Ok Punjab is the caption.
Ok Punjab means: the sarson da saag is still made, but the family eats it in three different time zones. One plate in Vancouver, one in Melbourne, one in a PG in Noida. The saag is ok . The connection is ok . The ache is not acknowledged.
So no. I don’t accept ok Punjab .
Ok Punjab is the sound of a son calling his father from a Toronto basement suite in February. "How’s everything back home, Papa?" The father looks out the window at the smog settling over Ludhiana like a second blanket. The tubewell motor burned out again. The nephew left for Australia this morning. The khet is half-sold to a developer. "Ok, beta. Sab ok hai." Which means: I’m tired, but I won’t say it. We’re surviving, but we forgot what living felt like.
Not great Punjab. Not wait, what happened to Punjab? Just ok. ok punjab
You see, the word "ok" is not a compliment. It’s a ceasefire. It’s what you say when you’ve stopped expecting a miracle, but you haven’t yet given yourself permission to weep. Ok is the pause between the question "How are you really?" and the lie that follows.
Ok Punjab is the smirk of a Delhi businessman stuck behind a Fortuner with Punjab number plates on the Gurgaon expressway. "Haan, typical." He doesn’t see the farmer who drove that Fortuner to the bank three times last week, asking for a loan he knows he won’t live to repay. He just sees the chrome grille and the swagger. But the swagger is just grief with good sunglasses. Ok Punjab is the caption
I accept still Punjab . Torn-but-standing Punjab . Crying-at-the-bus-stand-but-dancing-at-the-wedding Punjab . Oye-Punjab .