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jana-nayagans-calculated-rise-how-vijay-rewrote-tamil-nadus-political-script

Sat May 16 15:24:22 IST 2026

In Tamil Nadu politics, geography shapes destiny. And its newly minted chief minister—C. Joseph Vijay—knows his geography well.

On November 1, 2023, when Vijay walked on to the stage at the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium in Chennai to celebrate the success of Leo, the audience roared in welcome. When asked about the 2026 state elections that day, he responded with a popular dialogue from his 2019 film Bigil: “Cup mukkiyam, Bigilu [Cup is important, Bigil].” ‘Bigil’ (the nickname of his character in the movie) meaning whistle would later become his poll bugle and party symbol.

Cut to May 10, 2026. The stadium erupted in joy yet again as he stepped on to the stage in a black blazer, stitched specially for his swearing in as chief minister. By picking it as the venue for his oath-taking ceremony, observed his fans, Vijay effectively taking over a site traditionally reserved for fandom and rebranding it as a political base. It was his turf and he used it as a bridge between his cinematic past and political present. The message was loud and clear—that his administration would begin not with the cold sterility of a government hall, but with the high-octane energy of a proven support base.

The crossover from cinema to politics is certainly not new in a state like Tamil Nadu. But that doesn’t take anything away from Vijay’s achievement. His transition from box office success to chief minister’s office is not based on a sudden celebrity whim but on a calculated institutionalisation of his fandom. By the time he launched his party, he had already achieved a level of household presence that traditional political apprenticeship could never match, entering every home through the pervasive medium of Tamil cinema.

To understand his historic mandate (his Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam won 108 of 234 seats), one must analyse his foundational years. Born to filmmaker S.A. Chandrasekhar and singer Shoba, Vijay was a cheerful child. But the death of his younger sister, who was all of two, turned him into a silent and withdrawn child. That childhood tragedy shaped his adult, public persona—a disciplined blend of on-screen explosive energy and off-screen reclusiveness. “He was always sincere and disciplined in every bit of work he did,” recalled Chandrasekhar, who was seen tearing up as Vijay took oath. “Be it cinema or personal life, Vijay’s dedication was the only reason for his success.”

That success was scripted by Chandrasekhar, who dreamt a public life for his son. Vijay, who had done a couple of films as a child actor, dropped out of a visual communication course at Loyola College only to be launched by his father in Naalaiya Theerpu (1992). The film failed miserably at the box office. But it was that initial failure that hardened him for what future had in store for him and taught him resilience. “This early discipline was the essential precursor to his total professional transformation into a cultural icon,” says his friend Srinath, now a TVK legislator from Thoothukudi. The theme of his films, too, changed—from romcoms to films with mass appeal and social messaging. That, combined with his reserved personality, catapulted him beyond mere stardom. His journey represents a steady evolution from a child actor to ‘Ilaya Thalapathy’ (young commander) to ‘Thalapathy’ (commander) of the screens, and finally to the ‘Jana Nayagan’ (people’s leader).

Vijay’s reclusiveness is not merely a personality trait but a calculated tool for controlled access. By being shy and sparing with words off-screen, he created an aura of mystery that made his rare public appearances a high-stakes event. And it was this that his father, a fan of M. Karunanidhi and M.G. Ramachandran, wanted to capitalise on. It was Chandrasekhar who first institutionalised Vijay’s fandom, launching Vijay Makkal Iyakkam (VMI) in 2009. VMI first took the form of a cultural organisation involved in charity, but Chandrasekhar wanted to slowly make it political. Vijay revolted against this paternal control in 2021, legally restraining his parents from using his name for political purposes. That rupture in filial relations was a crucial narrative arc, presenting him as a leader who prioritises institutional integrity over familial legacy.

And when he launched TVK in February 2024, he institutionalised his fandom on his terms. Vijay converted a decades-old welfare network into a semi-organised political cadre capable of mobilising data and crowds across the 234 constituencies. In the 2026 elections, he adopted a decentralised strategy, utilising digital influencers and YouTube channels to amplify his message while he personally campaigned sparingly. This strategy was not without its cost—a tragic stampede in Karur on September 27, 2025, killed 41 people. The stampede raised immediate questions about his administrative readiness and the volatile nature of his mass gatherings. Vijay responded to critics by framing himself as a “dangerous disruptor”.

And he did just that on May 4. In his path to victory, Vijay not only broke the dravidian duopoly, but also impacted the performance of the national parties. The Congress, which is now an ally of the TVK, won only five seats with a mere 3.37 per cent vote share. In 2021, it had won 18 seats with a vote share of 4.27 per cent. The BJP, on the other hand, was reduced to just one seat with a vote share of 2.97 per cent. In 2021, it had won four seats but with a lower vote share (2.62 per cent). It had, however, increased its vote share to 11.38 per cent in the 2024 Lok Sabha elections under then state president K. Annamalai.

The Congress has chosen to strategically align with the TVK and secure two cabinet portfolios. By being on stage during Vijay’s swearing-in ceremony, Rahul Gandhi sent a clear message that the Congress had its sight on the 2029 Lok Sabha polls and was eyeing success in Tamil Nadu with Vijay’s support.

For the BJP, it is time for Annamalai’s return. The many miscalculations and sidelining of Annamalai seem to have pushed the BJP far behind in the electoral race. “If Annamalai was allowed to contest and campaign for the candidates, we would have got a decent number,” said a supporter from Tiruppur. The BJP made several attempts to halt Vijay from forming the government. The idea of an AIADMK-DMK alliance was mooted by the BJP’s high command through superstar Rajinikanth. This move was reportedly stalled by both the dravidian parties. But the BJP will not stop here—Tamil Nadu is crucial for its conquest of the south.

As the commander of change, Vijay’s mandate is a vote for possibility. He has walked into the hearts of the people through the screen, but his legacy will now be defined by his ability to navigate the unscripted challenges of the secretariat and how he handles the BJP and the Congress—both in the state and at the Centre.

For now, it is wait and watch as the era of ‘Jana Nayagan’ unfolds. Whistle podu (blow the whistle)!

VIJAY’S WARRIORS

The operational heart

‘Bussy’ N. Anand, 62

In any transition from celebrity fandom to a structured party, the primary challenge is the professionalisation of the cadre. For the TVK, its general secretary ‘Bussy’ N. Anand served as the indispensable bridge. Anand’s political credentials were forged in Puducherry, where he won the Bussy assembly seat in 2006. However, his most significant asset was his long-term stewardship of the Vijay Makkal Iyakkam (VMI). Over 15 years, he systematically redirected fan energy into blood donation drives and welfare activities. He knows local functionaries by name and maintains absolute institutional loyalty, ensuring that the VMI to TVK transition did not result in organisational fragmentation seen in other celebrity-led movements. He won from Chennai’s Thiyagarayanagar with a margin of over 13,000 votes.

The cultural communicator

Rajmohan A., 39

Egmore MLA Rajmohan A. engaged the millennial and Gen Z voters. Emerging from the digital creator space (Put Chutney), he brought an instinct for satire and online commentary to his role as propaganda secretary. His background in public speaking and motivational content gave him a unique rhythm compared to traditional orators. He eschewed the formal notes of traditional dravidianism for a hybrid grammar of irony, relatable humour and conversational outrage. This allowed the TVK to translate complex policy ideas into viral reels and YouTube clips.

The mobilisation engine

Aadhav Arjuna, 43

Winning an election requires mass mobilisation. Aadhav Arjuna acted as the physical engine of the TVK campaign machinery. Son-in-law of ‘lottery king’ Santiago Martin and president of the Basketball Federation of India, Arjuna brought significant experience from his previous proximity to the DMK and the Viduthalai Chiruthaigal Katchi. He joined the TVK in 2025, specialising in booth-level management and candidate screening. More important, he infused the TVK’s rhetoric with a social justice grammar. By invoking Ambedkar and Periyar, he effectively mobilised the youth and dalits who felt alienated by the dravidian parties. He secured a victory in Chennai’s Villivakkam seat and was the primary strategist behind Vijay’s victory in Perambur.

The strategic architect

John Arokiasamy, 53

Modern political warfare is won through the creation of a persuasive narrative. John Arokiasamy did just that for the TVK, and from experience. His firm, JPACPersona, has worked with the Pattali Makkal Katchi, Naam Tamilar Katchi, Congress’s Siddaramaiah and the Shiv Sena. He took a risk by steering the TVK away from an alliance with the BJP, advocating instead to go solo. He engineered a hybrid ideology that fused dravidian principles with Tamil nationalism that allowed the TVK to challenge both the DMK and the BJP simultaneously. He drafted the leader’s core speeches and ensured a consistent political brand across the 234 constituencies.

The governance guide

Dr K.G. Arunraj, 46

To bypass the actor-turned-politician critique, a new party must demonstrate technocratic legitimacy. Dr K.G. Arunraj provided the institutional depth required to convince the electorate of the TVK’s governance capabilities. A doctor who later joined the Indian Revenue Service, he resigned from the Income Tax department in 2025 to join the TVK. He chaired the election manifesto committee and managed the crisis following the Karur stampede, utilising his professional demeanour to stabilise the narrative and handle victim outreach. He won from Tiruchengodu constituency with a margin of more than 28,000 votes.

The digital fighter

R. Nirmalkumar, 44

R. Nirmalkumar acted as the architect of the party’s digital dominance. A veteran of digital war rooms for both the BJP and the AIADMK, he built an aggressive, algorithm-driven social media ecosystem for the TVK. His contribution was the negation of the traditional district secretary model. By transforming unorganised fandom into a disciplined digital force, he created meme networks and WhatsApp chains that ensured narrative hegemony. The Thiruparankundram MLA established a statewide digital volunteer ecosystem that functioned as a decentralised propaganda machine.

a-new-dawn-for-congress-in-tamil-nadu-understanding-the-partys-strategic-post-poll-alliance

Sat May 16 15:08:51 IST 2026

Even before the elections, there were many voices within the party that wanted an electoral alliance with the TVK. A wide-ranging consultative process was undertaken by the AICC and it was decided to continue the alliance with the DMK—an alliance we had forged in 2004. Though there were a few contrary voices, everybody fell in line.

The electoral results are what they are. The DMK front was in no position to form the government. And the single largest party by a significant margin was the TVK. So, a post poll reconfiguration of alliances had to be done. The Congress, considering the need was a stable government, decided for a post-poll alliance with the TVK. This was a unanimous decision. In hindsight, those who had suggested an alliance with the TVK before the election were proven right. That sentiment also played a big part in hastening the coalition arrangement with the TVK.

This alliance will definitely boost the party. First, the party will now have representation in the ministry after nearly 60 years. The last time a Congress member was in the cabinet in Tamil Nadu was 1967. So that itself is a big, dramatic change for the Congress.

The enthusiastic support the TVK has got, particularly from the younger people, has also been a big allure for the Congress. And, the Congress adds great value to the TVK by giving it a national endorsement and a secular sheen. So, in my estimation, it is a win-win situation. But my personal regard and respect for former chief minister M.K. Stalin has not diminished. I can understand DMK’s anger because of the manner in which the Congress exited the front—that perhaps could have been managed slightly differently.

The reentry of the Congress in the Tamil Nadu cabinet is a momentous occasion. That, however, may not be enough to motivate young people to join the Congress. The Congress is not going to be their first choice; the TVK is a more logical choice. We need to reorganise, reenergise and repurpose ourselves, and also be a sounding board for the average man. Until we become relevant in public discourse, people won’t come to us. This alliance is a good opportunity. But merely joining the government does not make us the most-wanted political party to join; the hottest political party in town today is the TVK, clearly.

Given that the leader of opposition Rahul Gandhi has a good support among the youth, this energy will prove positive when it comes to a national election. But it won’t work for a state election. States are won and lost by state leaders. Nobody votes for a party because they are charmed by the national leadership. They vote for a party because they are charmed by the state leadership or they want that party to be the alternative to the status quo. So, while Rahul Gandhi’s appeal will definitely be a big boost in the parliamentary elections, for the state elections we need to build capacity and state leaders, raise issues of state concern and be an active and vibrant political party at the state level. Only then will we be able to get new blood in the party.

The Congress has forged a long-term relationship with the TVK, and I hope it goes well. I think we will have an opportunity to contest more seats in the 2029 Lok Sabha elections, and the alliance with the TVK, as things stand today, will be the winning alliance in the parliamentary elections.

—As told to Lakshmi Subramanian

The author is a member of Lok Sabha from Sivaganga and a Congress leader.

price-of-progress-how-ladakh-is-facing-cultural-environmental-challenges

Sat May 16 14:57:40 IST 2026

LEH

As you drive away from the heart of Leh—the bustling Leh Bazaar, the Old Town and the historic Jama Masjid—a stark change in scenery emerges. At the city’s edge, against a backdrop of tall, rugged brown mountains, the landscape turns into a different kind of brown: construction sites, cranes and half-built structures signalling a region in churn.

For some, it is a sign of development. For others, it raises questions about what may be lost in the rush to move forward. And in Ladakh, that question carries particular weight. It is culturally distinct, a centre of Mahayana Buddhism and home to diverse ethnic and tribal communities. It is also ecologically fragile as a cold desert and strategically located along India’s borders with China and Pakistan.

Yet that is the dilemma Ladakh currently faces: not only what may be lost to rapid development in terms of environment and cultural identity, but also who gets to decide the terms of that development. A region that has long endured harsh weather, scarce water and thin air while guarding India’s frontiers now finds itself at the centre of decisions that will shape its fragile ecology and future.

There was jubilation on August 5, 2019, especially in Buddhist-majority Leh, when Ladakh was separated from Jammu & Kashmir and made a Union territory. “It was the fulfilment of a long-standing aspiration,” said R.K. Mathur, former defence secretary and Ladakh’s first lieutenant governor, who held the post from 2019 to 2023. Mathur said conditions in Ladakh improved through its connection to the national power grid, wider telecom coverage, the ongoing construction of the Zoji La Tunnel and Shinku La Tunnel to improve all-weather access, the expansion of internal roads and better winter supplies. “The greenhouses for winter cultivation, the Dark Sky Sanctuary in Changthang and minimum price fixation for Pashmina wool purchases are some notable initiatives.”

While Ladakhis acknowledge the development work that has improved access and connectivity, one grievance has continued: the lack of decision-making powers for locals.

It is about a 15km drive from Leh market to the Himalayan Institute of Alternatives, Ladakh, founded by climate innovator and activist Sonam Wangchuk. The route cuts through imposing mountains, with the Indus flowing alongside. The campus buzzes with quiet activity. It has been two months since Wangchuk’s release after spending six months in a Jodhpur jail on charges filed under the National Security Act. Since 2023, he has led a series of protests and used social media to amplify Ladakh’s concerns to a wider audience. On September 24, 2024, tensions escalated into violent clashes between protesters and police, leaving four dead, several injured and more than 50 detained, including Wangchuk.

Wangchuk carries an easy, alert demeanour. He appears unfazed by the shift in political perception—from climate hero to disruptor—but does not hesitate to describe the new lieutenant governor, Vinai Kumar Saxena, as a “viceroy”. It is a term aimed not at the person, but at the office and how it is perceived.

His campus feels like an argument in itself. Built with generous use of wood and mud, low roofs and vernacular design elements, it feels warmer than the air outside despite having no artificial heating. More strikingly, the campus does not impose itself on the landscape. Instead, it appears part of the environment, unlike the mass construction visible elsewhere. The campus seems to make Wangchuk’s case on its own.

Meanwhile, the new lieutenant governor said local sensitivities were being taken into account in key decisions. “Such decisions are taken only after consulting locals,” he said earlier this month on the sidelines of the inauguration of the Sacred Relics of the Buddha exposition, referring to plans to bring outside hotel chains to Ladakh. A memorandum of understanding has been signed with the School of Planning and Architecture, Delhi, to curb unmanaged construction and promote local architectural styles.

Chering Dorjay Lakrook, president of the Ladakh Buddhist Association and co-chairman of the Leh Apex Body, a platform representing the collective interests of the people of Leh, said Ladakhis were not against development, but wanted a say in the decisions being made. Haji Hanifa Jan, Ladakh’s lone member of Parliament and part of the Kargil Democratic Alliance, the primary socio-political platform representing the interests of the people of Kargil, echoed this sentiment. “We want the policies for Ladakh to be made by Ladakhis. Right now, it is dominated by bureaucrats, and we have been placed under their ghulami (servitude),” said Jan.

Together, the Leh Apex Body and the Kargil Democratic Alliance are in talks with the Centre over demands including statehood and protection under the Sixth Schedule. The next round of talks is scheduled in New Delhi on May 22. Leaders say the movement is historic: never before have Leh and Kargil, Buddhists and Muslims, spoken in such a united voice.

At the heart of this unity are shared concerns over the loss of land, culture and identity in the absence of constitutional safeguards, as well as the concentration of decision-making powers with the Centre. While Mathur points to the major increase in budgets for the elected autonomous councils and their role in driving development activities, local leaders argue that their powers have been significantly diluted. “They have limited powers over land and jobs. Power is concentrated with the Centre and the secretaries appointed by it, who now decide for Ladakh,” said Mehdi Shah, a youth activist associated with the Leh Apex Body.

Leaders also pointed out that while the term of the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council-Leh ended last October, no elections have yet been announced. There is also growing concern over the influx of outsiders, particularly large corporate players.

What has further widened the trust deficit are repeated rounds of talks without any meaningful breakthrough, along with the violence that unfolded during protests last year. “Ladakhis have been deeply hurt by two things,” said Jan. “First, four of our youth were killed when there was no need to fire bullets. Second, we were painted as anti-nationals. Whenever the country has needed us, we were there. During the Kargil War, the person who informed the Army about the Pakistani incursion was from Kargil. I myself carried ammunition on my back.”

Notably, a Ladakhi delegation met Union Home Minister Amit Shah in Leh during his visit to inaugurate the Sacred Buddha relics exposition. It was his first visit since the violence last year. Wangchuk, however, said that during the visit Shah should have convened a high-power committee meeting. “What adds insult to injury is that there is only a sub-committee meeting on May 22. Ladakh has suffered enough from such bureaucratic meetings, which have yielded little,” Wangchuk said.

The Centre, meanwhile, has on several occasions considered protections similar to Article 371, which grants special governance safeguards to certain states. But many Ladakhis believe such measures would be meaningless without public representation through an elected assembly.

“The dialogue is ongoing,” said Mathur. “Substantial changes being sought are considered carefully in the best interests of the people of Ladakh and the country.”

trust-with-centre-has-declined-drastically-sonam-wangchuk

Sat May 16 14:54:21 IST 2026

Interview/ Sonam Wangchuk, Ladakhi activist

Q/ You went from being seen as an environment hero to a disruptor, including facing detention under the National Security Act.

It was never my goal to be a hero or a villain. I have always done what was needed which, in this case, was raising the issues of Ladakh. I saw our leaders were struggling, getting an unfair deal compared to what had been proposed. I felt I had a certain reach, so I became a medium to share with the rest of the nation that here was a case of injustice. When my voice became effective, they slapped the NSA. But even before that, they tried ‘saam, daam, dand, bhed’. First they called me and offered me positions. I declined. Then came the threats. Then came the agencies—ED, CBI, whatever was possible. They could not find anything. When nothing worked, they used the NSA.

Q/ What do you think about the violence that broke out during the protests on September 24 last year?

I don’t know. The best way to describe it is that it erupted out of frustration among the youth. It was not something anybody had planned. During the five-week fast, some people began falling critically ill, while the government was insensitive enough to say that talks would happen only weeks later. That may have triggered them. Some say the youth were already angry and that the tear gas attack provoked them. Others say it was planned, as security forces had already been brought in. We don’t know. It could have been orchestrated or spontaneous. Either way, it was not to our liking and was never part of our plan.

Q/ Since then, has trust with the Centre declined?

Yes, the trust has declined drastically. Meanwhile, it has led to greater unity—between Buddhists and Muslims, Leh and Kargil—on a scale never seen before.

Q/ Was it a better arrangement when Ladakh was part of the Jammu & Kashmir state, with constitutional safeguards?

In 2019, people were jubilant. They thought they were rescued from Kashmir. They did not realise they had fallen from the frying pan into the fire. Having said that, comparing the pre- and post-2019 periods is difficult because we are only seven years into the new arrangement. Under Jammu & Kashmir, we were unhappy. From being a kingdom, Ladakh had become an insignificant, remote region. We wanted freedom from that arrangement. In fact, there was no reason for Ladakh to be clubbed with J&K apart from the conquest by the maharaja of Jammu in the 1830s.

At the same time, we never wanted to separate from India, even though we believed we had every right to, as a historical kingdom, like Bhutan. But now, Ladakh is being termed anti-national. Yet it was Maharaja Hari Singh who, at the time of partition, did not want to join India immediately. Today, Jammu is viewed as hyper-nationalist, while Ladakhis are branded anti-nationals.

Q/ What does the Centre get wrong about Ladakh?

It does not misunderstand Ladakh. Rather, it knows Ladakh’s patriotism and strategic importance. I think it is being pressured by corporate and industrial interests into not keeping their promises. The BJP pledged, both ahead of the 2019 Lok Sabha polls and the 2020 Hill Development Council elections, to include Ladakh in the Sixth Schedule. So what changed? Likely pressure from mining, industrial and corporate lobbies.

Q/ Are corporate and industrial interests already making inroads into Ladakh?

Corporate power companies are already taking major tracts of prime pasture land. Mining will come later. Tourism is another gold mine. The question is whether it benefits local people, who have only four to six months of earning opportunity each year, or large chains that can profit elsewhere, too. Let Ladakh develop as a family-run eco-tourism model. If the floodgates open, Ladakh will be lost.

Q/ How does addressing Ladakh’s concerns benefit India strategically and ecologically?

Ecological consequences may take time to show, but strategic consequences can come very quickly. I worry about a situation where people feel so hurt and neglected that, if something happens at the border, they feel, ‘since nobody cares about us, we will also behave like people elsewhere’.

Here, people actually go to the borders as non-uniformed soldiers. If you don’t see them as an asset, you may lose them. Having said that, I have confidence in the strength of the people that despite everything, they will not be affected. But imagine if they are affected and there is aggression on the border. The Army alone cannot defend these frontiers. You can double the number of soldiers, but if local sentiment and strength are halved, the net result will not be stronger.

Q/ What pragmatic outcome can we hope for in the May 22 talks?

Sixth Schedule status and statehood, or the restoration of democratic representation, remain the main demands. We are looking for a mutually acceptable solution, and not being bulldozed.

Q/ What if the talks fail?

It will be decided by the Leh Apex Body and the Kargil Democratic Alliance.

evolution-of-indias-defence-decoding-the-lasting-impact-of-operation-sindoor

Sat May 02 11:55:50 IST 2026

War is the realm of uncertainty,” wrote the renowned Prussian general Carl von Clausewitz. “Three quarters of the factors on which action in war is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty.” He could well have been writing about Operation Sindoor. A year after India struck nine terror targets in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, that fog has only been compounded by the predominance of artificial intelligence, the impact of social media and elements of misinformation, disinformation and wrong information.

India’s assertion that “Sindoor is still continuing” reflect this unresolved state, mirrored by Pakistan’s framing of its response under “Bunyanun Marsoos”. Neither side appears to treat the episode as concluded; instead, it has evolved into a reference point for future conflict. For the wider world, the 88-hour confrontation served as a reminder that South Asia remains a nuclear flashpoint.

Operation Sindoor saw the first-ever use of cruise and long-range missiles between the two neighbours, alongside a full-scale drone war. Pakistan deployed drones ranging from basic models to the sophisticated Turkish YIHA kamikaze and the Asisguard Songar combat drones. India responded effectively with Israeli-made Harpy and Harop drones operated by the Army, while the Navy’s MARCOS commandos operated Palm 120 and AI-enabled Palm 400 kamikaze drones—proof of theaterisation in action.

The operation began on the night of May 6–7, 2025.

For Colonel Koshank Lamba, commanding officer of the 302 Medium Regiment, the moment was unlike any he had faced before. Deployed near the Line of Control after days of rapid mobilisation, he was tasked with executing a strike where timing and accuracy were critical. Before the clock struck 0100 hours, Lamba must have paused for a moment of reflection. His orders were unambiguous: strike the adversary where it mattered most, and strike hard. At the appointed moment, Lamba fired the first M982Excalibur precision-guided shell from the American-made M777 ultra-light howitzer. The first shell struck Muzaffarabad at 1:12am. The Army’s targets included two locations in Muzaffarabad, two in Kotli and three in Sialkot.

Meanwhile, in the skies above, Squadron Leader Rizwan Malik, flying a twin-seater Sukhoi Su-30MKI as deputy mission leader, led formations along terrain-hugging, low-altitude routes to designated launch positions. From there, they released their payloads. The arsenal was formidable: the French SCALP/Storm Shadow, Israeli Crystal Maze and Rampage—both high-precision, deep-strike missiles, and the supersonic BrahMos cruise missile. The Air Force had two principal targets: one in Muridke and the other in Bahawalpur, both long identified as hubs of terrorist activity.

The seven Army targets and the two IAF targets had been selected from a larger pool of 21 sites studied in detail by the Indian security establishment. Of the nine chosen, five were linked to the Jaish-e-Mohammed, three to the Lashkar-e-Taiba and one to the Hizbul Mujahideen.

The strikes marking the opening phase of Operation Sindoor were executed in 28 minutes. At 1:44am, the Press Information Bureau issued a statement: “A little while ago, the Indian Armed Forces launched ‘Operation Sindoor’, hitting terrorist infrastructure in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Jammu and Kashmir from where terrorist attacks against India have been planned and directed.”

Yet, reports soon emerged that the IAF had lost a number of aircraft. Pakistan claimed that it had downed Indian fighters using Chinese-made PL-15 beyond-visual-range missiles fired from long distances. To be fair to the IAF, Pakistan had been forewarned and was fully prepared. The element of surprise, so often decisive in warfare, was largely absent.

While specific numbers were not officially disclosed, senior military leaders acknowledged that losses had occurred during the opening phase. As Air Marshal A.K. Bharti later noted, losses are an inherent part of combat operations. Chief of Defence Staff General Anil Chauhan also indicated that the initial stages had been challenging.

Several factors contributed to these early difficulties. India had deliberately restricted its targets to non-military infrastructure, leaving Pakistani military assets untouched. This provided Pakistan with greater operational freedom to respond. In addition, the element of surprise appears to have been limited, reducing the effectiveness of the initial strike package.

What followed, however, marked a striking turnaround. When Pakistan retaliated with drone swarms and conventionally armed short-range ballistic missiles such as the Fatah-I and Fatah-II, the conflict expanded into a broader military engagement. Within 48 hours, Rafales, Sukhoi-30 MKIs and Mirage 2000s, supported by British-origin Banshee decoy drones, hit 12 military sites, exposing significant vulnerabilities in Pakistan’s air defence systems. As Chauhan later noted: “We rectified tactics and then went back on the 7th, 8th and 10th in large numbers to hit air bases deep inside Pakistan, penetrated all their air defences with impunity, carried out precision strikes.”

At 0200 hours on May 10, a BrahMos missile launched from a Sukhoi fighter struck the Nur Khan airbase at Chaklala, near Islamabad. A C-130 military transport aircraft, hangars, the air traffic control system and command and control facilities were destroyed. Within minutes, Indian missiles and Harop and Harpy drones inflicted heavy damage on airbases and military installations in Sargodha, Murid, Sukkur, Chunian, Pasrur, Jacobabad, Bholari, Rahim Yar Khan, Arifwala and Nayachor.

At sea, the indigenous aircraft carrier INS Vikrant operated in the Arabian Sea near Pakistani waters, its MiG-29 fighters on high alert, ready to respond to any escalation along Pakistan’s southern and coastal regions. The Navy adopted a forward posture, deploying around 36 warships, including submarines such as the nuclear-powered INS Arihant and Scorpene-class boats. Destroyers, including the BrahMos-armed INS Kolkata, positioned themselves within striking range of Karachi. The deployment had three objectives: to impose a naval blockade and confine Pakistani naval assets to harbour, to provide robust air defence against potential threats from the Makran coast and to maintain continuous surveillance.

One of the most notable features of Operation Sindoor was the degree of coordination between the three services. The Army, the Navy and the Air Force operated in close synchrony, suggesting progress towards integrated theatre-level operations. This jointness, long emphasised in military reforms, appeared to find practical expression during the conflict.

There was also a broader structural reality underpinning the confrontation. Both India and Pakistan relied heavily on imported military platforms and systems. India’s inventory included equipment sourced from multiple countries, while Pakistan’s arsenal reflected a mix of Chinese, western and other technologies. The conflict thus underscored the globalised nature of contemporary warfare, where supply chains and partnerships shape capabilities as much as domestic production.

For Pakistan, the conflict has triggered significant changes at the operational, tactical and doctrinal levels. Islamabad has used its new-found opening with the United States during Sindoor to position itself as a mediator in the ongoing US–Iran tensions. This “peace broker” role also serves a practical economic purpose, helping justify continued external financing for a fragile economy. Deepening its engagement with the Middle East, Pakistan has signed a Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement (SDMA) with Saudi Arabia, under which an attack on either country is treated as an attack on both.

A few months after Sindoor, Pakistan passed the 27th Constitutional Amendment, creating the post of Chief of Defence Forces (CDF) and formally entrenching the army’s primacy. The CDF will also head the Strategic Plans Division, effectively placing the nuclear arsenal under direct army control. Islamabad has also established an Army Rocket Force Command (ARFC), modelled on China’s PLA Rocket Force. This move reflects lessons from Sindoor, where Pakistan struggled to deploy long-range missile capabilities effectively. The “dual-use” nature of these missiles—capable of carrying both conventional and nuclear warheads—meant that any deployment risked triggering global alarm over possible escalation. The ARFC signals a doctrinal shift towards conventional missile use below the nuclear threshold, expanding space for conventional conflict while lowering nuclear risks.

The ARFC is expected to bring under its command short- to medium-range conventional missile systems, including those based on the Guided Multiple Launch Rocket System. This would likely include the Fatah-1 (with a range of around 140km) and the Fatah-2. There are indications that the ARFC may be structured around the existing artillery divisions of the Pakistan Army. At present, there are two such divisions: the Gujranwala-headquartered 2 Artillery Division and the 21 Artillery Division based in Pano Aqil, near Hyderabad.

Pakistan has also raised a dedicated drone force under army control to coordinate unmanned operations. In January, it conducted a high-intensity exercise in Khairpur Tamewali involving drones, electronic warfare systems and advanced surveillance assets. Sindoor may also have influenced Washington’s decision to approve a $686 million package to upgrade Pakistan’s F-16 fleet, extending service life to 2040, alongside the induction of Chinese-origin Z-10ME attack helicopters.

In another strategic outreach, Pakistan has deployed its 25th Mechanised Division—also known as the Karachi-based ‘Charging Bull Division’, comprising roughly 10,000 troops—along the Saudi Arabia–Yemen border, in line with the provisions of the SMDA signed with Saudi Arabia. This move follows the reported deployment of around 18 Pakistani fighter aircraft, jointly developed with China, in Saudi Arabia.

There are also reports that, since September 2025, the Pakistan army has been involved in relocating terror infrastructure to more secure locations in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. This comes amid indications of efforts to facilitate closer coordination between Lashkar-e-Taiba and the Islamic State Khorasan Province. Such developments could signal an intent to redeploy these assets against Baloch insurgents and the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan.

For India, Operation Sindoor underscored the urgency of ‘atmanirbharta’ in defence production and exposed capability gaps, particularly in a two-front war scenario. New Delhi closed 2025–26 with capital procurement clearances exceeding Rs3.84 lakh crore and contracts worth Rs1.82 lakh crore. Planned acquisitions include 114 Rafale fighters, additional P-8I aircraft, Rafale Marine jets and advanced surveillance systems.

The Army has raised specialised units such as Bhairav and Shaktibaan battalions, signalling a shift towards agile, mission-oriented structures. Precision-strike capabilities have expanded through loitering munitions, kamikaze drones and laser-guided systems. Enhanced surveillance through tethered drones and a strengthened air defence grid reflect a broader move towards speed, precision and survivability.

The long-term significance of Operation Sindoor lies in the transformation it has set in motion. With the nature of conflict continuing to evolve, officials say India’s focus will remain on building capabilities that enhance speed, precision and survivability—factors increasingly seen as decisive in modern warfare.

comeback-of-kashmirs-tourism-how-security-and-scenery-are-drawing-tourists-back

Sat May 02 11:49:16 IST 2026

PAHALGAM & SRINAGAR

Kashmir’s April sky is a deep sapphire. The sun feels closer, and the cool mountain air stirs green leaves as far as the eye can see.

Someshwar Rao, 55, who has travelled from Andhra Pradesh, walks through the streets of Pahalgam with his family. “We wanted to come to Kashmir once,” he says. Yet, his guide Sameer notices how often Rao pauses to ask if the place was truly safe.

The Valley is in a phase it recognises all too well. Economic activity has slowed. Dal Lake now appears desolate, with its 500-odd houseboats reporting barely 20 per cent occupancy. Mughal Gardens and other heritage sites are no longer crowded. Photographers, artisans, taxi drivers, street vendors and shawl sellers are all feeling the downturn.

Some trekking routes remain shut. Guides say the closure of high-altitude areas after the Pahalgam attack on April 22, 2025, has further dampened activity. “In places like Baisaran Valley, we used to spot rare birds. Now we can only show common species,” says Ishaq Lone, a bird-watching guide. “Our work had dropped to zero. Now it is around 30 per cent and slowly improving.”

The slowdown has also led to tighter security measures. Tourism-linked workers are being verified, and plans are underway to introduce uniforms for pony operators and others in high-altitude areas. A senior police officer says surveillance has expanded significantly. “Taxi stands, stations, crossings and pony stands are now linked to CCTV systems. Facial recognition cameras have been installed at key points, creating a database to identify suspects.”

This spring, encouraged by tighter security and driven by tulip and almond blooms, the Valley has recorded roughly a third of its usual tourist flow. The summer season, when much of India reels under intense heat, is expected to bring more cheer.

“Kashmir has seen far worse,” says Farooq Ahmad Kuthoo, president of the Travel Agents Association of Kashmir. “In the mid-1990s, at the peak of insurgency, tourism had completely stopped. Compared to that, we are still in a better position, and there is confidence that numbers will rise again.”

Such a pattern has repeated itself over the years. After the unrest of 2016 following the killing of Hizbul Mujahideen commander Burhan Wani, tourist numbers had collapsed. “Within six months, tourists returned in even larger numbers,” says Saqib Gadoo, who has been in the travel business since 2011. “Each decline has eventually been followed by growth.”

The post-pandemic years marked a turning point. Tourism expanded not just in scale but in rhythm. The idea of a fixed “season” began to blur, with visitors arriving year-round, often in their own vehicles. March and April started seeing early surges. By 2024, tourist numbers had crossed 35 lakh, up from under ten lakh before the pandemic, excluding Amarnath yatris. The boom triggered a wave of investment. Homes were converted into guesthouses, and new resorts sprang up across the Valley.

Officially, tourism contributes around 8 per cent to Jammu and Kashmir’s economy, though its real impact is far greater. More than five lakh people depend on it directly or indirectly. Tourism in Kashmir stretches back nearly 200 years, shaped by travellers, chroniclers and rulers who carried stories of its beauty far beyond the region. “Partition did disrupt travel for a time due to changes in routes and connectivity,” says historian Altaf Hussain Parra. “But Kashmir quickly regained its place as one of the most attractive destinations in the East.”

Today, perception remains the biggest hurdle. A few months ago, travel agents say, over 80 per cent of enquiries were about safety. That figure has now dropped to below 30 per cent. “And once we reassure them, they usually go ahead and book,” says Firdous, a local travel agent.

Emaad Umar, who opened a resort in Pahalgam a few weeks ago, says the picture is uneven rather than bleak. Gulmarg is operating at around 80 per cent occupancy, Sonamarg is close to normal, Srinagar is above 50 per cent and Pahalgam is over 40 per cent, officials say. “In Gulmarg, the Gondola business matches last year’s levels. Around 5,000 people take the first phase daily, generating about Rs60 lakh in revenue,” says Syed Qamar Sajad, director of tourism, Kashmir.

For many visitors, what stands out is not just the landscape but the people. “The scenery is stunning, but what makes Kashmir different is the hospitality,” says Simran Singh, who has travelled to several hill stations. “What stays with you is how you were treated.” That, some experts argue, is central to Kashmir’s enduring appeal. Yaqeen-ul-Haq Ahmad Sikandar, a psychologist of Kashmiri origin based in Turkey, believes the Valley’s pull lies as much in its people as in its scenery. “When locals carry on with composure, it reassures visitors,” he says. “Even those who arrive with hesitation begin to feel at ease through personal interactions.”

Tourism in Kashmir operates differently from destinations that market certainty and security. “It does not promise absolute certainty,” says Sikandar. “Yet people still choose to come.”

judiciary-defections-punjab-is-arvind-kejriwals-aap-facing-an-existential-crisis

Sat May 02 11:43:42 IST 2026

On April 27, AAP leader Arvind Kejriwal wrote to Justice Swarna Kanta Sharma of the Delhi High Court, questioning the impartiality of the court and saying he and his lawyers would no longer appear before her bench in the liquor policy case. His confidant and former Delhi deputy chief minister Manish Sisodia followed suit. Both invoked Mahatma Gandhi and the idea of satyagraha—recurring themes in their political responses whenever confronted with crisis.

