akrishnarao

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  • “Beyond the Uproar: Elections Will Decide All”

    Elections have been announced in a Union Territory. Now everyone’s attention is on the developments taking place in the election-bound states. For the past two days, parliamentary proceedings have been running smoothly. The government and the Speaker agreeing to lift the suspension of eight MPs who were suspended in previous sessions is an indication that some understanding has been reached between both sides. However, no matter how much uproar is created in Parliament, or how stubbornly the government behaves, ultimately both the ruling party and the opposition must prove their strength before the people, right? Unless public anger against the government erupts and is reflected in election results, there is no benefit in stalling Parliament. After Parliament discussed and rejected the no-confidence motion brought against him over two days, Speaker Om Birla, upon resuming his seat, remarked, “These two days of the House’s time have been wasted.”

    It is surprising that the opposition was not even ready for voting on the no-confidence motion they themselves introduced. Wouldn’t it have been better if a message had gone out that 233 opposition members in the House opposed Om Birla? Perhaps the opposition feared that it would give an impression to the public that they are not united. It is noteworthy that MPs from the Samajwadi Party and Trinamool Congress did not sign the no-confidence motion. Even so, adhering to opposition dharma, they spoke in favor of it. While a discussion was supposed to take place on the no-confidence motion against Om Birla, insisting on discussing West Asia and stalling the House suggests that Congress was not serious about its own motion and had its reasons. Yet, their opposition is directed more at Modi than at Birla, isn’t it?

    In fact, Parliament provides an excellent platform for the opposition to clearly present their views and attract public attention. In the past, leaders like Hiren Mukherjee, Indrajit Gupta, Piloo Mody, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, George Fernandes, Sushma Swaraj, Arun Jaitley, and Venkaiah Naidu made remarkable speeches while in opposition, which established them as national leaders. Compared to them, it must be said that Rahul Gandhi has not yet emerged as a powerful orator in Parliament. It cannot be said that Congress lacks good speakers, but since Rahul Gandhi is the Leader of the Opposition, politics revolves around him. He seems to have developed a style of creating commotion by bringing up topics like Nirav or Epstein just moments after beginning to speak. Perhaps he is missing the opportunity to present the same issues in a powerful, flowing speech that could captivate not only members but the entire nation. On the other hand, Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, though she has delivered only a few speeches so far, has made them widely discussed. After she challenged, “Make all your criticisms against Nehru at once… let’s discuss them,” the ruling party’s criticism of Nehru in Parliament subsided. During the debate on the no-confidence motion against Om Birla, Trinamool MP and 33-year-old actress Sayoni Ghosh spoke so effectively and exposed the BJP’s stance in a way that no one had expected.

    The fortune of the Bharatiya Janata Party, especially Prime Minister Narendra Modi, lies in the fact that the opposition has not only failed to stand strong in elections but is also not effectively using Parliament as a platform. Even though there are many issues to criticize Modi on, Congress’s attacks are not reaching the public strongly. Interestingly, even in states where the BJP is not very strong, there are intellectuals who argue that Modi is extremely powerful. For example, in Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, and Telangana, the BJP is not very strong. Yet, if two people from these regions talk for ten minutes, Modi’s name repeatedly comes up in their conversation. There are more people overestimating Modi’s strength than perhaps necessary. It is said that a German leader once remarked, “Even criticizing me is a crime, and ignoring me is also a crime!” This situation is perhaps pushing Modi to consider simultaneous elections.

    Coming to the southern states, after losing in Karnataka in 2023, the BJP has not yet recovered and is struggling with internal conflicts. B. S. Yediyurappa has completed 50 years in politics but has made it clear that he is not ready to retire. Just as there is uncertainty at the national level about who will succeed Modi, in Karnataka too it is unclear who will lead after Yediyurappa. Even BJP leaders themselves cannot say whether the party will strengthen in Karnataka by the next elections. In Telangana, everyone knows the BJP is struggling to rise above the third position. In Kerala, which is heading into assembly elections, it is not easy to predict whether the BJP will increase its vote share or win even ten seats. In Tamil Nadu, the confusion within the BJP is evident from its own actions. Despite attempts to split the AIADMK or promote Annamalai, the BJP has not gained strength. Ultimately, it has had to ally again with the AIADMK and depend on the seats given by it, even resorting to moves like offering the Deputy Chief Minister post to actor Vijay, who is new to politics. No matter how much the BJP expands in northern India, the people of the southern states have not yet embraced it. It is leaders who are welcoming it with shawls, not the people!

    At the national level, the BJP’s strategy broadly includes consolidating Hindu votes, pursuing politics in the name of nationalism, and projecting Modi as a strong leader. However, in states like West Bengal, Assam, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Puducherry, where elections are being held, Hindutva politics is not as strong as in the north and west. A form of sub-nationalism exists in these states, similar to Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. Therefore, making BJP-style politics succeed in these states is a real test for the party and for Modi. The BJP knows that fighting regional parties is not as easy as fighting Congress. Moreover, in states where the BJP has won, even relatively unknown leaders have been accepted as Chief Ministers. But such a situation does not exist in the current election-bound states. When L. K. Advani was BJP president, strong leadership was built in every state, including leaders like Modi. Today, Modi does not have leaders at either the national or regional level who can stand beside him and draw public applause. This is both his strength and his weakness.

