In a move that has shocked absolutely no one, Belagavi's political scene has undergone a significant shuffle, with the familiar faces now adorned in new hats, as if participating in a game of musical chairs where the music never stops and the chairs are inexplicably glued to the floor. Locals have expressed their profound relief at this transformation, which promises to deliver truly “revolutionary” innovations like the same old policies, just packaged with fresh slogans. The beloved Chief Minister, now sporting a snazzy new title bestowed upon him during an extravagant ceremony that could only be rivaled by a Bollywood blockbuster, reiterated his commitment to bringing about change that reflects the rich tapestry of stagnation. “You see,” he said while labelling his breathtakingly predictable agenda as ‘Vision 2030’, “We believe in continuity over chaos. Who needs progress when we can perfect the art of doing nothing while looking busy?” Political analysts, who are being hailed as unsung heroes, like to believe that this reshuffling of the deck chairs on the Titanic might somehow create a more efficient crew to navigate the icy waters of bureaucracy. “If anything, this will remind the people that we can always count on our leaders to be consistently disappointing,” said one particularly jaded pundit, who had recently traded in his plaid blazer for an even more plaid vest in a valiant effort to appear optimistic. As the nation buzzes with speculation over the mysterious line-up of ministers, it appears some have recycled their slogans from previous campaigns—'A New Dawn' is back, folks—like an unwanted reboot of that TV series no one watched, but everyone pretended to because it was on during dinner time. “It’s like deja vu, but with more potholes and traffic jams,” exclaimed a local auto-rickshaw driver who, having witnessed every election cycle since the dawn of time, has now started writing a memoir titled “Traffic and Treachery in Belagavi”. Meanwhile, the public has taken to social media, applauding these bold new directionless changes with hashtags like #SameOldSameOld and #ChangeWeDon’tBelieveIn. Memes featuring the new ministers superimposed on historical images of archaic Indian rulers have gone viral, likening them to kings who claimed to innovate while merely ensuring that their thrones have the most expensive cushions money can buy. Local businesses are gearing up for growth—just not in the way they anticipated. “We used to plan for expansion and innovation,” lamented a café owner, “but now we’re stocked up on comfort food for the next election cycle. You know, fried snacks and cold chai to emotionally cope with the progress that never comes.” In a stroke of irony, an exclusive announcement highlighted plans for a slew of ‘Town Hall’ meetings. These are expected to be jam-packed with empty promises, broken by anyone who might think they should actually listen to the constituents. “We’re excited for the opportunities to provide the illusion of engagement,” said a spokesperson in a tone that dripped with cynicism. “It’s all part of the strategy!" With the arrival of the new regime—same as the old regime—the people of Belagavi can take solace in knowing that progress may be delayed, but mediocrity is always served hot and ready. And while the world watches, and the news reports on the latest ‘exciting developments’, the locals maneuver through the traffic, powered by hope, sarcasm, and the inevitable realization that in Belagavi, change is more of the same.