In his carefully worded letter, Kejriwal praised the judiciary as a key pillar of the republic, and also cited precedents of judges who had recused themselves when their children practised in the same court. He argued that the empanelment of Justice Sharma’s children as counsel for the Union government—an opposing party in the case—created a reasonable apprehension of bias that had not been addressed. Sharma had already rejected the recusal plea, observing that the allegations relied on insinuation rather than proof.

Such confrontations between political leaders and the judiciary are unusual. Kejriwal’s stance is defiant, and at times theatrical. But it also reflects the mounting pressure on him: he is fighting a criminal case, watching key party colleagues defect, and trying to hold together a party that seems to be unravelling—especially after a significant electoral setback in Delhi and ahead of a crucial contest in Punjab.

The day Kejriwal sent that letter, Rajya Sabha Chairman C.P. Radhakrishnan allowed the merger of seven of his party MPs into the BJP. The defectors were Raghav Chadha, Sandeep Pathak, Ashok Mittal, Harbhajan Singh, Swati Maliwal, Vikramjit Singh Sahney and Rajinder Gupta. The AAP’s strength in the house fell from ten to three, while the BJP’s rose to 113. In Punjab, six of seven Rajya Sabha seats are now held by the very party the Bhagwant Mann government will face in the next assembly polls.

The courtroom confrontation and defections together capture the current state of AAP—one of the youngest and most successful political formations in recent decades. Founded out of an anti-corruption movement, it positioned itself as a moral alternative to traditional parties. Today, it faces accusations—even from former insiders—of becoming structurally weak, personality-driven and transactional.

The exodus of its parliamentary party members was triggered by Chadha’s removal as deputy leader of the AAP in the Rajya Sabha, widely seen as a demotion. The party leadership felt he had grown so close to the ruling dispensation that he was stopping short of directly attacking the government. Chadha denied the charge, saying his focus was on raising people’s issues rather than creating disruption. He invoked a popular line from Durandhar: “Ghayal hoon, isliye ghatak hoon.” (“I am injured, therefore I am lethal”).

Within weeks, Chadha secured the backing of six MPs—enough to cross the threshold required under the anti-defection law embedded in the tenth schedule of the Constitution. While individual defections invite disqualification, an exception exists if two-thirds of a legislature party agree to merge with another party. Critics argue, however, that the first condition—a formal merger of political parties—has not been met. This is likely to become the central legal dispute when the AAP challenges Radhakrishnan’s decision in court.

Behind the numbers lies a deeper organisational breakdown. Insiders describe a party in which communication had broken down and senior leaders felt excluded. Pathak, in particular, was reportedly marginalised after the Delhi election loss. Kejriwal reportedly anticipated the split. He held individual meetings with some of the wavering MPs and, according to sources, urged them to resign rather than defect.

External pressures also played a role. Enforcement Directorate raids on Ashok Mittal, the chairman of Lovely Professional University, reportedly added to the unease within the party. Maliwal had already become a public critic of Kejriwal, and the Rajya Sabha nominations of Mittal, Singh, Gupta and Sahney had triggered resentment within the party. Many workers argued that the AAP had squandered the opportunity to send long-serving members, nominating instead businessmen with resources but limited political connect. Few within the AAP mourn the defection of these outsiders; the real wounds are the departure of Chadha and Pathak.

Chadha, who was central to the party’s national communication strategy, described his departure as an exit from a “toxic” environment. His absence from Delhi when Kejriwal was arrested in the liquor policy case was widely noticed within the party and reportedly accelerated his marginalisation.

Pathak’s departure has created a deeper anxiety within the AAP. Unlike Chadha, Pathak was never a television regular or a mass politician. He belonged to the technocratic class that gave the AAP its aura of competence. Having risen from a humble background to study at Cambridge, Oxford and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he symbolised the idealism that drew many middle-class Indians into the anti-corruption movement. As general secretary (organisation), he held one of the most powerful positions in the party and, along with Chadha, was regarded as a party strategist.

Leaders in Punjab say Pathak understood the state’s political machinery better than many local politicians. Both Chadha and Pathak were instrumental in selecting candidates who later became MLAs. The party is keeping a close watch on them amid fears that defections may continue.

The erosion in the AAP has been gradual. Early figures like Yogendra Yadav and Prashant Bhushan accused the leadership of abandoning internal democracy, while Kumar Vishwas distanced himself after falling out with Kejriwal. Former party leader Ashutosh argues that the current rupture is the inevitable outcome of how the party evolved internally. According to him, the party shifted from a movement-driven organisation to a transactional structure. “Whoever is useful becomes important. Whoever is no longer useful is pushed aside,” he said.

The AAP’s larger challenge is ensuring political survival in Punjab. The party’s Delhi unit chief Saurabh Bhardwaj said it had earlier survived the exit of prominent leaders. “This (the defections) will not affect the party, but the people of Punjab feel betrayed.”

Since the reorganisation of Punjab in 1966, only once has a ruling party retained power for consecutive terms. The AAP hopes to break that pattern by replicating its Delhi model of governance, particularly in health care and education.

But structural challenges persist. The anti-sacrilege law in Punjab, focused on preventing desecration of the Guru Granth Sahib, has raised legal concerns for its narrow scope and potentially intrusive provisions. The law, in principle, responds to genuine Sikh grievances. Chandigarh-based analyst Pramod Kumar noted that even though there were incidents of other holy books being damaged, the legislation addressed only one. “The law’s provisions are extremely strong and may even interfere in personal relationships people may have with holy books,” he said.

Then there is Amritpal Singh, the self-styled preacher and Lok Sabha member who is currently imprisoned. The Punjab government does not want him released, fearing that his return would cause law and order issues. But his political presence remains polarising and could reshape electoral dynamics.

As the AAP in Punjab labels the defectors “traitors”, Kumar argues that the exodus of party MPs weakens the party’s internal stability and legitimacy in the eyes of voters. Meanwhile, the BJP is expanding its footprint in the state, leveraging the influence of defectors and positioning itself as a dominant force. The party has announced its intention to contest the Punjab assembly polls in 2027 independently. Observers believe Chadha could eventually be accommodated in the Union government, a move that would provide him with greater political visibility in the state. Even if a tactical understanding with its former ally Shiromani Alkali Dal materialises in the run-up to the polls, the era in which the BJP functioned as the junior partner in Punjab politics appears to be over.

For the AAP’s original supporters, many of whom were drawn by the promise of fundamental reforms in politics, the pressing question is whether the party still represents the alternative it once claimed to be. Ashutosh offered a cautious assessment. “Never underestimate Kejriwal, and never write the obituary of any politician too early,” he said.

He pointed out that the AAP still had a government in Punjab, held around 10 per cent of votes in Gujarat, and remained active in Delhi and Goa. But he also added a warning: “Everything now depends on the 2027 Punjab polls. If the AAP loses the state, the party would face a real existential crisis.”

delimitation-dominates-debate-how-womens-reservation-became-a-campaign-point

Sat Apr 25 12:50:20 IST 2026

In September 2023, when the government called a special session in the new Parliament building, speculation ran wild. Was India being renamed Bharat? Was a Uniform Civil Code coming? Simultaneous elections? It was a month after the monsoon session had ended, and the government was giving nothing away.

When the veil finally lifted, it was women’s reservation. The Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam—mandating 33 per cent reservation for women in Parliament and assemblies—was passed with overwhelming support.

However, there was a catch. The implementation was tied to a fresh census and a delimitation exercise that would follow.

Three years later, it was déjà vu. The government called a three-day special session less than two weeks after the budget session, and presented three new bills. This time, there was no secrecy—it was the same cause. However, the plan was to use 2011 census data instead of waiting for the completion of the ongoing census, and to expand the Lok Sabha from 543 to 850 seats after delimitation. Under the proposed formula, the government had offered to increase the number of seats in all states and Union territories by 50 per cent, bypassing the existing population-based formula. This would keep the overall share of each state the same, thus preserving their political heft.

However, when the constitutional amendment bill was put to vote in the Lok Sabha, it failed to get the two-thirds majority needed to pass. The government fell 54 votes short. This was its first defeat in its twelve years in power.

The following day, Prime Minister Narendra Modi was on television, “apologising” to the women of India while accusing the opposition of betrayal.

The opposition, including the Congress, the Trinamool Congress and the DMK, hit back, extending their “assault on federalism” argument and bringing up delimitation in their speeches in Tamil Nadu and West Bengal. Both sides had secured campaign points.

But, between the two sessions, what had been achieved?

Unlike in 2023, when there was overwhelming support for reservation, the narrative this time veered towards delimitation. The Congress leadership asked the government to delink delimitation from women’s reservation and implement it within the current 543 seats. But, going by the government’s assertions, it seems intent on proceeding with delimitation—it argues that, as the exercise has been frozen for 50 years, constituency sizes had increased, which makes rationalisation necessary. Both arguments hold, but serve their own political purpose.

“Since 2023, people were looking forward to it. Women’s reservation had already been passed, but there were bottlenecks that had to be removed,” said BJP spokesperson Gopal Krishna Agarwal. “Second, the overall number of seats should not be reduced to account for seats for women. Hence, the government decided to increase the overall total. Third, the PM wanted to advance it to 2029. That was the only intention. We had thought the opposition would support the women’s reservation bill, but they didn’t.”

The BJP argues that women have been waiting for reservation, particularly in the southern and eastern states, where they decide polling patterns. “The issue will have resonance in the West Bengal polls, but women also know what the Modi government has done for them over so many years, starting from Jan Dhan accounts, Ujjwala Yojana, Beti Bachao and Beti Padhao,” he added. “This will work alongside the main issues of illegal migrants and law and order. In Tamil Nadu, women make independent decisions. They also want reservation.”

The opposition was not convinced. The Congress launched a parallel nationwide campaign centred on its women workers and held news conferences blaming the BJP. “The Congress had requested an all-party meeting to discuss the delimitation proposal, but the government did not share any details before the session. We were not aware of their intentions,” said Alka Lamba, the Congress women’s cell president. “Even Sonia Gandhi maintained that the focus of discussion should have been on delimitation and the implementation of women’s reservation, as the legislation had already been passed.”

The timing of these bills—just ahead of polling in Tamil Nadu and West Bengal—was crucial. Assam and Kerala had already voted, but the BJP is confident of retaining the former and is a bit player in the latter. In Tamil Nadu, though, the delimitation issue is a powder keg; Chief Minister M.K. Stalin burned a copy of the bill. As for Bengal, the BJP could have—had the bill passed—claimed to have moved the needle for women voters who have powered Mamata Banerjee to three consecutive victories. As the margins are narrow in the eastern state, every vote counts.

So, whether the bill passed or not, the BJP had an effective campaign tool, said sources.

But beyond the ongoing elections, the real issue is that delimitation does not have an easy resolution. The opposition fears that delimitation based on 2011 data would lead to constituency boundaries being redrawn in a manner that doesn’t reflect the India of 2026—especially with the complex equations a caste census would throw up. Rahul Gandhi had already alleged that the BJP government had altered boundaries in Assam and Jammu and Kashmir to its advantage.

But as the BJP sees it, the formula for delimitation ticks all the right boxes. By creating 307 new seats (from 543 to 850), the government could reserve about 280 for women (one-third) without any sitting male member losing his constituency. This could prevent any revolt or the chance of male parliamentarians fielding their female relatives to retain influence.

More important, the BJP feels that its proposal—50 per cent increase in the number of seats for each state—would end any debate on the southern states being politically weakened. “The narrative created by the opposition about a north-south divide, claiming delimitation would reduce their share, has been addressed by the proportionate increase of 50 per cent across all states. So that argument will no longer hold,” said Agarwal. “The other argument about a caste census, raised by [Samajwadi Party president] Akhilesh Yadav, has no relation to women’s reservation.”

The Congress says that it would continue to campaign for early implementation of the women’s quota, but also insists on opposing the use of 2011 census data. “Delimitation should be carried out only after a fresh census, including a caste census, is conducted in 2027,” said Lamba.

THE WAY FORWARD

The defeat of the bills is open to varied interpretation, depending on which side of the ideological divide one stands. “It’s not a setback,” said Agarwal. “It’s just that the timeline is not being advanced. Otherwise, the constitutional amendment has already been done.”

The issue will return during the monsoon session, and the government will be under pressure to clarify its stance so that the timeline is clear.

As things stand, if no new formula emerges to include reservation for the 2029 elections, the existing timeline stays. The census is an ongoing exercise, and after the delimitation that follows, women’s reservation would only be implemented in 2034, at the earliest.

Will the country, especially the women who have campaigned for it since 1996, wait another eight years?

Women’s reservation was a rare cause that brought together women MPs across party lines. “Women make up nearly half the population, yet their presence in Parliament remains low,” said women’s activist Ranjana Kumari. “How long can this delay be justified? There will be petitions, public meetings and direct conversations with lawmakers. We will make sure this does not disappear from public debate.”

While the current discourse is focused on women’s reservation and delimitation, this parliamentary session has given a sense of what could happen when the government pushes for another polarising issue requiring constitutional amendment: simultaneous polls. The opposition has tasted blood.

nari-shakti-vandan-adhiniyam-a-long-awaited-victory-or-a-deferred-promise

Sat Apr 25 12:45:27 IST 2026

When the Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam was passed in 2023, I was asked repeatedly how I felt. It is a question I found difficult to answer. There are some political events that look, from a distance, like resolution—but on closer examination, reveal themselves to be another form of deferral dressed in the language of triumph. The passage of this bill belongs to that category.

The legislation came with its implementation tied to the completion of a delimitation exercise that cannot begin until after a census, whose scheduling remained unannounced. The women of India received, in effect, a constitutional amendment and a bureaucratic hedge with it.

THE COMPROMISED PROMISE

To understand why this bill took so long—and why its passage, even in this form, carries genuine weight—one has to begin not in 1996, when it first entered Parliament, but in 1975, when international conversation made it intellectually inevitable.

The first UN World Conference on Women, in Mexico City, was more significant for what it set in motion than for what it immediately produced. The Declaration of Mexico was careful, its language recommendatory rather than binding. But it established something important: that women’s exclusion from political life was a structural problem, not an incidental one, and that addressing it required deliberate intervention. The momentum built through Nairobi in 1985, where the Forward-Looking Strategies document spoke with greater specificity—a 30 per cent threshold, a year 2000 horizon—and culminated in Beijing in 1995, where the Platform for Action made the most direct argument: formal equality before the law was insufficient where structural exclusion remained intact. Affirmative measures were not a concession to weakness. They were a recognition of how power actually works.

Indian delegates returned from each conference with the energising solidarity of having spoken with counterparts from countries where the numbers had already changed. What they encountered at home was a legislature that had heard the arguments and found them, on balance, less compelling than the alternative.

The numbers, then as now, make the case obvious. In the first Lok Sabha of 1952, women comprised 4.4 per cent of the membership. In 2019, after 70 years of parliamentary democracy and an unbroken tradition of women in the highest offices of the executive, the figure was 14.3 per cent.

WHAT THE PANCHAYATI RAJ EXPERIMENT PROVED

Before the bill reached Parliament in its national form, something important had already happened in the country’s lower tiers of governance. Rajiv Gandhi’s government introduced the 64th and 65th constitutional amendment bills in 1989, seeking to reserve one-third of the seats for women in panchayats and urban local bodies. They were defeated in the Rajya Sabha, but the intention was recorded. And it carried weight.

The P.V. Narasimha Rao government completed this work through the 73rd and 74th amendments in 1992 and 1993, and the credit for that political will belongs to Rao.

But the vision—the conviction that democratic legitimacy required the presence of those who had been systematically excluded from it—was something Rajiv Gandhi articulated clearly and early, at a moment when such articulation was neither electorally obvious nor politically safe.

I served in Rajiv Gandhi’s cabinet, and I knew the weight he gave to the question of women in public life. The National Perspective Plan for Women, which we developed in 1988, was a document that placed political participation at the centre of many recommendations for women’s advancement. Our argument was that every other gain for women remained precarious without representation at the high table where decisions are made. Gains in health policy, in property rights, in education—all of these were subject to reversal by legislatures in which women’s voices were structurally marginal.

What happened after the 73rd amendment gave us evidence, rather than just argument. More than 15 lakh women were elected to panchayats and municipalities in the years that followed. Studies across multiple states documented shifts in public expenditure—towards water, sanitation, primary education and health care, the concerns that women who had lived with their absence understood as urgent. The transformation was uneven. Women faced, in many places, husbands who governed in their names and officials who treated them as temporary inconveniences. These problems were real and are worth documenting honestly. But the aggregate picture was unmistakable: where women governed, governance changed.

THREE DECADES OF PARLIAMENTARY FAILURE

The 81st constitutional amendment bill, which would have extended 33 per cent reservation to women in the Lok Sabha and state assemblies, was introduced in 1996. What followed is legislative history that alternates between farcical and dispiriting.

The bill was torn up on the floor, blocked through procedural manoeuvre, stalled and even allowed to lapse. It would be too simple to say it was motivated purely by the straightforward reluctance of men to reduce the number of seats available to them. That was certainly a part of it. But the arguments raised against the bill deserve more than dismissal, because some of them pointed to genuine tensions.

The demand for sub-quotas for women from other backward classes had substance. Women do not constitute a homogeneous constituency, and a reservation scheme that reproduces existing hierarchies of caste in its implementation would make it a limited instrument. The concern about proxy candidates was born out of some evidence from the panchayat experience, though it also showed that many women elected initially as proxies became, over time, independent actors. These were real considerations and those who raised them deserved to be engaged rather than ignored.

What cannot be defended is the manner in which these concerns were used. The objections that had substance were deployed alongside objections that had none, in combinations that were designed to obstruct rather than improve. For instance, men who had never shown particular concern for the representation of OBC women invoked that concern precisely when it served to kill the bill.

THE WOMEN WHO KEPT IT ALIVE

What I find most instructive about the history of this bill is the alliances that formed around it, which cut across the standard lines of Indian political identity.

Pramila Dandavate, who came from the socialist tradition, brought to the cause a quality that is rarer than it sounds. She was not interested in the theatre of advocacy. She was interested in the substance of inclusion, and she worked towards it with patience and consistency. She understood exclusion as a structural condition, and she addressed it as such.

Geeta Mukherjee chaired the joint parliamentary committee on the women’s reservation bill in 1996 and 1997. The report that committee produced took seriously both the case for reservation and the complications in implementing it. She came from the Communist Party of India, whose relationship with identity-based affirmative action was not without ambivalence.

Sushma Swaraj occupied a position in this debate that I think has not been adequately acknowledged. She was, for much of her political life, in a party whose leadership was inconsistent on this question. But she herself was consistent. She gave it the weight of her own authority within her party, at moments when that authority was needed.

Uma Bharti’s contribution was of a different character. She was not a legislative tactician, but she came from a background that gave her direct knowledge of what it meant to be a woman without inherited advantages navigating structures built for others. She used that knowledge plainly and effectively.

And then there is Phoolan Devi, whose significance in this conversation I find difficult to render in the conventions of political analysis. She had been a woman subjected to forms of violence that I will not reduce to summary. She had survived those experiences, surrendered, served time and been elected by people who understood her as a representative of their own exclusions. Her presence in Parliament was not symbolic—she worked, spoke and pursued her constituents’ concerns—but her presence was also a statement about who Indian democracy was supposed to include. It was about creating space for women who the system was specifically designed to keep out. She was assassinated in 2001.

WHAT THE EVIDENCE TELLS US

In 2019, India ranked 143rd in the Inter-Parliamentary Union’s global rankings for women’s representation. Countries that have achieved substantially higher representation did so through deliberate structural intervention, not through the gradual evolution that reservation’s opponents cite as the preferable alternative.

At the state level, the picture is instructive. States that adopted 50 per cent reservation in panchayats—Bihar and Jharkhand among them—produced documented evidence of changed governance priorities. Women in governance shifted where public money went. This is not a romantic claim about female virtue. It is an empirical observation about whose priorities are reflected in policy when women voices are present in deliberation.

THE BILL THAT PASSED, AND WHAT IT DID NOT DO

As per the Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam, the reservation would take effect only after delimitation, and delimitation cannot begin until after a census. The government defended this sequence as constitutionally necessary—delimitation on the basis of outdated population data would be unfair to constituencies whose demographics have shifted. This may have merit as an abstract proposition.

But a government determined to see this reservation implemented promptly would have committed to a census timeline. It would have communicated clearly when delimitation would begin. The absence of such commitment, alongside the presence of considerable rhetoric about women’s empowerment, create a dissonance that is not resolved by good faith.

The women of India have kept the conversation alive election after election and government after government, and argued and documented and testified and simply refused to let the matter drop.

The National Perspective Plan that we drafted in 1988 said that political participation was not an addendum to women’s advancement but its foundation. That remains true. The census will eventually be conducted. Delimitation will eventually be completed. The reservation will eventually take effect.

What we lost, in September 2023, was not the bill. What we lost was the chance, within a foreseeable electoral cycle, of women walking into Parliament in numbers that reflected their size in this country’s population. We lost the capacity for it to tell girls, in a way that constitutional text alone cannot convey, that the institution was also theirs.

To add insult to injury, the government calls a special session in the middle of assembly elections, when the code of conduct is on, and presents an amendment to that law, making the 2011 census figures the basis and its own formula of 50 per cent increase of seats in Parliament for each state.

What was the need to rush through these amendments without consultation with opposition parties? The government did not have the required numbers and knew the amendments could not go through without consensus. Was it just a political gimmick to tell the nation that the opposition was “anti reservation for women” and influence women voters in West Bengal and Tamil Nadu? As usual, the women have become pawns in the political game. Why could there not be a one-line amendment saying that 33 per cent reservations would be implemented among the 543 members of Lok Sabha with immediate effect?

The writer is former Union minister of state

womens-reservation-is-a-no-brainer-beatriz-merino-first-woman-pm-of-peru

Sat Apr 25 14:53:19 IST 2026

Beatriz Merino is one of Latin America’s most distinguished feminist leaders and the first woman prime minister of Peru. A respected lawyer, senator and champion of democratic institutions, she has used leadership to advance the rights of women and marginalised communities. Excerpts from an interview:

Q/ You were an architect of Peru’s gender quota system. What convinced you that quotas were necessary?

This issue came to my attention during the Beijing conference (UN World Conference on Women, 1995). We did not have a system of quotas in my country, and there were 5 or 10 per cent women in Congress. Even before that, I had been to Sweden, where I saw a women’s movement that demanded a quota system—it jumped representation there from around 6 per cent to 40 per cent almost overnight.

When I went to Beijing, I started listening to this seriously. One of the things key to getting results is consensus. You need the different parties to agree. So we opened a space—women from the official party and the opposition came together in a kind of unofficial caucus. The woman most fiercely opposed to this was a very smart, very powerful lady. She said, ‘I don’t need any quota.’ And she didn’t. But she was smart enough to realise that not everybody had her privilege. When the numbers were shown to her, and she was told that it would take 130 years to get close to equal representation, she said, ‘No way. We are not going to wait 130 years. We are going to have to do it now.’

So we worked very quietly, very hard. One year after Beijing, we had the first quota system. And what I can tell you is: before, it was 5 per cent. Today, it is close to 40 per cent. If you ask me what you need to do, it is a no-brainer. You have to do it. Period.

Q/ What legislative change followed once more women were in parliament?

In the five years after 1997, we had the most progressive and modern women’s legislature in this part of the world. Domestic violence, for example, had been considered a private matter. We passed a law that said no, it is a public matter. We also overturned a law that said if a rapist married his victim, he was completely exonerated. Even more shockingly, if a gang raped a woman, it was enough that one member married her for the entire gang to go free. We introduced a law ending that.

I later became the first woman prime minister of Peru. Today, we have had six women prime ministers—all from different parties, all with integrity, all who pushed women's rights when they served.

Q/ Political polarisation seems to have made cross-party solidarity harder. Do you see the women’s caucus culture weakening?

Of course, the polarisation of politics around the world is real. The civility that used to exist has eroded. However, I have to say that since we increased the number of women in parliament and enhanced their presence in the executive branch and the courts, this ability to cross party lines has actually blossomed—not necessarily in public, because of the polarisation, but in private.

We established private spaces, often supported by NGOs, where we could talk.

Q/ How did you navigate institutions that had never had a woman in charge?

The first thing you must understand is that the men who became your peers—in the cabinet, the military, wherever—have never dealt with a woman as their equal, much less their boss. Especially those above 55 or 60. They simply did not know what to do with me. And I think it was more their problem than mine. I was never uncomfortable.

One day in the cabinet, they were making the kind of jokes men make when they think they are among themselves. I cut their microphones, leaned into mine and said, with that tone your mother uses: ‘Members of cabinet. While I am your prime minister, you will avoid any kind of jokes of this nature.’ They had never experienced anything like it.

Afterwards, someone came to me and said, ‘You were too hard on us.’ And I said: ‘So how do you talk to your mother? You know exactly how to do it.’ If you allow men to speak to you as ‘one of the guys’, you obliterate your power. You must push back. You are different.

With the armed forces, it was the same. The first time I stood before all the admirals, the five-star generals, it was the first time in 240 years they had done this before a woman. I felt sorry for them. I said, ‘Gentlemen, it’s going to be all right.’ They smiled. They respected me enormously. And the key weapon throughout, beyond firmness, was my sense of humour. It creates space without surrendering authority.

Q/ Latin America is often cited as a global leader in women’s political representation. What accounts for that?

It is very surprising. This part of the world was supposed to be run by men—a macho culture. And yet, the three most powerful and largest countries in the region—Mexico, Brazil and Argentina—have all had women presidents.

I would say that 75 per cent of countries in the region have had women in the highest position of power, sooner than many countries in Europe and the US.

How did this happen? I think it was four decades of grassroots pressure—the quota systems, the transformative work—that pushed women up through the system until they blossomed.

how-electoral-roll-revisions-are-changing-political-equations-in-west-bengal

Sat Apr 18 13:12:08 IST 2026

KOLKATA

On a humid afternoon in Kolkata’s Entally, Shamim Akhtar sits at a wooden table, documents spread out before him with almost ritualistic care. Aadhaar card, passport, electricity bills, old voter slips—each one a marker of continuity, of belonging, of a life lived within the system. For over two decades, he has voted in every election. This year, his name is gone. His wife’s name remains. “No one is telling us why,” he said. “If I was a voter last year, how am I not a voter this year? How can my wife be recorded as my wife if my own name does not exist there?”

That question, simple, almost naive in phrasing, is today one of the most politically charged in West Bengal. What is unfolding under the special intensive revision (SIR) of electoral rolls is no longer just an administrative clean-up. It is a moment of deep political, constitutional and social consequence—not merely about correcting errors, but about patterns of exclusion, and whether minorities, migrants and women are disproportionately bearing the cost of being written out of the electorate.

At first glance, the numbers suggest efficiency. Of more than 60 lakh cases flagged for adjudication, over 99.6 per cent have been resolved. But beneath this lies a stark reality: nearly 27 lakh voters—around 45 per cent of adjudicated cases—have been declared invalid. In a state with just over 7 crore voters, this is not marginal correction. It is structural transformation.

Supreme Court lawyer Gaurav Ghosh, a voter since 2009, found his name struck off the final list. “It’s not just about a missing name on a list, it feels like being quietly erased,” he said. “I never had an issue for years and then suddenly I am told I don’t exist on the rolls. No explanation, no real hearing, just silence. The system almost seems to work as ‘delete first, explain later’.” If this can happen to someone with documents and a voting history, he asked, what about those more vulnerable?

As West Bengal’s electoral contest tightens, small shifts could have big consequences. In 2021, the Trinamool Congress led the BJP by more than 60 lakh votes. This fell to around 42 lakh By 2024. Even in 2021, seven constituencies had victory margins of under 1,000 votes; another 36 saw margins below 5,000—the BJP won more of these sub-5,000 margin seats than the Trinamool. This is where roll revisions can come into play. If certain groups are disproportionately affected the balance in seats with narrow margins could shift. Parts of the Trinamool’s support base—minorities, economically weaker sections—are more vulnerable to exclusion during large-scale verification.

Data from Trinamool-held Manikchak, Mothabari and Samserganj reveals a pattern. In Manikchak, where Hindu and Muslim voters are almost equal, around 97.4 per cent of those under adjudication are Muslim. In Mothabari and Samserganj, where Muslims are in a clear majority, this rises to nearly 98 per cent. In Samserganj, more than 55 per cent of all Muslim voters have been flagged; adjudication rates are 38.7 per cent in Mothabari and 25.7 per cent in Manikchak.

By comparison, in BJP-held Baharampur, where Muslims are 27 per cent, they form around 61 per cent of those flagged. But the total adjudication rate is just 4.7 per cent. In all three Trinamool seats, the number under adjudication exceeds the 2021 winning margin. In Baharampur, the flagged number is well below it. While this alone proves nothing, it shows that the scale of adjudication could matter in close contests.

Moreover, the emergence of smaller parties and figures like Humayun Kabir could divide the Trinamool’s vote further.

The geography of deletion is also revealing. Murshidabad—a border district with a complex migration history and significant minority population—has over 4.5 lakh invalid voters and the highest volume of complaints. North 24 Parganas and South 24 Parganas record 3.25 lakh and 2.22 lakh, respectively. Purba Bardhaman has 2 lakh-plus removed. In Nadia, nearly 78 per cent of adjudicated cases have been rejected—the highest proportional purge in the state. In Cooch Behar, invalidation rates exceed 45 per cent. These clusters overlap with regions marked by demographic complexity, minority populations, migrant communities and economically vulnerable groups.

Sabir Ahamed from Sabar Institute, who has been studying the data, said what they have found cannot be dismissed as random. “In many areas with a high concentration of minority voters, there were unusually large numbers of deletions—entire pockets affected,” he told THE WEEK. “More troubling is how quietly it’s happening. People only realise their names are missing when they go to check, or when it’s too late.” He added that many of the affected had been voting for years, but were suddenly asked to prove their identity and citizenship, often with documents they may not have easily. “For many, especially the poor or migrants, it becomes difficult,” he said.

On the ground, the process has created its own confusion. Many voters were told to go to the sub-divisional officer to file appeals, only to find the process had shifted to colleges. For those unused to paperwork or long-distance travel, this meant repeated trips, long queues and uncertainty about whether appeals have been accepted.

In Entally, Akhtar’s story echoes across lanes and neighbourhoods. Names flagged, documents submitted, hearings attended—and then, without clear explanation, names disappeared. “You are not rejected,” said Akhtar. “You are just removed.”

In Moti Jheel, Sultana Begum counts seven missing in her household—individuals with documentation, voting history and roots in the locality. Families have been split in ways that defy logic: husbands deleted while wives remain, parents retained while children are removed, siblings divided by an invisible administrative line. “If there is a mistake, why only some names?” asked Sultana.

In Maniktala, the Poddar family—small business owners who have voted for decades—said they complied with every requirement, but still found their names gone. For working-class families, compliance is not free. It involves lost wages, repeated travel and time away from work. The poor cannot afford to go again and again and if they miss one date, their name is gone.

In Kolkata’s mixed neighbourhoods, migrant communities—particularly those who moved decades ago from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh—describe a similar unease. The Sahoo family, settled in the city for generations, said multiple members were deleted despite documentation and hearings. Their experience reflects a broader anxiety: that long-settled migrants are being treated as administratively provisional.

Women emerge as another vulnerable group. Married women face documentation mismatches because of name or address changes; many lack independent identity documents. When verification standards tighten, these gaps become decisive—a quiet but significant form of disenfranchisement.

Individual testimonies compound this picture. Wasim Islam said four family members were placed under adjudication and then deleted. Shahin Alam, voting since 1977 and a retired jute mill worker on pension, said his daughter and son-in-law’s names were removed despite submitting documents. Faijal Mahmood’s wife is on the list, while he is not. Mohd Rafiq is in the same situation. Rukhsar Naaz said three of nine family members have been deleted. Tabassum Naz said her parents’ names are there but her’s is gone. Gulshan Ara, born in 1994, has voted in every election since turning 18. Now her name is missing.

Mahmood, 50, holds up documents that once seemed sufficient. “We get ration, everything is linked,” he said. “If my name is gone, does that mean my citizenship is gone?” Mohd Shahid’s name is missing despite voting multiple times and submitting records dating back to 2002; his brother, sister, and father have also been removed. Said Nooraisa Khatoon: “I had all the documents. Still, my name is deleted. We have done everything. We are hoping it will be corrected.” Talat Jahan’s name appeared in the 2002 voter list; she has voted regularly since. It has now been removed.

Several residents said they are unclear about where to go next—where tribunals will sit, how appeals will be heard. Some said the deadline passed before they understood the change. “The BLO is not answering calls,” said Rafiq. “Voting is our right. Why would we not want to vote?”

As evening falls, Akhtar gathers his documents and places them back into a plastic folder. He will go again—to the tribunal, to the office, wherever he must prove what he already knows. “We are not asking for anything else,” he said. “We just want to vote.” He pauses, before adding: “Voting means you belong.”

The BJP’s West Bengal president Samik Bhattacharya told THE WEEK that the SIR was essential to ensure the integrity and accuracy of electoral rolls. “For too long, issues like duplicate entries, illegal inclusions and outdated records have weakened the credibility of our voting system,” he said. Trinamool spokesperson and Lok Sabha MP Kirti Azad countered: “The way SIR is being carried out raises serious concerns about fairness and intent. A routine administrative exercise is turning into a tool that risks excluding genuine voters, particularly from marginalised communities. We are seeing confusion over documentation, lack of clarity in the process, and instances of long-time voters suddenly finding their names missing.”

Union minister Bhupender Yadav, the BJP’s West Bengal election in-charge, said that electoral rolls cannot remain static. “Genuine voters have the opportunity to verify their details and ensure they are not left out,” he said. “A clean and updated voter list makes the process more transparent and strengthens confidence in elections.”

Beyond statistics lies something more intangible: fear. The voter ID card is the most widely accepted proof of identity—used for ration cards, bank accounts, mobile connections and government benefits. Its disappearance creates a ripple effect of uncertainty. Even if legally unrelated, these systems are intertwined in lived experience. The Election Commission maintains that those declared invalid can appeal before tribunals and seek reinstatement. But awareness is limited, deadlines are tight, and access is uneven.

The judiciary’s role has added another layer. Constitutional scholar Gautam Bhatia has argued that the Supreme Court appears to be stepping into an administrative role rather than confining itself to constitutional adjudication—a concern that intensified when the Court asked the Calcutta High Court to oversee aspects of the process. The blurring of this boundary has sparked debate about institutional limits and the proper scope of judicial intervention in electoral matters.

Former chief election commissioner S.Y. Quraishi told THE WEEK that he finds it difficult to understand how electoral rolls that were good enough to conduct elections just recently are now being treated as questionable. “These are lists on which people voted, governments were formed, and results were accepted by all. So what exactly has changed in such a short time?” he asked.

He added that his concern was not just about the technical process, but the message it sends. “Elections are not only about counting votes—they are about ensuring eligible citizens are able to vote without fear or confusion,” he said. “If people feel that their names can be removed or challenged without clear reason, it creates doubt. Once the trust in the credibility of the system is shaken, it becomes difficult to restore. That is why such exercises must be handled with extreme care, transparency and fairness.”

A comparison with Bihar is instructive. Similar revision work there did not generate this level of noise or confusion. The process stayed largely routine, with no large-scale complaints of people being suddenly left out.

West Bengal is different. Politics here is more tense, and questions of identity and migration already sensitive. And what the state is witnessing is not merely a revision of electoral rolls. It is a test of recognition. For the Election Commission, it is about accuracy. For political parties, it is about advantage. For the courts, constitutional balance. But for millions of citizens, it is more fundamental—whether they are seen and counted, and whether they belong.

In the weeks ahead, some names will return to the rolls. Appeals will be heard, errors corrected, bureaucratic gaps filled. But the deeper shift may not be so easily reversed. This process has revealed administrative fragility and democratic vulnerability—how easily the line between inclusion and exclusion can blur, and how quickly trust erodes when that line is not clearly drawn.

the-political-narrative-and-data-categories-do-not-match-shashi-panja

Sat Apr 18 13:04:30 IST 2026

Interview/ Shashi Panja, women and child development minister, West Bengal

Q/ The Election Commission says deletions are happening because of duplicate, deceased or absentee voters. Why do you still believe this is a serious issue?

A/ If lakhs of names are being deleted, then tell us clearly under what category. The categories mentioned are absentee, dead or duplicate. None of the columns says that a person is an infiltrator or a Rohingya, but that narrative is being pushed politically. That is what is creating fear among people. The narrative and the actual data categories do not match.

This is very dangerous because it makes ordinary citizens feel like they have to constantly prove that they belong here. Many genuine voters, poor people, migrant workers and women are now worried that their names may be deleted and they will be labelled something they are not. Elections should be about development, governance and people’s issues, not about creating fear among citizens.

Q/ Your own name was deleted initially. What exactly happened?

