At 21, I have realised something uncomfortable: most young Indians have strong political opinions, but very few are willing to participate in politics itself. We debate passionately on social media. We criticise policies, question leaders, argue about nationalism, development, unemployment, and foreign affairs. We are informed, expressive, and sometimes even aggressive in our views. Yet when it comes to stepping inside the system, understanding it from within, or contributing to it directly, there is hesitation. That gap between opinion and participation is one of the biggest weaknesses of our generation.
Somewhere along the way, politics became synonymous with corruption, manipulation, and moral compromise. Many of us grew up hearing that politics is “dirty” and that decent, educated people should stay away from it. But that logic is flawed. Politics is not dirty by design; it becomes dirty when capable and ethical people abandon it. Power does not remain empty. If thoughtful citizens refuse to occupy space in governance, that space will be filled by someone else. Complaining about the quality of leadership while refusing to lead is not idealism; it is avoidance.
Every major decision that shapes our lives emerges from politics. The quality of our universities, the strength of our economy, taxation, startup regulations, defence policy, digital freedom, infrastructure, and employment opportunities, none of these exist outside the political framework. To say “I hate politics” while benefiting from or suffering because of public policy is intellectually inconsistent. Democracy is not something we consume; it is something we are meant to participate in.
There is also a certain comfort in being a critic. Social media has made political commentary effortless. A post, a reel, a tweet, and we feel politically engaged. But governance is not built in comment sections. It is built in committees, in constituency offices, in policy drafts, in long meetings that rarely make headlines. Real political work is slow, complex, and often frustrating. It requires negotiation, patience, and a deep understanding of law, economics,s and administration. Many young people want impact without engaging in this complexity. That is not leadership, that is convenience.
If we call ourselves nationalists, then our nationalism must extend beyond symbolism. Patriotism is not only about pride in the flag, the armed forces, or India’s rising global status. It is also about institutional responsibility. India is one of the youngest nations in the world demographically. A majority of our population is under 35. Yet decision-making spaces are still dominated by older generations. Experience is valuable, but generational transition is equally necessary. A country aspiring to global leadership cannot afford a political culture where its youth remain spectators.
There is also a fear factor that we rarely admit. Politics is risky. It exposes you to criticism. It forces you to take positions that not everyone will like. It demands time, sacrifice, and sometimes personal attacks. In a generation that values stability and career security, politics appears uncertain. Corporate paths are structured. Competitive exams have a roadmap. Politics does not promise clarity. But leadership has never been built on certainty. It has always required courage to enter unpredictable spaces.
Another reality we must confront is that modern governance demands competence. India today faces challenges that are far more complex than they were decades ago: artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, climate change, geopolitical tensions, demographic pressure, and urban planning crises. These are not issues that can be managed by instinct alone. They require intellectual preparation and policy literacy. If educated young Indians consistently choose private success over public responsibility, governance will remain disconnected from the best available talent.
Entering politics does not necessarily mean contesting elections at 25. It can mean engaging with public policy, working with elected representatives, joining think tanks, participating in student governance, understanding budgets, volunteering in campaigns, or preparing for civil services. Political participation has layers. The problem is not that every young person is not an MLA; the problem is that too many are completely disengaged from the structure altogether.
Criticism without participation slowly turns into intellectual laziness. It is easy to label the system as broken. It is harder to understand why it functions the way it does. It is even harder to improve it from within. If politics is flawed and it certainly has flaws, then responsible citizens must treat that as a call to action, not an excuse for withdrawal.
By 2047, when India completes 100 years of independence, today’s 21-year-olds will be in positions of serious influence. The question is whether we will reach that stage prepared, informed, and experienced, or whether we will still be analysing leadership from the sidelines. Nations do not transform because of commentary. They transform because certain individuals decide to step forward despite the inconvenience.
Loving India is easy. Leading India is difficult. But if we genuinely believe in the country’s potential, in its civilisational depth, in its global ambitions, then we cannot remain politically passive. The future of Indian governance should not be accidental. It should be shaped deliberately by those who claim to care about it.
And that responsibility begins with us.