    In the southern states, apart from marginally increasing vote share and maintaining alliances, there is little the BJP can achieve. Winning West Bengal is a major challenge for Modi. Modi and Amit Shah are making every possible effort to defeat Mamata Banerjee this time. They are well aware that Hindutva politics alone cannot secure victory in Bengal. Efforts such as revising voter lists and allegedly removing over six million voters, replacing the governor with IPS officer R. N. Ravi, making administrative changes, conducting ED raids, and consolidating Hindu votes are all being undertaken. Addressing a rally at Kolkata’s Parade Ground a day before the election announcement, Modi expressed concern that Hindus might become a minority in Bengal. The BJP’s strength in Bengal is gradually increasing. However, Modi and Amit Shah failed to defeat Mamata Banerjee in 2016 and 2021. Now they are facing her for the third time. Although they could not defeat Arvind Kejriwal in Delhi in 2015 and 2020, they managed to secure victory in 2025 on the third attempt. Will they be able to repeat that success in Bengal this time? Can Bengal be compared with Delhi? In any case, past elections are one thing, and the upcoming elections are another. These elections can be seen as a trial by fire for the strategies Modi has pursued over the past twelve years. Will Modi be able to withstand the challenges emerging at both national and international levels, counter questions about his policies, and outmaneuver opposition strategies to stand tall like a formidable leader?

  • The Sharpened Voice in the People’s Throat – Vairamuthu

    At a poetry festival held in 1975 at Pachaiyappa’s College in Chennai, the then Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi came and read poetry. At the same festival, a 23-year-old young man read his poems and said that from the age of 12, Karunanidhi had been his inspiration in poetry. Listening to those poems and the young man’s words, Karunanidhi was deeply impressed and suggested, “Why don’t you write for Kunkumam magazine?” From then on, a friendship developed between Karunanidhi and that young man. Whether Karunanidhi won or lost in politics, the friendship continued unchanged. Karunanidhi would even attend small programs for his sake. Out of the 37 books written by that young man, Karunanidhi himself released 18 of them. That young man is none other than Vairamuthu, who was selected for the Jnanpith Award, which is considered as the highest literary award in India. on Saturday. After C. Narayana Reddy, Vairamuthu is another writer who has received the Jnanpith Award as both a film lyricist and a literary figure.

    The Jnanpith Award is India’s highest literary honour, often called the “Nobel Prize of Indian literature,” awarded annually for outstanding contributions to literature by Indian citizens. It includes a ₹11 lakh cash prize, a citation, and a bronze Saraswati idol. Vairamuthu was selected for the 2025 (59th) award, becoming the third Tamil writer honoured

    Seventy-three-year-old Vairamuthu published his first poetry collection when he was just 19 years old. While he was still a student, that poetry collection became a textbook. Born in Mettur in Theni district, Vairamuthu, who belonged to the Kshatriya community, continued his education while doing agriculture. His poems express rural life, human relationships, the environment, and the dangers arising from globalization. Social problems such as poverty, a mother’s love, child marriages, and lack of freedom appear throughout his poetry. He says, “My poetry is the voice of those who remain silent.” Ancient Sangam literature has greatly influenced him. Blending ancient literary words with modern music is his specialty.

    After reading Vairamuthu’s poems, Bharathiraja gave him the opportunity to write songs for films in 1980, when he was 27 years old. His first song was sung by S. P. Balasubrahmanyam. From then on, he never looked back. Over the past 46 years, he has written about 7,500 songs. Directors and composers such as K. Balachander, A. R. Rahman, Ilaiyaraaja, and Mani Ratnam made his songs resonate on people’s lips. Singers like S. P. Balasubrahmanyam, Shankar Mahadevan, K. S. Chithra, and P. Unnikrishnan gave melodic beauty to his poetry. The song “Chinna Chinna Aasai” that he wrote for the Tamil film Roja later became a hit in many languages including Telugu. Not only songs, he also wrote screenplays and dialogues. At the same time, he never stopped writing poetry.

    Vairamuthu belonged to one of the 14 villages submerged because of the Vaigai dam; his novel Kallikkattu Ithikasam, which depicts the tears, blood, and suffering of the displaced people affected by modernization, received the Sahitya Akademi Award. Another novel, Karuvachi Kaviyam, about the life of a rural woman crushed by patriarchy, also became famous. Along with Padma Shri and Padma Bhushan, he has received many honors. As a lyricist, he has won the National Award seven times. Just as Viswanatha Satyanarayana is recognized as “Kavisamrat” in Telugu, Vairamuthu received the title “Kavisamrat” in Tamil. This title was presented when Atal Bihari Vajpayee was the Prime Minister.

    No bird
    builds a nest
    and rents it out.
    No animal
    steals land
    that it does not need.
    O human, observe—
    the life that lives together
    without collapsing
    still exists in the forest,
    not in human society.

    Through such lines, Vairamuthu feels that the forest and the animals living there are nobler than humans.

    Even if you leave,
    your shadow
    still remains the same—
    waiting
    in the depths of my heart.

    In these lines, Vairamuthu continues searching for the woman he loved.

    I was like the distant sky;
    with your scarf
    you pulled me close.
    How did you capture
    the twenty-five years of my life
    in a single moment?

    He asks her.

    If life suddenly falls apart,
    where can I find her again?
    In the east and the west
    I search for her in vain.

    Like a tiny drop of dew
    she sits silently
    upon a lonely blade of green grass.

    As memories slip away
    like rivers unseen,
    the days themselves
    melt away
    in meaningless silence.

    He writes that humanity cannot flourish in a society that does not respect womanhood.

    Vairamuthu loves trees and nature deeply. He writes:
    “A tree is a painting drawn by creation, an exclamation mark standing on the earth, branches—hands rising to touch the stars in the sky.”

    And he says:
    “Alas, human! If you truly want to become human, come to the tree! Within every human there is a Bodhi tree.”

    In the poem Pilupu (“The Call”), a mother tells her child:
    “Even if a star sleeps among the clouds,
    even if the wind sleeps among the leaves,
    my eyes will stay awake all night for you.”

    Though Vairamuthu writes songs for films, he does not wait for them to appear in movies. He keeps writing continuously. They eventually flow into films as songs. In an interview he once said:
    “I keep writing pallavis day and night. What I give is actually the eleventh pallavi. The first ten pallavis fall into the dustbin of my mind. I clean the dirt from gold before giving it to directors. I can feed today the hunger that will come in the future.”

