Bhartiya politics and conditional resignations share a bond older than most traditions; after all, nothing says “commitment” in in our country quite like a declaration to quit, should the unthinkable happen, of course, which, miraculously, almost never does. The 2025 Bihar Assembly elections gave the country another masterclass in this time-honoured histrionic art, courtesy of Prashant Kishor. If events unfolded as he predicted, he’d gracefully exit public life. If not, well, the fine print would save him. And so, the ritual continues, the public equal parts bemused and weary.

The Unfolding Drama: Kishor’s Many Pledges

Prashant Kishor’s Jan Suraaj party, a recent imprint on Bihar’s political fabric, entered the 2025 race with grand slogans and spirited boots-on-the-ground energy. Kishor, a man with a CV more varied than most coalition cabinets, publicly declared he would exit politics should Nitish Kumar’s JDU cross 25 seats, an audacious benchmark, given the party’s uneven performance in the previous cycle and the anti-incumbency undercurrents that had seemed to churn beneath Bihar’s surface.

As vote-counting day loomed, the mood among Jan Suraaj supporters was cautiously optimistic; but as the results streamed in, JDU vaulting past 80 seats, the optimism gave way to that uniquely Indian sense of comic inevitability. While parties and pollsters scrambled to interpret the numbers, Kishor began drafting new “terms and conditions,” much like those hidden clauses in insurance paperwork politicians love so dearly.

Rewriting the Rules: The “Two Lakh Rupees” Pivot

What followed was a classic move: in the aftermath of his party’s electoral debacle (Jan Suraaj failed to win a single seat), Kishor quickly reframed his vow. Now, he would only quit politics if the JDU-NDA government fulfilled its extravagant promise—directly transferring ₹2 lakh to 1.5 crore women under a self-employment scheme. Kishor stated, “The financial scale of this commitment is so unprecedented that its fulfilment would itself decide the future of my political career.” Thus, the wager became not electoral results, but the probability of an economic miracle.

To further embellish the point, he pointed out the government’s pre-poll migratory generosity: thousands of rupees reportedly distributed per beneficiary across constituencies, and the Rs 40,000 crore pledged overall. Of course, Kishor denied the old chestnut that voters were “bought,” insisting the people of Bihar were not so easily swayed, though, he slyly argued, the timing and form of such largesse were impossible to ignore.

Resignation Gimmick 

The spectacle is not without precedent. The “resignation-if” gimmick has become a reusable prop across the subcontinent. Only months ago, Mallikarjun Kharge of the Congress performed the same somersault, promising to give up his post if certain electoral claims could be disproved. As with Kishor, the terms are as elastic as a politician’s memory: what exactly constitutes “resignation,” and from what?

Political resignations are staked on events as likely as a cricket hat-trick against a local club; and should the heavens part and the miracle arise, there’s always a backup clause, a redefinition, a new challenge, or even a geographical retirement: “I’ll leave Bihar, not politics.”

A Society Numbed by “Theatrics”

Like all solid drama, this performance relies on willing suspension of disbelief. The public knows these resignations are as disposable as last season’s manifestos. The media cycles the story with a mix of bemusement and fatigue; intellectuals clutch their pearls; and rival politicians offer rehearsed outrage. Meanwhile, the machinery of government spins on, unbothered.

Yet, the effect is insidious. When rulers frame their promises in hypotheticals they never intend to honour, and “resignation” is brandished like a Bollywood sword, the currency of trust is slowly debased. Kishor’s pivot is only the most recent proof: he now asks, with arched eyebrow, “What post do I even hold that I should resign from?” echoing that grand tradition of retrofitting the truth to suit one’s audience.

Lessons from Recent Years

Why does this pattern persist? For one, it works. Theatrics have demonstrable effects, both in energising supporters and creating new headlines. Election after election, the Indian electorate has seen leaders double back on their grand pronouncements, then blame “context” for their conveniently elastic memory. Remember the Rashtriya Janata Dal’s claims and counter-claims over seat tallies? Or TMC’s “quit politics” gambits in Bengal? In each case, moral accountability is shown the door even as the drama scales new heights.

Moreover, the vast scale of the Bihar payout scheme, Rs 10,000 “self-employment” advances distributed just before polling, became as much an election-day meme as a policy measure. Kishor, for all his supposed gravitas, is not above deploying the same satire that characterises the system he critiques.

When All the World’s a Stage, and Bihar the Set

Kishor’s arc reflects a peculiar modern Bhartiya dynamic. Politics is both a participatory sport and a high-performance theatre. Voters, like seasoned viewers, approach each new “resignation drama” with scepticism, yet the spectacle retains its hold. In the words of Kishor, the self-anointed protagonist, “You are not defeated until you quit.” Should the two lakh rupee bonanza fail to materialise, he gets another shot at redemption; should it succeed, he gracefully leaves (perhaps for a sabbatical, to reappear later like a popular TV character who was never really gone).

A Final Phrase: Civic Responsibility

Against this tableau vivant of promises and polemics, what is the citizen to do? The answer is not cynicism, but vigilance. Sarcasm only stings when its truths are recognised; the electorate must parse these claims with the same intellectual clarity demanded by serious satire. The next time a leader promises to resign under scripted, self-contradictory conditions, voters should keep their laughter ready, but also their critical faculties.

To paraphrase a contemporary: “People have given the mandate to NDA, now it’s on the shoulders of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Nitish Kumar to work on fulfilling their poll promises.” Until then, expect more resignations, more “unprecedented” conditions, and more wit.

In this ongoing drama, Prashant Kishor need not fear irrelevance. As long as politicians promise grand exits and execute nimble U-turns, and Bihar churns out colourful plot twists, Indian democracy will remain the best-attended circus in the world.

– Neelabh Kumar Sharma, a Research Associate at Centre for Human Sciences, Rishihood University, Sonipat.