A/ I found out that my name was missing and I had to go through the process. After submitting the necessary documents and verification, my name was added in the second supplementary list. But the bigger issue is not about me. If this can happen to a sitting MLA, imagine what ordinary people are facing. Many people in my constituency are still struggling because their names have been deleted and they are running from one office to another trying to get their names restored. There are still many deletions from my constituency, and people are worried whether they will be able to vote. That uncertainty and fear among voters is the biggest concern.

Q/ What kind of irregularities are being reported?

A/ There are many strange cases. In one instance, a husband’s name was deleted from the voter list but the wife’s name remained, and her voter ID still mentioned her as the wife of that person.

Q/ The BJP has fielded the mother of the R.G. Kar victim. You are also an alumna of R.G. Kar. How do you think this will impact the election?

A/ It was a tragic and painful incident for all of us, especially for those of us who have been associated with the institution. It is not just a political issue, it is an emotional issue. The parents lost their daughter, and we have always said we stand with the family in their fight for justice. But turning such a tragic incident into a political issue or an electoral issue is unfortunate. Justice should be the focus, not elections.

Q/ How do you see women voters responding this election?

A/ Women voters are aware and strong in Bengal. In Bengal, women are more active in politics because they have been given representation and opportunities. Our party has consistently given more representation to women candidates over the years. That has made a difference. But politics is still not easy for women; it requires constant work and visibility.

Q/ Political clashes and tensions have been reported.

A/ Political fights will happen, but physical attacks and violence are dangerous for democracy. There have been incidents where political workers were attacked and even my house was attacked. This kind of politics is very unfortunate and dangerous. Democracy cannot function like this.

public-sentiment-favours-the-bjp-samik-bhattacharya-bjp-west-bengal-president

Sat Apr 18 13:01:35 IST 2026

Interview/ Samik Bhattacharya, BJP West Bengal president

Q/ What is the plus factor for BJP this time?

A/ This election is about the restoration of democracy. In 2011, Mamata Banerjee came to power promising democratic restoration after 34 years of left rule. People voted for her with that hope. But today, we believe the situation has become worse. Institutions have weakened, the administration has become politicised, and democratic rights are under pressure.

Public sentiment favours the BJP. There is anger, frustration and a desire for change among people.

Q/ When you say democracy is under threat in Bengal, what are the specific issues you are referring to?

A/ Look at the local body elections, look at the panchayat elections, look at political violence, these are not isolated incidents. The opposition often cannot file nominations, polling agents are threatened and the administration often acts in a partisan manner. This creates fear among voters. There is also the issue of corruption. Recruitment scams, teacher recruitment, municipal jobs, land scams, illegal sand mining, these are not small allegations. When corruption becomes institutionalised, governance collapses. Law and order is another major issue. Political violence has become normalised. After the 2021 elections, several BJP workers were killed. Women workers came on camera and spoke about atrocities. Whether one belongs to the BJP, the TMC, the left, or the Congress, political violence should have no place in a democracy.

Q/ Mamata Banerjee has alleged that women and minority voters are being targeted through electoral roll revision.

A/ The Election Commission is a constitutional body. If any political party believes that the commission is acting in a biased manner, the proper forum is the courts. You cannot delegitimise a constitutional body just because the process does not suit your politics. Earlier, Mamata Banerjee said minorities were being targeted. Now she says women are being targeted. Tomorrow she may say youth are being targeted. These are political statements meant to create a narrative. Our position is simple: genuine voters should be on the electoral roll, and fake voters should be removed.

Q/ The BJP has given an election ticket to the mother of the R.G. Kar rape and murder victim. The Trinamool says this is politicising a tragedy.

A/ The issue is not politics, the issue is justice and accountability. The victim’s mother came forward on her own. She said she wants justice for her daughter and she wants to fight so that no other family has to go through what she has suffered. If a citizen who has suffered such a tragedy wants to enter public life to seek justice and bring change, what is wrong with that? Politics is not a closed club. Democracy allows every citizen to participate. If someone who has suffered injustice wants to raise her voice in the assembly, it should be seen as a democratic expression, not politicisation.

beyond-the-ballot-a-battle-for-identity-and-safety

Sat Apr 18 12:58:53 IST 2026

West Bengal’s election is not going to be a normal one—institutions have become part of the contest. So, voters are not just choosing a government, they are thinking about their own safety.

To understand what is happening, it is important to see why Bengal is not just another state for the BJP. Bengal’s society underwent sociocultural reforms before the rest of modern India, breaking from religious orthodoxy through a long struggle led by the upper castes against obscurantism. A strong regional identity emerged from this—secular and casteless and now integral to everyday life. Religion is present, but it does not dominate politics. Durga Puja, for example, is more a social and cultural event than a religious one. Language and culture matter more than caste.

Because of this, the BJP’s politics faces a certain resistance in Bengal. Many people, especially the middle class, are wary of the Hindi-Hindu cultural uniformity it seeks to impose, not hostile to Hindi or Hinduism per se.

Meanwhile, the Trinamool Congress faces anger for a different reason: its autocratic style of governance and corrupt cadre. What people describe is not just corruption at the top, but a system that exists at many levels—building a house, starting a business, making small repairs—all requiring informal payments to syndicates. This has led to frustration among ordinary people.

So voters are caught between two concerns: anxiety about cultural and political change on one side and anger about corruption and everyday difficulties on the other.

Now another issue has increased the tension—changes in voter lists. The legal side will be decided in court. But on the ground, the impact is visible. Among many poor voters, there is fear. They worry about losing benefits, documents or even their place in the system. And fear can influence voting more strongly than any campaign.

Because of all this, the election is no longer just about the Trinamool, the BJP, the left or the Congress. The Election Commission, the courts and the administration have also become part of day-to-day life here. This election feels larger and more uncertain as SIR is a strategy to delete voters at any cost, so the BJP may win.

This could actually help Mamata. Even people who are unhappy with her regime may support her if they feel there is a bigger threat to their identity or security.

This also reflects a longer pattern. The Congress, the left and now the Trinamool all started with strong ideas. The left, for instance, carried out land reforms and changed rural society, but new generations moved away from its ideology. The Trinamool built a strong grassroots network to defeat the left, but this network has become worse than the left and more powerful at the local level. Power becomes concentrated, then it becomes unpopular.

In such a situation, the need for a strong and credible opposition becomes important. Bengal needs a political space where issues can be raised without increasing fear, and where corruption can be questioned without turning it into a larger identity conflict. Right now, that middle ground looks weak.

When politics becomes a choice between different kinds of fear, voters stop thinking freely. That is why this election feels different. And even if it produces a clear winner, it may not fully restore trust. Because democracy depends not just on voting, but on confidence in the system.

—As told to Kanu Sarda

The author is a retired civil servant and former Rajya Sabha member.

welfare-or-populism-how-india-is-grappling-with-cost-of-freebies

Sat Mar 28 12:47:54 IST 2026

A FEW MONTHS before Punjab’s last assembly election in 2022, a shopkeeper in Ludhiana summed up the mood of many voters with a shrug: “If electricity becomes free, one tension in life disappears.” For him, free power was not a fiscal debate or a governance dilemma; it was relief.

Across India, millions share that sentiment. Subsidised electricity, free transport, loan waivers and cash transfers promise protection against rising costs and economic uncertainty. Yet the politics of welfare has now moved beyond campaign rallies into the courtroom, raising fundamental questions about the limits of electoral promises, the authority of institutions and the constitutional idea of a welfare state.

The debate intensified after the Supreme Court sought an explanation from the Tamil Nadu government on the fiscal implications of providing free electricity. What began as a policy dispute soon evolved into a larger conversation about whether unlimited electoral promises risk undermining fiscal stability. The controversy has also exposed a complicated legal landscape involving the courts, the Election Commission and the Representation of the People Act, 1951, where the line between welfare policy and electoral inducement remains blurred.

The constitutional dimension of the issue makes the matter particularly delicate. Indian courts have traditionally exercised restraint when it comes to economic policy. Welfare programmes, subsidies and public spending priorities are regarded as decisions that fall primarily within the domain of elected governments. Judicial review allows courts to examine whether a policy violates constitutional provisions or statutory law, but courts generally avoid evaluating the wisdom of economic policy itself. This principle of judicial restraint reflects the separation of powers embedded in the Constitution.

The Constitution further complicates the debate. Through the Directive Principles of State Policy, the state is obligated to promote social and economic welfare, reduce inequality and secure a dignified standard of living for citizens. Many welfare schemes criticised as freebies are defended by governments as fulfilment of these constitutional obligations. Subsidised food distribution, public health care, income support schemes and free education programmes are often framed not as political gifts but as instruments of social justice.

“The tension around freebies reflects a broader constitutional balancing act,” senior advocate Ashish Kulshrestha told THE WEEK. The Constitution itself does not prescribe a precise boundary between welfare and populism; that boundary emerges through interpretation and political practice, he added. “Courts, therefore, face an institutional dilemma,” he said. “If they intervene too aggressively, they risk entering the policy domain of the legislature. If they stay completely away, concerns about fiscal responsibility and electoral fairness remain unresolved. Ultimately, many of these questions are meant to be resolved through democratic accountability rather than judicial prohibition.”

The legal debate has also drawn attention to the role and limits of the Election Commission of India. The EC derives its authority from Article 324 of the Constitution, which entrusts it with the responsibility of conducting free and fair elections. However, its regulatory powers over government policy decisions become effective after elections are formally announced.

Once the election schedule is notified, the Model Code of Conduct comes into force. The code bars governments from announcing new schemes, making financial grants or taking policy decisions that could influence voters. The objective is to ensure a level-playing field among political parties during the election period. Before that stage, however, the EC’s authority is limited.

“The Election Commission’s powers in this area are often misunderstood,” said P.D.T. Achary, former secretary-general, Lok Sabha. The Model Code of Conduct is not a statutory law, he elaborated, but a set of agreed norms guiding political behaviour. “It can regulate government announcements that may influence voters during the campaign period, but it cannot legally prohibit political parties from making promises in their manifestos,” said Achary. “The Representation of the People Act addresses corrupt practices such as bribery or undue influence, but policy commitments do not automatically fall within that definition. Unless Parliament introduces a specific legal framework regulating such promises, the commission’s jurisdiction over manifesto-based welfare pledges will remain limited.”

This gap has become a central issue in petitions before the Supreme Court. Bengaluru resident Shashank J. Sreedhara, in his petition, has argued that promises of freebies amount to inducement of voters and should therefore be treated as corrupt practices under the Representation of the People Act. His petition also seeks directions to prevent political parties from making such promises during the period preceding elections.

The legal challenge lies in defining that period. Indian electoral law does not recognise a statutory pre-election period during which welfare announcements are prohibited. The Representation of the People Act also does not contain provisions that directly regulate welfare schemes or policy announcements made prior to the declaration of elections.

The ambiguity becomes stark when it comes to election manifestos. Political parties typically release their manifestos during the campaign period, when the Model Code of Conduct is already in force. While the code prevents governments from announcing new schemes during this time, political parties are free to promise similar benefits in their manifestos. The Representation of the People Act does not explicitly regulate manifesto promises, and electoral law does not classify them as inducements or corrupt practices.

Recognising the potential impact of such promises on voters, the Election Commission introduced guidelines in 2013 asking political parties to indicate how they intend to finance the commitments listed in their manifestos. However, these guidelines are advisory, and not legally binding.

As a result, the legal framework governing welfare promises remains fragmented. Senior advocate Ankit Jain explained that the controversy over freebies sits at a sensitive institutional boundary between judicial review and democratic politics. “Courts can highlight fiscal risks and constitutional principles, but ultimately the legitimacy of electoral promises must be tested in the political arena, not adjudicated entirely in the courtroom,” he said.

While the law continues to grapple with these questions, the fiscal implications of welfare politics are becoming increasingly visible. Several states have significantly expanded subsidy regimes and direct benefit transfers in recent years.

Punjab provides one of the clearest examples of fiscal strain linked to welfare commitments. The state’s debt is nearly 45 per cent of Gross State Domestic Product, among the highest in the country. A significant portion of spending goes toward electricity subsidies, farm support and social transfers. Analysts warn that the state’s fiscal space for infrastructure and long-term development is narrowing.

Tamil Nadu’s financial position remains relatively stronger but it is also under pressure. Its debt ratio remains manageable yet is steadily rising. The state operates an extensive welfare network that includes subsidised food, public transport concessions, social assistance programmes and electricity subsidies. Supporters point to the state’s strong human development indicators as evidence that welfare and growth can coexist.

In Andhra Pradesh, successive governments have relied heavily on direct cash transfers and welfare payments. Analysts note that capital expenditure has declined as social spending has expanded. Telangana, once considered fiscally comfortable, has also witnessed a rise in debt levels, driven by irrigation projects, loan waivers and power subsidies.

West Bengal continues to carry one of the country’s highest debt burdens in absolute terms. Welfare schemes ranging from student assistance to cash transfers for women form a central pillar of its governance model.

Even relatively strong states are expanding welfare guarantees. Karnataka has introduced measures such as free bus travel for women and income support programmes aimed at improving household incomes. Supporters argue that such initiatives stimulate consumption and strengthen social protection.

Political leaders remain divided on the issue. Congress leader and Supreme Court intervenor Jaya Thakur defended welfare subsidies as a constitutional responsibility. “Ruling parties are duty-bound to frame policies for the welfare and uplift of the weaker section,” she said. “Subsidies are part of that responsibility and cannot be called freebies.”

Others caution that competitive populism may undermine fiscal discipline. Senior advocate Vijay Hansaria, appointed amicus curiae by the Supreme Court in the case, warned that escalating promises could have serious economic consequences. “If electoral politics descends into a competition of unsustainable giveaways, fiscal responsibility becomes the first casualty,” he told THE WEEK. “Public finance cannot be driven by short-term populism when the consequences are long-term debt and reduced developmental capacity.”

Hansaria has argued that fiscal populism creates a cycle in which governments incur debt to finance electoral promises while future administrations inherit the liabilities. Over time, such practices risk shifting the fiscal burden onto future generations.

Empirical studies show that welfare programmes can produce real social gains. Research has linked bicycle distribution schemes for schoolgirls in Bihar and West Bengal to reduced dropout rates. Subsidised bus travel for women in Tamil Nadu has improved workforce participation, while food security programmes continue to prevent extreme deprivation.

The challenge lies in distinguishing productive welfare investments from policies designed primarily to influence electoral outcomes. In India’s unequal economy, many voters do not see welfare benefits as political gifts but as legitimate claims on the state.

Political competition reinforces this cycle. Once one party introduces a subsidy, rivals feel compelled to match or exceed it. Programmes, once implemented, are rarely withdrawn. Borrowing fills the fiscal gap and the costs gradually accumulate.

Until the law provides clearer guidance on the balance between welfare obligations and fiscal responsibility, the price of promises will continue to be paid long after the applause at election rallies fades.

nitish-kumars-exit-what-it-means-for-jdu-nishant-kumar-and-bihars-political-future

Sat Mar 21 11:35:47 IST 2026

IN JUNE 2010, months before the assembly elections in Bihar, the BJP decided to hold its national executive meeting in Patna. Although it was meant to be a low-key gathering, posters suddenly appeared across the city announcing the arrival of Narendra Modi, who was then chief minister of Gujarat. Chief Minister Nitish Kumar was visibly irritated. He felt it was an attempt to introduce Modi into Bihar’s political space on the BJP’s terms. To make his displeasure evident, he cancelled a dinner planned for senior BJP leaders at his official residence. He also told reporters who had travelled from Delhi that the publicity surrounding Modi’s visit was “not a proper thing to do”.

The episode captured the political balance of that moment. Nitish, who headed the Janata Dal (United), could determine who campaigned in Bihar, who shared the stage with him, and how far his ally’s national leaders could project themselves in the state.

Almost 16 years later, after many political shifts by Nitish, the irony is difficult to ignore. Modi has now completed nearly 12 years as India’s prime minister. One of the BJP leaders associated with putting up those posters welcoming Modi, Nitin Nabin—then a first-time MLA—has since been chosen as the party’s national president. Nitish himself has decided to step down as chief minister and move to the Rajya Sabha. The move is likely to result in the BJP installing its own chief minister in Bihar for the first time—the only Hindi heartland state that has eluded it so far.

Nitish first came to power in 2005 after defeating the Rashtriya Janata Dal led by Lalu Prasad. Since then, he has shaped the state’s politics through a combination of governance reforms, welfare programmes and careful coalition management. His early years in office focused on restoring basic governance. One initiative in particular came to symbolise his style of politics. The bicycle scheme for schoolgirls encouraged families to send their daughters to school and helped raise female enrolment across the state. Coupled with prohibition, despite its attendant weaknesses, these policies helped create a loyal base among women voters.

JD(U) leader and former minister Neeraj Kumar said the restoration of law and order was the most important change brought about by Nitish. “Law and order became the benchmark by which people judge governance in Bihar during Nitish’s rule, and for any chief minister who may occupy that position.”

Nitish cultivated a political coalition that extended beyond traditional caste alignments. Women voters, sections of the Extremely Backward Classes, and marginalised communities became an important support base. This combination of governance initiatives and social outreach allowed him to remain politically relevant through multiple shifts in alliances.

The Bihar that Nitish leaves behind has undergone significant social and political change over the past two decades. Unlike many Hindi heartland states, Bihar’s politics has followed a distinct trajectory. Since the rise of Lalu Prasad in 1990, the state’s direction has been shaped largely by regional leaders rather than direct intervention from national figures. Both Lalu, and later Nitish consciously limited the influence of central leadership. That equation, however, may now shift, particularly if the BJP’s “double-engine” governance model gains ground.

BJP national spokesperson Guru Prakash said the leadership question in Bihar would be decided collectively within the ruling alliance. Yet, Nitish’s departure creates uncertainty for the JD(U), the party he built over decades. Without his authority, it faces the challenge of preserving both its identity and organisational discipline.

Party leaders insist the structure remains intact. Neeraj Kumar argued that even when senior figures left in the past, the cadre base stayed loyal. Much, however, will depend on Nitish’s son, Nishant Kumar. Unlike many political heirs, his entry was not publicly cultivated over time. His ability to engage with workers and take independent decisions will be crucial in determining whether he can hold the party together.

At 50, Nishant enters politics relatively late in a field dominated by established political families. His emergence invites inevitable comparisons with Lalu’s son Tejashwi Yadav, who has spent years building his political profile. Observers see this as a defining test of Nishant’s leadership and his ability to carry forward his father’s legacy. Failure to establish authority could prompt sections of the party to seek more secure political alignments.

Bihar’s political structure itself presents challenges. Its deeply layered caste dynamics, with numerous communities and sub-castes, make broad-based consolidation difficult. Unlike in Uttar Pradesh, where religious identity has at times enabled wider mobilisation, Bihar’s electoral behaviour often reflects localised social alliances. This complexity limits the scope for uniform ideological consolidation.

Nitish’s exit may also signal the gradual erosion of the socialist tradition that long defined the state’s politics. While such politics has declined elsewhere, Bihar remained one of its last strongholds. With the BJP seeking to expand its ideological footprint, the shift away from Mandal-era politics may accelerate. This transition comes at a crucial time, with elections approaching in states hosting large migrant populations from Bihar. These communities continue to follow developments in their home state closely, making them an increasingly important audience for political messaging.

beyond-the-battlefield-trumps-iran-strategy-lacks-coherent-vision

Sat Mar 21 11:31:34 IST 2026

AS THE STRIKES on Iran continue, and President Donald Trump issues increasingly restrictive and shifting statements, the United States appears to be operating without a clearly defined endgame. This is particularly striking for a president who, as a candidate, had emphasised avoiding “forever wars” and steering clear of regime change efforts. Yet the current intervention seems to drift between objectives—degrading Iran’s infrastructure, weakening its missile capabilities and signalling broader strategic resolve—without settling on a coherent definition of success.

In the absence of a fixed endpoint, the challenge is not just military, but political: how and when can victory be credibly claimed in a conflict that appears a war of choice rather than necessity, and is opposed also by large sections of Trump’s support base?

What makes the moment more consequential is the degree of American isolation. In the aftermath of the September 11 attacks, NATO invoked Article 5 in solidarity with Washington. Even during the Iraq War in 2003, a sizeable coalition—despite disagreements—stood with the US. Today, that pattern has broken. Traditional allies have been notably reluctant to step in, including declining calls to secure the Strait of Hormuz, wary of becoming direct participants in a conflict they neither shaped nor endorsed. The result is a US that looks more solitary than at any comparable moment in recent decades, complicating its ability to frame the intervention as part of a broader international effort.

There is also a tendency to reach for familiar templates when thinking about how such a conflict might end. References to peace arrangements in the Middle East—particularly the Israel-Egypt Camp David Accords of 1978 or the Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty in 1994—offer a comforting sense of precedent. But these analogies obscure more than they reveal. Both agreements were the products of long-term geopolitical shifts, military exhaustion and changing strategic alignments—Egypt after the 1973 war, and Jordan following the Israel-PLO Oslo Accords of 1993. Egypt’s turn towards the US, for instance, followed the 1973 war and a broader recalibration of its global positioning. Nothing comparable is visible in Iran today. There is little to suggest a willingness to fundamentally alter its posture towards the US or accept Israel’s legitimacy, making any near-term diplomatic breakthrough unlikely. There are also no indications of any forward movement on the Israel-Palestine issue.

If the battlefield offers uncertainty, the domestic arena may prove decisive.

As the US political calendar advances, economic signals—oil prices, inflation and stock market performance—are likely to weigh heavily on decision-making there. While the US is less directly dependent on Gulf oil than countries such as India, China or Japan, it remains exposed to global price movements. Any sustained disruption in supply feeds into higher fuel costs, rising inflation and, potentially, a broader economic slowdown. For American consumers, the effects are immediate; for political leadership, the consequences can be swift. It is here, as much as on the battlefield, that the contours of success or failure may ultimately be judged.

Questions of preparedness further complicate the picture. It had long been anticipated that Iran, if pushed, might seek to disrupt the Strait of Hormuz—a critical artery for global energy flows. Yet the current situation suggests that contingency planning may have been inadequate. The fallout is already visible, with disruptions affecting not only oil-dependent economies but also US-linked infrastructure and investments across the Gulf. For regional partners, this raises uncomfortable questions about the reliability and long-term sustainability of US security guarantees.

There is, inevitably, an echo of earlier conflicts. The early phase of the Iraq war saw the declaration of “mission accomplished”, only for events on the ground to unravel over time, culminating in a costly and protracted disengagement. That experience lingers as a cautionary backdrop. While it would be premature to draw direct parallels, the risk of early claims of success being overtaken by more complex realities cannot be dismissed. The political consequences of such a trajectory, particularly for the US leadership, could be significant.

For countries navigating this evolving landscape, the lessons are clear. For India, in particular, the situation reinforces the importance of strategic autonomy. Deepening economic and technological engagement with the US remains valuable, but recent developments also underline the unpredictability and often coercive nature of US decision-making. Diversification of partnerships—especially with Europe and other major actors—becomes not just prudent, but necessary. In an environment defined by volatility, hedging is not hesitation; it is strategy.

Beyond the immediate conflict, the wider regional picture is becoming harder to read. Much will depend on Iran’s position once the current phase subsides, the economic and military resilience of Israel after prolonged engagement and how Gulf states recalibrate their relationships with both Washington and Tehran. New alignments may emerge, but so, too, might deeper fragmentation. Domestic political pressures across the region could add further layers of complexity.

For now, the only certainty is uncertainty. The conflict may not yet have redrawn maps, but it is already reshaping expectations—about American power, about alliance structures and about the limits of military force in delivering political outcomes.

The author is a former Indian ambassador to the US, France and Israel, and currently a senior fellow at Carnegie India.

trumps-endgame-could-israel-bear-the-brunt-of-iran-conflict

Sat Mar 21 11:27:54 IST 2026

WIPING ISRAEL off the map has been Iran’s unambiguous desire since the 1979 Islamic revolution. Israel, for its part, considers Iran an existential threat. A major showdown was clearly on the cards.

Sitting over 7,500km away, the US had its own reasons to act. Iran’s anti-US stance is as intense as its anti-Israel stance.

Iran, with its geographical spread, strategic location, oil, military capabilities, nuclear pursuit and well-armed proxies, is a dangerous power-centre. Shia Iran also upsets the power balance in the predominantly Sunni region, and the support it has from China and Russia compounds the threat further.

China deepened the quagmire. A $400 billion economic cooperation agreement in 2021, followed by the inauguration in 2025 of a 10,400km China-Iran rail corridor through Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan—cutting sea route time from 30-40 days to 15—gave Iran means to bypass choke points and sanctions. A moderately strong Iran as a Chinese ally had the potential to upset the regional dynamic.

Iran holds about 12 per cent of global oil reserves and is among the cheapest sources—estimated break-even extraction cost of $14 per barrel; Russia’s is $22, Canada’s $30-$40 and US shale’s $45-$55. Sanctions severely restricted Iranian oil exports, but China, through dark fleets, teapot refineries, origin re-labelling and bypassing dollar payments, took over 90 per cent of Iran’s 3 million barrels per day at a discount of $8-$12 per barrel. China got 20 per cent of its oil from Iran and Venezuela until end-2025. Both sources have suddenly dried up.

With Russia preoccupied with Ukraine and an unprecedented political and military purge taking place in China, the timing of Operation Epic Fury seemed perfect. The opening salvo was intense and precise, delivered amid negotiations. But, since then, what 19th century Prussian strategist Helmuth von Moltke said—“No plan survives first contact with the enemy”—has come true. There are signs of this war going the way of Iraq, Afghanistan and Gaza. Even amid incalculable destruction, Iran is still standing, and striking back. Pushed against the wall, it is subjecting the world to the consequences of the war to bring pressure on its opponents.

Oil prices, disrupted and hovering around $100 per barrel, threaten to hit $200. Every country is feeling the pinch; India has managed the crisis better than most. President Donald Trump’s shifting timelines—“short-term excursion” to “pretty quickly”, “very soon” and “four to five weeks”—signal uncertainty. His statement—“nothing is left in Iran to target”—is reminiscent of the US record in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya, and points to the possibility of Trump suddenly declaring victory and leaving Israel to do the mopping up.

A nuclear Iran, with scores to settle, will render the world unsafe. But, the sole super power’s unfettered assertion of military might is also doing the same. The Tomahawk strike that killed 175, mostly schoolgirls, is an example. Targeting errors may happen in war, but the hypocrisy in the global reaction to such “inadvertent battlefield errors”, depending on who makes them, stands out.

Iran’s proxies—Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis—will remain considerably degraded and its military capability significantly reduced. But without boots on the ground, there can be no surrender. The dilemma for Trump is likely to be: what would define victory?

Iran has reached a point where it has nothing to lose, or more accurately, it is ready to lose everything in a “jihad”. Internal strife has been overshadowed by the imperative of a sacrificial struggle. If Ayatollah Mojtaba Khamenei, too, is targeted, it only adds further divinity to the image of the supreme leader.

Boots on the ground in Iran will be avoided, except possibly at an isolated island facility. Iran being bombed to rubble and a partial collapse of the regime looks likely; a US-backed replacement does not. Amid the din of war, Israel is cutting down the threat from Lebanon, Gaza and West Bank. Ultimately, another country in the region will be in tatters. Random rogue strike attempts on US and Israeli assets and personnel across the world may follow.

The cost of dependency on the Strait of Hormuz may lead to upgrades to the Saudi East-West pipeline, a revival of the Trans-Arabian pipeline and similar networks to bypass choke points.

Gulf nations have suddenly realised how vulnerable they are. The safe-haven image and infrastructure advantages that made Dubai a premier global business hub took a severe beating. The incidental cover provided by US bases proved inadequate for the Gulf.

What is the likely end state to this war? Israel is working towards a denuclearised and significantly weakened Iran. The US may also be satisfied with the same. Whether it can plant seeds for civil strife or fragment Iran on ethnic lines is too early to assess.

Chinese passiveness is attributable only to internal strife. Iran’s oil infrastructure will take years and vast investment to revive. A war-ravaged, de-fanged and economically ruined Iran may yet fall into Beijing’s lap, but China is likely to tread carefully.

How long will the war last? The most accurate answer is: no one knows. The reason, on a lighter note, is that the man who stopped all the recent wars is, unfortunately, busy fighting this one himself.

The author is a former deputy chief of the Army and currently director, Asia Centre, Bengaluru.

from-oil-prices-to-national-security-how-the-gulf-conflict-impacts-india

Sat Mar 14 18:26:01 IST 2026

TWO WEEKS INTO the conflict, the inadequacy of the American security umbrella in the Gulf has been totally exposed. US defensive systems are being overwhelmed, its bases and embassies struck, key radars destroyed, and F-15 fighters and MQ-9 Reaper drones shot down. Several places in Israel—among them Tel Aviv, Galilee and Haifa—have also borne the brunt of Iranian missiles and drones.

Meanwhile, the closure of the Strait of Hormuz is threatening global oil supplies and a sharp rise in prices of oil and natural gas is having cascading effects on all aspects of the global economy.

India, too, is directly affected and, every day the war continues, its concerns mount as it scrambles to secure its vital interests.

ENERGY SECURITY

Every dollar increase in crude oil price means an increase of $2 billion in the annual bill, as India imports 1.8-2 billion barrels of crude oil a year. With oil prices expected to touch $100-110 soon, it would mean an increase of almost $30-40 billion—half of India’s defence budget. When the increased costs of insurance, time and cost of travel are added, the issue becomes too large to ignore.

The other crucial question is of reserves. As per Union Petroleum Minister Hardeep Singh Puri, India has 74 days of reserves and the government is looking at alternate arrangements.

SAFETY OF DIASPORA

No other country has a larger diaspora than India in the Gulf, totalling almost 1 crore. External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar said that around 67,000 Indians have returned home; 100 more flights are scheduled over the next few days. If the conflict escalates, it could be a logistical nightmare to evacuate so many Indians.

NATIONAL SECURITY

The assassination of Iran’s supreme leader led to peaceful protests in cities including Lucknow and Srinagar. The issue needs to be watched should an internal or external actor attempt to take advantage of the emotions and stoke violent protests. Similarly, an American submarine sinking the IRIS Dena in the Southern Indian Ocean raises questions on India’s ability to control maritime activities in its backyard.

STRATEGIC AUTONOMY

The fact that the Iran situation was discussed during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s visit to Israel on February 25-26 raises questions if Israel, a strategic partner, kept our prime minister in the dark of its intentions. India also did not condemn the strikes on Iran nor did we condole the death of its supreme leader.

India’s decision in February to relinquish its stake in Chahbahar port under American pressure was seen as weak. We have civilisational ties with Iran, a neighbour till the partition brought Pakistan in between. It is important that any perception that India is choosing sides does not come at the cost of its strategic autonomy.

LOOKING AHEAD

With increasing petroleum prices, there is also the threat of inflation and the risk of the rupee depreciating against the dollar. Industries are already being impacted—like in Gujarat’s Morbi, the world’s second-largest ceramics hub. And, the livelihood of people working in the Gulf (remitting over $30 billion annually) could come under threat. As a result, India has to think ahead and secure its interests.

The author is a foreign policy expert and senior research consultant at Chintan Research Foundation, Delhi. X@rajeev1421

indian-ocean-security-india-iris-dena-position

Sat Mar 14 15:28:32 IST 2026

AT THE OUTBREAK of hostilities, India was willing to provide sanctuary to three Iranian warships. Following the request on February 28 for the docking of the IRIS Dena, the permission was given within a day. To argue that we were responsible for the safety of these units as they were our guests has no basis. Warships do not require help.

The Dena, which was close to Sri Lanka, apparently requested entry. As per reports from Sri Lankan media, the ship remained in international waters for 11 hours, and was sunk. The US submarine reportedly warned the crew to abandon ship. Apparently it is those members of the crew who were for abandonment that survived. On receiving an SOS, the Sri Lankan navy rushed to provide aid, saving 32 sailors and recovering 87 bodies.

One warship, Bushehr, is now docked in Sri Lanka’s Trincomalee and another, Lavan, in Kochi. The US Navy has asked Sri Lanka not to repatriate the survivors.

While this is the actual situation, plenty of discussions have taken place related to the attack’s legitimacy and India’s role in it. The legality, which is mired in controversies, is based on jus ad bellum (the right to use force) and the obligations of the masters of vessels to rescue survivors at sea, which in this case was not honoured by the captain of the submarine. Instead, the US submarine moved away from the scene, possibly to remain undetected.

With the sinking, there are fears that the war has reached our backyard. People who criticise India seem to forget that the Indian Ocean region has witnessed the presence of submarines in warm waters during the cold war and the presence of extra regional players is a daily occurrence. Moreover, the detection of submarines continue to be a challenge for all navies of the world.

India has discharged its duties in coordinating with Sri Lanka and ensuring that help and succour was provided immediately. In terms of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, the US, which has not ratified the treaty, claims that it complies with the provision of the UNCLOS and does not respect “excessive claims” by other nations.

The permission for the Iranian war ship to dock in Kochi is a legitimate action by a neutral country. The Logistics Exchange Memorandum of Agreement between India and the US, which has been dragged in to the controversy, does not imply India has joined the war. At best, the provisions of the LEMOA would allow for some fuelling or repairs if and when required. It did not mean that information on any unit would be shared with the US navy in times of conflict as there is no military alliance with the US Navy. Considering the number of US bases in the Middle East and military facilities on the island of Diego Garcia, it is unlikely that the US needs any help from India.

The author is the director general of the Chennai Centre for China Studies.

iran-has-the-upper-hand-us-israel-seeking-a-way-out

Sat Mar 14 15:24:58 IST 2026

TEHRAN

CONTRARY TO EARLY forecasts and calculations in Washington and Tel Aviv, the course of events has not necessarily unfolded as anticipated. Despite human and infrastructural losses, Iran now holds the upper hand. This advantage rests on four factors: a smooth transition of leadership, popular support, the impact of energy and economic warfare, and the military equation.

Several notable developments have been reported in the military domain. One is the economic asymmetry of the war: Iran’s low-cost drones compel the United States and Israel to deploy highly expensive missile defence systems. This has shifted the balance of the conflict. Another issue is the destruction of defence systems. Reports suggest that Iran has destroyed advanced US THAAD systems in the West Asian region. A further aspect is technological capture. Iran claims to have intercepted nearly 100 advanced American and Israeli drones so far. Among the most significant cases is the hacking of an advanced MQ-9 Reaper drone and its safe landing along with its weapons payload. If confirmed, this incident could open the door for Iran to reverse engineer advanced drone technologies. Air superiority through fighter aircraft remains largely in the hands of the opposing side, and Iran is seeking ways to address this challenge.

Two developments in recent days suggest that the US and Israel may be seeking a way out of the current situation. The first concerns a shift in targeting. In the absence of significant military targets for bombing, attacks have increasingly been directed toward residential homes, administrative buildings, hospitals, banks and public facilities. This shift—intended to intimidate the population and weaken social support for the political system—also constitutes an implicit acknowledgment that the initial military objectives have not been achieved. The second sign is the activation of diplomatic channels aimed at moving toward a ceasefire, although statements by Donald Trump suggesting that ending the war would be premature appear to confirm the complexity of this process. In recent days, the presidents of Turkey and France, along with other intermediaries, have undertaken repeated visits and communications in an effort to understand Iran’s position regarding negotiations and a possible ceasefire. Public pressure within the US and Europe, volatility in global markets, and the failure to achieve declared objectives have collectively elevated the discussion of diplomatic pathways.

Overall, Iran has thus far shown no indication of interest in a ceasefire under the current conditions. On the one hand, domestic public opinion demanding the punishment of the aggressors has become widespread within the country. On the other hand, the governing authorities cannot realistically move toward post-war governance and reconstruction without obtaining guarantees that such aggression will not recur in the future. For this reason, discussion of a ceasefire before reaching a point that ensures credible deterrence remains unacceptable from Iran’s perspective.

The author teaches at the University of Tehran.

will-trump-netanyahu-be-wise-enough-to-quit-iran-war-now

Sat Mar 14 11:42:49 IST 2026

Indira Gandhi once said the most difficult decision she had to take during the 1971 war was when to stop it. Most war leaders face it—not knowing when to stop the triumphal run. History tells many stories of triumphant armies falling into death traps. The India Gate in New Delhi bears testimony to one such tragedy when a victorious commander, after achieving his military aim, led his troops to the jaws of defeat, disease and death more than a century ago in Mesopotamia.

Whether they know it or not, Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu are at that difficult moment now—of having nearly achieved their military objective, and we know not what they plan to do next—get the boys back home triumphantly or get bogged down in a Persian messpot.

Trump had claimed to have “obliterated” all of Iran’s nuclear arsenal and most of the nuclear potential in the 12-day war of last June. In the past few days of the current war, they have already neutralised or let Iran use up most of its missile armoury. It can be said with certain credibility at this juncture that Iran, with its remaining few missiles, what is left of its navy, a non-flying air force and a substantial army that is likely to get busy helping the crippled regime re-build the ancient nation, no longer poses a threat to Israel or its Arab neighbours.

THE MISSILE FORCE

Though no official claim was made from Washington, DC or Jerusalem regarding the size, range of the missile armoury or the TNT yield of the warhead stock, experts had estimated a collection of about 2,000 medium-range ballistic missiles (MRBMs), and 6,000 to 8,000 short-range ballistic missiles (SRBMs), and no inter-continental ballistic missiles (ICBMs). According to data from the Institute for National Security Studies (INSS), Iran launched about 600 ballistic missiles and more than 1,500 drones toward 12 countries in the Middle East in the first four days of the war.

