Five decades of journalism, satire and political observation inform BNK’s sharp take on India’s changing political theatre.
Interview with BNK (B. N. Kumar)- Author of Hit Wicket & No Balls
1. The title Hit Wicket & No Balls uses cricketing metaphors for political missteps. How did you land on this cricket framework, and how far could you stretch the metaphor before it started to feel forced?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): Cricket is probably the one language Indians instinctively understand. A political blunder, a missed opportunity, a strategic error, a spectacular collapse—you can describe all of these in cricketing terms and people immediately get the picture.
The title came naturally because politics, like cricket, is full of unexpected turns. There are clean hits, edges, dropped catches, appeals that go nowhere and, occasionally, players who manage to get themselves out without any help from the opposition. Hit Wicket captures that kind of political blunder—someone effectively getting himself out through his own misjudgment or misstep. No Ball suggests a delivery that violates the rules or crosses a line.
But I was conscious of not turning the book into a cricket commentary. The metaphor is useful only as long as it illuminates the politics. Once it becomes more entertaining than the point being made, it becomes forced. So I used cricket as a frame, not as a gimmick.
2. This is a sequel to POLITRICKS. What changes did you observe in India’s political theatre between the two books that convinced you a follow-up was necessary?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): POLITRICKs was written from one vantage point; Hit Wicket & No Balls comes from a later stage of the same political journey. And politics had changed quite dramatically in between.
The theatre had become faster, noisier and much more unforgiving. The 24-hour news cycle gave way to the social-media cycle, where a political statement can become a national controversy within minutes. Political communication also became much more centralised and carefully managed, while the opposition struggled to find a coherent counter-narrative.
But there was another reason for a sequel. Some things had changed; some had merely acquired new actors. And after five decades of watching Indian politics, you realise that history does not repeat itself exactly—but political habits often do.
3. You describe the opposition as struggling with “inconsistency, disunity and the inability to sustain its challenge”. In your five decades of observing Indian politics, is this a cyclical pattern or has it genuinely worsened in recent years?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): There is certainly a cyclical element. Indian politics has always seen opposition parties fighting among themselves, putting personal or regional ambitions ahead of a larger objective, and discovering unity when elections are around the corner.
But I think something has changed in recent years. The scale and sophistication of political communication have changed enormously. A party seeking to challenge a dominant political force needs a sustained narrative, disciplined communication and an organisational structure capable of carrying the argument to the voter.
Fragmented opposition politics makes that much harder. The problem is not merely that the opposition loses elections. A democracy needs an opposition that can question, expose, propose alternatives and keep the government on its toes between elections. That institutional role is far more important than simply counting seats.
4. The book argues that a stable government needs a strong opposition, and both need a fearless, questioning media. Which of these three pillars do you see as the weakest link in India today?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): I would hesitate to separate them completely because they are interconnected. A weak opposition makes the media’s job more important; a weakened media makes it easier for both government and opposition to escape scrutiny.
But if I had to identify the weakest link today, I would say independent journalism. Governments will always prefer favourable coverage. Opposition parties will always complain about hostile coverage. That is politics.
The journalist’s job is neither to please the government nor to rescue the opposition. It is to ask uncomfortable questions of whoever is in power and to verify what everyone claims. Once that space becomes narrower, democracy loses one of its most important checking mechanisms.
5. You’ve spent over fifty years “in the media trenches”. How has the craft of political satire and column-writing changed from when you started to now, especially in the age of social media and instant outrage?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): When I started, the news cycle moved at the pace of the newspaper or the evening bulletin. Today, it moves at the speed of a social-media notification.
The biggest change is speed. The second is the disappearance of context. A column that once occupied a full newspaper page may now be reduced to a small sentence on social media. That sentence can travel much farther than the original piece—and often without the nuance that accompanied it.
Satire has therefore become both easier and more difficult. There is no shortage of material; politicians and political systems provide enough comedy every day. But satire requires an audience willing to understand irony. In an age of instant outrage, irony sometimes has to compete with literalism.