    I am privileged to be part of the Jnanpith jury panel led by noted writer Pratibha Ray, along with Madhav Kaushik, K. Srinivasa Rao, Damodar Mauzo, Prafulla Shiledar, Keshubhai Desai, and Janaki Prasad Sharma. Writers from across the country were considered for the award.. This time, many great writers from across the country were considered for the Jnanpith Award. However, in the last six decades, only two writers from Tamil Nadu—Akilan in 1975 and Jayakanthan in 2002—received this award. That means no writer from Tamil Nadu had received the Jnanpith in the past 24 years. Along with this consideration, Vairamuthu’s literary brilliance led to his selection.

    “My father M. Karunanidhi would have embraced Vairamuthu and celebrated with joy if he were alive today. I now stand in his place,” announced M. K. Stalin.

    Unfortunately, there have also been sexual harassment allegations made against Vairamuthu way back in 2018. There is no known criminal conviction or active police investigation. He has strongly denied these allegations and stated that they are false and motivated. He has said that if the allegations are true, those concerned can file a case and he is ready to face the court. Asking people not to judge him prematurely, he remarked that no one should decide whether he is a good or bad person until the court delivers its verdict, and that he will bow to the court’s decision.

  • Selective Alignment and Strategic Recalibration: Modi’s Israel Visit

    Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s 2026 visit to Israel marked more than a diplomatic engagement; it signalled a consolidation of India’s strategic recalibration in West Asia, where national interest, geopolitical ambition, and ideological comfort increasingly intersect. By addressing the Knesset and appearing publicly alongside Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at a time of intense international scrutiny of Israel’s Gaza campaign, Modi underscored that New Delhi’s foreign policy today is anchored in security, technology, and strategic leverage rather than moral symbolism.

    Convergence with US Strategy and Corridor Geopolitics

    India’s growing closeness to Israel aligns in significant ways with broader United States regional objectives. Initiatives such as I2U2 and the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor form part of a new connectivity architecture linking India, the Gulf, Israel, and Europe. These projects are widely viewed as alternatives to China’s Belt and Road Initiative and represent an effort to reconfigure trade and infrastructure flows across West Asia. For Washington, they reinforce a cooperative bloc of technology-driven partners; for India, they advance its ambition to become a central node in global manufacturing and logistics networks. The convergence reflects overlapping strategic incentives rather than simple alignment.

    The corridor dimension is particularly transformative. If realised at scale, the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor could recalibrate trade routes, reduce reliance on traditional chokepoints, bypass Pakistan, and position India centrally within emerging transcontinental supply chains. For Israel, integration into such a corridor strengthens its logistical and geopolitical role as a bridge between Europe and Asia.

    Gaza, Terrorism, and Diplomatic Calibration

    The Gaza conflict formed an unavoidable backdrop. Modi’s unequivocal condemnation of the October 7 Hamas attack during his speech at the Knesset was consistent with India’s long-standing zero-tolerance posture toward terrorism, shaped by its own security challenges. At the same time, he avoided strong public criticism of Israel’s ongoing military campaign. This calibrated messaging reflects India’s decision to prioritise counterterror solidarity and defence cooperation while maintaining rhetorical support for peace and a two-state solution.

    By condemning Hamas in clear terms, New Delhi reinforced its own narrative against cross-border militancy while avoiding diplomatic friction with Israel at a moment of expanding strategic engagement.

    Defence Cooperation and “Sudarshan Chakra”

    Defence cooperation lies at the heart of this partnership. India’s conceptual push toward a multi-layered air defence architecture, often described under the banner of “Mission Sudarshan Chakra,” dovetails with Israeli systems such as Iron Dome, Iron Beam, and the Arrow missile defense system. These battle-tested technologies enhance India’s capacity to counter drones, rockets, cruise missiles, and ballistic threats from both Pakistan and China.

    The cooperation extends beyond procurement to joint development, technology transfer, artificial intelligence integration, cybersecurity collaboration, and space research involving the Indian Space Research Organisation and the Israel Space Agency. For India, the gains are deterrence strength, technological acceleration, and progress toward defence self-reliance.

    For Netanyahu, the optics of a major Asian power standing firmly beside Israel were invaluable. It demonstrated that Israel is not isolated and that influential emerging powers remain willing to deepen ties despite controversy. Modi’s visit offered a counter-narrative to claims of diplomatic marginalisation.

    Ideological Optics and Domestic Political Resonance

    Symbolism played a visible role in shaping domestic optics. Cultural gestures during the welcome ceremony, widely circulated across Israeli and Indian media, reinforced perceptions of ideological comfort between the two leaderships. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), ideological parent of Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party, has historically expressed admiration for aspects of Jewish nationalism, civilizational revival, and Israel’s security doctrine. The visit feeds into a broader narrative of civilizational confidence and muscular security policy that resonates strongly with the ruling party’s support base.

    Has India Reversed Its Pro-Palestinian Position?

    The central question remains whether India’s historically sympathetic stance toward Palestinians has been completely reversed. The answer is nuanced. India has not formally abandoned its support for a two-state solution, nor has it withdrawn diplomatic recognition of Palestine. It continues to reiterate its commitment to dialogue and peaceful resolution. However, what has changed is the priority structure. Palestine no longer defines India’s West Asia policy.

    However, from a realist perspective, what New Delhi is practising is calibrated self-interest. The distinction between “calibrated pragmatism” and “calibrated self-interest” in India’s current Israel policy is less about contradiction and more about emphasis. In classical diplomatic language, pragmatism implies flexibility guided by national interest while maintaining normative commitments. Self-interest, by contrast, suggests a sharper prioritisation of material and political gains, even if that means diluting earlier moral positions. India’s present approach arguably contains elements of both.

    Will This Shield Modi from Domestic Opposition?

