Is the pen penning? Or is the Ink over?

January 1, 2025

In the heart of democracy, where once the pen wrote with purpose and fire, there now seems to be silence. The ink of justice and hope is running dry, and the stories it told are becoming faint echoes. Recent events have shown us the cracks in the system: corruption scandals, broken promises, and laws that seem to favour the few over the many.

Can we still believe in a system that seems so disconnected from its people? How can we trust the pen when it no longer writes for us but for itself? The voices of the many are drowned out by the noise of the powerful few. Distrust grows as people see their leaders speaking loudly but acting quietly.

Why do we need to save this democracy? Because without it, where will we turn? If the pen isn’t working, who will write the future? We need to remember why we valued this system in the first place: the idea that every voice matters, that every person has a role in shaping our shared world. Everyone’s pointing fingers, blaming each other, and passing the buck. In the chaos, no one is stepping up, and all the problems just keep piling up, unanswered and ignored.

One evening, I turned on the TV, hoping to catch a glimpse of the day’s proceedings in Parliament. What I saw, however, was not the dignified debate I had imagined but a scene that resembled a fish market.

Voices were raised in anger, with members shouting over each other, jostling, and interrupting. It wasn’t clear whether they were debating policy or haggling over fishes. The once-respected institution now seemed to have lost its sense of decorum, with the rules of protocol all but forgotten.

Further, corroding the disarray, comes a story of an angel - "An angel that went to the hospital, but never came back. Dead she was proclaimed, but her spirit was alive, perhaps looking, searching and crying for justice. The night that saw the devilism was terrorized by its darkness and the fire that burned her corpse cried in despair witnessing her bruises. The soil that comforted and hid her pain, shedded tears seeing one more victim being ravished by a devil in the mask of a human. She chooses to be a doctor, thereby being the shadow and manifestation of god. She picked the noblest of all professions, the toughest of all professions, not for herself but to find a cure for every wound. She is gone, for this world doesn't deserve her, says the generality. 'But will I be the last' , asks her bleeding soul?"

It struck me then that this wasn’t just a matter of the ruling party or the opposition failing to meet expectations. It was about a deeper issue—a loss of the respect and order that should guide such a vital forum. How had we reached a point where the heart of our democracy felt so disordered?

The essence of thoughtful governance seems to be slipping away, leaving behind only the lingering stains of distrust.

It’s time to refill the ink and repair the cracks. We must demand transparency, accountability, and fairness. The pen must start writing again, not just for the powerful but for everyone. Only then can we hope to mend the growing distrust and revive the democracy that was once a beacon of hope.

So, is the pen penning? Or is it time to find new ink and remind ourselves why this democracy is worth saving? Yet, despite everything, democracy’s pen is still penning, if not wholly, then partially. Because without it, this article—and many like it—would not have been published.