Even if the numbers were military hyperbole, the fact is that the number of launches from Iran has been coming down. From about 80 missiles on the first day of the war, the number came down to 60 the very next day, further to 20 to 25 in a few days, and to less than 15 in a week.

More than the number of missiles launched, the decreasing effectiveness of the missiles is a more reliable indication that Iran’s offensive capability had been exaggerated. Israel has claimed to have suffered fewer than 15 casualties in the first 10 days of the war—against an estimated 1,300 casualties in Iran—and evacuated about 3,100 homes. That means most of the missiles launched against Israel were spotted before they hit targets and shot down by Israeli interceptors, or were of very low accuracy. Moreover, Iran’s two major missile factories, in Parchin and Shahrud, have been hit badly.

Missile accuracies are measured in terms of circular error probability (CEP), which says how close to the bull’s eye it would fall. Going by the data published by the Wisconsin Project of Nuclear Arms Control’s IranWatch website, a Shahab-1 with a range of 300km has a CEP of about 500m, which means the missile can hit anywhere within a radius of 500m from the bull’s eye. With a yield (destructive power) of about 700kg to 1,000kg, the missile is counted among the fairly effective weapons in the Iranian armoury.

But the longer-range missiles pose a different picture. The Khorramshahr-2 and 4, with a range of about 2,000km to 3,000km, have a CEP of 30m, but their warhead yield is just 750kg to 1,500kg. Which means, it flies up to 3,000km, but delivers very little punch for all the distance it has travelled. Israeli territory being about 1,700 air kilometres away, only weapons of the Khorramshahr type can hit Israel, but the punch packed in each delivery is inconsequential to Israel.

Regarding the threat posed to Arab states, Iran has made it clear that they are targeting only the US bases and US military assets stationed on their territories. Indeed, there have been instances of collateral damage when inaccurate missiles fell on hotels and residential complexes, but the bulk of Iranian shorter-range missiles have fallen on intended targets. All the same, very little damage has been reported from these targets, and the campaign has been militarily and politically ineffective since no Arab state has since asked the US to stop firing from their territories.

A more credible way of estimating the missile potential is to count the launchers than guesstimating the missile numbers. Launchers are said to be easier to spot from the air than missiles that are kept underground. As Ari Cicurel, associate director of foreign policy at Jewish Institute for National Security of America (JINSA), reported in a paper on the 6th day of the war, “launchers have become the scarcest link in [Iran’s] missile launch chain”. Launchers also give out their location to the enemy the moment they fire a missile. Israeli media outlets had collated data about Iran’s launchers from various sources and counted between 400 and 550 launchers. By March 7, the eighth day of the war, Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) were claiming to have destroyed 75 per cent of Iran’s missile launchers. It would mean that there are too few of them left to pose any credible threat, at least till Iran’s crippled military factories build more launchers.

THE ELUSIVE AIR THREAT

The current war has seen hardly any air activity from the Iranian side, leaving the airspace to be taken over completely by the US-Israeli fleet who claim to have destroyed a substantial number of the Iranian air fleet on ground. There were hardly any attempts at interception or dogfight, let alone attempts at striking ground targets in enemy territory. The only word said in favour of the Iranian air force is that it has an army of smart engineers who have kept the 1970s vintage birds flying. That is, till the war broke out.

Iran has never posed any conventional air threat to Israel or any of the Arab states. Crippled with several years of economic and trade sanctions, it has not been able to modernise its air fleet since the days of the Shah and the decade-long war with Iraq. By early this year, Iran was estimated to have about 400 aircraft, with a combat fleet of 15 squadrons of ageing US-made Shah-era F-14 and F-4, F-5 (some 60 of them) and about 80 to 100 Russian-made MiG-29 and Su-24 of the 1980s vintage. None of them is a match for the kind of strike and reconnaissance aircraft in the inventory of even Saudi Arabia or the UAE, let alone the US or Israel. By the fourth day of the war, Israeli jets had taken out several air defence systems and command centres located in Tehran, further crippling the Iranian air force’s ability to strike back.

DEATH BY WATER

Contrasted with the air force, the Iranian navy has been a credible fighting force, say Indian Navy sources. (They should know, since they have been been exercising with the Iranians over the years.) The Iranian navy was estimated to have 18 submarines (most of them highly effective midget submarines), 70 fast patrol boats, in addition to 133 ordinary patrol boats and a few frigates and destroyers. The midget subs and fast boats, armed with missiles, could have posed a threat to enemy warships, but the US and Israel focused the first days of the campaign on crippling the Iranian fleet by shooting anti-ship cruise missiles at them. Warship Makran was destroyed at the Bandar Abbas base. It was subjected to heavy US missile assault, as were IRIS Bayandor, IRIS Naghdi, IRIS Jamaran, IRIS Soleimani and the newly-launched drone-carrier Shahid Bagheri.

On the sixth day of the war, Admiral Brad Cooper, chief of the US Central Command, claimed: “Thus far, we’ve destroyed 17 Iranian warships, including the most operational Iranian submarine that now has a hole in its side…. Today, there’s not a single Iranian ship under way in the Arabian Gulf, Strait of Hormuz or Gulf of Oman, and we will not stop.”

Moreover, the US seems to have established sea domination in the region, as was demonstrated by its strike at warship Dena that was returning from a fleet review in India, off the coast of Sri Lanka. As US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth claimed on the 5th day of the war, “Iranian Navy rests at the bottom of the Persian Gulf.”

Hardly any Iranian naval activity has been reported after the first few days of the war. The only major claim from the Iranian side was to have hit US aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln, but independent reports suggest no substantial damage to the ship. All the same, little has been heard of the 18 submarines, including two or more of Russian Kilo-class. They could still pose serious threat to shipping in the straits, the gulfs and the seas around Iran. As Vice-Admiral Mark Mellett, former head of the Irish military, told a news portal, Iran still retains the ability to launch unconventional attack at sea through the use of drones, mini-subs and shadow fleet vessels, and also sow sea mines in the Strait of Hormuz. However, going by the recce and firepower that the US is claiming to be carrying into the Iranian waters, it’s a matter of days before the underwater threat is neutralised.

THE HARD GRIND ON THE GROUND

Thus the only credible arm that is left intact is the ground army—from both the Iranian army and the dreaded Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. They have not offered any resistance since there has been no threat of a ground invasion from the US-Israeli side or from any of Iran’s Arab neighbours. With some 2,000 artillery guns, about 1,300 multi-barrel rocket launchers, about 800 tanks of various types (including vintage US Pattons and British Chieftains of the Shah era to modified and upgraded Russian T-72s), that many or more armoured fighting vehicles, and about 6,00,000 active combatants, the two ground armies do pose a threat to any enemy who ventures on a ground invasion. Moreover, it would be nearly suicidal for the US or Israel to launch a ground offensive, even with the US’s ability to airlift ground forces all the way from homeland or elsewhere.

But that works both ways. With all the ground army strength at its disposal, Iran has limited or no capability to launch a ground offensive against Israel, whose territory is separated by about 1,800 km of Iraqi, Syrian and Jordanian territory. Indeed, the huge Iranian army continues to be a threat to its Arab neighbours, but with no substantial air support being available to the invaders, the defender can easily thwart any ground offensive.

What is finally left is the threat of the Iranian-armed Hezbollah. It will continue, but Iran’s capacity to arm it with drones and rockets has already been crippled. The Hezbollah’s firepower has been vastly reduced with Israeli offensives into its bases in southern Lebanon, Syria and elsewhere. Moreover, it is largely armed with drones and rockets, both of which are easily intercepted.

Nearly two weeks into the war, the military objective of eliminating Iran as a threat to the US, Israel or any of the Arab countries has been more or less achieved. As Cicurel estimated, “as Iran continues to lose the war, the regime will rely on small, infrequent missile attacks and struggle to sustain higher daily launch volumes….”

What is left is some mop-up operations to neutralise the armed militias and eliminate the remaining few missiles and their launchers, leaving the ground army alone to provide stability to the post-war Iran polity. But the thousand-missile question is: will Trump and Netanyahu be wise enough to quit the war at this moment of victory? Or will triumphalism seize their war-mongering minds and make the Middle East a worse messpot than what George Bush Jr created in Iraq?

iran-wars-ripple-effect-how-the-middle-east-conflict-is-shaping-indias-economy

Mon Mar 23 12:36:06 IST 2026

HOW INDIA IS affected by the Iran war and the spreading conflict in the Middle East comes down to a glass of water. Or rather, what you think of it. Is it half full? Or is it half empty? In this case, it also depends on how long that glass of water is going to stay like this.

For many, the glass is emptying fast. “I had to wait for over an hour and pay extra to the attendant to fill petrol,” said Rajeshwar Sharma, who hails from a village in western Uttar Pradesh. Many in cities have been reporting difficulty in procuring LPG gas cylinders, though the government says restrictions apply only to commercial usage. Long queues and frantic scenes have been reported at petrol bunks in many states, while social media posts about India’s oil reserves drying up within days have sent people into panic mode.

Petroleum Minister Hardeep Singh Puri, however, tried to assure that the glass is full: “The energy requirements of our citizens are being fully met. India is in a comfortable position. There is no room for anxiety or speculation in this regard,” he told the media. “India is navigating the trilemma of energy availability, affordability and sustainability even in the face of the current geopolitical challenges.”

Beyond these three worries, however, India could take multiple hits across the board if the war prolongs. “From agriculture and manufacturing to aviation and trade, the effects of the war may soon be felt far beyond the battlefield—reaching markets, industries, and households across India,” said Jigar Trivedi, senior research analyst (currencies & commodities), IndusInd Securities.

But first, the good news.

Despite many moves like squeezing out more domestic oil and gas, looking for alternative energy sources and blending ethanol in petrol, about 88 per cent of India’s fuel needs are met with imports. Half of this pass through the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow strip of water between the Arabian peninsula and mainland Iran. Iran has used it to block ship movements to step up pressure on the US.

“India thankfully has alternate channels for supply chains, including for energy needs; it will ensure the Indian economy will not have a crippling effect,” said Garry Singh, president of IIRIS Consulting, a Gurugram-based risk advisory.

With the US ‘allowing’ India to continue buying oil from Russia for 30 days, supplies are expected to be stable for the time being—Russian oil comes from its western ports like Primorsk and traverses the Suez Canal to India’s Arabian seacoast ports, bypassing the Strait of Hormuz.

Another saving grace is the imperative on the US to ensure there is no global shockwave because of Iran’s energy-squeezing tactics. And with a deal already in place to buy more oil from America, the import of Venezuelan oil into India is also expected to rise rapidly. Reliance Industries has already purchased fresh shipments of crude oil from the South American nation under the new arrangement, with bigger tankers being arranged to reduce the cost of the long transportation.

With too much focus on fuel availability and inflation, many are missing the part where the glass worryingly appears ‘half empty’, when you consider industries ranging from chemicals to fertilisers as well as sectors like aviation, electronics and IT. This is where the bad news starts.

The Middle East is not just an oil exporter to India—about a fifth of India’s exports go to this region. India’s trade with the UAE alone is more than $100 billion. “The Middle East is a critical market for Indian exporters, particularly in engineering goods, energy-related equipment, and infrastructure supplies. Any geopolitical escalation in the region creates uncertainty, which can temporarily slow down project investments and procurement decisions,” said Sarvadnya Kulkarni, CEO, General Instruments Consortium.

India has a flourishing trade with the Gulf states right from spices, agricultural produce and food products to electronics and IT Services. While goods trade is already at a standstill, any long-term impact to these countries’ economies could translate to services contracts drying up. “If the conflict prolongs, exporters could face a combination of higher logistics costs, insurance premiums and potential delays in project execution across the region,” said Kulkarni.

The significance of Dubai as an aviation and air cargo hub has accentuated the pain in sectors ranging from air travel to the gems and jewellery sector, which uses Dubai for transit. “This has disrupted global logistics corridors linking Asia, the Middle East and Europe,” said Jitendra Srivastava, CEO, Triton Logistics & Maritime. “Dubai and Abu Dhabi act as critical transit gateways for Indian exports moving to Europe, Africa and North America. When those hubs slow down, cargo quickly piles up at origin points, which is already visible in India.”

Middle East carriers like Emirates, Etihad and Qatar Airways ferry more passengers from India to foreign destinations than Indian carriers. Their disruptions, along with the closure of airspace across much of West Asia, has not only seen airfares shoot up, but left international travel from India in limbo.

“Aviation is a high fixed investment business and because of that the interest costs keep on building up. If your operating profits get very low, then business becomes less viable,” said Vikas Prakash Singh, PGPM director, Great Lakes Institute of Management, Gurugram. “But India is one of the largest players, so financiers may be ready to renegotiate the contracts.”

That adjustment will be crucial, if fuel prices keep going up. “Higher jet fuel prices are already emerging as another pressure point for airlines,” said Srivastava. It is a bogeyman that had nipped a few Indian airlines in the bud in the past.

The crucial question is, how longer and deeper an impact do we have to brace ourselves for.

Many believe that inflation is not much of a worry. “India’s inflation is already very low. So there is a lot of room for us to remain comfortable, even if the inflation doubles,” said Singh of Great Lakes. “Moreover, there could be a little more interest rate cuts in order to reduce the pressure on costs.”

But one worry remains. Foreign portfolio investors pulled out more than Rs20,000 crore from Indian markets in just the four days after the war broke out. A bigger worry is the tanking rupee—will it finally hit the dreaded 100 mark against the dollar?

Remittances could also be hit, and this has larger ramifications for India’s GDP growth. Nearly 40 per cent of this comes from the Gulf and any significant drop could be damaging. Also, large scale loss of jobs and Indians coming back unemployed from the Middle East would not only be a heavy burden on India, but starkly slow down consumption that is central to its economic growth.

beyond-nuclear-the-true-aim-of-us-israel-military-action-in-iran

Sat Mar 07 18:00:17 IST 2026

The assassination of Iran’s supreme leader has confirmed that the war aims of Israel and the United States extend beyond the nuclear issue to regime change. Negotiations over Iran’s nuclear programme had been making progress and did not justify military intervention.

In retaliation, Iran has launched missile and drone attacks on Israel as well as on US bases in Bahrain, Kuwait, the UAE, Qatar and Saudi Arabia. Airports in Abu Dhabi and Dubai have been hit. The Gulf states have closed their airspace and commercial airlines have suspended flights. An oil tanker has been struck in the Strait of Hormuz off the coast of Oman. Saudi Aramco’s refinery at Ras Tanura, as well as an LNG facility at Ras Laffan in Qatar, have also been targeted.

The region, which hosts a nine-million-strong Indian diaspora, is now engulfed in conflict.

The outbreak of hostilities was preceded by an unprecedented build-up of US forces in the region, even as talks on the nuclear issue were under way between Iran and the United States. The USS Abraham Lincoln was deployed in the Gulf of Oman, while the USS Gerald Ford was stationed in the Mediterranean.

As the US military presence expanded, Iran informed the UN Security Council that, if attacked, it would exercise its right of self-defence by retaliating against Israel and US bases and assets in the region. The IRGC Navy also conducted exercises in the Strait of Hormuz to demonstrate its ability to block the vital waterway through which nearly twenty per cent of the world’s oil supply passes.

The third round of indirect talks, mediated by Oman, concluded on a positive note on February 26 in Geneva. Oman’s foreign minister, Sayyid Badr Albusaidi, said in an interview on February 27 that a “peace deal is within our reach”. Israel and the United States struck the following day. The military action pre-empted the possibility of a negotiated settlement.

Following the assassination of the supreme leader, Iran announced the formation of an interim Guidance Council consisting of President Masoud Pezeshkian, the head of the judiciary Mohsen Ejehi, and Ayatollah Alireza Arafi, a jurist from the Guardian Council. Meanwhile, the IRGC has launched fresh missile salvos against Israel and US targets. The leadership transition has not diminished Iran’s ability to prosecute the war.

Regional fallout

Even before the US-Israeli strikes, the leaders of nine Arab states had written to President Donald Trump advising against military action. Their appeal reflected deep concern that their countries would suffer collateral damage in the event of war. Subsequent developments have vindicated those fears.

India’s interests

Since the beginning of February, the price of Brent crude, the international benchmark, has risen by $4.54 per barrel. Within three days of the outbreak of war it climbed by a further $10.42. A prolonged closure of the Strait of Hormuz could push prices even higher. For India, every one-dollar increase in the price of oil adds roughly Rs 14,000 crore to the country’s annual import bill.

Apart from crude oil, India sources around 55 per cent of its LNG from the Gulf region, of which Qatar accounts for about 40 per cent. Following the attack on the Ras Laffan facility, Qatar has declared force majeure on the production and supply of LNG. This has removed roughly 20 per cent of global LNG supply at a stroke.

The resulting shock has driven up gas prices sharply. In Europe, prices have risen by around 50 per cent, while the spot price of LNG in the Asian market has nearly doubled to $25 per mmbtu. As a result, Petronet and GAIL have reduced gas supplies to the domestic industry in India.

During my tenure as India’s ambassador to Iran, I had the privilege of negotiating India’s participation in the Chabahar port project. We should complete the project as soon as the situation permits. Geography does not change, and the port will remain strategically important for India’s access to Afghanistan.

Similarly, India must continue developing the International North-South Transit Corridor (INSTC), which could significantly reduce the time and cost of trade with Russia. The corridor is also vital for improving India’s access to Central Asia.

The way forward

Trump has indicated that the war could continue for another five weeks. Even so, such a campaign may not achieve regime change. What it will certainly do is devastate a region that is home to a nine-million-strong Indian diaspora.

There is therefore an urgent need to declare a ceasefire and resume negotiations on the nuclear issue, which had already made considerable progress. Iran is unlikely to compromise on its missile programme, which it regards as its only effective deterrent against Israeli or American attack. It has already faced military strikes from both countries twice.

Changing course will not be easy after the highest levels of leadership have invested political capital in the declared objective of regime change. Yet it remains a better option than a prolonged war. An extended conflict would erode American capacity to counter China in the Taiwan Strait and could prove a costly gamble in an election year in the United States.

The author negotiated the Chabahar agreement as ambassador to Iran and was director, GAIL.

deterrence-strategy-how-iran-is-escalating-conflict-and-economic-warfare-against-us-israel

Fri Mar 06 16:12:58 IST 2026

TEHRAN

When the United States launched its attack against Iran on February 28, both countries were already engaged in talks. The negotiations that had continued until February 26 marked the second time since President Donald Trump’s inauguration in 2025 that the Islamic Republic and the US had entered nuclear talks. However, the US used those discussions as a mechanism of deception. When an agreement appeared imminent, a military incursion against Iran was launched in concert with Israel, as had happened during the 12-day conflict in June 2025. Crucially, this time it involved the martyrdom of the supreme leader, who served not only as Iran’s political head but also as a religious authority and leader with a vast global following.

The death of the supreme leader inflicted profound grief upon the Iranian people. A monumental wave of mourning, accompanied by overwhelming calls for “severe retaliation” and a “strong response” swept the nation, despite limited expressions of satisfaction from small, isolated factions.

Iran responded immediately, launching drone and ballistic missile strikes against Israel and US military installations in West Asia within hours. Iran had repeatedly issued public warnings and official diplomatic notes asserting that any aggression against its territory would inevitably trigger a regional war. Beyond Israel, which faced continuous bombardment through more than ten waves of missiles and drones in less than 72 hours, US bases surrounding Iran, along with several naval vessels, including the USS Abraham Lincoln, were struck and engaged. In response, the US and Israel continued their attacks, targeting not only missile sites and military facilities but also civilian infrastructure, including a primary school, a hospital and residential areas.

Owing to sustained media pressure and persistent threats from the Trump administration, the Iranian population had partly acclimatised to the prospect of conflict. The prevailing belief was that the conflict initiated last year had not concluded but had merely entered a period of suspension, capable of reigniting at any moment. Consequently, both citizens and state authorities undertook preparedness measures, including the stockpiling of essential goods, sanitation supplies and military material. As a result, the outbreak of hostilities did not produce the severe shock or disruption witnessed during the earlier surprise attack. Queues for petrol lasted only one day, and minor shortages of certain commodities were swiftly resolved.

The strong spiritual and religious bond between Iranians and their martyred supreme leader fostered a powerful sense of loyalty and cohesion. This was evident in the nightly gatherings of citizens and their families in major city squares, which served both as mourning rituals and affirmations of allegiance to the Islamic Republic. These gatherings also acted as a deterrent to the kind of street unrest seen recently, which was allegedly supported by the US and Israel. Alongside grief, feelings of vengeance and concern about the future persist. Continued military actions by the Iranian armed forces against enemy positions are presented as a response to public demands for retribution.

A widespread conviction has emerged among Iranians that the supreme leader established governance structures so robust that the state’s functioning does not depend on any single individual but on institutional and social frameworks. Within days of the conflict’s outbreak, all state affairs continued in accordance with established procedures, demonstrating that the absence of the leader did not impede operational planning. This resilience is presented as evidence of comprehensive contingency preparation. The Leadership Council, comprising the president, the chief justice and one of the Guardian Council’s jurists, was constituted on the second day to assume the functions of the supreme leader. The election of a new leader now rests with the Assembly of Experts, a body of 88 jurisprudential and religious scholars elected nationwide, which is legally required to convene at the earliest opportunity to select a successor. Ali Larijani, secretary of the Supreme National Security Council, has articulated a foreign policy centred on good neighbourliness and regional stability, stating that strikes will target only US military installations and assets located abroad, which under international law are regarded as extensions of US territory.

In contrast to the US, which is portrayed as seeking a limited war and a decisive strike, Iran has prepared for a protracted conflict. The Iranian public has resolved to eliminate what it sees as the persistent spectre of aggression from its airspace. The strategy articulated to achieve this objective involves imposing significant costs on the adversary in order to establish long-term deterrence.

This approach rests on two principal pillars. The first is to inflict maximum military damage on US and Israeli forces by targeting regional bases, personnel and hardware. The second is to raise global economic costs by influencing energy markets. Iran has blockaded the Strait of Hormuz, through which roughly 20 per cent of global energy supplies transit, preventing the passage of oil tankers. Tehran has also declared unequivocally that it will not resume negotiations with the US, asserting that talks are now perceived not as a path to agreement but as a precursor to further attack. The stated objective of these strategies is to secure long-term deterrence, enabling Iran to pursue its development within a framework of international security free from the shadow of war and coercion.

The author teaches at the University of Tehran.

we-have-identified-2500-military-targets-reuven-azar-israeli-ambassador-to-india

Sun Mar 08 15:34:04 IST 2026

Q/ Given that indirect talks in Geneva reportedly showed progress as recently as last week, how does Israel justify the timing of this massive escalation?

It was an American decision. The United States concluded that the negotiations were going nowhere — especially because Iran was unwilling to compromise meaningfully on the nuclear file. They also refused to discuss the threats that other countries face from their ballistic missile programme. As you know, Iran had been planning to build between 10,000 to 20,000 ballistic missiles — enough to devastate several countries. Additionally, they were unwilling to discuss their support for their proxies, the terrorist organisations which they arm and fund with advanced technology as a means to produce sophisticated weapons. So it was an American assessment, and Israel joined the effort after both the U.S. and Israel decided there was a combined need for military action to remove the threat. We might see negotiations coming back if Iran chooses to accept the American conditions.

Q/ What would you outline as American conditions at this point in time and, from the Israeli point of view, are you even hopeful?

I do not know what the conditions set by the US are today, but I think President Donald Trump was pretty clear that he sees a situation where this operation could prolong for weeks. It is up to the Iranians to decide whether they want to go back to the negotiating table, this time under the conditions set by the US. These conditions cover the nuclear programme, ballistic missiles, and support for proxy groups—that path remains open. But the US has now made it clear that it wants regime change, and until then, action is deemed necessary. Now the question is whether this change will take place inside the regime, or result in the removal of the entire leadership. In Venezuela, it was easily done, with the people in power leaving, but it is different in Iran because the military operation has already removed several senior military decision-makers, and it is up to the Iranians to decide if they want this to continue or stop.

Q/ Beyond the killing of Ayatollah Khamenei, what is the specific plan to ensure a transition to a stable, friendly government? Is there not a high risk that a vacuum will be filled by more radical elements within the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps?

The idea that a more radical leadership would replace the current regime is unlikely—the present leadership is already among the most hardline elements. I think people have to be reminded that Ayatollah Khamenei was the most radical element within the Iranian regime. All the people calling for modern or reformist policies in the last few decades were targeted. Reformist voices had been suppressed, and leaders were placed under house arrest. The entire regime was filled with people as radical as him. So to think Iran can have a more radical regime after this is a bridge too far.

Q/ What is the specific “end state” Israel is looking for, and how confident is Israel that Iran’s nuclear breakout capability has been permanently neutralised?

We have identified approximately 2,500 military targets, and we are conducting operations against them as we speak. At the conclusion of operations, we are aiming—together with the US—to completely neutralise the two existential threats from Iran’s ballistic missile programme and military nuclear programme.

Of course, in the medium and long term, if there is a change in regime, these programmes won’t be reinstated. However, if the regime remains unchanged, there remains a risk that these capabilities could be rebuilt. That is why both Israel and the US—unlike in the operation in June—have expanded the objectives this time and are calling on the Iranian people to seize the opportunity for change.

Q/ The US and Israel have expressed hope for an internal uprising, but history shows such strikes can often lead to a “rally around the flag” effect. Why do you believe this time will result in liberation rather than further radicalisation?

We are not prophets. We are also not in the place of the Iranian people, so ultimately it is up to them. But I think after the regime has demonstrated its ruthlessness with the killing of tens of thousands during past protest waves, more Iranians now understand that this regime does not serve their interests. Of course, there are a handful of hardcore supporters of the regime, but the question is whether they will continue to have the capability to oppress and kill those who want freedom. I don’t have an answer for that.

Q/ Recent missile strikes have raised concerns about the limitations of Israel’s air defence systems, like the Iron Dome, that are being exposed to a multi-front barrage.

The Iron Dome does not handle the threat of ballistic missiles. We use other systems, such as Arrow and David’s Sling, for that threat. Unfortunately, no system is 100 per cent impermeable. A recent strike resulted in casualties, as the missile hit one of the towns, Beit Shemesh, leaving 51 injured and killing nine people, which is tragic. This is a very substantial threat. But on the brighter side, I can tell you that we are intercepting roughly 90 per cent of incoming missiles. What can happen in the future is that the Israeli Air Force and the forces of the United States are going to continue hunting missile launchers on the Iranian side, which will bring down their numbers and reduce their firing capability over time.

Q/ With Hezbollah now launching retaliatory strikes from Lebanon, is Israel prepared for a sustained, high-intensity conflict on its northern border while simultaneously managing the Iranian front?

Yes. We anticipated that scenario, and we are completely ready. Hezbollah has made a serious mistake by firing at Israel and entering this conflict. The repercussions are going to be severe. We have already targeted several of its leaders, and we are going to hit hard at military installations in southern Lebanon. Evacuation orders have been issued in areas where Hezbollah military infrastructure is embedded among civilians, and that is happening as we speak. Israel will continue degrading Hezbollah’s capabilities. Another positive development is that since the last round with Hezbollah, Israel has also deployed a new laser-based defence system, Iron Beam, which is proving to be very efficient in adding another protective layer against rockets and drones. Though Hezbollah has fired many rockets and drones, its capability to penetrate and harm Israelis has diminished substantially as a result of Iron Beam.

Q/ Iran has been targeting Gulf travel hubs. Will Israel intervene to protect its new regional partners in the Abraham Accords?

Israel is already acting to protect its regional partners because we are now over the skies of Iran, and are hunting the missile launchers. We are planning the defence of the entire West Asian region together with our American friends and other friendly armies in the region.

Q/ Some analysts suggest that by making the Gulf States a target, Iran is forcing them into a “neutrality” that actually pushes Saudi Arabia and Iran closer together against Western intervention. How do you read this shift in regional strategy?

Actually, the opposite is happening if you read the statements that were issued by the countries that were attacked. They were attacking neither the U.S. nor Israel, but diplomatically, they were attacking Iran. So the attacks on these countries are seen as hostility coming from Iran, and they are not blaming Israel or the United States. That suggests Iran’s actions are isolating it further.

Q/ With the Strait of Hormuz effectively blocked and oil prices soaring, what is Israel’s strategy to mitigate a global economic meltdown that could turn international opinion against the objectives you are trying to achieve?

When it comes to international opinion, I think we are in a very good situation. We have seen many countries condemning Iran, and we have seen more and more countries joining to show support for the action against the Iranian regime. When it comes to the global oil market, I think the US has taken into account the possibility that prices will go up temporarily. But unlike the situation in the 1970s and 1990s, the capability of the Iranians to affect the oil market in the long term is pretty limited, both because the military options are going to diminish as time goes by and the ability to close the Strait of Hormuz is going to be non-existent. Right now, the diminishing of the movement of ships in the strait is a precautionary act that many companies are taking, and they are going to wait and see how this develops in the coming weeks and then take a decision on whether to allow ships to continue flowing.

Q/ Projects like the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) were built on the promise of regional stability. With a regional war in full swing, do you concede such ambitious connectivity projects face a huge challenge?

The fact that we are taking care of the Iranian threat is going to make the possibility of IMEC and other regional projects much higher. Because, in the past, many countries were hesitating whether to enter into projects in the region, fearing the military build-up that was happening in Iran and other places as a result of the Iranian regime’s effort to put pressure on the Arab Gulf countries…. If the ongoing military campaign manages to neutralise the Iranian threat, prospects for executing projects like IMEC become significantly higher.

Q/ We recently saw Prime Minister Narendra Modi in Israel, days before the military strikes on Iran. Do you think India’s position has shifted from neutrality to a strategic alignment with Israel, and what has driven this change?

India’s policy is in line with its own interests, and it is up to India to align with this country or another. What happened during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent visit was that we substantially upgraded our strategic cooperation. We call it a Special Strategic Partnership, as we have reached agreements that are going to allow us to cooperate more deeply in creating solutions on the defence and security side and serve our interests. It comes at an opportune time because both India and Israel face challenges from radical forces, and both countries are embracing the future by creating the competitive edge that we need in order to succeed on the world stage.

Q/ India has millions of citizens working in the Gulf and remains a top importer of energy from the region. How does Israel plan to address New Delhi’s concerns regarding the safety of the Indian diaspora and the massive inflationary pressure this war is placing on the Indian economy?

Israel is ensuring the safety of Indian workers within its territory. We have very strict protocols regarding the safety of all residents of Israel, including citizens and non-citizens. When it comes to the Gulf, the fact that we are dealing with a more comprehensive way to counter threats from radical forces actually increases the prospects of a more stable Gulf region, both for Indian workers and Indian companies

Q/ We have seen the long-term chaos that followed regime changes in Iraq and Libya. Are there specific measures to prevent Iran from descending into a decade of sectarian civil war?

I think it is very difficult to compare the situation in Iraq or Libya to the situation in Iran. We don’t know exactly what will happen at this point in time, but what we know is that the situation is different and there will be a substantial change, either of the regime or within the regime. Iran not only has a civilisational history and background, but also the capability, politically and organisationally, to function as a responsible state. We do not support chaos, and hope things will move smoothly into an order that serves the interests of the Iranian people and the world, which will see a region that is more stable and more moderate once the radical elements are defeated and removed.

Q/ This is a historic action against Iran’s military nuclear infrastructure, as we have seen Israel raising concerns over the years. This operation must have been in the works for a long time. For how long has this effort been going on?

Israel has been working for nearly 30 years to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons. This nuclear technology itself today is not new — it is over 80 years old. So it is not a very sophisticated technology. The fact that we have managed to prevent Iran from arming itself with nuclear weapons is only a result of our efforts. When it comes to the future, I think this operation and coordination with the U.S. give us much better prospects of preventing Iran from reinstituting its nuclear programme for a much longer period of time. But, if this regime continues to exist, I have no doubt that it will try to re-engage in reinstituting the nuclear programme. Therefore, we would like to see a situation in Iran where this operation not only degrades military capability but creates conditions for political change — leading to long-term stability. That is why we hope this military operation will help the Iranian people free themselves of oppression and engage with the world in a more positive way that will actually make all our effort, time, money, and blood in preventing existential threats to humanity worthwhile. We hope to get to that da

iran-us-tensions-how-gulf-states-are-navigating-economic-warfare-shifting-alliances

Fri Mar 06 16:03:57 IST 2026

AMMAN

The escalating confrontation between Israel, the United States and Iran is placing unprecedented strain on the regional system that has long depended on US security guarantees. Iran has demonstrated its readiness to retaliate beyond its borders, while Gulf states are increasingly exposed to the consequences of their close defence partnerships with Washington. As the conflict widens, a debate is emerging across the region over whether the political and economic costs of alignment with the US have become too high. Regional actors are reassessing alliances, deterrence strategies and their long-term place in a changing security architecture.

The confrontation is proving to be as much an economic war as it is a military one. Iranian strikes on energy infrastructure in Saudi Arabia and Qatar have already shaken markets, while the closure of the Strait of Hormuz signals Tehran’s readiness to expand the conflict into the global economic domain. Iran’s attempt to internationalise the confrontation by targeting Gulf energy infrastructure may ultimately backfire. Such actions risk widening the economic fallout of the war and increasing pressure for a broader international response.

President Donald Trump’s Iran policy has been based on pressure and deterrence, using sanctions, military threats and strong public statements. While this approach has reassured some allies, it has also created concern among regional partners who fear that escalation could quickly move beyond control. Trump entered his second term promising to avoid long wars in the Middle East and to focus on limiting US involvement in regional conflicts. However, the current confrontation has placed him in a difficult position, where backing down could be seen as weakness, while further escalation risks widening the war. This contradiction is being closely watched in Arab capitals, where governments still depend on US protection but are increasingly cautious about being pulled into a conflict shaped by Washington’s internal political pressures as much as by regional realities.

Israel’s role has also been central in pushing the confrontation forward. For years, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has treated Iran as the main strategic threat and has argued that a stronger response is necessary to limit Tehran’s military and political influence. Israeli policy has focused on stopping Iran from expanding its presence through missile programmes, proxy groups and military positions across the region. This position has brought Israel closer to several Arab states that share concerns about Iran, especially after the Abraham Accords, but it has also increased the feeling among others that regional security is being driven by a confrontational approach that leaves little room for diplomacy. As a result, the current crisis is not only about Iran’s behaviour but also about the growing belief that the regional balance is being shaped by pressure and force rather than negotiation.

The vulnerability of Gulf states quickly became evident as the confrontation expanded beyond Israel. Much of the US military infrastructure in Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and the UAE lies within the range of Iran’s short-range ballistic missiles, which are inexpensive and designed for rapid launch. As a result, retaliatory strikes were able to reach targets across the Gulf within hours of escalation.

Iranian missile and drone attacks against US facilities hosted in the UAE caused direct impacts on Emirati territory. Similar incidents were reported in Saudi Arabia, where an attack triggered a fire at the Ras Tanura oil complex, forcing Saudi Aramco to halt refinery operations. These developments highlight how proximity to Iran makes Gulf states the first arena of escalation whenever confrontation with the US or Israel moves into open conflict.

Strategically, the current pattern of strikes suggests that Iran has not yet used the full extent of its military capabilities. Tehran’s doctrine favours gradual escalation, relying on calibrated missile and drone attacks rather than an immediate large-scale response. Decision-making has also become more militarised in recent years, with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps playing a leading role and showing less willingness to rely on de-escalation efforts. Iranian planners appear aware that US policy under Trump has often prioritised short-term displays of strength, creating an incentive for Tehran to avoid a rapid, maximal response that could justify broader American intervention.

Recent defence cooperation between regional powers reflects a growing effort to reduce exclusive dependence on the United States. The UAE has expanded security coordination with India, particularly in maritime and technological fields, while Saudi Arabia continues to rely on long-standing military ties with Pakistan in training and defence support.

This pattern highlights a shifting deterrence dynamic in which regional powers tied to Washington are increasingly seeking to limit their exposure to escalation rather than rely solely on US protection. Regional actors are not abandoning Washington, but they are clearly seeking additional partners to reduce their vulnerability. The conflict has highlighted the costs that can come with US protection and may gradually push the region toward a more flexible security architecture rather than one centered entirely on the US.

If the conflict continues, Israel could emerge with a significantly stronger strategic position, particularly if Iran is weakened without the emergence of a new regional counterweight. Such a shift would reshape the regional order in ways that many states may view with caution, even as they share concerns about Tehran’s influence.

The author is a research analyst based in Amman.

how-pakistan-is-stuck-in-a-geopolitical-quagmire

Fri Mar 06 15:59:35 IST 2026

In the early hours of February 28, the US and Israel launched a coordinated attack on Iran. For the past few weeks, the mobilisation of the American armada in the vicinity of the Persian Gulf had suggested that a war between the US and Iran was imminent. Iran had faced a joint US-Israeli attack in June 2025.