    A crucial dimension is whether this approach protects Modi’s political interests amid criticism from opposition parties. Critics argue that India’s visible proximity to Israel during a humanitarian crisis risks undermining its moral standing and alienating sections of India’s Muslim population. They frame the visit as a departure from India’s historical commitment to anti-colonial solidarity and Global South leadership.

    However, in electoral terms, the strategic framing of the visit may blunt much of this criticism. By emphasising counterterrorism, national security, defence modernisation, and technological advancement, the government situates the Israel relationship within themes that enjoy broad public resonance. For a significant segment of the electorate, strong condemnation of Hamas aligns with India’s own security concerns, while high-technology defence agreements signal preparedness against external threats. In a political landscape where leadership perception and national security credentials carry substantial weight,  imagery can outweigh normative debates for many voters. For now, the strategic and security narrative appears more electorally potent than moral critique.

    Balancing Arab Relations

    India’s relations with Arab states require careful management. The country relies heavily on Gulf nations for energy imports, trade, and remittances from its diaspora. Yet several Gulf governments themselves pursue pragmatic engagement with Israel within broader economic frameworks. Thus far, Arab governments appear to interpret India’s Israel engagement as strategic pragmatism rather than ideological hostility.

    It is clear that India has moved beyond classical non-alignment toward selective alignment driven by sectoral advantage. Israel offers advanced defence technology, innovation ecosystems, and connectivity potential. In return, Israel gains market access, diplomatic legitimacy, and a powerful Asian partner at a moment of global contention.

    India’s sympathy for Palestine has not disappeared, but it has been strategically recalibrated and deprioritised. Whether this recalibration fully insulates Modi from domestic criticism remains contingent on political developments, but in the present context, the alignment appears designed not only to advance strategic interests abroad but also to consolidate political capital at home.

  • “Between Inclusiveness and Centralization: The RSS at a Crossroads”

    What direction does Mohan Bhagwat’s idea of “Sarvesham Avirodhena” — accepting everyone without opposition — suggest for India? The question has gained renewed relevance as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) enters its centenary phase and its chief addresses diverse audiences across the country. His meetings are drawing an unusually wide cross-section of society. Academics, doctors, lawyers, business leaders, artists, poets, writers, sportspersons, actors, media professionals, former judges, and representatives of voluntary organizations have attended his interactions. Even individuals who once sharply criticized the RSS, as well as those who earlier remained neutral, are now seen at these gatherings. In Mumbai, prominent film personalities were present to listen to him, and in Hyderabad even left-leaning participants attended his address. The sheer diversity of attendees has itself become a subject of discussion, raising questions about whether this reflects ideological curiosity, political pragmatism, or a broader search for direction in uncertain times.

    “Accepting everyone without opposition” implies social harmony that transcends divisions of religion, caste, language, and class. It suggests that minorities are partners in the national journey rather than adversaries, that ideological diversity is natural in a plural society, and that the strength of the nation ultimately rests on the character and discipline of its citizens. Within the RSS framework, this aligns with its long-standing objective of organizing Hindu society. At the same time, Bhagwat has acknowledged that certain earlier hardline positions — particularly some formulations associated with M. S. Golwalkar’s book Bunch of Thoughts — were shaped by specific historical contexts and should not be treated as eternal doctrine. This acknowledgment is widely viewed as an effort to recalibrate ideological emphasis for contemporary India.

    The historical evolution of the RSS provides important perspective. The organization was founded in 1925 by K. B. Hedgewar. An often-overlooked detail is that Hedgewar continued as a member of the Indian National Congress until 1935, even after establishing the RSS. This reflects the fluidity of nationalist politics in the early twentieth century, when ideological boundaries were not rigid. The period witnessed internal debates between moderate and radical tendencies within the Congress, the emergence of Mahatma Gandhi as a mass leader, the formation of the Communist Party of India, the influence of global ideological currents, and powerful social reform movements.

    Among the most significant of these reform efforts was the Mahad Satyagraha of 1927 led by B. R. Ambedkar. At Mahad, Ambedkar mobilized Dalits to assert their right to draw water from a public tank, challenging the entrenched system of untouchability. The movement was a forceful assertion of equality and dignity within Hindu society. The RSS emerged in this broader atmosphere of social churning, when caste hierarchy, representation, and reform were intensely debated. Hedgewar’s emphasis on transcending caste divisions must therefore be understood within this larger historical context.

    After Hedgewar’s death, the RSS underwent further transformation. The distance between the Congress and the RSS widened as Jawaharlal Nehru adopted a European-influenced model of secularism, and the Quit India Movement spearheaded by Gandhi and Nehru sought to rejuvenate mass resistance against colonial rule. Under Golwalkar, the trauma of Partition and communal tensions sharpened the articulation of cultural nationalism. Later, under Balasaheb Deoras, the organization expanded its social and political engagement. Deoras maintained working relations with leaders across ideological divides, including Indira Gandhi and P. V. Narasimha Rao, reflecting a pragmatic openness to dialogue. He also played a role in facilitating the merger of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh with the Janata Party in the post-Emergency period, a development that eventually led to the formation of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). This phase demonstrated that the RSS could influence political realignments while retaining organizational distinctiveness.

    In contemporary India, however, the distinction between the RSS and the BJP is often blurred in public perception. Bhagwat has repeatedly stated that the RSS does not seek political power and should not be equated with the BJP. Yet the BJP’s prolonged tenure under Narendra Modi has given rise to what critics describe as a “one man–one party” model, where political authority and electoral appeal are highly centralized around a single leader. Symbolism has reinforced this perception. When Bhagwat was seen standing behind Modi during the Pranaprathista of Lord Sriram at the Ram Temple in Ayodhya, many observers naturally assumed that Bhagwat stands behind Modi in all his actions and decisions. Such imagery strengthens the impression that ideological and political authority function in close alignment, even if institutional distinctions are formally maintained.

