That afternoon, the sky over the town was crystal clear. The sunlight seemed as pure as freshly washed clothes. Yet an unusual curiosity lingered on the face of old Hashem Mia, who was sitting on a bench at a tea stall.

Folding his newspaper, he said—

—"The electricity bill has gone up again!"

No sooner had he said it than he looked around.

Then toward the road.

Then toward the intersection.

Then farther into the distance.

The tea seller asked,

—"Uncle, what are you looking for?"

Hashem Mia replied in surprise,

—"A celebration rally."

Everyone present at the tea stall burst into laughter.

But Hashem Mia remained serious.

He said,

—"Come on, brother, whenever a major decision is made, supporters usually celebrate it. Some distribute sweets, some organize rallies, and some hang banners. Such a significant piece of news as an electricity bill increase has arrived, yet why is there not a single celebration rally anywhere?"

Everyone fell silent.

Only steam rose from the cups of tea.

The next day, he searched again.

The news had reached everywhere.

It had reached Facebook.

It had reached WhatsApp.

It had reached the tea tables.

It had even reached the ears of Karim, the rickshaw puller.

Even Rahim, the fish seller at the market, knew about it.

Yet, strangely enough, there was not a single banner anywhere saying, "Congratulations, Electricity Bill."

No packets of sweets.

No drums of celebration beating in excitement.

The matter plunged Hashem Mia into deep thought.

That night, he had a strange dream.

A huge celebration rally was marching down the city's main avenue.

At the front was a giant banner—

"Congratulations! Our bill has become even more advanced."

Behind it came the slogans—

"Let the bills rise, let the dreams arise!"

"The meter smiles, the nation rejoices!"

"Today's bill, tomorrow's profile!"

Some were scattering flowers.

Some were distributing sweets.

Others were joyfully taking selfies.

One man was saying,

—"Seeing this month's bill has made my heart even bigger!"

Another was saying,

—"If we are to carry the burden of national development, the bill must gain some weight too!"

Hashem Mia applauded within the dream itself.

But when he woke up, he found—

No.

The roads were empty.

No rally.

No slogans.

No sweets either.

There was only a silence as deep as a sigh.

At that moment, he realized that the real story was hidden within that silence.

Because when people are truly happy, they express it somehow.

Some give flowers.

Some give sweets.

Some at least take smiling photographs.

But during this glorious moment of electricity bill increases, even the smiles seemed to have gone on vacation.

Then it occurred to him that politics perhaps has a silent language of its own.

A language in which no applause is heard, yet the papers inside one's pocket begin to tremble.

A language in which no congratulations are written, yet the monthly budget quietly shudders.

Perhaps everyone is simply very polite.

Perhaps they do not wish to express their happiness openly.

Perhaps they believe that a noble occasion like an electricity bill increase should be celebrated quietly.

Perhaps they look at the meter box at night with a gentle smile, but hide that smile during daylight.

That too is a kind of restraint!

Yet ordinary people find themselves in a bit of difficulty.

Because they cannot understand—

Is this silence a sign of satisfaction?

Or of concern?

Or of such profound philosophy that understanding it requires research greater than electrical engineering itself?

A few days later, sitting once again at the tea stall, Hashem Mia took his final sip.

Then he slowly said—

"I have a small demand."

Everyone looked at him.

—"What demand, Uncle?"

Hashem Mia smiled gently and said—

"If everyone is truly happy, then at least let there be one celebration rally."

—"Why?"

—"Because I have seen protests, I have seen support rallies, and I have even seen victory processions. But if such a historic occasion arrives and not even a single celebration rally takes place for it, then how will future generations understand just how happy we were?"

Laughter erupted throughout the tea stall.

No one blamed anyone.

No one insulted anyone.

No one even entered into an argument.

Only a sweet question continued to float in the air—

If everyone is happy,

Then where did the celebration rally go?