Ah, Karnataka. Land of filter coffee, tech parks, and—if the past week is any indication—beautifully choreographed political theatre.
Not the noisy kind. The refined, dignified, silk-curtain variety where leaders smile for the cameras while clutching metaphorical daggers embroidered with their party logos.
The Congress high command calls it confusion.
The MLAs call it consultation.
The public calls it entertainment we never subscribed to but are forced to binge-watch.
But let’s begin at the beginning.
The 2.5-Year Deal: A Gentleman’s Agreement With No Gentlemen in Sight
In May 2023, the Congress won Karnataka.
Depending on whom you ask, a “secret pact” was allegedly crafted:
- Siddaramaiah gets 2.5 years as CM,
- D.K. Shivakumar gets the next 2.5,
- And everyone pretends to like each other till then.
It was, by all accounts, a tender, private moment between “five or six senior people”, which is how all long-lasting, trustworthy political agreements are made—
quietly, without witnesses, paperwork, or memory.
Naturally, now that the 2.5-year mark has arrived, everyone suddenly remembers…
or forgets…
depending on their proximity to the Chief Minister’s chair.
Kharge’s Prescription: Political Paracetamol
Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge stepped in on November 27, offering what can only be described as doctorly reassurance:
“We will give the medicine that is required.”
Political medicine, of course, comes in familiar forms:
- A committee (slow release tablet)
- A reshuffle (instant relief spray)
- A promise for the future (homeopathy—works if you believe)
His son Priyank Kharge agreed, because nothing says unity like father and son synchronizing metaphors.
Siddaramaiah: Calm, Confident, and Casually Rewriting Interpretations
The Chief Minister has taken the dignified approach:
Deny, deflect, and declare devotion to the high command—all in one breath.
He has:
- Dismissed rumours as “bhranti, not kranti”,
- Hosted strategic luncheon diplomacy,
- Floated a potential Dalit successor (just in case),
- And reminded everyone, very gently, that he is perfectly capable of running the government for five years.
In other words:
No revolution. Just good old political evolution.
Shivakumar: Silent Thunder With Occasional Lightning
D.K. Shivakumar, meanwhile, is doing the thing powerful leaders do best:
Looking calm while their supporters do all the shouting.
His highlights:
- A cryptic X post about “keeping one’s word,”
- A quiet jail visit to two MLAs (purely non-political, of course),
- Offering to resign from both his current posts… in exchange for the one he wants,
- And insisting he has “no faction”.
(Which is technically true. A faction requires only followers; DKS has believers.)
Delhi Waits With Popcorn
The high command has summoned leaders to Delhi.
They will discuss:
- Bihar results
- Karnataka drama
- Caste arithmetic
- Whatever Priyank Kharge happens to be tweeting that day
A decision is promised before December 1.
Because nothing alarms a political party more than the thought of their own winter session overshadowing Parliament’s winter session.
Five Elegant Solutions Being Whispered in the Corridors
- Status Quo:
Siddaramaiah stays. Everyone smiles tightly. - Power Shift:
Shivakumar becomes CM. Everyone pretends this was the plan all along. - New Face:
Install a “neutral” CM.
(Neutral = disliked equally by both camps.) - Extended Rotation:
Because if one compromise failed, surely a larger, more complicated compromise will succeed. - Graceful Delay:
The political equivalent of hitting snooze.
The Real Winner? Karnataka’s Political Gossip Economy
Every newsroom, WhatsApp group, and tea stall is thriving.
Kannada news channels are running debates with so many split screens, they resemble multiplayer video games.
JD(S) is enjoying itself thoroughly—it’s not every day you can troll both rivals simultaneously.
The government is stable.
The politics is not.
The governance achievements are overshadowed.
The personalities are not.
And in the end—
like all good power plays—
the audience knows the climax will happen not in Bengaluru, but in the well-upholstered rooms of Delhi, under soft lighting, near well-behaved ferns, with coffee served in cups so delicate they dare not break…
unlike political promises.
Conclusion: Karnataka’s CM Question Is Simple—Pick the Leader Who Annoys the Fewest Allies
This crisis isn’t about ideology.
Nor governance.
Nor even the public.
It’s about who can sit on the throne without causing too many people to plot their next move.
The high command will prescribe the medicine.
The leaders will swallow it (gracefully or otherwise).
And Karnataka will continue its most beloved pastime—
politics spiced with theatre, served hot with filter coffee.