    This generates a fundamental tension. If “Sarvesham Avirodhena” calls for inclusiveness and accommodation, can it coexist with a political structure that appears increasingly centralized? Supporters argue that decisive leadership is necessary in a complex global environment. Critics counter that inclusiveness requires institutional pluralism, space for dissent, and broader participation in shaping national priorities.

    Bhagwat’s recent remarks have also addressed economic and intellectual concerns. He has expressed reservations about uncritical globalization and about the long-term implications of the Indo–US strategic and economic relationship. Observers debate whether such engagements enhance India’s autonomy or deepen structural dependencies. At the same time, Bhagwat has emphasized the urgency of building strong indigenous research ecosystems. Cultural confidence, in his view, must be matched by sustained investment in knowledge creation and innovation. However, India continues to invest less than one percent of its GDP in research and development, and the country lags significantly behind China in scientific and technological advancement.

    Ultimately, Bhagwat’s articulation suggests a vision rooted in cultural nationalism, social cohesion, character building, intellectual self-strengthening, and broad societal outreach. Yet the credibility of “Sarvesham Avirodhena” will depend not merely on its rhetorical appeal but on how effectively it addresses caste inequities, minority concerns, centralized political authority, research deficits, and strategic economic choices. India stands at a transitional juncture reminiscent of earlier periods of ideological debate and reform.

    The final and perhaps most consequential question, therefore, is whether the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh under Bhagwat will actively shape this trajectory. Will it function primarily as a cultural and moral force, offering broad civilizational guidance while maintaining distance from day-to-day politics? Or will it intervene more directly in shaping policy priorities, influencing debates within the Bharatiya Janata Party, and moderating the balance between centralization and inclusiveness?

    If “Sarvesham Avirodhena” is to move beyond rhetoric, the RSS under Bhagwat may have to demonstrate through institutional conduct, public messaging, and social initiatives that inclusiveness is compatible with ideological conviction and strong leadership. Its engagement with questions of social harmony, minority outreach, caste reform, federal balance, and knowledge-driven development will be critical. In that sense, whether the RSS chooses to remain a guiding influence or becomes a more assertive actor may significantly shape how India’s democratic and civilizational journey unfolds in the decades ahead.

  • Constitutional Courts and Economic Power: A Tale of Two Democracies

    The recent ruling of the Supreme Court of the United States striking down former President Donald Trump’s sweeping global tariffs has not only redrawn the limits of executive authority in Washington but also triggered diplomatic and political recalibration in New Delhi. At the core of the episode lies a constitutional constant shared by both democracies: the principle of judicial independence and the judiciary’s role in enforcing the separation of powers.

    In a 6–3 verdict, the U.S. Supreme Court held that the President had exceeded his authority under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act by imposing wide-ranging import duties without explicit congressional approval. Reaffirming that the constitutional power to levy taxes and duties rests with Congress under Article I, Section 8, the Court underscored that emergency powers cannot become a gateway for bypassing legislative authority. The judgment was widely viewed as a strong institutional assertion of judicial independence, especially given the political and economic stakes attached to the tariff regime.

    The ripple effects were immediate. The interim Indo-U.S. trade framework, announced earlier with provisions to reduce reciprocal tariffs on Indian goods from 25% to around 18%, was premised on the enforceability of the U.S. Executive’s tariff structure. With the Supreme Court invalidating the legal foundation of that regime, trade experts suggested that more than half of India’s exports to the United States could revert to standard tariff treatment. Although the U.S. administration subsequently invoked Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974 to impose temporary global tariffs for 150 days, the long-term contours of the bilateral arrangement remain uncertain. Indian negotiators have reportedly deferred further talks to reassess the new legal landscape, placing the trade deal in a state of cautious pause rather than definitive rollback.

    Domestically, the ruling has intensified political debate. Senior Congress leader Jairam Ramesh questioned the timing of the interim agreement and called for it to be placed on hold until greater clarity emerges from the U.S. side. He urged the government to ensure that import liberalisation would not proceed without legally sustainable commitments and warned of potential adverse effects on Indian farmers cultivating crops such as corn, cotton, soybeans, and apples. Ramesh’s remarks framed the U.S. Court’s decision as an illustration of constitutional checks in action and suggested that India must exercise similar prudence in safeguarding domestic interests.

    The broader debate inevitably draws comparisons with India’s own judicial approach to major economic decisions. The Supreme Court’s judgment in Vivek Narayan Sharma v. Union of India, which upheld the 2016 demonetisation of ₹500 and ₹1000 notes, remains one of the most consequential economic rulings in recent years. By a 4–1 majority, the Court concluded that the decision-making process satisfied the requirements of the Reserve Bank of India Act and that economic policy choices fall within the domain of the Executive unless they violate constitutional or statutory limits. The majority emphasized judicial restraint, holding that courts should not substitute their judgment for that of policymakers in complex fiscal matters.

    However, the verdict also contained a powerful dissent. Justice B.V. Nagarathna held that such a sweeping measure, which invalidated 86% of the currency in circulation overnight, should have been carried out through legislation rather than by executive notification. She argued that bypassing Parliament undermined constitutional procedure and that the RBI’s recommendation process was not independent in substance. Critics of the majority judgment contended that the Court avoided a searching inquiry into the socio-economic impact of demonetisation, including hardship faced by small traders, daily wage earners, and rural populations. They also noted that no retrospective relief was granted despite the acknowledgment of widespread inconvenience.

    India’s judicial engagement with economic power can also be seen in its handling of high-stakes corporate and natural resource disputes. In the case concerning gas extraction from the Krishna-Godavari Basin, the Supreme Court, in a judgment authored by Justice Sudershan Reddy in Reliance Natural Resources Ltd. v. Reliance Industries Ltd. (2010), examined the dispute between the Ambani brothers over gas supply from the KG-D6 block operated by Reliance Industries Limited. The Court held that natural gas is a national asset and that its pricing and allocation fall within the sovereign domain of the Government of India. It ruled that private family agreements could not override government policy or the production-sharing contract framework. The verdict reaffirmed that natural resources are held in trust for the public and that executive policy decisions regarding their allocation must align with constitutional principles.