The objectives of the American-Israeli attack on Iran in June and February are clear: dismantle Iran’s nuclear installations, destroy its missile programme, and compel regime change in Tehran. This time, Iran made it clear that it would target American military bases in the Gulf, conduct retaliatory attacks against Israel, and destabilise the Gulf region by closing the Strait of Hormuz and hitting at American interests in the region. It is yet to be seen how far the Iranian regime, deprived of its supreme leader and military leadership, will proceed with retaliatory acts against Israel and the US.

What are the implications of the US-Israeli attack and how will prevailing tensions between Pakistan and Afghanistan impact the escalation of war in the Gulf region? How will Pakistan react to the possible crippling of the Iranian regime?

Islamabad is stuck in a ‘devil and the deep blue sea’ situation. On the one hand, it has to consider the anti-American and anti-Israel sentiments that got an impetus as a result of the attack on Iran. On the other hand, it has to keep in mind its strategic relations with the US and Saudi Arabia. Conspiracy theories in Pakistan about the prevailing war in the Gulf emanate from the timing of US-Israeli attack. It took place when Pakistan was deeply involved in its armed conflict with Afghanistan. Also, the visit of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi to Israel concluded days before the US-Israeli attack. Whatever be the objectives of attack, it needs be analysed in the context of its implications in south and west Asia.

One needs to be mindful of the fact that if the conflict escalates further, Pakistan would be in deep trouble. Islamabad argues that the growing Indo-Afghan nexus, and the support seen to be rendered by India and Israel to Afghanistan in its prevailing conflict with Islamabad, is not an ordinary situation. It is also believed in Pakistan that Israel will turn to its actual target after destroying Iran: Islamabad’s nuclear arsenal.

Is Pakistan ready to face joint Indo-Afghan and Israeli strategic pressure? Already, Pakistan is grappling with the surge of violence and terrorism in the restive provinces of Balochistan and Khyber-Pakhthunkhwa, and its economic predicament is worsening with each passing day. Will Pakistan’s military, facing a two-pronged threat on its eastern and western borders, succeed in dealing with the alarming situation? How will Pakistan deal with the outburst of popular sentiments if Israel and the US succeed in dismantling the Iranian regime? There is a sectarian dimension to the growing security predicament: around 20 per cent of Pakistan’s population are Shia Muslims, who sympathise with Iran. The attack on the US consulate in Karachi on March 1 reflects the popular resentment against the attack on Iran and the killing of Iranian supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

Iran’s missile attack on Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Kuwait, Jordan and the UAE—pro-American states that have economic and security ties with Pakistan—will put Islamabad in a difficult situation. To maintain neutrality will be an uphill task for Pakistan. Most importantly, reports of the Afghan support to Israel and perceived coordination between Kabul and New Delhi have Pakistan shocked.

Is the state of Pakistan capable of dealing with multiple security threats emanating from the US-Israeli attack on Iran and ongoing armed conflict between Kabul and Islamabad?

Implications of US-Israeli attack on Iran needs to be analysed from two angles. First, the failure of diplomacy to avert it. Like the June 2025 attack, the recent attack happened when talks between Tehran and Washington were going on. The fact is that, after the June 2025 attack, Iranian power had weakened. Iran had lost Syria as its ally and was facing pressures in Lebanon, Yemen and Gaza. Furthermore, the Iranian regime faced a popular uprising led by the students. Although that revolt was crushed by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, a wide section of Iranian society had turned against the regime.

Second, if Pakistan is facing a dilemma in the ongoing war in the Gulf, India is also in the same situation—because, by siding with Israel and the US against Tehran, it would lose its age-old strategic and economic ties with Iran. Furthermore, the economic fallout of the Gulf war will have serious financial and economic implications on South Asia, which will be reflected in the surge of oil and essential commodity prices. It will now be up to China and Russia, as two major powers, to prevent the collapse of Iran by putting their weight in favour of Tehran. If the war goes on, it would have devastating impact on global economy and security.

Ahmar is professor of international relations and former dean, faculty of social sciences, University of Karachi.

why-pm-modis-silence-on-khameneis-death-is-a-diplomatic-strategy

Thu Mar 05 17:42:58 IST 2026

Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s loud silence on the assassination of Iran’s supreme leader Ali Khamenei in a joint US-Israel military attack has sparked strong comments, criticism and rebuke within the country (India has offered its condolences on Khamenei's death, with Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri signing the condolence book at the Iranian embassy in New Delhi on March 5). Prominent opposition figures see this as an abandonment of moral, ethical and leadership responsibilities. The issue has become a domestic controversy amid upcoming assembly elections, where Muslim voters could play a crucial role in the outcome. Even otherwise informed and intelligent minds do not look beyond the assassination and tend to ignore or downplay the consequences of the Iranian response for the Arab countries.

Modi may choose to make his views public later. But his ‘silence’ at the moment appears logical and is shaped by two main factors: India’s strategic interests with the Gulf Arab states, which are now primary targets of Iran’s counter-offensive, and the demographic makeup of India’s Muslim population.

Even before the international community, including India, could process the news of Khamenei’s assassination, Tehran expressed its anger towards all its Arab neighbours. The stated goal of targeting American bases in the Gulf fell apart when several civilian and non-combatant sites in the region were hit by a barrage of Iranian missiles and drones. Among the targets in the Arab countries were ports, airports, oil terminals, hotels and holiday resorts, which are the prime assets and wealth of the Gulf countries.

The Iranian response was indiscriminate, targeting not just Israel but all six members of the Gulf Cooperation Council, Jordan and the autonomous Kurdish regional government of Iraq. Even Oman, a traditionally neutral power since the 1970s and a strong supporter of Tehran’s engagement with the outside world, especially with the US, was not spared. Qatar, which faced a four-year Arab boycott over its ties with the Islamic Republic, also faced the Iranian barrage. Until now, only Israel has been accustomed to hostile missile and drone attacks and has built a resilient home front. For the Gulf Arab countries, used to wealth, comfort and security, the Iranian actions were shocking and unsettling.

While the Trump-Netanyahu duo unleashed hostilities, the Iranian response is destabilising an area of significant importance to India. Modi could have expressed his deep sorrow and condolences for Khamenei’s killing and could have even used stronger words. He might have done this and more had he not needed to consider the well-being of the nearly one crore Indian expatriates in the Gulf Arab countries.

Any expression of sympathy for Khamenei or perceived sympathy for the Iranian leader would have made it more difficult for Modi to engage with Gulf Arab leaders, who are essential to India’s political, economic, energy and social interests. Indeed, within hours of the Iranian attacks, he called UAE President Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan and “strongly condemned the attacks” on the Emirates, declaring that “India stands in solidarity with the UAE in these difficult times”. The following day, Modi shared similar sentiments with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and condemned the “attacks on Saudi Arabia in violation of its sovereignty and territorial integrity”. Later, he pledged support to Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar and Jordan through personal conversations with their leaders. Notably, his response to the US-Israeli attacks on Iran was different.

Any perceived support for Iran at this moment could have alienated Arab leaders, who were the immediate victims of Iran’s reckless and sometimes senseless retaliatory attacks. The issue is not solely about the safety of Indians in the war zone but also about their long-term presence in the region. Modi likely recalled the 1990 Kuwait crisis and its consequences. In their desperation, Yasser Arafat and the rest of the Palestinian leadership supported Iraqi president Saddam Hussein’s invasion, occupation and annexation of Kuwait. That one mistake proved catastrophic after Kuwait was liberated in February 1991, resulting in about 400,000 Palestinians being expelled by Gulf Arab countries, which lessened the significance of the Palestine issue in inter-Arab politics. This shift paved the way for several countries, including India, to normalise relations with Israel.

Furthermore, the external affairs minister I.K. Gujral’s famous ‘hug’ with Saddam Hussein in August 1990 during the crisis proved costly later. The Arab countries did not forget, and none of the Gulf countries was willing to host Gujral when he briefly served as prime minister during 1997-98.

Secondly, with assembly elections approaching, Modi will also need to pay attention to sectarian divisions within Islam. According to the latest estimates, India has the fourth-largest Shia population after Iran, Pakistan and Iraq. There are about 20 million Shias in India, making up roughly 15 per cent of the country’s Muslim population. Iran has the largest Shia population, and Khamenei has been respected and venerated by Shias worldwide. But the Islamic world does not speak in a single voice. Even regarding Israel, there is no unified stance; for instance, several members of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation have both formal and informal relations with the Jewish state.

However, the Iranian attacks on Sunni-majority states in the Gulf are likely to reignite sectarian divisions in the region and in India. While Muslims, both Shia and Sunni, might mourn Khamenei’s death, especially since he was killed in a brutal manner, raising him to the status of a martyr like the fourth Imam Ali would not sit well with most Sunni Muslims. The recent home ministry directive concerning pro-Iran rallies and Friday sermons about Khamenei should be understood in this context. Given the attacks on Arab states and their ripple effects on the Indian migrant community and their dependents, Khamenei seems more like a Shia leader than a Muslim one.

The combination of Iranian attacks on Arab states and the Shia-Sunni divide in understanding Khamenei’s killing suggests that the Indian government should be more cautious. If the Gulf states decide to punish those who focus too much on Khamenei’s assassination without addressing the subsequent attacks on Arab countries, labour-exporting nations should prepare for a sudden influx of Gulf returnees.

Foreign policy is not a domain for the weak. Even those who praised Khamenei must realise that the lives of lakhs of their constituents are closely linked to New Delhi maintaining stronger and warmer ties with Arab leaders. India must support the Gulf Arab countries during this crucial time in their history. Like life, foreign policy is rarely about good versus evil. Currently, the Gulf countries, their security and their well-being are far more important to India than mourning Khamenei, who has frequently criticised India over Kashmir and the welfare of Indian Muslims.

Political leaders, foreign policy experts, academics and media commentators can debate the issue endlessly and can even indulge in moral self-righteousness. The inviolability of Iranian sovereignty might seem more vital and attractive than that of Arab sovereignty and territorial integrity. However, governments do not have such a luxury or participate in popularity contests.

The same critics will cry foul if the Gulf Arab countries deport expatriates due to India’s perceived pro-Iran stance. When it comes to the future of nearly one crore citizens, one must think a thousand times before speaking. A single emotional outburst could ruin their lives forever, and trigger related consequences.

The author teaches contemporary Middle East at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi.

how-the-motion-against-speaker-om-birla-exposes-a-broken-parliament

Sat Feb 21 12:57:32 IST 2026

THE SPEAKER’S CHAIR sits above everything else in the Lok Sabha, with a commanding view of the house. So when that chair is challenged, the stakes are of a different dimension altogether.

The no-confidence motion against Speaker Om Birla is only the second one taken up for debate and vote—the first being against the first Speaker G.V. Mavalankar. That it comes less than 14 months after a similar motion against then Rajya Sabha chairman Jagdeep Dhankhar tells its own story.

“The relationship between government and opposition appears irretrievably broken,” said P.D.T. Achary, former secretary-general of the Lok Sabha.

The opposition motion against Birla listed four instances of alleged partisan conduct: Leader of the Opposition Rahul Gandhi was not allowed to complete his speech (questioning the handling of the 2020 Galwan clash); eight opposition MPs were suspended; BJP MP Nishikant Dubey was allowed to make personal remarks; the speaker said he had credible information that the prime minister faced threat from opposition members.

The motion had technical flaws (wrong dates) and could have been rejected, but Birla took the moral high ground, directing the secretariat to seek a corrected motion and put it to vote. He will not attend proceedings until the issue is settled on March 9.

With numbers stacked in the government’s favour, the motion could be set for defeat. But it is an extreme step adopted by the opposition to get “heard”.

“What option did we have?” asked Congress Lok Sabha member and whip Mohammad Jawed. “Look at the debate telecast. It mostly shows the treasury benches. Whoever wants to can say anything and it is allowed. But, the leader and MPs of the opposition are not allowed to speak.”

The ruling party rubbished the opposition’s claim. “Whoever does not agree with me, we will oppose them, whether it is the speaker, the court, the Army, the media,” said former law minister and senior BJP MP Ravi Shankar Prasad, referring to Gandhi and the opposition’s attitude.

Jawed said that historically there has always been a deputy speaker, but that position remains vacant. “There is no dialogue,” he said. “Parliament has effectively become like ‘Mann ki Baat’, the prime minister speaks without listening.”

Prasad countered that the opposition, particularly Gandhi, did not respect democratic process or propriety, constitutional dignity or parliamentary rules.

The debate that took place following the no-confidence motion against Mavalankar in 1954 offers insight into the gravity of the situation. Prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru had argued: “A motion of this character is an extraordinary procedure, which could only be justified under extremely grave circumstances.”

Achary said that traditionally, parliamentary affairs ministers served as the bridge—maintaining dialogue, negotiating, sometimes even meeting opposition demands and reporting to the prime minister. “Kotha Raghuramaiah [was] a model parliamentary affairs minister (two terms under Indira Gandhi),” he said. “He was always moving, often sitting on opposition benches, soft-spoken, creating a feeling of togetherness.”

Parliamentary Affairs Minister Kiren Rijiju argued that while it was easy to engage with opposition parties like the Samajwadi Party, the Trinamool Congress and the DMK through dialogue, “it is the Congress which disrupts Parliament by throwing papers and displaying banners”.

“The real problem is Rahul Gandhi and those around him,” he said. “When Rahul Gandhi insists the house should not function, smaller opposition MPs suffer because their speaking time is lost. The government must still pass essential bills in the national interest, but the loss is to smaller opposition parties who cannot raise constituency issues.”

The motion serves a political purpose—sending a message that the Congress will continue opposing the BJP government. With a significant presence of non-NDA MPs in the Lok Sabha, the voting could also accentuate fissures within the opposition ahead of assembly polls in five states.

Birla, a three-term BJP MP from Kota, Rajasthan, became speaker in 2019 and was re-elected in 2024—the first since Balram Jakhar was elected for a consecutive term (1980-89). Credited with several positive initiatives, Birla has been a disciplinarian with a focus on restoring order in the house. The criticism of him is that he is lenient towards the treasury benches, while the opposition receives stricter treatment, like expulsions and expunged remarks.

Achary said large majorities make governments immune to the voices of the people. “We saw that during the Indira Gandhi years,” he said. “Even then, informal dialogue survived. But now it is harsher, as opposition leaders are being termed anti-nationals by ministers.”

The Lok Sabha has seen diverse speakers. Rabi Ray opened proceedings to broadcast, exposing Parliament to the country’s gaze. In 1996, an opposition MP became speaker for the first time—P.A. Sangma, a five-time tribal MP from Meghalaya, who brought humour, informality and command of parliamentary rules. He held the balance, as a Lok Sabha publication recorded, not just between treasury and opposition benches, but between individual members.

Somnath Chatterjee made firm decisions to uphold discipline. The CPI(M) veteran, regarded as one of Parliament’s finest debaters, had his authority rarely challenged—until fellow communist Varkala Radhakrishnan tested the limits. When the MP spoke beyond his allotted time, Chatterjee rebuked him: “Varkala ji, you had been a good speaker, but you are a bad member.” The reply was immediate: “Sir, it is the opposite in your case—you had been a good member, but a bad speaker.”

In 2008, when the left parties withdrew support for the UPA government, Chatterjee refused to step down, saying his role as speaker was above party politics.

The speaker’s authority, Achary said, does not flow from the numbers on the treasury benches. “Freedom of speech in the house is sacrosanct; Parliament’s existence rests on frank and fearless debate,” he said. “Article 105 guarantees this freedom. It is the presiding officer’s duty to ensure members can speak fully and without unnecessary fetters.”

why-india-is-pursuing-a-dollar40-billion-rafale-fighter-deal

Sat Feb 21 12:51:45 IST 2026

IT’S A BIRD, it’s a plane, it’s a Rafale.

Few fighter jets are so instantly identifiable from the ground. The aircraft’s triangular wings and forward canards (small wings placed in front of the main ones) give it a distinct silhouette against the sky. That silhouette is now soaring to a new high—towards an India-France government-to-government contract that may well become the single largest military procurement in the acquisition history of either country.

With the defence acquisition council headed by the defence minister approving the purchase proposal on February 12, it is now up to the Cabinet Committee on Security to give final clearance. After that, transactional negotiations will begin.

The plan is to buy 114 Rafale fighters from the French defence major Dassault Aviation at an estimated 3.25 lakh crore (about $40 billion). The acquisition is meant to narrow the air-power asymmetry that India faces with China while preserving New Delhi’s edge over Islamabad in the coming years.

It has been more than two decades since the need for more fighter squadrons was first identified. In 2001, the medium multi-role combat aircraft (MMRCA), then called the medium role combat aircraft (MRCA), was conceived to replace the ageing MiG-21s with 126 modern fighters. The aim was to procure multirole omnibus fighters suited for regional security concerns.

In 2012, Dassault’s Rafale was declared the winner, edging out the Eurofighter Typhoon (built by a European consortium), the American F-16 (Lockheed Martin) and the F/A-18E/F Super Hornet (Boeing), MiG-35 (Russia) and Sweden’s Gripen (Saab).

In 2014, a $15-billion deal was finalised for 126 fighters—18 off-the-shelf and 108 to be manufactured by Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL), with technology transfer implications. But the deal was scrapped in 2015 by the new government, which instead purchased 36 Rafales in flyaway condition for about $7.9 billion. The local assembly component was discarded, and so did clarity on the extent of technology transfer.

The figures were striking: $7.9 billion for 36 fighters and $15 billion for 126. The projected cost in 2026 has risen to $40 billion for 114, including weapons and support packages.

While the deal was in the making for long, the sense of urgency that the defence ministry may have felt while approving the new deal is rooted in strategic realities. The four-day Operation Sindoor reinforced the need to significantly boost air power. With the planned induction of 83 LCA Tejas Mk-1A fighters, the future Mk-2, and the fifth-generation Advanced Medium Combat Aircraft (AMCA) plagued by delays, India had to plug operational gaps.

But fighter procurement is never just about numbers. The engines and systems of an aircraft are projections of a country’s defence technology prowess. The components and processes involved in manufacturing them are closely guarded secrets.

India, for instance, was denied transfer of compound semiconductor chip knowhow, even though the technology figured in offset discussions. The refusal eventually pushed Indian scientists towards a domestic breakthrough in March 2023.

France has also been reluctant to share the Rafale’s source code, which governs critical systems like weapons, radars and sensors. Without this source code, India will not be able to integrate the aircraft with indigenous weapon systems and home-made equipment.

But the Indian Air Force cannot wait indefinitely when the south Asian security matrix is rapidly shifting. For decades, the IAF’s sanctioned strength has stood at 42 fighter squadrons, because the military architecture has been Pakistan-centric. Now, both China and Pakistan are seen as adversaries. “As a basic requirement to fight a two-front war… the strength of 42 squadrons may be very small. There is an urgent requirement to substantially increase the benchmark,” said a top source in the military establishment.

The IAF has only 29 operational squadrons. Its fleet of around 520 aircraft is diverse but ageing—12 Sukhoi-30 squadrons, three Mirage-2000, two Rafale, two Tejas, alongside MiG-29s and Jaguars. Around 250 more aircraft are needed to reach the current sanctioned strength, and any further revision of the strength will require hundreds more.

Pakistan, which has around 500 combat aircraft, is expanding its joint programme with China to manufacture JF-17 Thunder aircraft. With China, the IAF has to contend not just with the asymmetry in numbers but also with the technology aspect. China operates around 300 twin-engine J-20 Mighty Dragon fifth-generation fighters that are already being mass-produced. It also operates more than 50 J-35 stealth fighters.

For India, choosing the Rafale has its advantages. First is the familiarity factor. The IAF already flies Rafales, which means training, tooling and spares ecosystems exist. Second, maintenance costs would be lower. Third, the bureaucratic maze of procurement would be shorter because the road has been travelled before.

India’s security requirements have long been mired in politics, indecision, and an obvious lack of coordination and foresight. That is why the recent approval for 114 Rafales for $40 billion—after scrapping a 126-aircraft deal for $15 billion—is increasingly looking like India has circled back to the point where it started from, and with more urgency.

manipur-challenges-galore-before-khemchand-government

Sat Feb 14 15:47:49 IST 2026

Rows of tarpaulin shelters are tucked away from the main road, almost out of sight. Muddy narrow paths open into a settlement where women sit by the roadside stitching clothes, while men and young boys head out each day in search of odd jobs. Inside the shelters remain children with nowhere to go—no schools, no home, a generation staring at a bleak future. Three winters have passed in Churachandpur as families continue to wait for Manipur’s fractured communities to stitch their social fabric back together.

Since the ethnic clashes of May 2023, there had been no sustained presence of a fully functioning government, throwing both the hill districts and the valley in a limbo. When Mercy Vungthianmuang, a professor in Delhi, visited her in-laws’ home in Churachandpur for Christmas, the shroud of normalcy tore her heart—the harvest hymns were sung but not with joy, and bonfires that lit up across the state to ward off the chill only reminded her of burning down of homes. Her aunts are fighting a daily battle for survival in shelters. Even though the violence has receded, their way back home is still a dream. “This is what people don’t understand,” says Vungthianmuang, “the absence of violence does not mean peace.”

President’s rule has been lifted and an elected government is now in place. But fresh clashes erupted between the hill communities—Tangkhul Nagas and Kuki-Zomis—in Ukhrul, prompting internet services to be suspended. The reasons are ominously attached to the restoration of the elected government, which promises a political settlement based on inclusion and resolution of longstanding grievances of different ethnic groups.

The delicate task of converting political restoration into actual reconciliation now rests with the new chief minister—Yumnam Khemchand Singh, who belongs to the dominant Meitei community but is widely accepted as a liberal politician. He is the face of a carefully stitched government, with two deputy chief ministers—Nemcha Kipgen from the Kuki-Zomi community and Losii Dikho from the Naga community. While the move is being seen as ruling BJP’s attempt to reset its political messaging, Khemchand’s foremost challenge is to build trust and restart the peace negotiations.

“The burden on him is enormous,” says Sangmuan Hangsing, researcher and policy commentator. “He has to bridge the divide between the valley and the hills, while also reassuring people that the Centre is serious about course correction.”

However, the inclusion of Kuki-Zomi and Naga leaders in the government has raised difficult questions. First, giving political representation to one among the many closely related ethnic groups of the Kuki-Zomi community faces its own legitimacy challenges. Second, the participation of a Kuki-Zomi representative in the government stands at odds with their demand for Union territory status. Several groups, including insurgent groups in the hills, had said that they had no faith in the state government, subsequently leading to the resignation of then chief minister Biren Singh. “It will be very challenging for any Kuki-Zomi minister to be accepted by all sides,” says Hangsing. “The house is divided.”

On the other hand, while the presence of a Naga deputy chief minister has been highlighted as a gesture of balance, the move can cause unease within the hills—the recent clashes are proof. The Kuki-Zomis and the Nagas have been living side by side in the hills through the ethnic strife. “The predominant reason for their peaceful coexistence has been the neutral position taken by the Nagas so far,” says G. Gaingam, former president of the United Naga Council, who has been involved in backchannel talks between the Kuki-Zomi and Meiteis. “But that does not make Nagas lesser stakeholders in the region, especially when peace needs to be restored.’

In districts like Senapati, where the Naga population is dominant, residents still remember the dreadful clashes in 1992 over land ownership between Kukis and Nagas. This mixed social fabric in the hills is already under strain from the longest-running insurgency of the NSCN(IM) that has still not given up its demand for a greater Nagalim, consisting of Naga-dominated hill regions in Manipur. While the Centre has been holding negotiations with the Naga insurgent groups, there is a stalemate. “At such time, a parallel demand of a UT status for hills by the Kuki-Zomis can deepen instability, if not handled well,” says D.K. Pathak, former chairman of the ceasefire monitoring group.

For the Kuki-Zomi people, the worry is that any dilution of their UT demand can have repercussions in areas such as Churachandpur, where protests continue even after the formation of the new government. What can also become a sore point is the continued influence of the dominant Meitei community in governance, if concerns are left unaddressed.

Jagat Thoudam, former president of the All Manipur United Clubs’ Organisation, says Meitis cannot be seen as one among many communities in Manipur. “They formed the civilisational and administrative core from which Manipur took shape as a political entity,” he says. “The conflict will recur unless issues of land rights and ownership are resolved. Today it may be between two communities, tomorrow it can be between other communities.”

But the first steps have already been taken and the outcome will depend heavily on how realistically and transparently the government is able to engage the warring communities. “The approach must not be of divide and rule but genuine integration for long-lasting peace,” says Vungthianmuang.

The Union government, meanwhile, has got a buffer as local issues and restoring day-to-day activities become the responsibility of the elected government. The BJP, like other political parties in Manipur, needs to set its house in order before the assembly elections in 2027. Also, the Khemchand government is still finding its feet. “There is no problem in appointing ministers,” says Gaingam, “but the real problem is portfolio distribution. Without that, there is no administration.” Any delay in administrative work and lack of efficient handling can stall the process of rehabilitation, reconciliation and even security.

More important, only when the administration starts functioning smoothly can the peace talks move forward. In the last one year, several steps have been taken to negotiate peace, like signing of suspension of operations agreement with Kuki militant groups and disarming the civilian population in the hills and valley. The stage is now set for the next step to address the competing ethnic aspirations of the people. But it remains to be seen how ready Manipur is for a dialogue that goes beyond optics.

manipur-cm-khemchand-harbours-no-ill-feelings-towards-one-community-nemcha-kipgen

Sat Feb 14 15:44:33 IST 2026

Exclusive Interview/ Nemcha Kipgen, deputy chief minister, Manipur

Q/ You are the first woman deputy chief minister of Manipur, assuming office at a time when there is a need for dialogue to bridge the divide between communities. How do you plan to address it?

I am deeply grateful to the central leadership and my party for trusting me with this responsibility at such a critical time. I accept this role with humility. My guiding principles have always been integrity, truth and justice, and standing firmly with my people. The people have suffered immense pain and loss. Lives have been lost, homes destroyed, livelihood disrupted and the sense of security shattered. This suffering cannot be ignored. At this stage, rebuilding cannot be limited to infrastructure alone. We must also restore confidence, dignity and hope. Healing must come first. Women are the backbone of society, especially during conflict. Today, women, children and the elderly form the majority of those displaced. As a woman leader, I understand their suffering and feel a deep responsibility to represent their voices and concerns in governance.

Q/ How do you see the representation of Meitei, Kuki and Naga communities in government? How confident are you of a similar integration among the people?

Unity is absolutely essential. I do not represent one community alone. I am a tribal leader, representing tribal people as a whole. I do not divide people along narrow lines. Integration is the only way forward for governance and peace. The chief minister shares this approach. Whenever I am unable to travel to certain areas due to security constraints, he goes personally and engages with people.

Q/ There has been violence in the hill districts after your appointment.

The violence is deeply unfortunate. Physically, communities are separated, and a political solution is required. To achieve that solution, I need to be a part of the government. Some of the opposition to my appointment may be driven by misinformation. When people understand my purpose, they will realise why I took this step. This opportunity is crucial. Missing it would mean missing a critical chance to work towards resolution.

Q/ Why was it necessary to join the government?

For me, politics is a means of service. Through politics, I serve my people. Leadership is not about power or position; it is about responsibility, sincerity and dignity in action. That is why I chose to join the government. Negotiations and solutions cannot bypass the state government. The Centre alone cannot resolve this crisis. That is why being part of the government was essential, even though I am currently unable to attend the assembly physically.

Q/ Given the tensions, how do you assess your personal safety?

I have been provided with adequate security, but I do not rely solely on human protection. As long as I remain honest, I believe God will protect me. I am ready to sacrifice for my people, if required.

Q/ Do you see a future where you can attend the state assembly freely?

If there is an amicable solution, movement and interaction will become possible again. Trust must be rebuilt gradually. That is why achieving a sustainable solution is my foremost priority.

Q/ How would you describe your working relationship with Chief Minister Yumnam Khemchand Singh?

He is a sincere and pure-hearted leader. Of 40 MLAs, he was the only one who personally rescued my people during the ethnic clashes. He went himself, ensured their safety and also protected me. He harbours no ill feelings towards one community. That trust is important.

Q/ You have worked very closely with displaced families. What did you witness on ground?

I did not merely visit relief camps. I personally brought many displaced families back to my district from camps. They arrived after fleeing violence, often with nothing except the clothes they were wearing. These were survivors who had lost everything—their homes, belongings and stability. I arranged food, rice and basic necessities. Many had no clothes or blankets, so I bought them from my own pocket and distributed them. While the government did provide basic ration, the needs went far beyond that. When I visited the camps, women and children told me, “Mother, please give us at least nonveg food.” Those words reflected not just hunger, but exhaustion and despair.

Q/ How did you address these concerns at the administrative level?

I immediately arranged meetings with the deputy commissioner, who has been extremely sensitive to the needs of internally displaced persons. Following these discussions, food arrangements improved and supplies became more regular. Whenever gaps remained, I intervened personally. At the same time, I continuously raised these issues with higher authorities to ensure systemic support. When the governor visited the camps, we distributed essential items together. We tried to ensure adequate arrangements for proper food and safe drinking water for displaced families.

Q/ You also reached out to neighbouring states and Delhi. What was the response?

I raised these concerns with the Union home minister and also travelled to Nagaland to meet the chief minister. He extended support by sending medical supplies and other essentials for displaced families. As assured by the home minister during his visit to Kangpokpi, funds for setting up pre-fabricated houses for the internally displaced persons were sanctioned. This assistance was distributed free of cost to displaced persons. The challenge has been to ensure the relief reached the intended beneficiaries. I personally monitored the process to prevent exploitation or diversion. Recently, the deputy commissioner informed me that many displaced families are now beginning to return to their original locations. Necessary sanctions have already been approved, and assessments of damaged sites are underway.

Q/ Your appointment is being seen as a milestone for women in the northeast.

Representation matters, especially in times of crisis. Women often work quietly, managing families and communities under extreme stress. Having women in leadership ensures that these realities are understood at the policy level.... I believe in constructive action, not destructive politics. If required, I am ready to do anything for my people. I am prepared to make any sacrifice.

Q/ Looking ahead, are you confident about peace and the political future?

My people understand my intentions and support me. As long as I continue to serve sincerely and honestly, they will stand with me. If God wills, peace and solutions will come.

the-show-must-go-on-inside-ncps-decision-to-make-sunetra-pawar-deputy-cm

Sat Feb 07 12:55:31 IST 2026

THE SHOW MUST go on.

That, apparently, was the feeling of the top three leaders of the Nationalist Congress Party—Sunil Tatkare, Praful Patel and Chhagan Bhujbal—when they decided that Sunetra Pawar should succeed her late husband, Ajit Pawar, as Maharashtra deputy chief minister.

Sunetra, 62, hails from an influential Maratha family in Marathwada. Her father, Bajirao Patil, was a senior Congress leader in Dharashiv district (formerly Osmanabad). Bajirao’s elder son, Dr Padmasinh Patil, rose through the political ranks with Ajit, and later became minister holding important portfolios such as home and energy. Padmasinh played a key role in Sunetra marrying Ajit in 1985 soon after she graduated in commerce from a college in Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar (formerly Aurangabad).

Sunetra has been active in Baramati’s social life since she joined the Pawar family. She led the 2006 initiative to end open defecation in Katewadi village, home to the Pawar clan. Her work earned Katewadi many state and national awards. She also solved the water scarcity problem in Baramati taluka by making streams in the region deeper, and set up an environmental action group when taking up environmental issues was considered an elitist preoccupation. She helped set up a high-tech textile park in Baramati, which now employs more than 5,000 women, and was president of the Maharashtra State Agri and Rural Tourism Cooperative Federation.

Sunetra’s political entry in 2024 was marred by controversy. After Ajit split the NCP and joined the BJP-led National Democratic Alliance, he fielded Sunetra in Baramati against his cousin Supriya Sule in the Lok Sabha polls. After she was defeated, the NCP nominated her to the Rajya Sabha. As an MP, Sunetra raised issues related to anganwadi workers, river pollution, rural development and city development plans for Pune. Sunetra was also member of the Union government’s textile advisory committee, which was tasked with solving sectoral issues and improving working conditions and export capabilities. She has now resigned as MP to become deputy chief minister.

Sunetra’s nascent political journey may not offer many interesting tales, but her elevation as deputy chief minister within three days of her husband’s death provides a fascinating glimpse into the workings of the both the NCP and the Pawar family. After Sunetra gave her consent, the trio of Tatkare, Patel and Bhujbal met Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis on January 30 and informed him of the decision to appoint her as the leader of the NCP’s legislative party. They said party legislators would meet on January 31 to adopt the resolution approving her elevation, and conveyed the party’s wish to make her deputy chief minister.

On the night of the meeting with Fadnavis, Sunetra and her younger son Jay Pawar left for Mumbai. Sharad Pawar, the family patriarch, was reportedly unaware of the moves. The responsibility of informing him of the developments on January 31 was given to Sunetra’s elder son Parth Pawar. After news of Sunetra’s swearing in reached Sharad Pawar, he told journalists that the NCP under Patel and Tatkare had taken the decision under pressure. He did not name the BJP.

Around the same time, Sharad Pawar loyalist Jayant Patil revealed details of the meetings he had with Ajit Pawar over what he described as reunification plans. “Ajit dada came to my home 8-10 times. He would come in the evening, discuss the coming together over dinner, and then leave. He wished to bring the two parties together in the presence of Pawar saheb,” said Patil.

According to him, a similar meeting at his residence had other senior leaders of the Sharad Pawar faction such as Shashikant Shinde, Amol Kolhe and Harshvardhan Patil taking part. “That day, we decided to fight the zilla parishad polls together, and then make the merger announcement on February 12,” said Jayant Patil.

Sunetra’s swearing-in ceremony was noted for the absence of Sharad Pawar and Supriya Sule, since there had been a buzz for months about NCP reunification. Apparently, the agreement had been that Sharad Pawar would remain party chief even after he retired from the Rajya Sabha in April, Ajit would handle state party affairs, and Sule would join the Union cabinet. A source close to Ajit had said earlier that Union Home Minister Amit Shah was initially reluctant to give the go-ahead for the merger. Apparently, it was only after Ajit convinced Shah that the two factions took the decision to contest the zilla panchayat polls together.

“Now, after dada’s demise, it seems that the BJP leadership has changed its stand, and asked Fadnavis to make sure that Ajit dada’s faction remains a separate group,” said the source. That is the reason, according to the source, that the four pro-BJP leaders in the party—Tatkare, Patel, Bhujbal and Dhananjay Munde—played a key role in decision-making.

Arvind Tiwari, general secretary of the Sharad Pawar faction of the NCP, said the elder Pawar had no plans to join the NDA. “Why would he want to tarnish his reputation? Supriya tai is also a firm believer in secular ideology. The whole idea behind the merger was to walk out of the NDA and emerge stronger as a regional party by 2029,” he said.

Both factions now perceive a recent statement by Fadnavis as ominous. Fadnavis said Ajit would have told him about merger plans had they really existed. Many leaders take this as a sign—of not just the chances of a merger narrowing, but also the NCP being increasingly guided by Fadnavis and the BJP.

from-anjel-chakma-to-nido-tania-why-india-keeps-failing-its-people-from-northeast

Fri Jan 23 19:09:11 IST 2026

THE ANNUAL EXAMS at Delhi University were just days away. One night, clutching a bundled roll of tutorial notes I had collected from a nearby college hostel, I trudged down a quiet street towards where I lived. A lazy Haryanvi drawl broke the silence: “Kya nasha kar ke aaye ho?” (What drugs have you taken?)

The question came from a burly policeman in a Delhi Police Gypsy. I was barely 18, freshly arrived from Assam, and all I could manage was a mumble: “Main nasha nahi karta.” (I don’t do drugs.)

What had triggered the cop’s query was my “northeastern” looks. In a split second, I had been profiled and ‘sorted’ as someone on drugs. That moment clung like a heavy blanket long after the night had passed. Every now and then, it resurfaces—especially when another “Anjel Chakma incident” jolts the national conscience.

A 24-year-old MBA student from Tripura, Chakma was brutally beaten in Dehradun after he protested racial slurs. He fought for life in hospital for more than two weeks before succumbing to injuries on December 26. His last words were: “I am not Chinese… I am an Indian.”

Recently, two Indian students at the University of Colorado Boulder reportedly won nearly Rs1.8 crore in a discrimination lawsuit. The incident dated to 2023, when a university employee objected to a student heating a bowl of palak paneer in a residence hall, calling its smell “pungent”. The matter escalated into disciplinary action, against which the lawsuit was filed.

But back home, such prejudice remains common. People from the northeast routinely encounter discrimination in the so-called “mainland”, especially in metros and towns where their numbers have grown in the past two decades.

Chakma’s last words reveal a deeper truth: a desire to belong paired with the pain of being excluded. That the slur hurled at him was “Chinese” is not incidental. It draws from a jingoistic ultra-nationalist narrative sharpened by recent India-China tensions. Equally relevant is the fact that the northeast remains an unknown realm for many.

Ringed by Tibet-China, Myanmar and Bangladesh along 98 per cent of its borders, the northeast is connected to the rest of India by a narrow 2 per cent land corridor often called the Chicken’s Neck—a term that underlines the rather tenuous linkage.