I still believe the basic rule has not changed: write sharply, but know what you are trying to say. Humour should reveal something, not merely ridicule someone.
6. The book examines the shrinking space for independent journalism. From your vantage point as a veteran journalist, what was the moment you first noticed that space beginning to close?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): I don’t think there was one dramatic moment. It was more like watching a door gradually being pushed shut.
Having worked through very different political periods—including the Emergency—I have seen both overt pressure and subtler forms of influence. The mechanisms may change, but the instinct of power remains familiar: nobody in authority enjoys sustained scrutiny.
What has changed is the ecosystem around journalism. Ownership patterns, commercial pressures, political polarisation, digital disruption and the economics of news have all affected editorial independence. Social media has added another layer, because journalists are now under pressure not only from institutions but also from highly mobilised audiences.
The danger is not that every journalist becomes compromised. It is that independent journalism becomes increasingly difficult to sustain.
7. You wear many hats: journalist, satirist, environmentalist through NatConnect Foundation, communication strategist. How does your environmental advocacy work inform or intersect with your political commentary?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): For me, these are not really separate worlds. Journalism taught me to question claims; environmental advocacy requires exactly the same instinct.
When we work on environmental issues through NatConnect Foundation, we often find that what appears to be a technical matter—wetlands, mangroves, water security, urban planning or infrastructure—ultimately becomes a governance question. Who took the decision? On what basis? Who benefits? Who bears the cost? Was the public heard?
That is politics—or, for that matter, Politricks—in another form.
Environmental journalism and advocacy have also reinforced something I have always believed: the journalist’s responsibility is to represent the public interest, especially when the public voice is fragmented or easily ignored.
8. Satire walks a fine line between humour and hard truth. How do you decide when a political “self-goal” deserves a witty jab versus a more serious, direct critique?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): The nature of the political misstep usually tells you.
If the absurdity is the story, satire works. If people’s lives, institutions or democratic freedoms are seriously at stake, humour should not become a distraction.
I also don’t believe every politician needs to be mocked simply because a joke is available. Good satire should have a purpose. It should make the reader smile first and think immediately afterwards.
And there is another test I apply: am I attacking the person, or exposing the contradiction in what the person has said or done? The latter is much more interesting—and much more defensible.
9. Since this book is a collection of selected columns, what was your process for choosing which columns made the cut, and did revisiting older pieces change how you saw certain events in hindsight?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): Editing your own old writing is a slightly uncomfortable exercise. You discover things you had forgotten, arguments you still stand by and sentences you would happily rewrite.
I did not want the book to become an archive of everything I had written. The columns had to retain some relevance beyond the immediate event that prompted them. I looked for pieces where the political episode revealed something larger about leadership, opposition politics, governance, media or democratic behaviour.
Revisiting them also confirmed something journalists learn over time: the headline event is often less important than the pattern underneath it. Some pieces written about a seemingly minor controversy suddenly appeared more relevant years later because the underlying issue had grown much bigger.
That was one of the pleasures—and occasionally the embarrassments—of putting the collection together.
10. You write that “democracy may be solemn, but its characters rarely are”. Of all the political figures and moments you’ve covered over the decades, which one still makes you laugh (or wince) the most when you think back on it?
BNK (B. N. Kumar): Choosing one would be unfair to the others. Indian politics has never suffered from a shortage of theatre—or performers.
What continues to amuse me is the sheer ability of political actors to say one thing with complete conviction and, sometimes within the same political season, say precisely the opposite with equal conviction. Alliances change, slogans change, loyalties change—and everyone discovers a perfectly respectable explanation for why their latest position is the only principled one.
But I have also seen moments that make you wince rather than laugh. The Emergency remains in a category of its own because it demonstrated how quickly democratic freedoms can become vulnerable when institutions and the press are not allowed to function freely.
Perhaps that is why I have always preferred satire to cynicism. Cynicism says nothing can change. Satire says: look carefully at what is happening, because this is absurd—and because it matters.