    That judgment underscored an important dimension of judicial independence in India: the willingness to assert the State’s sovereign control over strategic resources while resisting attempts to privatise public policy through corporate agreements. At the same time, the Court showed deference to governmental policy prerogatives in determining pricing and allocation, thereby balancing judicial review with executive competence in economic administration.

    This contrast between the U.S. Supreme Court’s assertive invalidation of executive tariffs and the Indian Supreme Court’s deferential stance in demonetisation highlights differing judicial temperaments. While both courts operate within robust constitutional frameworks, the American ruling reflects a readiness to directly curtail executive economic power on separation-of-powers grounds. The Indian verdict, in contrast, underscored institutional restraint in matters of fiscal policy, even as dissenting voices articulated constitutional concerns about process and parliamentary oversight.

    Earlier landmark cases such as Kesavananda Bharati v. State of Kerala had established that judicial review and separation of powers form part of the Constitution’s basic structure, beyond Parliament’s amending power. Yet, the demonetisation ruling demonstrated that the exercise of judicial independence is often calibrated rather than absolute. The Court reaffirmed its authority to review executive action but chose a limited standard of scrutiny in economic governance.

    As the Indo-U.S. trade deal stands at a crossroads, these developments serve as a reminder that judicial decisions can reshape not only domestic governance but also international economic relations. The U.S. Supreme Court’s judgment has recalibrated trade diplomacy, while India’s own judicial precedents continue to shape debates over executive accountability in economic policymaking. In both democracies, the judiciary remains a central constitutional actor—sometimes assertive, sometimes restrained—but always pivotal in defining the limits of power.

  • India Produces CEOs — So Why Not World-Class Universities?

    India’s higher education system stands at a strange crossroads. It is one of the largest in the world, enrolling more than 40 million students across over a thousand universities and tens of thousands of colleges. Yet, despite this vast scale, no Indian university has entered the top 100 of the QS World University Rankings 2026. The contrast is stark: institutions like the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Imperial College London, Stanford University, University of Oxford and Harvard University continue to dominate the top positions, while India’s highest-ranked institution remains outside the elite bracket. This is not merely a matter of prestige; it reflects deeper structural weaknesses in research, academic culture, governance and integrity.

    For years, India has witnessed what the Yashpal Committee described as the “mushrooming” of higher educational institutions. The rapid proliferation of private and deemed universities has created an uneven landscape where expansion often precedes quality assurance. While private investment in education is not inherently problematic, the monetisation of degrees and dilution of regulatory scrutiny have led to a system increasingly driven by numbers—student intake, campus size, publication count—rather than substance.

    The obsession with quantity over quality is particularly visible in research. Faculty appraisals, accreditation metrics and institutional branding frequently rely on publication counts. Predictably, this has encouraged the growth of predatory journals, paper mills and unethical authorship practices. India produces a large volume of research output, yet much of it goes unindexed, uncited and unnoticed globally. Academic reputation cannot be manufactured through inflated numbers. It emerges from sustained, rigorous scholarship, peer recognition and intellectual honesty.

    The events at the 2026 India AI Impact Summit exposed this malaise in dramatic fashion. Galgotias University, a private university based in Greater Noida, showcased a robotic dog named “Orion” and presented it as an in-house innovation developed by its Centre of Excellence. Observers quickly identified the machine as a commercially available Chinese-made Unitree Go2 robot. What was claimed as indigenous innovation turned out to be a rebranded product. Following public backlash, the university was asked to vacate its stall. The episode was not just an embarrassment for the institution; it was emblematic of a deeper crisis in academic integrity.

    This was not merely a case of miscommunication. It reflected a troubling culture of spectacle over substance—where exhibitionism substitutes for research, and branding replaces originality. Even more concerning was that the university holds formal recognition and accreditation. The incident therefore raised uncomfortable questions about regulatory oversight and the credibility of quality assurance mechanisms. If institutions can publicly misrepresent commercial products as research achievements, what does that imply about internal review processes, faculty evaluation systems and research verification standards?

    Such episodes damage more than a single university’s reputation. They undermine confidence in the broader academic ecosystem and cast doubt on the authenticity of innovation emerging from India’s campuses. In a global environment where credibility is paramount, even isolated incidents can have disproportionate consequences.

    The crisis extends beyond private universities. Public institutions, including Delhi University and Jawaharlal Nehru University, often struggle with faculty shortages, regulatory micromanagement and constraints on academic autonomy. Academic excellence thrives on intellectual freedom—the freedom to question, dissent, experiment and critique. Without a protected “Socratic space,” universities risk becoming instruments of conformity rather than engines of innovation.

    The government’s recent push under the National Education Policy 2020 to internationalise higher education, including inviting foreign universities to establish campuses in India, is presented as a corrective measure. The logic is that global competition will raise standards and retain students who otherwise go abroad. While the entry of foreign institutions may offer new opportunities, it cannot substitute for systemic reform. Reputation cannot be imported. Research culture cannot be franchised. Institutional excellence requires long-term investment in faculty, laboratories, research funding and governance transparency.

    India’s research expenditure remains below 1% of GDP, far lower than that of leading knowledge economies. Faculty–student ratios remain unfavourable in many institutions due to mass enrolment without proportional recruitment. Graduate unemployment signals a misalignment between curriculum and employability. International students hesitate to choose India because of inconsistent quality, bureaucratic hurdles and limited post-study opportunities. These are structural challenges that branding exercises or regulatory tweaks cannot solve.

    The fundamental issue is not international rankings; it is credibility. Global citations, academic reputation and foreign student enrolment are outcomes—not starting points. They reflect the underlying health of an academic system. When plagiarism is normalised, when publication quantity outweighs research quality, when political conformity eclipses intellectual autonomy, and when institutions chase spectacle instead of scholarship, rankings merely mirror the reality.

