This is the original version of the article published in the Op-Ed pages of the Times of India on 26th November 2025.
Stories tend to outlive facts. This notion is confirmed by the fact that we are still debating whether our Mahabharata and Ramayana are itihaas or katha. There are 300 versions of the Ramayana. Similarly, a relatively slim work called the Jaya morphed into the Vijaya, then the Bharata, and finally the Mahabharata. Does that mean our scribes fabricated fiction? No. Each generation merely injected its own anxieties, morals, perspectives, and politics into the stories. Memory evolves with generational change.
Does generational tweaking take away from the fact that something extraordinary must have happened in antiquity for the event to sear itself into memory? Maybe a great king crossing an ocean to battle another king, a succession dispute, or a great multiclan war? These stories were retold over generations precisely because the event was of such great importance. Now, if one version of an epic contradicts another, both cannot be the “literal” truth. But, as C. S. Lewis reminds us, what we call “myths” are deep expressions of truth—often truer than the chronicles themselves.
So, when you log into your favourite social media app and find political opinions that may or may not be in sync with yours, remember this: modern political actors are not only fighting elections but also battling for the right to shape the narrative a century from now. George Santayana famously said, “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” And Stalin, with brutal clarity, declared, “A lie repeated often enough becomes the truth.” Both understood the same principle: control the narrative today, and you control the history of tomorrow.
The war of narratives is a given. But what particularly concerns me is this: in India, this struggle over narrative has taken an institutional turn. Our democracy—something that we can all be proud of—has delivered mixed results. Our noisy elections, free press, raucous parliament, and independent judiciary keep power in check. But these elements also come bundled with lethargic municipalities, a creaking justice system, and a bureaucracy that confuses procedure with purpose. More worryingly, the very pillars meant to stabilize the system are being dragged into political crossfire.
Take the Election Commission. Political leaders have questioned its impartiality over electoral roll revisions, never mind that the same institution oversaw elections when today’s opposition occupied the treasury benches. If EC partisanship is alleged, then logic demands that every seat from every election, regardless of who won, ought to be treated with suspicion. Selective outrage suggests political motive, not moral clarity.
A similar pattern of attacks shadows the Supreme Court. Its decisions are praised as visionary or condemned as partisan, depending on which side benefits. When the verdict is favourable, the judiciary becomes the last bastion of justice; when it cuts the other way, it becomes an instrument of bias or selective urgency.
Even the Armed Forces, long regarded as above politics, have not been spared. Military operations are too often woven into partisan narratives. Politicians question the timing or authenticity of military operations, and soldiers are left uncomfortably in the middle. Few things corrode national unity more than turning a nation’s defenders into props.
This is the danger of our moment: political spins aren’t only crafted for the evening’s headlines but also for the history books of 2125. Repeat an accusation often enough, and it becomes the “truth” that future scholars will cite. Delegitimize an institution today, and you diminish not just its present functioning but also its place in the national memory. Political leaders must therefore resist the easy thrill of scoring points by tarnishing the pillars they will one day have to lean on.
Equally, institutions themselves must guard their neutrality by letting their work speak for itself. Judges need not flavour rulings with off-the-cuff observations. Crisp, well-reasoned orders should be the judiciary’s only voice. From reducing pendency to improving transparency in judicial appointments, it must work with the executive to reform without compromising independence. The Election Commission must go the extra mile, even in the face of unfair allegations, to demonstrate that its processes are beyond reproach. The armed forces must protect operational secrecy while mastering narrative clarity. Institutional credibility, like public trust, must be earned every single day; past glory offers no permanent shield.
India’s epics remind us that the stories we tell shape the civilization we become. Modern politics seeks similar immortality. The question, then, is not whether narratives will be created. Rather, it is: whose version of today will harden into the chapters of tomorrow’s textbooks?