But the vulnerability is not so much geographical as it is psychological. Distinctive facial features, dress, strong tribal bonds, food habits, heavily accented Hindi—all become markers of the “other”. After nearly eight decades of nationhood, many Indians have failed to appreciate the ethos of coexistence, of trying to understand diverse cultures, peoples and ways of life that are different from theirs. With every act of racial violence, the idea of ‘unity in diversity’ loses another fig leaf, exposing an uncomfortable shame.

Before Chakma, there was Nido Tania, 20, of Arunachal Pradesh, who was killed by a mob in Delhi in 2013. A year later, Akha Shalouni from Manipur died in the capital. She was 29.

Between these deaths, and countless incidents before and after, people from the northeast have been abused, assaulted, humiliated, and in some cases, killed. All because they looked different, dressed differently and ate differently.

Madan Prasad Bezbaruah, former Union tourism secretary, described Chakma’s killing as “another sad incident” that fuels the feeling of alienation “which over the years was slowly receding”. Bezbaruah was head of the Union home ministry committee formed in 2014 after Tania’s death, mandated to address racial discrimination, targeted violence, police insensitivity, legal gaps and cultural alienation faced by people from the northeast.

“The committee looked more at the positive side—how to make the rest of the country understand that the northeast is different, and that difference is a cause for celebration and not to build barriers,” he told THE WEEK. “All the recommendations were neatly summarised and categorised for short-, medium- and long-term action.”

They included making racially motivated acts cognisable and non-bailable offences, sensitising law enforcement agencies, providing legal aid, expanding northeast representation in textbooks, and promoting cultural exposure.

A monitoring panel was set up to oversee the implementation of the committee’s recommendations. But most members of the panel now feel that actions have been delayed. “The mandate was largely adequate and well designed,” Joram Maivio, a member of the monitoring committee, told THE WEEK. “But it lacked clear accountability mechanisms, timelines, and strong enforcement provisions.”

The causes of racial prejudice against people from the northeast are layered. Historically, large parts of the northeast had long been isolated since colonial times. As a result, there has been an acute lack of awareness about the region and its peoples. Prolonged insurgencies also contributed to the region’s “remoteness”, hindering development and creation of employment opportunities. More recently, migration of youth from the northeast to urban India—particularly into service and hospitality sectors—has added a socioeconomic dimension, where competition over scarce resources fuels resentment.

Without doubt, a lot needs to be done.

A good beginning would be to take stock of the implementation of the Bezbaruah committee’s recommendations with a white paper listing action taken against each recommendation. “The anti-racial discrimination law has to be enacted,” Maivio said. “Northeast cells, helplines, and special units should be set up in major metro cities. The issue is no longer policy design, but political will and accountability.”

from-unnao-to-bilkis-bano-is-the-judiciary-becoming-reactive-to-public-pressure

Sat Jan 17 12:57:24 IST 2026

The moment came quietly, as such moments often do in courtrooms. When the Delhi High Court suspended the sentence of Kuldeep Singh Sengar, the former BJP legislator convicted in the Unnao rape case, the order itself ran to just a few pages. It cited appellate discretion, procedural considerations and the familiar legal language of suspension pending appeal.

Outside the courtroom, however, the reaction was anything but procedural. Women’s groups expressed disbelief. Activists spoke of betrayal. Senior lawyers questioned how a man convicted in a case that had come to symbolise state complicity and institutional failure could walk free. Television debates turned shrill. Social media hardened into outrage.

What transformed concern into crisis was timing. The order came just before the winter recess, raising the possibility that Sengar could remain out of prison for weeks before the Supreme Court reopened. For many, that possibility was intolerable. The legal system, they feared, had blinked again.

Within days, the Supreme Court intervened. In an extraordinary move during vacation, a special hearing was convened. A three-judge bench led by Chief Justice Surya Kant stayed the High Court’s order. The intervention was swift, decisive and deeply revealing.

Yogita Bhayana, a Congress worker who was among those leading protests in Delhi, said public mobilisation was necessary to force institutional attention to a deeper pattern of impunity. “This is not just the story of one survivor,” Bhayana told THE WEEK. “We are seeing case after case where allegations of sexual violence involve powerful people. When the accused holds influence, the system often moves only after public pressure.” She said the protests played a catalytic role in pushing investigative agencies to act. “Our demonstrations ensured that the issue did not remain confined to legal files. The CBI moved to challenge the Delhi High Court order in the Supreme Court only after the matter drew wider attention.”

Bhayana linked the outrage over Unnao to a broader public unease over how cases involving sexual violence are handled when political connections are involved. She cited the case of Ankita Bhandari, the 19-year-old receptionist who was murdered in 2022 at a resort in Rishikesh after allegedly resisting pressure to provide “special services” to guests. “Here, too, the accused included individuals with political proximity. Without sustained attention, such cases risk fading from public memory even before accountability is fixed.” She said protests were not meant to substitute the judicial process but to ensure it functioned without complacency. “The courts remain the final arbiter, but public conscience often acts as the first alarm.”

This was not merely an appellate correction. It was judicial firefighting, triggered by a collapse of public confidence. The sequence was unmistakable: an order, followed by outrage, followed by correction. That sequence now defines a growing number of high-profile moments in India’s higher judiciary. Critics describe this as the age of the course-correcting court. Defenders call it constitutional humility in real time.

Judicial reversals are not new. Appeals and reviews exist precisely because courts acknowledge fallibility. What is new is speed.

Interim orders today reshape public life instantly. The distance between order, consequence and correction has collapsed. Traditionally, interim relief was meant to be modest, to preserve the status quo, prevent irreparable harm and buy time until final adjudication. Increasingly, however, interim orders now do what final judgments once did. They halt legislation, compel executive action and redraw legal and moral boundaries.

This expansion carries obvious risk. Interim orders are often passed on urgency without complete pleadings, without full factual records and without extended deliberation. Yet their effects are immediate and, in practice, often irreversible. When such orders later prove unsustainable, courts face an unenviable choice. Persist and risk compounding the error. Or correct course and face accusations of retreat.

Either way, the reputational cost is real. Few cases illustrate both the necessity and the cost of correction as starkly as the Bilkis Bano remission case.

In 2022, the Supreme Court permitted the Gujarat government to consider remission for the 11 convicts. Once the government cleared the remission, public outrage erupted over survivor justice, jurisdictional error and constitutional morality. Civil society groups argued that the court had been misled on facts. Legal scholars questioned how executive discretion had overridden principles of equality and fairness.

Only after this sustained national reaction did the Supreme Court revisit the issue. In 2024, it quashed the remission, acknowledging that it had been misinformed while issuing the earlier order. Legally, the correction was sound. Institutionally, the damage had already been done. The perception lingered that justice had arrived only after protest, that law had followed outrage.

Social activist Anjali Bhardwaj, who led protests for Bilkis Bano, said the remission granted to the convicts and its subsequent overturning by the Supreme Court highlighted the institutional cost of incomplete disclosures before constitutional courts. “The Supreme Court later recorded that certain facts placed before it earlier were either distorted or selectively presented,” said Bhardwaj. “Had the complete and accurate factual position been disclosed at the outset, the court may never have permitted the remission process to begin. When courts are compelled to revisit decisions because they were not given the full picture, enormous judicial time and energy are wasted. More importantly, public confidence takes a hit, even when the final outcome restores justice,” she said, adding that the episode underlined the responsibility of governments to assist courts with candour, not strategy, especially in cases involving constitutional rights and survivor justice.

The long-running litigation on the Aravalli Range tells a similar story on a broader policy canvas. Over the years, the Supreme Court adopted an expansive approach to environmental protection, treating vast areas as deemed forests and imposing sweeping restrictions on mining and construction across Haryana and Rajasthan in its interim orders. Environmentalists welcomed the firmness. The intent, to save one of India’s oldest mountain ranges, was unimpeachable.

But the interim orders had unintended consequences. Entire villages found themselves unable to build homes. Infrastructure projects stalled. Routine land use slipped into legal limbo. State governments warned of paralysis. Industry flagged economic fallout.

Only after resistance mounted did the court begin to recalibrate, clarifying scope, carving out exceptions and urging executive agencies to develop phased regulatory frameworks. “Courts intervene because regulation fails,” said environmental policy expert Rahul Verma. “But judicial orders are blunt tools in areas that need negotiated transitions. When livelihoods are disrupted overnight, resistance is inevitable. Pull-back is not weakness; it is realism. The tragedy is that realism arrives late.”

Even seemingly apolitical cases now follow the same arc. As reports of dog-bite cases rose, especially involving children and the elderly, early judicial observations leaned towards public safety. Sterilisation-only approaches were questioned. Municipal accountability was emphasised. In many cities, these remarks were read as judicial sanction for aggressive removal drives. Animal welfare groups reacted with fury. Social media framed the issue as cruelty versus compassion. Municipal authorities froze, caught between judicial signals and public anger.

Only after sustained backlash did the court clarify that there was no approval for indiscriminate culling and that sterilisation and vaccination remained the legal framework.

Another example of judicial course correction played out amid dust and debris. As state governments across the country began using demolition drives—often after communal violence—as a tool of swift punishment, petitions poured into the Supreme Court. Initially, the response was cautious. As state governments assured legality, the demolitions continued.

Then came cases like Jahangirpuri in Delhi and Khargone in Madhya Pradesh, where demolitions followed immediately after communal clashes. Images of families standing outside flattened homes forced the issue into national consciousness. Only then did the Supreme Court step in more firmly. It ordered status quo, questioned the timing and selectivity of demolitions and later laid down that property could not be demolished as a form of retribution without due process.

To many affected families, the intervention came too late. Homes had already fallen. Lives had already been disrupted. Yet, within the Supreme Court, the moment marked a shift. Judges began explicitly stating that executive action, even in the name of law and order, could not bypass constitutional safeguards.

A crucial but under-discussed dimension of the course-correction debate lies in the relationship between High Courts and the Supreme Court. Many headline-grabbing reversals begin not at the apex court but at the High Court level. Interim orders passed under intense local pressure or urgency travel quickly to the Supreme Court through special leave petitions. By the time the apex court intervenes, the damage is often done. An accused has walked out of jail. A demolition has taken place. A policy has been frozen. Public opinion has hardened.

For more than half a century, Section 124A of the then Indian Penal Code, sedition, sat uneasily within India’s constitutional framework. Courts repeatedly narrowed its scope, insisting it applied only to speech that incited violence or public disorder. Yet, on the ground, the provision continued to be used against students, journalists, activists and political critics for speech that was inconvenient rather than dangerous. High Courts granted relief in individual cases. The Supreme Court reiterated limiting principles. But the law itself remained operational. Arrests continued. Prosecutions dragged on. The gap between constitutional doctrine and everyday policing widened.

Facing multiple petitions challenging sedition’s constitutionality, the Union government informed the court that it was reconsidering the provision. At that point, the Supreme Court took an unprecedented step. Instead of waiting for legislative reform or delivering a final judgment, it ordered that sedition prosecutions be effectively put on hold. No new cases were to be registered. Existing cases were to be kept in abeyance.

By the time sedition was effectively frozen, hundreds had already faced arrest, prolonged trials and reputational harm. The pause protected future speech, but it could not undo past suffering. Still, institutionally, the move mattered. It showed a court willing to step back and say: this framework is no longer working as intended.

The sedition episode captures the essence of the course-correcting court. The judiciary did not reverse any order. It reassessed an entire posture, moving from case-by-case restraint to systemic pause. The Supreme Court then slips into a firefighting role. Staying a High Court order becomes less about doctrinal disagreement and more about damage control. The optics, however, are unforgiving. High Courts feel second-guessed. The Supreme Court looks reactive. The public sees inconsistency rather than hierarchy.

For all its contradictions, the judiciary remains the last refuge for individuals confronting the state. For prisoners seeking liberty, minorities seeking protection and citizens resisting arbitrary power, courts are not abstract institutions. They are lifelines. That moral authority rests not just on outcomes but on process, on restraint, deliberation and the confidence that courts will not decide first and think later.

Senior constitutional lawyer Ashwani Dubey put it bluntly: “What worries me is not that courts correct themselves. It is that correction increasingly follows outrage rather than legal maturation. That teaches litigants a dangerous lesson that persuasion happens outside the courtroom.” He said structural overload played a role. “Judges are deciding emotionally charged cases in compressed hearings. When records are thin, moral instinct fills the gap and later has to be reined in.”

Across these cases runs a quieter truth. Courts do not investigate. They decide on what is placed before them. When governments file evasive affidavits, when data is selectively produced and when affected parties lack time or access, courts act on partial information. Interim orders are passed on urgency, sometimes on sketchy foundations. Public outcry, in this sense, does not create new law. It exposes missing facts. What appears as a U-turn is often the court finally seeing the whole picture. The real problem is sequencing. Interim orders move faster than institutions can absorb them. Correction follows noise, even when recalibration is principled.

The Indian judiciary today operates under unprecedented visibility—legal, political and moral. Every pause is scrutinised. Every correction is dissected. Whether this phase is remembered as one of constitutional maturity or creeping uncertainty will depend on whether courts can slow the cycle: order, outrage, reversal.

Until then, every interim order will be judged not only on law but on timing. And every correction will continue to be read not merely as justice but as response.

how-incomplete-facts-impact-supreme-court-judgments

Sat Jan 17 12:50:42 IST 2026

EVERY CONSTITUTIONAL COURT has its limits. It can decide only on what is placed before it. Judges do not go out looking for facts. They do not roam the public domain or piece together competing narratives on their own. They rely on what lawyers bring to the courtroom.

If that material is incomplete, selectively presented or framed in a way that leaves out inconvenient facts, even the most careful court can be led to a result it may not otherwise have reached. That is where the Supreme Court’s review jurisdiction becomes important.

The Supreme Court has never claimed to be infallible. Review exists because mistakes do happen. Sometimes an error is obvious on the face of the record. Sometimes a material fact was genuinely not known to the court, despite due diligence. At other times, the real impact of an order becomes clear only after it is implemented. Review, in that sense, is a limited but necessary corrective exercise.

At the same time, Supreme Court judgments are meant to bring finality. People plan their lives, governments frame policy and institutions take decisions on the assumption that the law has been settled. If every judgment were endlessly reopened, legal certainty would disappear. The court, therefore, has to strike a careful balance between correcting serious error and preserving finality.

This tension is felt most strongly in cases that have wide public consequences. A solution that appears narrow at first can end up having consequences far beyond what the bench may have anticipated.

In such cases, incomplete factual disclosure can be especially problematic. Sometimes, after an order is passed, media scrutiny and public debate bring to light facts that should ideally have been placed before the court earlier. When that happens, judges may reasonably feel that they did not have the full picture. And when the foundation is incomplete, course correction becomes unavoidable.

Problems arise when settled positions are unsettled without following the discipline laid down by the Constitution. If a two-judge bench has decided a matter and reconsideration becomes necessary, there are well-defined routes; review, reference to a larger bench or, in the rarest of cases, curative jurisdiction. When these paths are not followed carefully, uncertainty creeps in.

The recent debates around stray dog management orders show how this can happen. Parallel benches, looking at overlapping issues on partial records, can end up issuing directions that appear to pull in different directions. Often, the difficulty lies not in judicial inconsistency but in selective disclosure. Key data, previous proceedings or broader policy contexts are simply not placed before the court. The outcome, then, is confusion rather than clarity.

Judges are keenly aware of the pressures under which courts function. With thousands of cases listed every day, the process sometimes resembles a samudra manthan, where truth is expected to emerge from competing claims. But that process depends heavily on lawyers doing their duty. Full and fair disclosure is not a formality; it is central to justice. When it is lacking, the court’s task becomes infinitely harder.

Course correction, in the end, is not a sign of weakness. It is a recognition of reality. What matters is the willingness to acknowledge error and correct it, while still respecting the need for finality. In a constitutional system built on trust, that balance is not optional. It is essential.

Roy is a former justice of the Supreme Court.

As told to Kanu Sarda

bjp-vs-trinamool-parties-weaponise-voters-list-as-west-bengal-election-nears

Sat Jan 10 18:12:02 IST 2026

Buoyed by the recent win in Bihar, the BJP is eyeing a spillover in West Bengal, where again the SIR issue has occupied centre stage. Recently, Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Union Home Minister Amit Shah visited Bengal to launch the party’s campaign for the assembly elections, expected to be held in March-April.

Modi was scheduled to address the Hindu Matua community in Nadia district on December 20, but his helicopter could not land because of dense fog. He had to return to the Kolkata airport and addressed the crowd in Nadia virtually.

“I had said that the Ganga flows from Bihar to Bengal, and Bihar has shown the road to victory in Bengal and the way out of jungle raj,” he said.

The BJP has so far failed to unseat Mamata Banerjee; the Trinamool Congress has matched its aggression time and again. However, this year, the BJP hopes that the issue of identity could help it win the state. In October, the Election Commission announced a Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of the voters list. As many as 58 lakh voters were left out of the draft list released on December 16.

The day after Modi’s speech, Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh chief Mohan Bhagwat reached Kolkata for the organisation’s centenary celebrations. During the event, Suvendu Adhikari, the BJP’s leader in the legislature, asked him about “increasing Islamic fundamentalism”. He answered: “It is for the Central government to decide whom to allow into India from Bangladesh.”

Later, Shah, during his visit to the state, met key party leaders including former BJP state president Dilip Ghosh, who had been sidelined for a while. Apparently, Shah told his leaders to set aside their differences and work in tandem to win the elections.

The same day, Chief Minister Banerjee hit out at Shah at a rally in Bankura district. “If infiltrators only exist in Bengal, then who was behind the recent attack in Pahalgam?” she asked. “Who is responsible for the explosion in Delhi? Which ministry is responsible for infiltration?”

Trinamool general secretary Abhishek Banerjee, who met Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar in Delhi on December 31, said, “There is selective targeting and allegations of infiltration to malign West Bengal. We asked the CEC to come out with a list showing how many Bangladeshis or Rohingyas have actually been found in the state.”

Clearly, both parties are using the SIR as fuel for fiery speeches from podiums. There is, however, also a human cost attached to the exercise.

There was anxiety, anger and helplessness at the Hakimpur border check post in North 24 Parganas district in West Bengal, where a number of people waited for their return to Bangladesh.

“I heard that Bangladeshis will be sent to jail. We do not have documents. I did not try to get documents because my parents are no more,” said Kohinoor Bibi, a 50-year-old widow waiting at the Hakimpur check post, hoping the Border Security Force would send her back to Bangladesh without delay.

Kohinoor had come with her 18-year-old son to Dakshineswar, on the outskirts of Kolkata, for treatment of her diabetes and kidney problem. The Hakimpur check post had seldom seen Bangladeshis wanting to return home.

“People fear they will be jailed if they do not cross the border now,” said Montu Mondol, an Indian autorickshaw driver who lives near the check post. “A three-year-old child fell ill while waiting here, and we villagers gave it food and medicines.”

Kohinoor’s son, Alamin Gazi, who was a labourer in Dakshineswar for three years, hopes to find work in his hometown of Shyamnagar in Bangladesh. “We are going back,” Gazi said. “Otherwise we might be fined and put in jail for two years.”

Jehangir Alam, a house painter, waited at the check post with his wife and daughters, age two and 10, hoping to return to Satkhira in Bangladesh with BSF help. The family had lived near Kolkata for five years. “People there were good to me. If possible, I will get my passport and return to India legally,” said Alam, who fears starvation without a job in Bangladesh. He recounted the story of his cousin who died of starvation in Bangladesh five years ago.

“If you do not get food for one week, you will steal or even murder,” said Gazi. “But I did not do so. I came here out of desperation, and I have brought my wife and children to this border post. I had not known which post to go to, but I somehow managed to come here.”

The BJP had said early October that the SIR would purge one crore illegal voters from the rolls. “There have been 13 lakh deaths and 16 lakh double or triple entries in the voters list,” said Suvendu Adhikari. “So, 29 lakh names will be deleted on the very first day of the SIR. Then there are Bangladeshi Muslims, Rohingyas and fake voters.”

The BJP has often accused the Trinamool Congress of shielding illegal immigrants in West Bengal, who allegedly procure fake Indian identity documents and vote for the ruling party. Illegal Bangladeshi presence in India had a sudden spurt last year, after prime minister Sheikh Hasina fled the country during a student uprising.

India has often seen an inflow of Matua Hindus who fear persecution in Bangladesh or simply want to join their brethren who have a substantial presence in the North 24 Parganas and Nadia districts of West Bengal. An important temple of the Matuas is in Thakurnagar, in the North 24 Parganas. Called Thakurbari temple, it pays reverence to Harichand Thakur, a social and religious reformer who founded the Matua Mahasangha in the 19th century. The community was formed to respectfully accommodate the Namasudras, who were outcasts.

Both the BJP and the Trinamool have Matua members in Parliament and have offered support to Matuas who do not have proof of Indian citizenship.

Mamata Banerjee took her SIR protest rally from Kolkata to the Matua heartland near Thakurbari in November. She said: “The public elects a government, but now the system is changing. Now the Election Commission will decide who gets to choose the government. It is supposed to be an impartial body, not the BJP’s commission.”

She clarified that her government did not hinder the SIR. “We have only demanded that no genuine voter’s name is deleted,” she clarified.

Litton Rai, a resident of Thakurnagar, pointed out that many Mautas did not have any of the documents that the Election Commission has listed as proof of citizenship. “Why should the SIR happen this way?” he wondered.

Around 17 per cent of 7.6 crore voters in the state are Matua. While the BJP has consolidated its Matua vote bank, the Trinamool seeks to portray itself as the new Matua saviour. Help desks were set up in Thakurnagar, with volunteers assisting Matuas to obtain ‘Hindu minority’ identity cards.

Bisho Swapan Sarkar, a farmer with a family of seven, entered India through the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans 22 years ago. “I have come to the help desk to get my Hindu minority card to prove I am a citizen of this area,” he said. He has a PAN card, Aadhaar card and ration card but not a voter ID card. “Those who paid money could get it,” he said. “But we are poor.”

Anandi Biswas, another Matua, said the SIR would result in the Matuas getting legal voting rights. “The problem is with Muslims entering the country illegally,” he said. “Bangladesh is a Muslim country. Why are they coming here? Let them stay in their country.”

Biswas said his family was forced out of Bangladesh: “We came to India to save our honour. But many of us could not get valid documents here.”

Beyond the religious divide, the central question remains: which immigrants have attained legal Indian citizenship, and how will the Election Commission segregate genuine voters from illegal voters?

Both Muslim and Hindu minority communities are anxious about their future, with the SIR emerging as an existential crisis in a land they have come to call home.

passive-euthanasia-in-india-can-supreme-court-offer-merciful-end-to-harish-rana

Sat Jan 03 12:28:20 IST 2026

In the mornings, the house smelled of tea and toast. By afternoon, there was the rustle of textbooks being rifled through. The evenings were the loudest. The television would be on, the kitchen would be alive with the clang of vessels, and three siblings would be speaking at once, arguing, laughing.

Nirmala Rana knew exactly who would come home first, who would ask for food, and who would disappear into their room. Ashok would return from work, take off his shoes, open the newspaper and call out to his children one by one, asking how their day had been.

Harish, the eldest, moved through the house with quiet authority. He was disciplined, strong and ambitious—a final-year civil engineering student who spoke of site work and gym routines with equal seriousness. Ashish, younger by several years, followed him around, learning without asking. Their sister, the youngest, balanced studies and household work, navigating expectations that were never spoken aloud. It was a simple middle-class home in Delhi—a 25-year-old house built through years of savings and patience. A house where the future felt predictable, even secure.

That life ended on August 20, 2013.

The phone rang at 7.21pm. Harish had fallen from the fourth-floor balcony of his rented room near Panjab University in Mohali. By the time Ashok and Nirmala reached the hospital, he had already undergone emergency brain surgery. Doctors spoke in careful, technical terms: severe neurological damage, extensive trauma and irreversible injury. One sentence stayed with them the longest—the nervous system had dried up.

In the following weeks, they slept on the floor at PGIMER Chandigarh, took turns sitting outside the ICU, and learned to read medical charts and monitor screens. When there was no improvement even after two months, Harish was moved to AIIMS, Delhi. Machines changed, medicines were adjusted and the doctors did their best. Soon, though, the word ‘recovery’ disappeared from conversations. Harish was in a vegetative state.

In the next few years, medical bills piled up and they had to sell the house and move to a smaller, rented place in Raj Nagar, Ghaziabad.

At the centre of their lives now is a 6×4 ft room. Harish’s bed occupies most of it.

Every morning begins the same way. Nirmala wakes at dawn. She washes her son’s face gently, wets his lips, checks the feeding tube, and straightens his arms and legs as she has done thousands of times. She smoothens the bedsheet and speaks to him about the weather, medicines that have run out and visitors who may or may not come.

Sometimes Nirmala scolds him lightly; for a fleeting moment, this allows her to pretend he can hear, argue back, still be present.

“I carried him for nine months,” she says, still facing the bed. “Now I am saying I want him to be free. A mother should never have to say this.”

Harish cannot move or speak. He breathes through a tracheostomy tube and is fed through a gastrostomy tube. He needs help to relieve himself.

Nirmala remembers how he used to stand in front of the mirror, flexing his arms. “Dekho mere biceps (look at my biceps),” he would say, asking her to prepare protein-rich meals.

“Now,” she says, her voice breaking, “I prepare liquid food and pour it through a tube.”

Ashok sits quietly nearby, counting the day’s earnings. He used to work for a catering company, but is now retired. He gets Rs3,600 as pension every month. To keep his son alive, he sells sandwiches at cricket grounds.

Harish’s care costs nearly Rs25,000 a month, including medicines, physiotherapy and nutritional supplements. Often, something essential to the home has to wait.

Their younger son, Ashish, is the family’s backbone. He feeds his brother, cleans him, turns him over every few hours to prevent bedsores, watches for infections, and studies his blinks. His own life is on pause.

Their sister is married and lives nearby. She visits often and helps when she can, but the daily weight of care rests on Ashok, Nirmala and Ashish.

At times, Ashok leans close to Harish and says, “You are a brave boy.”

Harish blinks.

In July 2024, Ashok did something no parent wants to do—he approached the Delhi High Court seeking permission for euthanasia. The plea was declined.

The court said that as Harish was not on ventilator support, there was no case for passive euthanasia (withdrawing life-sustaining treatment). Removing the feeding tube would amount to active euthanasia, which is illegal in India. The Ranas, though, argue that in Harish’s case, the artificial feeding serves as life-sustaining treatment and hence qualifies for withdrawal under passive euthanasia law.

“Maa ke liye mrityu maangna chhoti baat nahi hoti (For a mother, asking for death is not a small thing),” says Nirmala. “Par aisi zindagi ka kya fayda (But what is the point of such a life)?”

Years of care had exhausted most of their resources. “This was not about wanting our son to die,” says Ashok. “It was about not being able to keep him alive like this any more. We were forced into court not because we wanted to let go but because we could no longer hold on.”

Their lawyer, Manish Jain, remembers the moment clearly. “By the time they came to us,” he says, “they had crossed every personal threshold. This petition was born out of compulsion, not choice.”

The family then approached the Supreme Court, which declined the euthanasia request, but directed the Uttar Pradesh government to extend medical support. On paper, the relief was substantial. In practice, it was fragile. Feeding tubes were often unavailable. Medicines ran out. Prescriptions had to be arranged privately.

“There are days when the doctor writes a prescription, but the medicine is not there,” says Ashok.

In 2025, they went to the apex court again, which told the Noida district hospital to set up a primary medical board to assess the situation. It later asked AIIMS to set up a secondary medical board for further evaluation.

The boards recorded intact brainstem function but total dependence on external support for feeding, posture and bodily functions. They reported that Harish’s condition had deteriorated and that the chances of recovery were negligible. “It’s a very sad report,” the court said. “And it will be a big challenge for us also. But we can’t keep the boy like this for all time to come.”

In India, assisted dying—the intentional act of causing death through a lethal injection or similar means—is illegal. It attracts criminal liability under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, either as murder or culpable homicide. A doctor assisting such an act would face charges of abetment to suicide.

Passive euthanasia is different. The distinction lies in action and omission. Stopping life support allows the underlying illness to take its natural course. The constitutional basis for this distinction lies in Article 21—the right to life and personal liberty—which the Supreme Court has interpreted to include the right to live with dignity.

When life is ending and medical intervention only prolongs suffering without hope of recovery, the court has held that dignity may lie in allowing death to occur naturally. In such a case, death is treated as a result of the disease or injury, and not because of the withdrawal of treatment.

India has no comprehensive statute governing end-of-life decisions. In that vacuum, courts have been forced to build safeguards, step by step. The judicial journey began with Aruna Shanbaug vs Union of India (2011).

Shanbaug, a nurse, had been sexually assaulted in 1973 and was in a vegetative state for decades. She breathed without a ventilator, responded to stimuli and was cared for lovingly by nurses at KEM Hospital in Mumbai. She could not be called dead, the court said.

However, the court did recognise that the right to live with dignity might, in limited circumstances, include the right of a dying person to a dignified death. Assisted dying was prohibited, but passive euthanasia could be permitted.

In the absence of legislation, the court laid down interim guidelines. Withdrawal of life support required the consent of family or next friend, approval by doctors acting in the patient’s best interest, and judicial oversight by a High Court.

This framework was revisited in Common Cause vs Union of India (2018). A Constitution bench held that the right to die with dignity was an inseparable facet of Article 21. Withdrawal of life-sustaining treatment was upheld as merely accelerating the conclusion of a natural process already underway. The court also recognised Advance Medical Directives, allowing individuals to record their wishes regarding refusal or withdrawal of medical treatment.

The safeguards, however, proved nearly impossible to implement. The advance directives had to be signed by witnesses and countersigned by a judicial magistrate of the first class. Multiple medical boards were required. The collector was involved. Magistrates had to visit patients. In reality, hospitals and families were paralysed by procedure.

In 2023, the Supreme Court acknowledged that its own framework had created insurmountable obstacles. It simplified the process. Advance directives could be attested before a notary or gazetted officer and stored digitally. Hospitals would constitute two medical boards, with doctors having at least five years’ experience. The collector’s role was removed. Magistrates only needed to be informed, not involved. If boards refused permission, families could still approach the High Court.

However, Harish’s case exposes the tension between law and life. A bench of Justices J.B. Pardiwala and K.V. Viswanathan has said that it wants to personally speak to Harish’s parents before taking a decision. This signals that the case is not just about medical reports, but also lived reality. The court now has to decide whether dignity, as promised by Article 21, can meaningfully reach families trapped in endless waiting.

Back in the small room in Ghaziabad, the Ranas are glued to Harish’s bedside. “We want his organs to be donated,” Ashok says quietly. “If he cannot live like a human being, then at least we should be able to see him live in someone else’s body.”

This thought has taken years to form. “Maybe someone else will walk,” he says. “Maybe someone’s child will breathe. Then we will feel that Harish is still somewhere in this world.”

Time has altered the family’s relationship with hope. In the early years, hope was loud and demanding. It came in the form of doctors’ reassurances, experimental medicines, new physiotherapy routines and the belief that youth itself might pull Harish back. Over time, that kind of hope exhausted itself.

What replaced it was something quieter. Now, hope exists in smaller, more fragile forms. It is the absence of infection. A day without fever. A feeding tube that does not clog. A bedsore that does not worsen. Survival has become incremental, measured not in milestones but in hours that pass without crisis. For Nirmala, hope is sometimes as simple as Harish remaining comfortable through the night. “Aaj shaant tha (today he was peaceful),” she says on such mornings.

Age weighs heavily on Ashok. He worries not just about money, but about time, his own failing strength, Nirmala’s health, and the unspoken question of what happens to Harish when they are no longer around.

In this suspended existence, the family’s plea is not a demand, but rather an appeal for closure and dignity. They are not asking the law to choose death. They are asking it to acknowledge life as they are living it.

Nirmala once again adjusts the bedsheet around her son’s body. “Bas dard na ho (just let there be no pain),” she whispers.

she-was-a-fighter-the-untold-story-of-aruna-shanbaugs-life-and-care

Sat Jan 03 12:16:50 IST 2026

For 30 years, I took care of Aruna Shanbaug at KEM Hospital. When people speak of her today, they often reduce her life to a legal milestone or a moral debate on euthanasia. But to us nurses, Aruna was never a case. She was a fragile human, expressive in her own way, and deeply responsive to care.

I retired seven years ago, but my memories of Aruna remain vivid. Caring for patients in a vegetative state requires patience, compassion and commitment. Care is the keyword. Without it, medicine becomes mechanical. With it, even the most silent patient can feel dignity.

In Aruna’s case, the nurses were her backbone. We volunteered to care for her, not because it was easy, but because it was necessary. Despite being bedridden and unable to communicate in conventional ways, she was always kept clean, comfortable and protected. Not once did she develop bedsores.

Aruna was a fighter. She would cry when she needed something, and over time, we began to understand her cues. She was alert in her own way, responsive to familiar voices, touch and routine. Those who believe patients like her are absent from the world around them misunderstand the quiet language of such lives.

Today, when euthanasia is discussed in similar cases, I feel compelled to speak from experience. These patients need more care, not less. There are foster homes and long-term care facilities available now, which were not common in Aruna’s time.

Ending a life should never become a substitute for providing care. It is true that families suffer emotionally and financially. Their pain must be acknowledged. But the answer lies in strengthening care-giving systems, not in giving up on lives that continue to feel, respond and endure in ways we might never fully comprehend.

Velhal is former matron, KEM Hospital, Mumbai As told to Kanu Sarda

delhis-aqi-crisis-are-we-trusting-wrong-numbers-flawed-solutions

Sat Jan 03 12:11:20 IST 2026

This year, Delhi’s fight against pollution has seen everything: Chief Minister Rekha Gupta’s “AQI is a temperature” gaffe, the AAP’s Santa-fainting skit, protesters being sent to police custody, an unsuccessful cloud seeding experiment, talks of AI–enabled pollution management and water sprinkling wherever one looks. Everything—except breathable air.

The air, meanwhile, remains ‘poor’ or ‘very poor’—if not ‘severe’—its smell smoky and taste metallic, with the air quality index (AQI) even hitting the cap of 500, posing a serious health risk.

The BJP government in Delhi had allocated Rs300 crore in the 2025–2026 budget to curb pollution, and had earlier approved a dust-control proposal, which is set to cost Rs2,388 crore over the next decade. This is only the latest in a long line of plans rolled out by successive governments—from expanding metro networks to the more cosmetic odd-even rule under the AAP. Yet little has changed on the ground, prompting a question: Are the solutions part of the problem?

WHICH NUMBER TO TRUST?

There was a time when winter conversations revolved around the chill—how biting it was, but also a reward: a few months meant for being outdoors, exercising, picnicking, breathing easier in an otherwise tropical climate. But that winter no longer exists.

Today, stepping out during these months can itself be a health hazard. The conversations, meanwhile, have shifted—from the chill in the air to the air itself.

For instance, if you live in Delhi NCR, chances are you check the AQI at least once a day. AQI turns complex data on pollutants like PM2.5 (particulate matter smaller than 2.5 micrometres), PM10, ozone and carbon monoxide into a single number and category, making it easy for the public to understand local air quality. What you see, however, depends heavily on which monitor you refer to.

While the Central Pollution Control Board’s (CPCB) data and those of government-backed trackers like SAFAR don’t go beyond 500, private trackers like IQAir often report numbers well above 500, sometimes even breaching 1,000.

This raises questions: Which tracker can one trust? And does India’s official air monitoring truly reflect the health risks its citizens face?

Dr Gufran Beig, chair professor at the National Institute of Advanced Studies and founder-director of SAFAR, says that when the AQI grading was introduced in 2014, experts believed that a reading of 500 represented the worst possible air quality. “The idea was to cap it at 500 so as not to panic the public,” he explains. “However, recent evidence shows that... further deterioration in air quality continues to worsen health impacts.”

Manoj Kumar N., an analyst at the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), which releases monthly ambient air quality snapshots, highlights why readings differ across trackers. “While the CPCB relies on Beta Attenuation Monitors (BAMs) [which use beta radiation to directly measure particulate matter], private trackers like IQAir use sensors [these use lasers to estimate particle concentration from light scattering], hence the difference,” he says.

Although BAMs are considered more reliable for monitoring, experts say that India’s air quality standards, introduced in 2014, are outdated. “It would be a good practice to measure air quality beyond 500,” notes Kumar, “because pollutants like PM2.5 can harm health even at low concentrations.”

DIFFERING STANDARDS

Notably, India’s air quality standards, too, are lenient when compared globally. For instance, India considers PM2.5 levels up to 60µg/m³ as ‘satisfactory’, a limit four times higher than the World Health Organization’s recommended 15µg/m³.

“The WHO doesn’t provide standards but guidelines based on the latest health research. Every country, meanwhile, formulates and revamps its standards based on its internal data,” explains Beig. One oft-cited justification is that Indians, owing to the tropical climate and other hardships, are supposedly more adaptable.

But the reality is grimmer.

“PM2.5, a major component of air pollution, is classified by the WHO’s International Agency for Research on Cancer as a group 1 carcinogen, especially when it comes to the risk of lung cancer,” says Dr Ankit Jain, senior consultant at Apollo Cancer Centre, Delhi.

In his response in the Rajya Sabha, Minister of State for Environment Kirti Vardhan Singh said that while air pollution is one of the triggers for respiratory illnesses and associated diseases, “there is no conclusive data which establishes a direct correlation between higher AQI levels and lung diseases”.