    Yet the paradox persists. India has outstanding institutions like the Indian Institutes of Technology, Jawaharlal Nehru University, the Indian School of Business and the Delhi School of Economics. It has produced global leaders such as Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai. If such excellence exists, why does the overall system still struggle to match the standards of leading universities abroad?

    The answer lies not in individual brilliance but in systemic structure. India has islands of excellence, not a uniformly strong academic ocean. Elite institutions admit the top fraction of students through fiercely competitive examinations. They function well because they select exceptional talent, attract relatively stronger faculty and receive better visibility and funding. But the broader ecosystem—thousands of universities and colleges—does not operate at that level. Global standards are determined by depth across tiers, not by a handful of elite outliers.

    The global success of figures like Nadella and Pichai reflects the strength of Indian talent. But their achievements were shaped by exposure to advanced research ecosystems, institutional autonomy and well-funded innovation environments abroad. Brilliant individuals can emerge from imperfect systems. Sustainable global academic reputation, however, requires robust institutions—equipped with research funding, intellectual freedom, ethical discipline and long-term vision.

    The Galgotias episode should therefore be read as a warning, not an anomaly. It illustrates what happens when numbers overshadow knowledge and image overshadows inquiry. If India aspires to become a genuine global education hub by 2047, as policy frameworks suggest, it must first address the foundations. Quality must precede quantity. Autonomy must accompany accountability. Research must value impact over volume. And merit must prevail over spectacle.

    There is no shortcut to academic reputation. It cannot be engineered through branding or borrowed prestige. It must be built patiently, through integrity, intellectual courage and sustained investment. Only then will India’s vast educational system match the brilliance of its people.

  • From Visakhapatnam to the World: India’s High-Stakes AI Gamble

    At the AI Impact Summit in New Delhi, Prime Minister Narendra Modi unveiled what he called the M.A.N.A.V. vision for artificial intelligence — moral, accountable, national, accessible and valid. It was a speech rich in symbolism and strategic intent. India, he argued, does not fear AI; it sees opportunity. It does not seek dominance; it seeks democratization. It does not want technological colonialism; it wants sovereignty with inclusivity.

    On stage were leaders such as Emmanuel Macron and Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, alongside technology executives including Sundar Pichai and Sam Altman. The optics were deliberate. India was positioning itself as the democratic voice in an AI world increasingly defined by American corporate power and Chinese state-driven industrial strategy.

    Pichai, in particular, added a layer of emotional symbolism. Recalling his student days, he said he often took the Coromandel Express from Chennai to IIT Kharagpur, passing through Visakhapatnam — then “a quiet and modest coastal city brimming with potential.” “I never imagined Visakhapatnam would become a global AI hub,” he said. Today, he announced, Google’s full-stack AI hub in that very city as part of its $15 billion investment in India — housing gigawatt-scale compute and a new international sub sea cable gateway would deliver jobs and cutting-edge AI capabilities across the country.

    The message was powerful: global capital validating India’s AI rise. Yet the summit also exposed the widening gap between hype and structural reality.

    India today is one of the largest AI user markets in the world. Its 1.4 billion citizens rely deeply on digital infrastructure provided by foreign platforms — primarily Google, Microsoft and Meta. It is difficult to imagine the economic and social paralysis that would follow if YouTube, Android services, cloud infrastructure or major social media platforms were suddenly withdrawn. India is among their largest markets, generating billions in advertising, subscription and data-driven revenues. Yet the core technological layers — GPUs, advanced semiconductors, frontier models — remain largely outside Indian ownership.

    This dependency has prompted calls for more aggressive policy responses. One suggestion gaining quiet traction is the idea of a stronger digital tax regime. If India does not own the GPUs, the chips or the core models, the argument goes, it must at least capture a fair share of the value generated from its data and user base. A digital tax could be framed not as protectionism, but as reinvestment capital — a mechanism to fund domestic compute clusters, semiconductor initiatives and sovereign research programs.

    The contrast with China is frequently invoked in this debate. Beijing did not allow American search engines and social networks to dominate its domestic market during the first wave of the internet revolution. It built domestic equivalents and protected them through regulatory firewalls. In the current AI wave, China has again pursued vertical integration — investing in rare earth supply chains, semiconductor fabrication, data centers and foundational AI research. Companies such as Unitree Robotics, whose Unitree Go2 robotic dog was controversially displayed at the summit expo under the label “Orion,” represent not merely startups but components of a broader industrial strategy.

    India’s model has been different — open markets, global integration, and a focus on services and SaaS. But SaaS dominance in a pre-AI era may not guarantee relevance in a post-AI world. As generative AI begins to automate coding, workflow management and enterprise solutions, many application-layer companies face margin compression. Unlike China with ByteDance’s TikTok or the United States with YouTube, India does not possess a globally dominant consumer tech brand at comparable scale. Its strength has been backend services, not platform ownership. If AI collapses the value of application wrappers built atop foreign models, India’s current comparative advantage could narrow significantly.

    Another structural vulnerability is brain drain. A disproportionate number of leading AI researchers and engineers of Indian origin work in American firms and research labs. While this diaspora influence enhances India’s soft power, it also reflects a domestic ecosystem that has not yet retained frontier talent at scale. When the core breakthroughs happen in Silicon Valley rather than Bengaluru, sovereignty becomes aspirational rather than operational.

    These tensions surfaced dramatically in the controversy surrounding the summit expo. The Opposition Leader Rahul Gandhi described the event as a “disorganised PR spectacle,” accusing the government of allowing Indian data to be showcased while Chinese hardware was presented as domestic innovation. He argued that instead of leveraging India’s talent and data power, the government had reduced AI to optics, even inviting mockery from foreign media. Whether exaggerated or not, the symbolism was politically potent: in a domain framed around sovereignty, authenticity matters.

