The Rise and Fall of Zubair Siddiqui - A Political Addiction

Zubair Siddiqui was never supposed to be a politician. He started as an ambitious community activist, a man who wanted to bring change, especially for South Asians navigating Canadian politics. But somewhere along the way, his mission blurred. What began as a fight for representation and community service turned into a relentless pursuit of power, prestige, and the privileges that came with the title of 'Honorable Member.'

 

The Illusion of Influence

At first, politics seemed like the right path. Zubair was seen at every community event, shaking hands, cutting ribbons, delivering passionate speeches. He told himself—and others—that he was there to make a difference. And in the beginning, he believed it. But as time went on, something changed.

He saw how easily admiration could be mistaken for respect, how public attention could feed the ego like an addictive drug. The free dinners, the VIP treatment, the flood of people eager to take selfies with him—it all made him feel invincible. He wasn’t just Zubair Siddiqui anymore; he was “the leader,” a man people recognized wherever he went.

The Addiction to Status

Like all addictions, it crept up on him. He stopped seeing politics as a means to serve and started seeing it as his identity. The power, the invitations to elite gatherings, the subtle perks—it became impossible to let go. But what happens when your addiction isn’t to a substance but to status?

Many enter politics with noble intentions, but not all stories are the same. Circumstances matter. Politics is important, and representation—especially for minorities—is crucial. However, some politicians come aboard with a single mission: a good-paying job with benefits and privileges. Over time, that job becomes an addiction. Fame becomes their fuel. Every event they attend, every hand they shake, they see admiration in people’s eyes. That admiration turns into desperation—a need to keep being recognized, to keep being relevant.

The Fall

Years passed, and the cycle continued. Elections came and went. Zubair survived a few, but eventually, a younger, more energetic candidate took his place. The media, the party, and even his closest allies moved on. His phone, once ringing non-stop, fell silent. The invitations dried up. The handshakes, the cameras, the recognition—it was all gone.

They say a politician should at least have a dog because, in the end, it’s the only loyal companion they’ll have. But Zubair Siddiqui, like many from his South Asian community, never had one. He sat alone in his house, scrolling through old pictures of himself at events, watching clips of speeches that once commanded attention.

For the first time in years, he asked himself—was it worth it?

The Reality of Political Addiction

Not all politicians fall into this cycle, but many do. When politics becomes about personal gain rather than public service, it turns into a dangerous addiction. Those who enter for the wrong reasons often leave with nothing—no friends, no allies, not even a legacy worth remembering.

Disclaimer:
The events and characters in this blog are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story is meant for narrative and reflective purposes only and does not intend to target any individual, community, or political entity.