Jain, however, points out that symptoms of lung or other cancers don’t appear immediately. “It can take 10–15 years for mutations to develop. So while the effects might not be visible now, in the next decade we can expect a surge not just in lung cancer, but also cancers of the head and neck, breast, prostate and bladder, with a direct link to pollution. Chronic respiratory and cardiovascular diseases will also mushroom,” he says.

According to the data shared by the Union government in Parliament in December, more than two lakh cases of acute respiratory illnesses were recorded in six state-run hospitals in Delhi between 2022 and 2024.

“So if we are really taking our health seriously as a nation, we cannot isolate ourselves by saying that in India this is allowed because we are used to this. I think we have to be stringent with the WHO guidelines,” says Jain.

Meanwhile, Beig argues that while India’s air quality standards need an update, “if you are not even able to comply with the existing standards, why make the stricter ones a priority. Let’s first achieve this and then go on to the next level”.

NOT ENOUGH MONITORS

While Delhi has the highest concentration of air quality monitors in the country, experts say placement matters just as much as numbers. “Readings are naturally higher in densely populated areas; put a monitor in a sparsely populated or peripheral location, and the numbers drop,” says Kumar.

Delhi has 48 air monitoring stations, including 38 Continuous Ambient Air Quality Monitoring Stations (CAAQMS) that provide real-time data. The CPCB sets guidelines for placement, such as at least 20m from trees and 50m from roads or highways, to ensure the data represents the area rather than a single pollution source.

Yet several stations flout these norms. The CAAQMS at ITO sits right beside the road; RK Puram’s station is inside a schoolyard with trees nearby.

Experts also point to a shortage of monitors, despite Delhi’s high concentration. CPCB guidelines call for at least 16 CAAQMS stations in a city of 5 million or more. With a population of 33 million, Delhi lacks 68 stations. Also, monitors are costly. “It can go up to 2 crore per CAAQMS station,” says Kumar.

LOOKING BEYOND DELHI’S BORDERS

While Delhi grabs headlines, NCR cities are just as bad, if not worse. Yet the focus on Delhi lets regional governments escape the scrutiny.

For instance, while Delhi has 38 CAAQMS, Gurugram in Haryana, despite rapid industrialisation and urban expansion, has only four. “Even those are positioned in ways that fail to capture the true picture,” says Arindam Datta, senior fellow at The Energy and Resources Institute (TERI).

Similarly, Ghaziabad in Uttar Pradesh has just four monitoring stations; air pollution here frequently reaches hazardous levels as per private trackers. Notably, Ghaziabad was the most-polluted in November, according to CREA’s air quality snapshot for the month.

“Policymakers of Delhi are focused on Delhi. They are not even concerned about what happens in Noida, or Gurugram,” says Beig.

Kumar adds that even if Delhi were to reduce its pollution to zero, the city would still remain polluted. “It is because a large part of it is coming from outside. It is what we call trans-boundary pollution.”

Here, Beig talks about the airshed approach, where a region is defined by common air movement. “Action should be taken within an airshed and not limited to boundaries,” he explains.

A DUSTY ROAD AHEAD

When one looks at the government’s response to tackling air pollution—be it water sprinkling, road sweeping or even cloud seeding—it is primarily aimed at controlling dust. Experts caution that these efforts may be missing the bigger picture. While such measures focus on larger dust particles, or PM10, the far more dangerous PM2.5 remains under-addressed.

“About 68 per cent of the National Clean Air Programme (NCAP) funds are being spent to mitigate dust, which is not at all the real solution,” says Kumar.

Beig points out why the focus remains so skewed. “PM10 is a measuring scale under NCAP, so your accountability is fixed to reduce PM10 and not PM2.5. If PM2.5 were the priority, water sprinkling and dust control would be secondary. The real focus would be on transport, biofuels in slums, industries and waste management.”

Even within dust control, the approach is narrow, adds Datta. “Most efforts target dust on the roads. But if you control dust at the source, like construction sites, you wouldn’t need to spend so much on mechanical sweepers and sprinklers,” he says.

COSTLY RAIN

If water sprinkling wasn’t enough, Delhi tried cloud seeding on October 28, hoping that artificial rain could ease the pollution. The trial was conducted by the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) Kanpur.

Cloud seeding works by releasing particles like silver iodide into clouds to trigger rainfall. This attempt, however, failed due to low moisture levels. The two trials on October 28 cost Rs60 lakh, while the Delhi government has allocated Rs3.21 crore for five such experiments this winter.

“Cloud seeding is an SOS measure—an imperfect solution. It is something we can use when pollution levels are extremely high,” says Manindra Agarwal, director, IIT Kanpur. “It has been very dry this time. The trials, however, have still provided data.”

Moreover, in his reply in Parliament on cloud seeding last year, MoS Singh, citing experts, had expressed reservations around the experiment.

Meanwhile, more cloud seeding trials are in the works in Delhi. “The IMD has predicted low cloud availability at the beginning of January, so we are looking forward to that,” says Agarwal.

TACKLING PROBLEM AT SOURCE

“Tackling pollution at source is the best way,” says Agarwal.

While stubble burning in Punjab and Haryana is routinely blamed for Delhi’s air crisis, experts stress that its impact is limited to a week or two each year. For the rest of the year, the pollution is largely home-grown.

Data backs this up. According to CREA’s monthly air quality snapshot for November, the contribution of stubble burning to Delhi’s pollution fell sharply, from 20 per cent last year to just 7 per cent this November. Yet, “20 of 29 NCR cities recorded higher pollution levels than the previous year,” notes Kumar. “This clearly shows that year-round sources—transport, industry, power plants and other combustion activities are the dominant drivers. Without sector-specific emission cuts, cities will continue to breach air quality standards.”

Transport, in particular, remains a major concern. Delhi has an enormous vehicular load—around 1.2 crore registered vehicles, including nearly 33.8 lakh private cars, according to the Delhi Statistical Handbook 2023.

“You cannot control PM2.5 levels if you ignore the transport sector,” says Datta.

The government has rolled out several measures, such as banning the entry of vehicles not meeting the Bharat Stage VI (BS-VI) emission standards from outside Delhi and making Pollution Under Control Certificates mandatory for refuelling. However, experts argue that these steps are undermined by the sheer scale of vehicular growth.

“Say, Delhi had one lakh BS-IV vehicles in 2018. Now, even if the vehicles are BS-VI-compliant, the total number has doubled,” Datta explains. “So while emissions per vehicle may have come down, the number of pollution sources has gone up. That’s where the problem lies.”

Then there is industrial pollution. “Polluting industries are required to report their emissions to the CPCB or the respective state pollution control boards. So the data already exists, and authorities know which industries are polluting,” says Kumar. “We also know which ones fall under the red category—power plants, steel plants and the like. If strong action is taken against these sectors, it can have a significant impact on pollution levels across the country.”

NO LONGER A DELHI PROBLEM

While attention continues to centre on Delhi-NCR, air pollution is increasingly a pan-India problem.

Despite being geographically better placed than Delhi, Kolkata frequently ranks among the world’s 10 most polluted cities, according to IQAir. And in its 2024 report, Byrnihat, a small industrial town on the Assam–Meghalaya border, was named the most polluted city globally.

Other metros such as Mumbai and Bengaluru also routinely grapple with toxic air. Beyond cities, the situation is no better. A recent study published in Environmental Science & Technology found that residents in Bihar breathe unhealthy air on nearly 90 per cent of days during the post-monsoon and winter months.

The findings make one thing clear: air pollution is no longer just Delhi’s problem. And, as experts repeatedly stress, tackling it at the source may be the only way forward.

caught-between-smog-and-starvation-the-plight-of-delhi-construction-workers

Sat Jan 03 12:02:22 IST 2026

IN KALYAN PURI in east Delhi, just a few kilometres from the affluent Noida, a quiet crisis is unfolding. In these dense slums and skeletal structures, women sit in hopeless silence while their men move desperately from one contractor to another, searching for a day’s work.

This is the human cost of the pollution lockdown. Since early November, when the Commission for Air Quality Management (CAQM) implemented the Graded Response Action Plan (GRAP), a majority of Delhi’s construction labourers—both skilled and unskilled—have been out of work.

Every morning, Sanjay Turah, 40, walks to the local ‘labour chowk’, waiting hours for a contractor who never arrives. A migrant from Bihar, he lives in a single room with his wife and four children. “It has been more than a month since GRAP was implemented, and we have been out of work,” Turah said. “We have no food, yet we are expected to pay Rs3,000 as rent. They say it doesn’t matter if you don’t eat, but the rent must be paid. So we don’t eat.”

Though GRAP measures are annual, this winter presents a grim shift. Despite all three tiers of government now being under BJP rule, there appears to be no effective plan to address pollution at its source—vehicular emissions—rather than penalising the construction sector.

The Rs10,000 compensation promised by Labour Minister Kapil Mishra is failing to reach those in need, as it is largely restricted to locals. Of the estimated 12 lakh labourers in Delhi, more than 80 per cent are non-residents.

Then there are other systemic hurdles. If a labourer works at a site in Noida (in Uttar Pradesh) or Gurgaon (in Haryana), the labour department’s online portal often refuses registration unless a Delhi-based site address is provided.

Delhi BJP chief spokesperson Abhay Verma said it was a process and all those registered with the Delhi government as labourers would receive the money. However, those facing technical issues with registration or those who are not yet registered will not get it, he said.

“The problem deepens with the requirement to provide contractor details. Contractors often refuse to share their name or phone number,” said Silvain Singh, a graduate working in rebar fixing. “If an officer calls for verification and the contractor doesn't respond, the registration is rejected.”

Unsurprisingly, the bureaucratic vacuum has invited corruption. Workers report being coerced by middlemen into paying between Rs1,000 and Rs2,000 for a registration process that officially costs Rs25. Parvinder Singh, a migrant labourer, said private shops charged Rs1,500 for renewals that take months to process. “We don’t know what is happening with our life. Unless there is a solution, we won’t have any money,” he said.

For some, the situation is even more dire. Chote Lal, 35, a migrant from Maharashtra, hasn't had a proper meal in three days. “I don’t have a labour card because I am not a resident of Delhi. For the past 15 days, I have been sleeping under a metro bridge,” he said.

For Delhi’s construction workers, the question is no longer when the air will clear, but how long they can survive the wait.

from-uphaar-cinema-to-goa-nightclub-how-india-continues-to-ignore-fire-safety-lessons

Sat Dec 27 13:09:27 IST 2025

Twenty-eight years is a lifetime in public policy. It is long enough to build institutions, correct mistakes and ensure that a tragedy never repeats. But in India, the Uphaar Cinema fire of 1997, which took 59 lives, has aged only in memory, no lessons learned. From a packed cinema hall in South Delhi to a crowded nightclub in Goa, the script remains eerily similar—illegal structures, missing fire clearances, blocked exits, delayed emergency response and promises made after tragedy.

What sets Uphaar apart is not just the magnitude of the tragedy, but the doggedness of those who would not let the system forget. After years of litigation, the Supreme Court in 2015 imposed a 60 crore fine on the Ansal brothers—Sushil and Gopal—who owned the cinema. The court directed that the money be used to create a trauma centre in Delhi. The logic was simple—had emergency trauma care been swift and specialised, many lives could have been saved.

After a decade of what looked like inaction, the Association of Victims of Uphaar Tragedy (AVUT) approached the apex court again. But, the Delhi government informed the bench it had already fulfilled the spirit of the order by setting up three hospitals. Its affidavit said the money, meant for a trauma centre in Dwarka, was spent on facilities at the Sanjay Gandhi Memorial Hospital in Mangolpuri, the Satyawadi Raja Harish Chander Hospital in Narela and the Siraspur Hospital. However, none of these hospitals is operational today.

Moreover, AVUT argued, none of them was a trauma centre. AVUT representative Neelam Krishnamoorthy told THE WEEK that a trauma centre was a specialised and time-critical facility. “Trauma centres integrate emergency medicine, surgery, burn care, neurology and rapid transport protocols in a way regular hospitals do not,” she said. “And that’s precisely why AVUT had insisted upon a trauma centre, and not a general hospital.”

During the Uphaar fire, victims were shunted from one hospital to another, wasting precious minutes. The tragedy highlighted how India’s capital lacked an integrated trauma response system. Almost three decades later, it is beside the point for the state to argue that there are hospitals. As AVUT argued in court, availability is not the same as preparedness, and proximity is futile without speed and specialisation.

Neelam’s husband, Shekhar Krishnamoorthy, also highlighted another aspect of the 2015 court order. “Land was supposed to be given by the then Delhi Vidyut Board [for the trauma centre], but it isn’t clear whether the land was given or not,” he said.

Indeed, the way AVUT has been systematically sidelined is telling. While it may have provided the moral and legal impetus behind the case, it was not consulted on the use of funds, nor did it feature in any planning.

For Neelam and Shekhar, who lost their children Unnati and Ujjwal in the fire, the struggle has stretched across 28 years of courtrooms, appeals, diluted sentences and administrative inertia. Justice came slow. Reform not at all.

That failure was laid bare in the Goa nightclub fire. The litany of violations revealed by the preliminary investigation—the lack of a valid fire NOC and working fire alarm or suppression system, inadequate emergency exits and escape routes—mark it as a textbook case of regulatory collapse.

To survivors and relatives of victims, the tragedy seems a result of negligence rather than an accident. “My brother worked there,” said Maria Fernandes—he died in the blaze. “He always said the place was overcrowded and unsafe. There were days when exits were blocked with furniture. We complained, but no one listened.” The owners of the club—Luthra brothers, Saurabh and Gaurav—have been arrested and cases registered for culpable negligence.

The Goa government has also ordered a statewide audit of nightclubs, bars and enclosed public venues, and sealed several establishments without valid fire clearances.

Safety activists point to how fire audits are conducted only after tragedies, as routine inspections remain sporadic. “The law is clear,” said a former fire safety official, who requested anonymity. “But enforcement is weak. Licences are renewed mechanically and violations overlooked until lives are lost.”

The relatives of the deceased said accountability should go beyond the venue owners. As the mourning continues in Goa, this fire has reopened an uncomfortable national conversation about public safety in places of entertainment. About the pattern: rules exist, warnings are ignored and compliance is enforced only after tragedy strikes.

To the families, justice will be more than arrests; it will mean a guarantee that no other evening of fun will result in death.

“Every time a tragedy of this nature occurs, I relive everything all over again,” said Neelam. “When we launched this fight, it was never only about justice for our children. It was to ensure no other parent loses a child simply because somebody decided to compromise on safety laws. No parent deserves to get their child’s body because they went out to watch a film or went out for an evening. I know the pain of living without your children.”

She added that they believed that if they could prevent even one such tragedy from occurring, it would be a true tribute to their children and a service to society. “We fought relentlessly, and the courts did lay down safety guidelines for cinema halls,” she said. “But my plea has always been that safety cannot stop there. Unfortunately, despite all these years, I feel we have failed in that larger mission. The lessons of Uphaar should have applied to every public space, not just cinemas.”

Fires in hospitals, coaching centres, commercial complexes and residential buildings across India continue to reveal the same truth: fire safety exists largely as paperwork.

After Uphaar, India rewrote building codes, strengthened fire norms and promised stricter inspections. But enforcement was never institutionalised. Fire departments remain understaffed. Inspections are routine rituals. Penalties are negligible. Criminal liability is rare.

Most important, there is no national trauma response framework that integrates fire safety, emergency transport and specialised care.

The Uphaar case also brought into sharp focus how the judicial system struggles to deal with mass negligence. While conviction was secured, sentences were softened progressively. Custodial punishment gave way to fines. Accountability thinned with each appeal. For future violators, the message was unmistakable: compliance is optional, consequences negotiable.

Uphaar should have been India’s fire safety watershed. Instead, it turned out to be a memorial without muscle. Meanwhile, new fires continue to add names to a list that should have frozen in 1997.

As long as trauma centres are substituted with general hospitals, inspections follow funerals and victims have to fight for decades to enforce court orders, tragedies like Goa will not be aberrations.

Twenty-eight years on, Uphaar’s lesson remains painfully intact, waiting for a system willing to finally learn it.

the-kamalesan-case-when-personal-beliefs-clash-with-military-tradition

Sat Dec 20 18:38:25 IST 2025

As a veteran who served as an officer in the Indian military for over 40 years, I find the recent case of Lieutenant Samuel Kamalesan, a Christian junior officer of the Protestant denomination, whose dismissal from the Indian Army was affirmed recently by the Supreme Court, somewhat perturbing, yet instructive. He was dismissed from service after being deemed a ‘misfit’ for refusing to enter a ‘regimental gurudwara’ along with his Sikh subordinates, in keeping with an important Army tradition of officers periodically attending prayers with their men. This episode forces us to examine the delicate balance between individual faith and collective duty in the Indian Army, an institution that consists of men and women of all castes, creeds and cultures, and defines itself as ‘secular’ in a deep and profound sense of the word.

Reportedly, Kamalesan insisted that his faith did not allow him ‘worshipping gods other than his own’. The primary question, therefore, was whether visiting the place of worship of another faith, whether to show respect or in a display of solidarity as in the Army, or to extend support during moments of joy or grief, as many of us are invited to do even in civilian life, was tantamount to being forced to worship ‘other gods’. Also, whether a military officer of a combat unit who is expected to influence his men positively and motivate them can afford to allow rigid interpretations of personal faith to come in the way of this primary duty.

At first glance, the notion of a secular Army might evoke images of religion being kept strictly private, outside the mess halls and barracks. But in the Indian Army, secularism has never meant exclusion of religious expression. Rather, it means equal respect for all faiths and a willingness, as officers, to embody that respect publicly when leading men of varied religions.

The Indian Army’s approach in this regard is not one of exclusion but of equal embrace, a sarva dharma sambhava ethos, as embodied in our Constitution and codified into regimental life. This is because the religion of troops is viewed not merely as a private individual affair. It is an essential ingredient in the psychological and emotional construct of a fighting Army unit where the officers show spiritual solidarity with those whom they lead in war and peace in the interests of performing their duties optimally, irrespective of their own religious persuasion.

Let me start with a snippet from my personal experience as a young officer. In mid-1975, after having been commissioned as a Second Lieutenant six months earlier, I reported to my battalion, a Gorkha battalion with troops who follow the Hindu faith, in Mizoram. At that time, Mizoram, a Christian majority Union territory, was facing an active insurgency, and my battalion was deployed as a network of company and platoon posts in its area of responsibility for counter insurgency operations. After a quick orientation over a few days at the battalion headquarters, I moved on foot to my ‘air maintained’ platoon post situated on a hill near a village in the rural interiors where I stayed for the next six months. For those six months, by day, I lived, dined, played and prayed with my platoon of about 35 men, while by night we carried out our operational duties.

As part of our daily routine, every evening after our volleyball game, I attended prayers in the makeshift platoon mandir where I led the aarti. What is important to note is that I did it not because I was commanded to do so. It was simply the natural thing to do, symbolic of my secular upbringing, schooling at a liberal Jesuit institution in Delhi, as well as the close bond between the officer and his command in the secular environs of the Indian military which I had experienced and imbibed during the four years of pre-commission training at the military academies.

Once I had settled into my counter insurgency duties, when possible, I would also attend Sunday service in the village church accompanied by some of my troops.

Twenty years later, in 1995, I once attended a ‘prayer parade’ in the form of Sunday service with Christian troops of a battalion of the Assam Regiment at Nasirabad, a cantonment town in Rajasthan. All officers of that battalion, whether Hindu, Sikh or Muslim, used to attend that Christian ‘prayer parade’ regularly. At that time, I was commanding another combat unit at the same station and attended ‘mandir parade’ regularly in a show of solidarity with my command.

This was the model we followed throughout our service, leading or joining prayers with our men while also following our personal faith in private or attending prayers in our places of worship. Hundreds of Christian officers have served successfully in combat units of the Army without allowing matters of faith to come in the way.

The Army has historically accommodated multiple faiths. Battalions, regiments, headquarters and regimental training centres maintain temples, gurudwaras, churches, mosques and sometimes a sarv dharm sthal, a common prayer hall intended to transcend individual religions and unify the unit.

The presence of such religious spaces is not for promoting any faith. It is for providing a place to pray in solidarity. When troops pray, perform rituals or recite war cries invoking their deities, these are symbolic acts of regimental identity, tradition and shared purpose. In such moments, faith becomes secondary to fraternity. The religion of the soldier temporarily becomes the religion of the unit and by extension the responsibility of its officers.

This is secularism in the Indian military context, not suppression of religion but its transcendence into a unifying, supra personal identity. The ‘uniform before faith’ ethic recognises that in war and service what binds men together is not shared creed but shared purpose.

When an officer dons the uniform, he does not merely lead. He becomes the embodiment of the battalion or regiment. In that role, personal faith cedes ground to collective unity. Participation in regimental rituals, whether at a temple, gurudwara, mosque, church or a sarv dharm sthal, is symbolic of an officer’s solidarity with his men. It signals that he is one of them. Multiple officers have noted that soldiers will follow an officer to the “ends of the earth” once they feel he is one of them.

For many soldiers, the sight of their commander standing with them in prayer becomes a powerful motivator, a reassurance of unity beyond doctrine. For the Hindu, Sikh, Christian or Muslim officer, it is not about changing his or her faith or worshipping ‘other gods’. It is about command presence, solidarity, showing respect and trust. Those intangibles, respect and trust between commander and commanded, are critical in combat when lives hang on cohesion and morale.

In Lieutenant Kamalesan’s case, the conflict between personal conscience and military duty came to a head. Commissioned in 2017 into the 3rd Cavalry Regiment of the armoured corps, he led a ‘tank troop’ of Bravo Squadron comprising Sikh troops. The regiment maintained a temple and a gurudwara reflecting the religious composition of its troops.

Kamalesan perceived that his Christian faith forbade him from entering the gurudwara and participating in religious rituals. While he did come to the outer area during religious parades, he refused to go inside. The Army counselled him. Even a Christian pastor reportedly advised that participation would not violate the doctrines of his faith. Yet he held firm in his perception.

In the view of the Army and later the courts, including the Supreme Court, this refusal was not a matter of faith but of gross indiscipline and breach of essential military ethos. The Supreme Court observed that the Army is a secular institution and the secularism it practises demands that officers respect the faith of their troops even if the faith differs from their own. The dismissal was upheld and the Court labelled the officer a “misfit”.

I believe the military’s secularism, as truly practised, transcends narrow arguments over faith. It places institutional unity, operational effectiveness and regimental cohesion above individual commitments pertaining to personal faith.

The Army’s regimental sarv dharm sthals, temples, gurudwaras, mosques and churches exist not for propagating religion or doctrinal supremacy but for spiritual solace, morale, solidarity and the forging of trust between men who might otherwise have little in common beyond the uniform. In that context, to treat religion rigidly as purely individual and refuse to share in the rituals of one’s men undermines that unity. It reduces faith to dogma rather than allowing it to become a bridge.

When a non Sikh officer stands in a Sikh gurdwara with his troops or a Hindu, Sikh or Muslim officer participates in a Christian prayer, it becomes a powerful testament to what the Army truly is, a living embodiment of unity in diversity. That is the secularism that needs to be cherished, not indifference, but inclusion, mutual respect and collective identity.

For all men and women in our forces who follow varied faiths, the Kamalesan case should be viewed not as a warning against believing but as a lesson in understanding secularism and religious harmony in the Indian context and the nature of service in the Indian military. When you don the uniform, you pledge loyalty not just to God but to the men you lead and to the flag that binds you. When you visit places of worship of other faiths in line with your military duties, you are not placing ‘other gods’ before your own. You still retain loyalty to your own faith. That loyalty may demand sacrifice even over personal religious preferences. But that is not sacrilege. It is the highest expression of faith, when belief does not become a barrier but a bond between you and your men, between faiths, between hearts.

Any officer who cannot make that sacrifice, who places interpretations of his personal faith over collective duty, may appear to remain true to his creed. But he may find himself unfit for the unique secular ethos of the Indian Army.

The writer was Vice Chief of the Indian Army.

vote-cutter-or-kingmaker-the-dual-role-of-owaisi-aimim-in-indian-elections

Sun Dec 21 15:25:41 IST 2025

When the Mahagathbandhan lost the recent Bihar assembly elections, the All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen, led by Asaduddin Owaisi, was cited as one of the key reasons for the defeat. The AIMIM contested 25 seats, mainly in the Seemanchal region, won five and was said to have contributed to the loss in 24 seats for the Mahagathbandhan. It was an almost exact replay of 2020, when Owaisi’s candidates won five seats in Seemanchal and polled enough votes in adjoining constituencies to influence the defeat of the Mahagathbandhan.

The AIMIM seems to have hurt the prospects of INDIA bloc parties earlier as well, in Maharashtra, West Bengal and Uttar Pradesh. In Maharashtra, the party was blamed for the loss of the Congress–NCP alliance in urban and semi urban Muslim belts in the 2014 and 2019 Lok Sabha elections. Its strength in Aurangabad, Malegaon and parts of Mumbai created three-way contests that helped the National Democratic Alliance. Even in 2024, when the AIMIM won only one seat, it fragmented opposition votes in several constituencies once considered safe.

The pattern is clear. The AIMIM does not need many victories to influence outcomes. It only needs to target constituencies where margins are narrow and minority vote consolidation is vital. The BJP often ends up benefiting indirectly, which gives credence to the Congress claim that Owaisi cuts into its votes and is, at times, the BJP’s B team. Yet this claim does not hold in Telangana, where the Congress openly courts Owaisi.

A clear example is the recent Jubilee Hills assembly byelection. The Congress depended on the AIMIM’s cadre mobilisation, which helped its candidate V. Naveen Yadav win with a margin of nearly 25,000 votes. Unlike in 2023, the AIMIM did not field a candidate. Instead, Owaisi campaigned with Yadav and the AIMIM’s booth level teams mobilised votes in Shaikpet, Jubilee Hills and Film Nagar—areas with a strong Muslim presence. In contrast, Mohammad Azharuddin lost Jubilee Hills in 2023 on a Congress ticket largely because the AIMIM was in the fray.

The AIMIM’s present behaviour is rooted in its past, says Syed Amin Ul Hasan Jafri, a three-time legislative council member of the party. He traces its origins to 1958 when Owaisi’s grandfather Abdul Wahid revived the AIMIM and faced suppression from chief minister Neelam Sanjeeva Reddy, who jailed him in 1962 and pressured him to disband the party. Once Reddy realised the AIMIM’s ability to counter communist influence in Hyderabad, he made peace. Owaisi’s father Salahuddin won Patharghatti the same year and the communists lost their hold on Hyderabad by 1967. This history shaped the AIMIM’s pragmatism, which is a willingness to work with larger parties without surrendering autonomy.

As the AIMIM expanded its network, successive ruling parties courted it because its sphere of influence is the state capital itself. Why would the party antagonise any ruling or opposition party? Jafri says the AIMIM never surrenders to any larger political force even as other political parties either try to pick on it or refuse to acknowledge it. This pattern has repeated. Although the Congress made peace with the AIMIM after 1962, it fielded home minister Ahmed Ali Khan against Salahuddin in the Charminar constituency in 1967, but lost. AIMIM leaders were jailed during the Indo-Pak wars. The Telugu Desam Party government under N.T. Rama Rao continued the antagonism. In the 1986 Hyderabad municipal corporation elections, Rama Rao tried to defeat the AIMIM by deploying all his MLAs in the Old City. But the AIMIM became the single largest party with 38 seats and took charge of the administration with Congress support.

The AIMIM continued with cooperation or opposition depending on how it was treated by other parties. It was part of the United Progressive Alliance but later distanced itself after differences with N. Kiran Kumar Reddy, the last chief minister of undivided Andhra Pradesh. After the Telangana Rashtra Samithi—now BRS—came to power in 2014, Owaisi extended his party’s support for two terms. Congress leader A. Revanth Reddy took a strong stand against the AIMIM before the 2023 assembly elections. But he called for a truce once he became chief minister, although the AIMIM had supported the BRS in the elections, which led to the Congress losing all 24 seats in the Greater Hyderabad Municipal Corporation region. This possibly pushed Revanth Reddy to work with the AIMIM. Later, the Congress supported the AIMIM’s nominee for the legislative council elections under the Hyderabad local bodies quota in March this year, and in turn, Owaisi ensured the Congress candidate’s victory in Jubilee Hills, the party’s first assembly seat in the GHMC area.

The Jubilee Hills victory could help the Congress improve its chances in the coming GHMC urban body elections, which may take place in the first half of 2026. The Congress believes that winning back the GHMC from the BRS would be seen as a validation of Revanth Reddy’s governance model. A stable friendship with the AIMIM may make this possible. Even if the Congress falls short of a majority, the AIMIM’s support could help it take control of the GHMC. Yet the Congress is cautious about acknowledging its cooperation with the AIMIM. The party’s chief spokesperson for Telangana, Sama Rammohan Reddy, says the cooperation in the Jubilee Hills bypoll is a one-off event and that it happened mainly because of Naveen Yadav’s earlier affiliation with the AIMIM and his closeness to Owaisi.

Afroz Alam, who teaches political science at the Maulana Azad National Urdu University, Hyderabad, says the AIMIM’s politics is no different from other parties in the secular fold. He says Owaisi has always tried to maintain peace with the Congress and other secular parties. In Maharashtra, the Congress allied with the Shiv Sena but refused to go with the AIMIM. In Bihar, the RJD and the Congress declined the AIMIM’s offer. After the last elections, AIMIM MLAs defected to the RJD. This time, Owaisi seems to have preempted them by announcing support for the Nitish Kumar government.

The AIMIM has had a fluctuating relationship with other parties since its inception, yet it has always played its hand skilfully. Its success can be credited to Owaisi, its president since 2008. When he took over, the party was confined to pockets of Hyderabad’s Old City. Over the past decade and a half, he has rebuilt it into a recognisable political force that influences elections in several states and shapes national debates far beyond its numerical strength. This transformation has come through organisational rebuilding, careful expansion strategies, ideological positioning and the cultivation of new supporters.

Owaisi’s first step was to consolidate the party’s home base. Before expanding elsewhere, he modernised neighbourhood committees in Hyderabad, strengthened its youth and student wings and built a volunteer corps capable of booth level mobilisation. Along with these structures, the AIMIM expanded a welfare network, including educational trusts, clinics, medical camps, flood relief teams and legal assistance groups, embedding the party deeply in local communities. This welfare system, along with longstanding ties with masjid committees, traders and neighbourhood leaders, provided a stable foundation on which Owaisi built his political project.

Although this organisational revival was limited to Hyderabad, Owaisi’s rise as a national figure came from his ability to articulate issues that mainstream parties often approach cautiously. With the Congress retreating from direct Muslim representation and the BJP consolidating majoritarian politics, Owaisi became one of the few leaders who speaks clearly on minority rights, citizenship laws, communal tensions and constitutional protections. His speeches circulate widely on social media and resonate with younger Muslim voters who feel underrepresented in national politics. This visibility created a symbolic leadership that the AIMIM has been using.

Yet, Owaisi has not attempted expansion everywhere. Instead, he has adopted a cluster-based strategy, identifying Muslim pockets where opposition parties are weak. Alam says the AIMIM has identified well populated Muslim areas facing underdevelopment and worked strongly in those regions. Its success in Maharashtra and Bihar is not a fluke. The party has a strong presence and Owaisi’s messaging on discrimination has wide appeal among youth. This model guided the AIMIM’s entry into Seemanchal in Bihar, Aurangabad, Malegaon and Bhiwandi in Maharashtra, parts of Murshidabad in West Bengal and select seats in Uttar Pradesh. The party contested only a few seats but selected them with care, focusing on constituencies where a three-way split could alter outcomes or where a strong local candidate could build a durable base.

Underlying this expansion is a change in Muslim political sentiment, particularly among youth. With rising communal tensions and reduced political visibility, many young Muslims seek leaders who speak directly about their concerns. Owaisi provides a mix of assertive representation and identity based politics that allows the party to gain footholds even in states where it lacks a large organisation. He himself delivers most political messaging. His speeches in Parliament and outside are direct and clear and, according to Alam, have made him an acceptable leader.

Although the AIMIM’s electoral successes remain limited to certain clusters, its strategic influence extends further. By strengthening local foundations, constructing a national identity, targeting strategic constituencies and cultivating new leadership, Owaisi has transformed the AIMIM from an Old City outfit into a party with regional presence and national relevance.

from-ponzi-schemes-to-loan-apps-the-alarming-rise-of-cryptocurrency-driven-crime

Wed Dec 24 12:44:33 IST 2025

In 2016, BitConnect Coin (BCC) was hailed as the next miracle of the digital age—a cryptocurrency that promised ordinary investors extraordinary returns. The fraud division of the US Department of Justice (DoJ) would later value BCC at a staggering $4.3 billion, making it one of the fastest “success stories” in the crypto universe—at least on paper. The illusion shattered once US investigators detected signs of a global Ponzi scheme. BCC’s value collapsed by nearly 98 per cent, wiping out an estimated $2.4 billion in savings across the world.

In January 2018, BCC’s Surat-based promoter Satish Kurjibhai Kumbhani—also known online as “Vindee”, “VND” and “vndbcc”—urged his international network of promoters to buy the coin on all cryptocurrency exchanges to artificially inflate its price. But it was too late by then. A Korean promoter warned him that “Koreans are freaking out”, as many of them had invested their life’s savings. Another posted in a BCC chat room: “Some people here are talking about committing suicide. Please, please! Post something on BCC website so people know what’s really going on.”

A promoter in Indonesia told Kumbhani that investors there wanted to approach the police. Chaos erupted after US agencies began taking action against BCC. On January 4, 2018, the Texas State Securities Board issued an “emergency cease and desist order”; five days later, North Carolina followed suit. As scrutiny grew, BCC abruptly shut down its lending programme on January 16. The platform became worthless. “Investors in BitConnect who did not cash out before shutdown lost all, or nearly all, of their investments,” the DoJ said.

The BCC saga exposes the dark underbelly of new-age money laundering. As funds move through the cryptocurrency maze, global investigating agencies, including the Enforcement Directorate in India, have turned their focus towards crypto markets to track illicit fund flows and investor fraud. The ED found that Kumbhani and his associates, without Reserve Bank of India approval, had collected nearly Rs19 crore in cash and an additional Rs 40-50 crore in BitConnect coins from investors, luring them with promises of high returns.

Founded, launched and owned by Kumbhani, BCC allegedly ran its fraud between November 2016 and January 2018. According to the ED’s prosecution complaint, Kumbhani offered what was essentially a sale of securities through BCC’s “lending programme”. Promoters were paid commissions on every new investment they brought in; he convinced investors that BCC used a “volatility software trading bot” capable of generating returns of “up to 40 per cent per month”.

But no trading bot existed. Instead, investor funds were allegedly routed into digital wallets controlled by Kumbhani and his associates. New deposits were used to service withdrawal requests from earlier investors—typical of a Ponzi scheme. As the crackdown began, the ED attached moveable and immovable assets, including cryptocurrencies, worth nearly Rs 2,150 crore as proceeds of crime under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act.

Documents accessed by THE WEEK reveal that at the height of his influence, Kumbhani organised promotional events worldwide. At one such event in August 2017, Kumbhani reportedly told a gathering that if the Indian government discovered the true owner of BCC, enforcement action could follow and investors would lose their money.

In UK registration records, one “Ken Fitzsimmons” was listed as BCC’s corporate officer. Kumbhani later admitted that the name was used to preserve his anonymity. In his defence, he claimed BCC neither violated regulations nor involved taxable assets. But when questioned about the trading bot, he remained evasive, citing privacy as the reason for withholding information from investors, and later, from investigators. Now under the FBI lens and wanted in a money laundering case, Kumbhani remains at large.

“This wasn’t a simple crypto scam,” says Prashant Mali, a Mumbai lawyer and cyber expert. “It was a globally coordinated psychological heist. While the mastermind operated from India, the platforms were in Hong Kong and the UK, investors were in the US, and promoters were scattered worldwide. Everyone had partial jurisdiction; no one had full traction.”

In such cases, Mali says, enforcement becomes reactive, not preventive. “BitConnect exploited the grey zone ruthlessly. What is urgently needed is not just filling gaps in crypto laws, but setting up a transnational joint cyber task force to investigate latest digital frauds,” he says.

In October, the ED provisionally attached cryptocurrencies worth nearly Rs 2,385 crore—the largest such seizure to date—in its ongoing investigation into the unauthorised forex trading platform OctaFX.

The investigation, based on a first information report filed in Pune, found that OctaFX ran a Ponzi-style operation masterminded by Pavel Prozorov, arrested in Spain. Between July 2022 and April 2023, Indian investors were allegedly duped of Rs 1,875 crore, generating profits of around Rs800 crore. Total profits from India allegedly exceeded Rs 5,000 crore, much of it transferred overseas.

OctaFX allegedly presented itself as an online currency trading platform without RBI permission. Initial investors received small profits to build trust—a typical Ponzi tactic. The network operated through entities in British Virgin Islands, Spain, Cyprus, Georgia, Estonia, Dubai and Singapore.

