask who is holding it before doing its job. It digs where it is told to dig. A hole made by a government worker is no different from one made by an opposition worker. The earth, fortunately, has no political affiliation. That simple image offers a useful way of looking at the Cockroach Janata Party, or CJP, a youth-led movement that has emerged around concerns over education, employment and accountability. Its significance may...

A Spade Has No Party

There is something reassuring about a spade. It does not ask who is holding it before doing its job. It digs where it is told to dig. A hole made by a government worker is no different from one made by an opposition worker. The earth, fortunately, has no political affiliation. That simple image offers a useful way of looking at the Cockroach Janata Party, or CJP, a youth-led movement that has emerged around concerns over education, employment and accountability. Its significance may ultimately lie less in whether it becomes a political force and more in what its emergence says about the changing relationship between young citizens and traditional politics. The CJP story reportedly began almost as a joke. But jokes sometimes possess an inconvenient habit of revealing truths that solemn speeches avoid. What began as satire attracted digital attention and developed into youth mobilisation. Beneath the humour lies something more serious: a generation that may not want another political flag, but wants existing flags to pay attention. A New Language Established political parties appear increasingly uncertain about how to speak to Gen Z. The problem may not be a lack of communication, but its direction. Traditional politics has often spent too much time speaking at the young and too little time speaking with them. Gen Z’s concerns are hardly confined to the digital world. Education, employment, security, dignity and accountability remain real-life concerns. Social media may provide the vocabulary, but the grievances are not virtual. Digital platforms have simply provided a meeting ground where concerns that conventional political structures may have failed to accommodate can find expression. This does not automatically make CJP a political party, nor does every participant necessarily subscribe to a common ideology. Its significance may instead lie in its ability to provide a forum for a generation-based articulation of concerns. We use the word “political” rather carelessly. Anything involving public affairs, government or collective decision-making is political in the broadest sense. But political does not necessarily mean partisan. A citizen demanding better examinations, employment opportunities or accountability from a minister is participating in democracy. He need not be preparing an election manifesto. This is where CJP becomes interesting. Its real test is whether it can remain an independent voice without eventually becoming another conventional political formation. Imagine a movement saying: we will criticise the government when it is wrong, the opposition when it is wrong, and ourselves when we are wrong. That would be an unusual political creature. It would also be a useful one. The real test of non-partisanship is not what a movement says about neutrality. It is whether it applies the same yardstick to everyone. If a government mishandles education, question it. If another government does the same, question it again. If a political party demands accountability in opposition but forgets the principle in power, call that out too. A spade should remain a spade even when somebody paints it in party colours. The Cricket Test The temptation to choose sides is understandable. Political discourse increasingly resembles cricket played by spectators who have forgotten that the scoreboard exists. A batsman from our team can edge the ball and we call it bad luck. The same edge by the other team becomes evidence of cheating. The problem is not cricket. It is our loyalty to the shirt. Democracy suffers from the same habit. We become so invested in who said something that we forget to ask whether it is true. An independent political voice must therefore be prepared to disappoint its own supporters. That is easier said than done. Digital technology has made mobilisation remarkably easy. But digital reach is not democratic depth. Followers are not necessarily volunteers, and viral outrage is not sustained civic engagement. The CJP’s challenge, therefore, is to convert attention into participation and measurable accountability. Every movement born outside established politics eventually encounters the gravitational pull of politics. Remaining independent is considerably harder in practice than in principle. CJP’s credibility will depend upon whether it can resist becoming what it criticises. Yet there is another, more interesting measure of success. If, a year from now, political parties begin placing education, employment and youth concerns more prominently at the centre of their agendas because they fear ignoring younger citizens, the CJP may have achieved its purpose without becoming a conventional party. Perhaps that is the deeper relevance of CJP that it may remind political forces that citizens are not permanent spectators in the democratic arena. (The writer is a retired banker and author. He can be reached at krs1957@hotmail.com. Views personal.)

The Invisible Network Powering Mumbai’s Commute

Nearly 80 lakh passengers travel every day, often shoulder to shoulder, quietly relying on one another in moments that rarely get noticed. I’ve seen commuters lean forward to spot an approaching train, hesitate for a second, and then turn to a stranger for clarity. These small, instinctive interactions guide the city in real time. Long before apps existed, this was how information moved through shared awareness andhuman judgment. There’s a quiet resilience in how strangers step in for each other, without hesitation, when uncertainty sets in.


If you observe closely, you start to realise that Mumbai’s transport system is not just steel, signals, andschedules. It is also made up of people constantly reading their environment, interpreting signals, andexchanging tiny but crucial pieces of information. A nod, a quick word, a raised eyebrow when a train is too full. These micro interactions keep the flow moving even when formal systems fall short.


As mobility increasingly shifts to digital platforms, I’ve often reflected on what we risk losing in that transition. The challenge isn’t to replace this human network, but to carry its essence forward in a form that still feels immediate, credible, and useful. Schedules and alerts play an important role, but during peak hours, sudden delays, or extreme weather events, they are rarely enough. In those moments, commuters need context. Is the next train delayed? Is it already overcrowded? Is entry or exit at the station affected? Are the escalators or elevators operational today? These are questions commuters instinctively ask each other on the platform, yet they often go unanswered once someone turns to a screen.


What makes human to human information so powerful is not just speed, but trust. When someone standing next to you says, “That train is already packed” or “They just announced a delay,” it carries weight because it comes from lived experience, not a distant system. Digital tools are excellent at scale, but they often struggle with this kind of situational awareness.


This thinking shaped how we approached community and communication while building Yatri. As the official Mumbai Local app partnered with Indian Railways, Yatri already supports lakhs of commuters with live train tracking, metro ticket booking, and multimodal journey planning across local trains, metro, buses, monorail, and ferries. But system level data, however accurate, cannot fully capture the lived reality of a crowded platform or a situation that is evolving minute by minute. What can capture it is people when they are given a trusted, relevant space to share what they are seeing and experiencing in real time.


Creating line specific spaces across the Western, Central, and Harbour lines became a natural way to let that collective commuter intelligence surface digitally. In practice, this means a delay noticed by a few people at Dadar can quickly help someone deciding whether to board at Borivali. A blocked exit or broken escalator can be flagged before thousands walk into it. These details rarely appear instantly in official feeds, yet they are exactly what commuters need when making fast decisions.


Over time, I’ve seen how even the smallest pieces of shared information can change outcomes at scale. During monsoon disruptions, a few timely updates can help thousands of commuters make safer, faster choices. When a single peak hour train carries over 3,000 passengers, one informed decision whether to wait, switch trains, or take an alternate route can ease congestion, reduce panic, and save precious time. When these moments stack up across the network, they have the power to influence millions of journeys.


What is striking is how closely this mirrors what Mumbai commuters have always done. The difference now is reach. A message that once travelled five people down a platform can now reach thousands across an entire line.


For me, this is not about adding another feature to a mobility app. It is about recognising how Mumbai actually works. People do not experience transport as routes and timetables. They experience it as packed platforms, rushed decisions, missed connections, and small acts of help from strangers. Technology should respect that reality, not flatten it.


By bringing together official transit data and collective commuter insight, daily travel can move from something reactive and stressful to something calmer and more assured. In a city where millions move together every day, the future of mobility is not just smarter systems. It is about strengthening the quiet human intelligence that already keeps Mumbai moving. Creating Yatri has been our attempt to make sure that intelligence does not disappear as travel becomes more digital, but instead grows stronger when shared.


(The writer is a co-founder of Yatri. Views personal.)

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