In a world filled with political intrigues, multi-crore scams, and national security debates, an unexpected question has gripped the picturesque state of Himachal Pradesh: “Who ate my samosa?”
The scene of the crime was a seemingly innocuous event at the headquarters of the state’s Criminal Investigation Department (CID), attended by none other than Congress Chief Minister Sukhvinder Singh Sukhu himself. What began as a regular event quickly transformed into a thriller fit for Bollywood when a sinister discovery was made—boxes of samosas and other snacks, destined to delight the taste buds of Himachal’s top brass, had mysteriously vanished.
In any other state, a snack shortage might be chalked up to enthusiastic overeating by guests, but Himachal Pradesh has taken the matter to heart. As rumours swirled, accusations flew, and fingers were pointed, it soon became clear that this was no ordinary snack theft. Whispers in political corridors suggested that the CID, India’s elite crime investigators, were indeed considering an official probe. If true, this would mark a new chapter in the annals of investigative history—the case of The Missing Samosas.
The seriousness of the samosa scandal begs the question: what really happened? Was it an inside job, a deliberate act to sabotage the event’s catering plans, or an innocent oversight blown out of proportion? Theories abound. Some blame unidentified “snack saboteurs” who might have slipped past security and made off with the prized snacks. Others suspect a “samosa syndicate” at work, orchestrating a grand heist for purposes yet unknown.
Political pundits, naturally, are not far behind with their own interpretations. Could it be that certain factions within Himachal Pradesh are looking to distract from pressing governance issues by diverting public attention to samosa theft? The opposition certainly thinks so, with one party spokesperson stating, “When bread is missing from the tables of the people, why are we discussing missing samosas?”
The idea of the CID launching a formal investigation has sparked widespread speculation and, of course, a flood of hilarious commentary. Social media exploded with a mix of mock outrage and biting humor. One Twitter user quipped, “First they came for the samosas, and I did not speak out because I was not a samosa. Then they came for the gulab jamuns…” Another tweeted, “If the CID solves the samosa case, maybe next they’ll tackle the national pani puri shortage!”
Even the CID might be finding it hard to keep a straight face. A source, requesting anonymity, reportedly said, “If the Chief Minister’s snacks are not safe, whose snacks are?”
With the stakes rising, citizens are demanding accountability. Some call for a high-level committee to probe the samosa debacle, while others suggest a public awareness campaign to prevent future snack theft. A few optimists are even hoping for an educational video series on samosa preservation, to be aired in schools to prepare future generations for such crises.
Meanwhile, there are rumors that certain officials in the catering department might be reassigned, or at least reminded of the sacred duty they bear in safeguarding the snacks of state functions. One insider reportedly admitted, “We never thought it would come to this. But henceforth, we will have to appoint ‘samosa sentinels’ to guard our food supplies.”
In the end, only time will tell if the mystery of the missing samosas will be resolved. Will the culprit be unmasked? Will justice be served, along with hot tea and a fresh batch of samosas? The people of Himachal Pradesh deserve answers, and until they get them, “Who Ate My Samosa?” will remain the question of the hour. As CM Sukhu looks out from his office window, one wonders if he, too, is left wondering: could it be someone close to him? Or was it just an innocent error in snack management?
Whether this investigation turns out to be a political diversion or a legendary mystery solved by the CID, one thing is for sure: the next time anyone orders samosas for a government function in Himachal, they’ll be guarded like state secrets.