OctaFX, however, dismissed all the allegations. “We strongly refute any allegations of money laundering, promises of quick riches and high returns, and trading manipulations. The global broker Octa is operating in accordance with the laws and regulations of the jurisdictions in which it is registered and conducts business,” the firm said in a statement. “As a global broker, Octa is neither involved in nor has any information about Pavel Prozorov's affairs.”

Last year, Interpol’s strategic analysis ranked money laundering as the second highest crime threat, just behind drug trafficking. Complexity has increased, as criminals are leveraging artificial intelligence and machine learning to refine laundering techniques.

In India, digital financial frauds, increasingly facilitated by crypto platforms, recorded a 50 per cent rise this year. Indians lost Rs 22,845 crore in 2024 against Rs7,465 crore in 2023. As many as 36.4 lakh cases were registered in 2024 against 24.4 lakh cases in 2023. Much of this money enters international hawala circuits, intensifying the need for cross-border collaboration.

The ED’s focus has shifted from merely catching fraudsters to restoring assets to victims. As on March 31, assets worth Rs 1,54,594 crore was under provisional attachment. In 2024-25 alone, restitution of Rs15,261 crore was done in 30 cases. Overall, assets worth more than Rs 32,000 crore have been returned to rightful claimants.

In August 2025, ED officers were poring over bank records at a registrar’s office in West Delhi’s Janakpuri in connection with a case involving Chirag Tomar, convicted by a US court for spoofing the website of Coinbase (one of the largest virtual currency exchanges) and defrauding more than 700 victims of $20 million. Arrested by the FBI in December 2023, Tomar, 30, allegedly created a fake URL that mimicked Coinbase’s “pro” platform.

Investigators said Tomar was assisted by a team of crypto convertors, mostly family members and friends, who converted the loot into cryptocurrency and moved it to online wallets. Bank records showed Rs 293.85 crore were credited to accounts linked to his family members and associates. Much of it was spent on luxury watches, cars, properties and foreign travel. The ED has arrested three associates and attached Rs64.15 crore so far. Last August, a district court in the US sentenced Tomar to five years in prison.

“Traditional hawala relied on trust-based, off-record value transfer, but crypto replicates this through fast, borderless transactions,” says Brijesh Singh, cyber expert and additional director general of Maharashtra Police. “With newer tools like mixers, cross-chain bridges, decentralised exchanges and privacy coins at their disposal, scammers and organised networks are moving globally without direct identity linkage, making tracing difficult for law enforcement.”

Beyond scams, digital frauds also fuel the online black market—particularly narcotics trade on the dark web. In 2022, the US DoJ wrote to the ED seeking legal assistance to prosecute brothers Parvinder and Banmeet Singh, who ran an international drug racket using marketing sites on the dark web such as Silkroad and Dream Market, and a network of suppliers and distributors on ground. The brothers were paid in cryptocurrency, which was later laundered through online wallets. The Singh brothers had set up a pharmaceutical manufacturing unit in Uttarakhand called Denver Healthcare, and they started selling controlled substances online in 2012. They targeted customers in the UK who paid them in Bitcoins. Between 2012 and 2017, they earned around 8,000 Bitcoins from the illegal sale of drugs.

Vikram Subburaj, an IIM Calcutta alumnus who founded the cryptocurrency exchange Giottus in 2017, says 80 per cent of users on crypto platforms are in the 20-35 age group. Youngsters dabble in digital currencies because it is easier for them to grasp digital assets than for those who need to unlearn and relearn. “My platform has 1.3 million customers and a good number would be in the age group 20-35,” Subburaj says.

Shreyan Gupta, a blockchain expert, says the crypto space is “fast-moving, and full of opportunity—just like any other scam”. “The tech-savvy scamsters understand how to exploit the digital ecosystem,” he says.

The silver lining, say investigators, is tools like artificial intelligence and machine learning for predictive risk analysis. “The use of advanced technologies would enable us to move from reactive investigations to proactive disruption of illicit networks,” says Rahul Navin, ED director. “Our aim is to combine human expertise with technological power to ensure that illicit trade and money laundering become increasingly difficult, expensive and risky for criminals.”

Tracing illicit financial flows could take five years or more, but with integration of advanced tools and databases, investigations are gaining speed. The ED is training sleuths in using forensic tools such as Inter-Operable Criminal Justice System (ICJS) to identify layering and integration patterns across hundreds of bank accounts within minutes.

In 2024, the ED unearthed an international hawala racket involving Rs 4,000 crore. The alleged kingpin was 38-year-old Manideep Mago, 38, a resident of Delhi’s Janakpuri. The probe started after the ED received information that Mago’s Birfa IT solutions Pvt Ltd had sold large volumes of crypto assets and encashed Rs 1,858 crore through an Indian crypto exchange.

Mago’s company allegedly sourced crypto assets from abroad, sold them in India, and converted the proceeds into rupees. Fake invoices were generated and shell companies were created in the name of employees. Mago and an associate in Canada allegedly controlled entities abroad to divert funds to the tune of Rs 4,800 crore. Mago is currently in jail, and the ED has provisionally attached assets worth Rs 47.6 crore.

“From a criminal’s point of view, the market for traditional scams is far bigger,” points out Rajagopal Menon, vice president of the cryptocurrency exchange WazirX. “The fact that India has near-universal bank account ownership and hundreds of millions of people making payments through UPI, is giving scammers a much larger and easier target pool.”

Menon, however, believes crypto frauds are easier to crack than traditional hawala. “Crypto is still not the best tool for laundering money,” he says. “First, KYC [norms] are stringent. Second, you cannot move large sums into crypto without tripping compliance alarms. Three, every transaction is traceable on the blockchain.”

But transnational networks operate through a web of interstate handlers, often causing investigators to lose the trail. An FIR registered in Haryana’s Panipat revealed how Kerala-based “mule” bank accounts were being used by scamsters to run online betting platforms and Chinese loan app scams, with crypto facilitating fund transfers.

In 2021-22, Prema Bhatt (name changed), a resident of Panipat, received a WhatsApp link. After clicking it, Rs 2,500 was credited to her account. But her phone was hacked and data stolen. She later received Rs 1.7 lakh in multiple tranches through different apps. The scammers threatened to circulate morphed photos unless she repaid double the loan amount. They extorted Rs 4 lakh, and even after an FIR was registered in 2022, the harassment continued. The probe revealed that a bank account linked to the scam was opened in Canara Bank’s Ernakulam branch in Kerala, while the loan apps were operated from China. After this case, nearly a dozen FIRs were registered in Kerala. Investigators found that mule accounts in the state were used for instant loan apps, online gambling, betting, gaming, and investment scams. About Rs 444.85 crore routed through these Kerala-based accounts was invested in digital assets on an Indian crypto platform, with part of the money later remitted to Singapore through shell entities. The ED has frozen Rs 123.58 crore in such bank accounts, attached properties worth Rs 9.94 crore, and arrested six people.

The global money laundering watchdog, Financial Action Task Force, says it is important for financial intelligence units of countries to access widest possible range of financial, administrative and law enforcement information. But the reality is that there is little collaboration between police forces of different countries. India has a “mutual legal assistance treaty” with only a limited number of countries, giving criminals a wide leeway to operate in countries with which there is no treaty.

The trajectory of Amit Bhardwaj, a software engineer who became one of India’s biggest crypto fraudsters, illustrates how grey zones attract youngsters Raised in Pune, he joined a leading software company in 2005, and later founded Nextgen Facility Management Services Pvt Ltd, a software services firm. Health setbacks followed—kidney disease forced him to work from home.

While on dialysis, Bhardwaj immersed himself in blockchain and Bitcoin mining. In 2014, he launched a cloud-mining platform called gainbitcoin.com that claimed to purchase computational power from global mining giants using Bitcoin and sell them to retail investors as cloud-mining contracts. For 18 months, customers received fortnightly payouts, pegged to real time mining performances. Between April 2015 and November 2017, the portal reportedly sold 70,000 to 80,000 Bitcoins at an average price of $500-800 per coin. A referral system accelerated growth, with the portal retaining margins of nearly 40 per cent.

But by late 2017, pressure mounted as investors—from engineering students and BPO workers to small-town crypto clubs— began losing their savings. The portal was shut down in November 2017. Bhardwaj was arrested the following year under the anti-money laundering law, after the Pune Police’s cyber-crime cell registered an FIR. The total proceeds of the crime were later pegged by the ED at Rs 6,600 crore.

Bhardwaj died in 2023, but investigators say his model has since been replicated by dozens of crypto-mining rackets. Under existing laws, authorities can attach assets of equivalent value even if proceeds of crime are exhausted, moved abroad, or withdrawn in cash. The ED’s extraterritorial reach and emphasis on prompt action is keeping alive the possibility of restitution for victims of new-age hawala scams.

how-census-2027-and-electoral-revision-will-reshape-indian-politics-in-2026

Sat Dec 20 12:08:28 IST 2025

On December 31, 1926, King George V announced that the new imperial capital built around the Raisina Hills would be called New Delhi, pushing the city’s older name, Dilli, into the background. A hundred years later, another naming debate has returned to the national capital. Praveen Khandelwal of the BJP, who represents Chandni Chowk in the Lok Sabha, wrote recently to the Union home minister proposing that the capital be renamed Indraprastha, an ancient city linked to the Mahabharata era.

If 1926 reflected the confidence of the British Empire, the latest naming debate comes at a time when the country’s power centre is being rebuilt again, including at a symbolic level. An earlier push to use the name Bharat instead of India did not take place through legislation but has grown through regular use in official speeches and government communication. Prime Minister Narendra Modi last month criticised another colonial-era influence, the education system introduced by Thomas Babington Macaulay. He said India should focus more on native languages before the Macaulay education system completes 200 years in 2035.

The Modi government is, meanwhile, speeding up the shift from Delhi’s long-standing power centres such as North Block and South Block to new administrative buildings. A new high-security prime minister’s office is also taking shape, which will be called Seva Tirth. It seems the Modi government is keen to reframe the country’s administrative identity completely.

India’s political system is vast and complex, and in 2026, two major processes will matter most. One is the ongoing special intensive revision of electoral rolls. The other is Census 2027. Both will affect how politics is conducted, how voters are counted, how policies are made and how power is shared in the coming years. In fact, they may redefine the identity of an Indian, which existed but was never articulated.

One of these processes has already shown its political impact. In Bihar, the revised voter list resulted in a one-sided mandate. Opposition parties alleged vote stealing, but the ruling Nitish Kumar-led JD(U)-BJP alliance received more votes than expected and scored an impressive win in the assembly polls. The mandate for the National Democratic Alliance may be in line with the one it got earlier this year in Delhi, as the electorate voted out Arvind Kejriwal, who caved in under the burden of his own image after the government allegedly spent over Rs30 crore on his official residence.

In Bihar, the opposition believed that conditions were favourable. Nitish was seen as ageing and facing health issues and was in power for nearly 20 years, fuelling anti-incumbency. The SIR exercise created anxiety among voters over the fear of being disenfranchised. Rahul Gandhi rallied other INDIA bloc leaders behind him, not just from Bihar but even from other states like Tamil Nadu to support his charge. However, voters in Bihar chose the very people who were accused of stealing their votes.

This forced political analysts to rethink the verdict and look closely at the poll process. Amid allegations of voter manipulation stood two key factors. One was the Rs10,000 assistance to women voters, who formed the backbone of Nitish’s support base. A deeper look also highlighted the importance of political organisation. The BJP, backed by RSS volunteers, had spent years building booth-level committees. This groundwork, followed by active outreach by the JD(U)-BJP government, helped shape the outcome. This was apparent when the Election Commission asked political parties to come forward with objections over the exercise. Most parties did not have enough functionaries to cover all booths.

Voters ultimately supported parties they believed could deliver results. Faced with a choice between delivery and promises, they chose delivery.

That brings us to the other exercise that will shape India’s future. The first phase of Census 2027 will be held from April to September 2026. This phase will record the number of houses, basic facilities such as electricity and water and assets like vehicles. The data will show how living conditions have changed since the last census in 2011, and could give the BJP a chance to claim that its rule over the last 11 years has changed the fortunes of Indians.

The second phase of the Census, involving population enumeration, is planned for February 2027. This data forms the basis of government policies. It will record details such as age, gender, education, religion, language, caste, occupation, migration and fertility. This phase will also include a caste census, which has not been conducted since 1931. The results are expected to influence future debates on caste and representation. This is the part that every political party, sociologist and ethnographer will be keenly interested in. Will the caste census perpetuate caste identities or push larger demands for reservation when actual numbers reveal the composition of different castes? Could a new wave of protests begin, like the Gujjars or Marathas demanding more reservation after the caste census?

The census will lead to a redrawing of India’s political map as the delimitation exercise kicks in, largely based on population. Will the North gain more seats as it has a larger population than the South, which followed family planning policies? Will the balance of power shift northwards as the Hindi heartland alone decides who rules from Delhi? These debates may grow stronger in the coming months.

The year 2026 may reignite identity debates.

The SIR is underway in several states, and in poll-bound West Bengal, Kerala and Tamil Nadu it may influence election results. The contest in West Bengal is expected to be the most polarising. The SIR exercise includes identifying illegal immigrants and foreigners, which has become a major political issue. Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee has strongly opposed the process.

Similar concerns exist in Tamil Nadu and Kerala, both ruled by non-BJP and non-Congress parties. For anti-BJP parties, the SIR is a new challenge they have not dealt with before, but there is no escape.

In West Bengal, Mamata’s women-focused welfare schemes helped her in the elections. Rural infrastructure projects and the state’s cultural identity have also strengthened her support base. However, as 2026 begins, renewed political debate around building a new mosque modelled on Babri Masjid and a temple modelled on Ayodhya’s Ram Mandir in the state has the potential to make the elections much more intense than before.

Mamata had defied critics by winning a historic third term, even as the BJP expanded its footprint. West Bengal remains the only state in eastern India where the BJP has not been part of the government.

For the BJP, winning West Bengal is a prestige battle, as Mamata has so far blocked its rise to power. In neighbouring Assam, the Congress hopes to perform better against Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma. Sarma’s strong focus on hindutva politics has made him a key figure in the BJP. In Assam, politics centres on identity, with campaigns focused on removing illegal Bangladeshi immigrants and promoting Assamese pride.

In Tamil Nadu, M.K. Stalin is seeking a second term in the absence of a strong opposition. However, political churn caused by the entry of actor Vijay could affect alliances. Stalin’s government has focused on continuity, with welfare delivery, social justice and state autonomy as its main pillars. The BJP is trying to expand its presence but has not displaced the long-standing Dravidian polity. It is now working closely with its senior partner, the AIADMK.

In Kerala, Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan of the CPI(M)-led left alliance faces a strong challenge from both the Congress-led alliance and the NDA. The left relies on public health services, education institutions and strong party organisation. However, the December local body elections showed significant gains for the Congress-led UDF and the NDA.

The Bihar election was also good news for the BJP’s allies. The JD(U) and Chirag Paswan’s Lok Janshakti Party (Ram Vilas) made significant gains. Nitish’s continued relevance lies in his ability to combine governance with political survival. This contrasts with Odisha’s Naveen Patnaik, who lost power in the 2024 assembly elections after voters sensed leadership fatigue following an uninterrupted reign of 24 years. Herein lies the message. Across states, a similar pattern is visible. Voters increasingly seek clear leadership and the ability to deliver.

The BJP has recovered after setbacks in the 2024 Lok Sabha elections, but maintaining this position is not without challenges. After delays in naming a new party president, leading to discussion about leadership changes, particularly around succession planning when Modi demits office, the party has named Nitin Nabin, minister and five-term MLA from Bihar, as its new working president.

Modi faces no immediate political challenge. The government is hopeful that global trade pressures, including tariff issues, will ease. Among supporters, Modi continues to be seen as a decisive leader, but challenges with neighbours and the economy persist. For the opposition, recent elections have shown the limits of relying mainly on speeches and narratives without strong local organisation and regular engagement with voters.

Indians love a good fight and may support an underdog, provided he is consistent in his approach rather than mounting a challenge only near the polls.

siliguri-corridor-can-india-defend-its-chickens-neck-against-china

Sat Dec 20 11:50:12 IST 2025

The geography of the Siliguri Corridor, called ‘Chicken’s Neck’, is often dismissed as a mere cartographic anomaly. Yet, for those of us who have been at the frontlines wearing the uniform along these flanks, these lines are not abstract; they are lived realities. They pulsate with tension, history and the relentless churn of geopolitics. This narrow passage is not just a transportation artery, but a strategic lifeline, a vulnerability, and now, the very fulcrum upon which great-power ambitions pivot. Thus, the enduring truth remains: geography never retires from geopolitics. The corridor is currently enduring a confluence of simultaneous, multi-directional pressures, transforming it into a strategic theatre demanding a doctrinal transformation.

China’s grand strategy of encirclement

The challenge facing the Siliguri Corridor is layered, encompassing military, demographic, psychological, informational and infrastructural dimensions. It is important to unpack this layering from a threat-vector perspective. A revisionist China is tightening its grip across the Himalayas and the Bay of Bengal, employing a strategy of meticulous, expansive influence—a grandmaster playing patiently and methodically. The Doklam crisis revealed Beijing’s objective: positional advantage. This pursuit manifests in the strategic use of infrastructure, where roads, airstrips and “civilian projects” serve a military shadow function.

The concern over China’s involvement in redeveloping the Lalmonirhat airfield in Bangladesh—barely a breath away from India’s border—is not a consequence of paranoia but of sound military logic. Lalmonirhat secures a vantage point offering potential intelligence visibility and surveillance reach into India’s Eastern Air Command, which houses some of the Indian Air Force’s most advanced assets, including frontline fighters, missile systems and integrated air-defence grids. A dual-use facility so close to such critical infrastructure is a clear strategic signal. Beijing understands the strategic leverage of the northeast, and it is positioning itself around it.

Pakistan proxies: The incubation of insurgency

While governmental cooperation with Bangladesh has yielded significant security gains, notably the dismantling of insurgent safe havens, a quiet, persistent risk remains—most pertinent being the survival of extremist ecosystems. Having commanded counter-terror and counter-insurgency operations here, I know that extremist modules linked to transnational groups are building ideological depth and logistical staging in this region.

As counter-terror frameworks tightened in the Jammu and Kashmir region, and international scrutiny mounted in the west, Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence and its proxies recalibrated their strategy eastward. The northeast, once peripheral to their plans, is now seen as fertile ground for ideological grooming. Their operational success has been limited, but intent matters, and intentions are the earliest warning signs of future confrontation. These are not isolated actors. They are patient, structured networks building the ideological and logistical ligatures that can be activated when geopolitical conditions favour a larger confrontation.

The United States: A partner and an unpredictable variable

The US views the Bay of Bengal through the lens of its broader Indo-Pacific contest, creating a complex dynamic with India. Washington’s recent diplomatic signalling, including pressuring Bangladesh while simultaneously warming up to Pakistan, suggests a worrying resurgence of pre-Bush era mandarins in the White House. Reported hobnobbing of US agencies with strange bedfellows like the Jamaat in Dhaka, as the much-touted election approaches, is indicative of preparation for cosying up to any kind of regime post-election. These officials historically viewed Pakistan as the primary regional partner, relegating India to a mere balancing weight.

Furthermore, the US’s long-standing aspiration for access to St John’s Island, a critical node for monitoring the eastern Indian Ocean, reveals a core divergence in strategic imperatives. While Washington seeks an enduring forward presence to project power and contain rivals, this ambition often runs parallel to, yet risks undermining, the regional stability that is New Delhi’s immediate focus. Navigating this gap requires disciplined diplomacy, ensuring alignment without subordination.

From vulnerability to deterrence: India’s transformation

Critics often characterise the Siliguri Corridor as India’s “Achilles’ heel”. However, no nation is without its chokepoints or strategic dependencies. If Siliguri is India’s vulnerability, the world’s most crucial commercial artery—the Malacca Strait—is a single point of failure for numerous global economies. India, through the Andaman and Nicobar Command, sits as its sentinel. This perspective is vital. While defending the northeast and monitoring adversarial actors, one eye must always remain fixed on the Andaman and Nicobar region, as maritime events inevitably shape the land.

The doctrinal shift

India’s recent military realignments reflect a crucial doctrinal transition. The establishment of new garrisons at Dhubri, Kishanganj and Chapra represents more than a scaling-up of troop presence; it is a fundamental shift in strategic mindset. For years, the corridor was a weakness to be shielded. Today, the combined force of the Trishakti Corps, integrated air assets, and missile systems signals a shift from vulnerability management to area denial and deterrence. The corridor is now a fortified chokepoint capable of imposing costs swiftly and disproportionately.

However, military might alone is insufficient. Infrastructure is the hidden force multiplier. Logistical fragility—from landslides in Dima Hasao to flooding along the Lumding–Silchar line—can cripple strategy. Projects like the Shillong–Silchar Greenfield Expressway and multimodal corridors are not development gimmicks; they are strategic insulation. The singular corridor becomes resilient only when it is transformed into a network of options.

People as the vanguard

Having been deeply involved in counter-radicalisation work in Assam, I can attest that in these complex border regions, trust is a currency more important than surveillance. Community cooperation is the most effective early-warning tool. The emotional and ideological vacuums that extremist actors exploit are reduced by the state’s responsiveness, fair dispute resolution, inclusive governance and empathetic policing.

To truly insulate the Siliguri Corridor and the northeast, India’s response must move beyond conventional defence into a bold new phase of strategic resilience—a phase where realpolitik is at the fore of infrastructure and foreign-policy decisions.

The singular vulnerability of the current rail and road network should be eliminated. Infrastructure is the hidden force multiplier. India must urgently explore and accelerate alternate railway connectivity through Bhutan and Nepal. These mountainous alignments, while challenging, offer pathways that bypass the most exposed and easily interdicted sections of the current corridor. Furthermore, the idea of a strategic underpass or tunnel to the northeast must be moved from concept to a mission-mode project. This would offer a hardened, all-weather and strategically secured route, shielded from both kinetic and non-kinetic interdiction efforts.

Additionally, the Kaladan Multi-Modal Transit Transport Project offers a crucial land–sea route, bypassing Bangladesh entirely and linking Mizoram to the Bay of Bengal via Sittwe Port in Myanmar. This project, which has faced chronic delays, must be completed, and its connecting road network inside Myanmar finished on priority. This requires dealing with all parties concerned in the region, including non-state actors, to secure the safety of the corridor. If India’s much-vaunted normative behaviour needs to be temporarily sacrificed at the altar of realpolitik to achieve this vital security objective, then so be it. Strategic necessity must trump ideological purity at this point.

India also holds leverage over its neighbours, which could be exploited. Given the current geopolitical climate, New Delhi could remind Dhaka that its provocations, or tolerance of adversarial influence, could be returned in kind, as Bangladesh has its own vulnerabilities across states like Tripura and Meghalaya. Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma recently highlighted a much-needed reminder in this context. Some judicious military flexing or posturing across these points of vulnerability could also be explored to provide a necessary “wake-up call” to the government in Dhaka regarding the sanctity of India’s security red lines.

The corridor reimagined

For decades, we feared the Siliguri Corridor as the point where India could be severed. With foresight, discipline and strategic coherence, this fear can be inverted. The corridor can evolve from a chokepoint into a strategic launchpad, linking India not just to its northeast, but dynamically to southeast Asia and the wider Indo-Pacific. The strength of a corridor is defined not by its width on a map, but by the strength of the nation that guards it.

The author is a former DGP of Assam and currently the general secretary of the think tank, Society to Harmonise Aspirations for Responsible Engagement—SHARE.

echoes-of-gadkari-is-nitin-nabins-appointment-a-repeat-of-bjp-2009-reset

Sat Dec 20 11:44:27 IST 2025

On October 16, just days before Diwali, Nitin Nabin filed his nomination from the Bankipur seat in Patna for the fifth time for the assembly elections. At the time, Nabin, a minister in the Nitish Kumar cabinet, could not have known that another event unfolding the same day in western India would prove a precursor to a turning point in his political journey.

In Ahmedabad, Chief Minister Bhupendra Patel asked his entire cabinet to resign. Patel inducted 19 new ministers, retaining only six from his earlier team. The average age of the cabinet dropped from 60 to 55. Harsh Sanghavi, 40, was appointed deputy chief minister, marking a generational shift in the state BJP.

The reshuffle was widely seen as a strategic move ahead of the 2027 assembly elections in Gujarat, the state regarded as the BJP’s organisational laboratory. Outside Gujarat, the development was noted by party insiders but did not enter the wider political conversation, as the Bihar campaign dominated national attention.

After the Bihar results, which exceeded expectations, many within the BJP assumed that the most frequently discussed contender for the post of party president—Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan, who was also in charge of the Bihar elections—would soon be elevated. Pradhan, 56, appeared to fit the bill perfectly. His OBC credentials, at a time when the BJP is sharpening its social justice plank after announcing the caste census, added to his advantage.

Instead, less than a month after Bihar saw Nitish Kumar taking over as chief minister once more, and after Nabin retained his portfolios of road construction, urban development and housing, the BJP surprised observers again. The party’s highest decision-making body, the parliamentary board, elevated 45-year-old Nabin as its national working president. The move set the stage for him to become the youngest BJP president, and the first from Bihar and eastern India. The BJP chose a president 11 years younger than Pradhan and the same age as the party itself. The BJP and Nitin were born in 1980, just weeks apart.

The decision is being seen as a major reset.

By placing a leader younger than several Union ministers and senior office-bearers at the helm, the BJP disrupted its traditional age- and experience-based hierarchy. The next logical step, many believe, would be a Union cabinet reshuffle. “The BJP has once again demonstrated that any worker, at any level, can aspire to the highest responsibility. Under Nitin Nabin’s leadership, the party will scale new heights and strengthen its organisation, especially in regions where it is still expanding,” said BJP spokesperson Guru Prakash. “This reflects a generational shift. It is a decisive shift when compared to other political parties, with the BJP preparing itself for the next 25 years towards the vision of Viksit Bharat.”

Nabin entered politics in 2006 after the death of his father, Navin Kishore Prasad Sinha, a senior BJP leader with an RSS background. He belongs to the Kayastha community, an upper-caste group that constitutes less than one per cent of Bihar’s population.

Among party colleagues, Nabin is known as hardworking and energetic. He demonstrated his administrative abilities as road construction minister—the state’s road network saw notable improvement under him. Since 2006, Nabin has been elected MLA for five consecutive terms. He became a member of the national executive committee of the Bharatiya Janata Yuva Morcha, the BJP’s youth wing, in 2008, and served as its national general secretary from 2010 to 2016. He was BJP co-in-charge for Chhattisgarh from 2021 to 2024. During this period, the party dislodged the Congress government in the state. Soon after, he was given charge of Chhattisgarh for the Lok Sabha elections, in which the BJP won 10 of the state’s 11 seats.

Nitin’s rise to one of the most powerful positions in India’s political system—heading the world’s largest party, which is in power in 15 states—also brings renewed focus on the role of the BJP’s ideological parent, the RSS. The sangh has been advocating a generational shift within the BJP for the past year, following the sobering 2024 election verdict in which the party lost 63 seats and fell far short of its “400 plus” ambition. Feedback from the ground provided by the RSS suggested that the party needed a younger leader who could be groomed for future responsibilities, along with a new generation of leaders across the organisation.

The experience of the Atal Bihari Vajpayee government was frequently cited, when the focus on governance came at the cost of organisational renewal. When Vajpayee lost power, there was no mass leader ready to step into his role. The next line of leadership had not been adequately prepared. As a result, the RSS enforced a hard reset 16 years ago, on December 20, 2009, when its preferred choice—incidentally another Nitin—was elevated. Following the BJP’s poor performance in the 2009 Lok Sabha elections, a relatively unknown Nitin Gadkari was chosen as the party’s youngest president. The 52-year-old was then little known outside Maharashtra but had built a reputation as public works minister, a portfolio similar to that once held by Nabin.

When Gadkari reconstituted his team in 2010, his choices pointed to the direction the party was about to take. General secretaries included Ananth Kumar, Vasundhara Raje, Arjun Munda, Ravi Shankar Prasad, Dharmendra Pradhan and J.P. Nadda. Now, under Nabin, further changes are expected within the party organisation, with more leaders likely to be inducted and groomed for future roles. His elevation is also expected to enhance the prominence of leaders from Bihar in national politics, with a longer-term aim of positioning the BJP to have its own chief minister in the state when Nitish eventually exits the scene.

At the national level, the choice of an upper-caste leader as party president suggests that the prime ministerial post would continue to be held by an OBC leader, like Modi. Nabin’s immediate predecessors were also from upper castes. So, when the issue of picking a new prime ministerial candidate arises in the post-Modi era, if Nabin is still the party president, will the new candidate also be an OBC to balance caste equations?

inside-dagshai-jail-how-an-irish-soldiers-defiance-in-india-connected-two-freedom-struggles

Sat Dec 06 16:37:52 IST 2025

DAGSHAI, HIMACHAL PRADESH

The hills around Dagshai were far barer a century ago than they are today. It would see pine come up later, seeded and nurtured by units of Scottish regiments who served in the region under the British. In 1920, the slopes were still sparse, the cantonment stark against the ridge above the old Hindustan-Tibet road. Sparse they might have been, but the hills knew how to hold their silence. On the morning of November 2, 1920, they stood still as it rained bullets near the walls of the military jail.

A few minutes earlier, a young Irish private, James Joseph Daly, had walked into the yard with a green silk handkerchief around his neck. A doctor had asked whether he wanted morphine. Daly had refused. Moments later, the Royal Fusiliers—infantry regiment of the British Army—had opened fire. As his body fell, the priest stepped forward to administer the last sacrament and nearly took a stray bullet. Daly’s comrades gathered his remains and handed them over for burial in the Catholic cemetery—grave number 340.

Daly was 52 days short of his 21st birthday. His death made him the last soldier to be executed by the British Army for a military offence. He and other Irish soldiers—many of them world war veterans—had mutinied in protest against the violence in Ireland by the English. It mattered little that they were 7,000km from home, stationed with the Connaught Rangers regiment at Solan in Himachal Pradesh. It was not the first time soldiers in India had turned against their British commanders; Indian sepoys had done so in 1857.

In a letter to his mother written days earlier, Daly explained himself plainly: “What harm it is all for Ireland! I am not afraid to die, but it is thinking of you I am.” His mother was informed of his execution through a telegram on December 31.

The first act of Irish mutiny came 200km from Solan—on June 28, 1920, at Wellington Barracks in Jalandhar, a group of Connaught Rangers refused to take orders. The soldiers sang songs, and even hoisted their tricolour. Some accounts also mention the influence of Sinn Féin, a party active in the Irish War of Independence. Two mutineers travelled to Solan to spread the word.

At Solan, the protest remained peaceful until the evening of July 1. And then the soldiers mutinied, incarcerating their English officers and seizing the armoury. The guards opened fire, killing two men—Peter Sears and Patrick Smyth—and wounding another. A relieving column was rushed from Ambala, which quelled the mutiny. Then a court martial was hurriedly convened at Dagshai on August 20. Sixty-one soldiers were convicted. Fourteen received death sentences. Thirteen were reprieved. Daly alone was executed.

A telegram sent by the commander in chief two days before the execution stated: “Reprieve was not entertained in one case only because the prisoner was the ringleader throughout and maintained a spirit of flagrant defiance for more than twenty-four hours.” For the British, sparing him risked weakening military discipline not only among Irish troops but across the Indian army. Daly’s execution was intended as a message for two nationalities held under the control of its gun—Ireland and India.

The story of Daly’s final days would have faded were it not for the old jail above the Hindustan–Tibet road and for the man who restored it. The Dagshai Jail Museum stands in the same stone building where Daly spent his last weeks. The cantonment itself sits above the same road, earlier called National Highway 22 and what is now NH-5. It is a steep climb from the highway, a few kilometres before Solan. Most travellers pass it for nearby Kasauli. If Kasauli offers the comforts of a hill station, Dagshai asks visitors to slow down, to notice, and to remember.

The restoration of the jail and its legacy owes much to Anand Kumar Sethi, an IIT alumnus who arrived in Dagshai nearly 20 years ago. His father had been the first Indian cantonment executive officer here. When he found the jail had become a Military Engineer Services dumpyard, he began clearing it out. When his wife’s relative became brigade commander here, Sethi gained access to turn the abandoned structure into a museum. Then began a humongous task of restoring not only the jail, but also the cemeteries and even the gothic-style St Patrick’s Church.

Inside the jail, the teakwood floors creak underfoot. The 8ftx12ft cells have almost no natural light, there is a ventilator in the walls though. The one reserved for those with heavier punishment allows only standing room. There is even one cell titled P&T cell, which, Sethi found out, stood for ‘Punishment and Torture’ cell. Not just mutineers, even Mahatma Gandhi and his assassin spent a night here, though nearly three decades apart.

As the jail museum is under the control of Indian Army, Sethi has trained jawans to act as guides for visitors. “The British made three military jails in India,” explains Sethi. “This was number one—the highest security jail.” His research retraced the history through burial registers, court-martial papers, accounts of various regiments posted here and documents of the India Office Records housed in the British Library and the Imperial War Museum in London. Without this work, a lot of what we know today would have remained scattered or unknown—from the details of Daly’s last months to Dagshai’s role in not just the mutiny but also India’s freedom struggle—early freedom fighters like the Ghadarites were jailed and executed here—and its military history: a number of prestigious regiments and officers were posted here. Sethi also restored lost items and added archival pictures to the museum’s collection. As the bells at the jail and the church belfry were also stolen, Sethi sourced them from Kerala.

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Daly’s path to Dagshai began far away in Ballymoe, County Galway, Ireland, where he was born on December 24, 1899. Like many Irish boys, he saw soldiering as both duty and opportunity. He enlisted in the Royal Irish Rifles at 16, lying about his age, until his mother petitioned successfully for his discharge. In 1919, he enlisted again, this time with the Connaught Rangers. The rangers in India had red uniforms with an elephant brooch attached to their collar—an apparent attempt to imperialise the Irish soldiers. Daly’s first posting after training was in Solan.

Ireland and India were both in upheaval. In Ireland, the War of Independence was intensifying, and news of reprisals, raids and the actions of the Black and Tans, a notorious paramilitary force of ex-army men formed by the British government to quell the freedom movement, travelled abroad. In India, anger after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre had deepened, and Gandhi had launched the Non-Cooperation Movement on August 1 in 1920.

Local memory holds that Gandhi, who was in Ambala at the time, travelled to Dagshai when he heard of Irish soldiers mutinying against the British. Gandhi and Irish leader Éamon de Valera were friends. Valera went on to become the president of Ireland in 1959. During his 1920 tour of the US, Valera had addressed Indian revolutionaries, saying that Britain had “plundered India” and that Irish people recognised their struggle.

“We believe what happened here in Dagshai influenced both Ireland’s independence first, and then India’s. Notice our two flags: both tricolours. Not a coincidence,” says Sethi.

Stephen Lally, one of the mutineers, had later said, “I thought we might as well kill two birds with one stone, and if we could get the Indian National Movement with us, it would mean a great victory not [just] for Ireland but India as well.” Lally had also described in the detail the last moments of Daly.

The Connaught Rangers was disbanded in 1922, but its memory lived on. In 2002, the new Connaught Rangers Association was formed. It is now a global community of over 250 members, including the family of mutineers, that collaborates to “preserve the history of the regiment and the memory of the men who served from Connaught and elsewhere”.

P.J. Maloney, chairman of the association, told THE WEEK. “The mutiny was a direct response to reports of British atrocities in Ireland. The brutality of the Black and Tans and the violent suppression of the independence movement are cited as key catalysts for the act of nationalist defiance. For James Daly, the mutiny carried the ultimate price: execution. As the only soldier put to death for his involvement, his story is a profound human tragedy that highlights the brutal mechanics of imperial power.”

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Daly’s grave in Dagshai remained undisturbed until 1970, when demands started growing in Ireland to get home the martyrs buried in Dagshai. When the grave was dug up, it was clear that he was buried in his uniform. His remains were flown back to Ireland, where over 6,000 people attended his reburial.

The mutiny was covered in several newspapers in India and Ireland. Many of the mutineers returned home where their struggle for pension began. After a prolonged battle, Daly’s family was granted 10 shilling in pension. In the decades that followed, remembrance was uneven. Ireland grappled with the legacy of those who had served in the British Army. Subsequent commentary on the mutiny also referred to the revolt as being partly to do with the general conditions of the Irish soldiers in their regiments. India placed greater emphasis on non-violent movements and constitutional politics, leaving military revolts like Dagshai to the margins of public history.

But national sentiments only grow with time and martyrs find their way back in memory. On October 19, 2024, St Patrick’s Church hosted a remembrance ceremony to mark the 125th anniversary of Daly’s birth, the 110th anniversary of last use of Dagshai Gallows House to hang the Ghadar leaders and belatedly the centenary of the mutiny (delayed due to Covid). In attendance were Kevin Kelly, ambassador of Ireland and Maloney, apart from Indian military and civilian dignitaries. The church, now beautifully restored, holds mass every Sunday for over 50 families who stay in the vicinity.

Soon, an obelisk commemorating the Irish-India connection will be installed, jointly by governments of both countries, at the jail in Dagshai. The place where Daly was shot in Dagshai is now a park with flowers and swings for children.