    Yet dismissing the summit entirely as spectacle would also be simplistic. India does possess foundational assets that few nations can match: scale, digital public infrastructure, a vast multilingual dataset, and geopolitical positioning between the United States and China. Aadhaar-linked systems, UPI’s payments architecture and digital governance layers create a test-bed environment for AI deployment at population scale. Few democracies can integrate AI into welfare delivery, financial inclusion and public services as rapidly.

    The central question, then, is not whether India is leading AI today. It clearly does not control the foundational layers at the scale of the United States or China. Nor does it have the industrial depth that Beijing built over decades through coordinated state policy. The real question is whether India can convert its demographic scale and digital footprint into long-term technological autonomy.

    Modi’s MANAV framework articulates a moral and strategic ambition — sovereignty without isolation, democratization without dependency. Pichai’s Visakhapatnam announcement underscores both the promise and the paradox: global investment flowing in, yet foundational infrastructure still foreign-owned. Sovereignty in AI is measured not by summit declarations, but by ownership of compute, chips, research and platforms. If India remains reliant on American cloud infrastructure and imported GPUs, the rhetoric of independence will face credibility tests. If domestic initiatives — semiconductor manufacturing, sovereign language models, and public-private R&D collaborations — scale meaningfully, the narrative could solidify into substance.

    Hype is not inherently deceptive; it is often a political tool to mobilize investment and confidence. But hype must be matched with institutional follow-through. A digital tax regime, serious capital infusion into domestic compute, retention of AI talent, and creation of globally competitive consumer platforms would signal that the ambition is structural, not symbolic.

    India stands at an inflection point. It can continue as the world’s largest AI user market — influential, visible and profitable for foreign firms — or it can leverage this moment to deepen industrial capacity and strategic autonomy. The MANAV speech set the tone. The coming decade will determine whether it becomes a blueprint for sovereignty or a chapter in political theatre.

  • How Many Epsteins Walk Among Us?

    Within two days of U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi announcing that all files related to Jeffrey Edward Epstein—who committed unheard-of atrocities—had been released, President Donald Trump declared that his innocence had been proven and that he had no connections whatsoever with the criminal. Although Trump’s name reportedly appeared 38,000 times in these files, the U.S. Department of Justice also clarified that the mere mention of names does not mean that everyone referenced had any involvement in Epstein’s heinous crimes.

    There may continue to be numerous rumors on social media for some time regarding the names found in Epstein’s emails and the various photographs circulating online. However, strong efforts are underway to draw a curtain over the Epstein episode that shook not only the United States but many other countries as well. In fact, when Epstein was found dead in a U.S. jail in 2019, it seemed as though a major act in the effort to whitewash his crimes had concluded. With the U.S. Justice Department stating that it had nothing further to disclose about Epstein’s connections with top leaders of major American parties, as well as numerous global leaders, business magnates, and prominent individuals, many must have breathed a sigh of relief. How could they welcome the exposure of the rot within the world’s financial systems and the filth embedded in political structures that might engulf them?

    Many of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s opponents believed that the release of the Epstein files could pose a threat to his government as well. However, it turned out to be a storm in a teacup. Apart from a mention in emails that Modi traveled to Israel for work related to Trump, there was no other reference to him. As for Union Minister Hardeep Singh Puri, though his name reportedly appeared several times, no evidence was found suggesting his involvement in Epstein’s criminal activities. Puri maintains that he became acquainted with Epstein while working with an international peace organization, where Epstein was part of a delegation, and that he later sought his assistance in matters beneficial to India. After retiring from India’s Ministry of External Affairs in 2013, Puri was appointed to the Union Cabinet in 2019. If Prime Minister Modi entrusted the former diplomat with key responsibilities, it is not an exaggeration to assume that Puri must have rendered services beneficial to India on the international stage.

    What does the Epstein affair tell us? It makes clear that the rule of law is not equal—not only in India but anywhere in the world. It reveals that there is perhaps no place where justice is dispensed equally to all, irrespective of wealth, influence, or social standing, and that institutional weaknesses exist everywhere in the investigative process. The growing tendency to commit grave crimes while disregarding the criminal justice system—backed by financial power and political clout—poses a major challenge to modern legal systems.

    Although allegations that Epstein was involved in the trafficking of minor girls surfaced as early as 2005, the American legal system did not take them seriously. When he was arrested in 2008, Epstein accepted the charges against him, thereby securing a reduced legal process. The system appeared to acquiesce to his efforts to mitigate the severity of prosecution. Even during the few months he was in custody, he allegedly continued his illegal activities through his influence, with authorities turning a blind eye. Following renewed allegations and the anguished cries of victims, the case was reopened after 11 years in 2019, and he was arrested again. Within days of that arrest, Epstein died under suspicious circumstances in jail; it was officially ruled a suicide. Owing to media reports and public demand, the Epstein files were released, and the names of many powerful figures surfaced, causing a sensation.

    The tragic reality is that the world is filled with such Epsteins. Exploiting loopholes in political and economic systems, individuals like him rise as influential figures. Though he had no notable academic credentials and once worked as a teacher, Epstein was worth 600 million dollars at the time of his death. He owned the largest private mansion in New York City, two islands, homes in New Mexico and Paris, numerous cars, private aircraft, and substantial investments in several companies. How did all this wealth accumulate?

    Epstein cultivated relationships with U.S. Presidents Trump, Biden, and Clinton; billionaires Elon Musk and Bill Gates; Melania Trump; as well as numerous heads of state, business leaders, and senior officials worldwide. At least a hundred political leaders from various countries, senior diplomats, over 200 billionaires, and corporate chiefs were said to have fallen into his web. He funded public representatives, lawyers, and even media organizations. He provided financial support to universities and research institutions. Even progressive intellectual Noam Chomsky was among those who received his patronage. Epstein flew many individuals on his private jets and hosted others at his Palm Beach mansion in luxury. He not only sexually abused numerous young women and minor girls but also used them to entrap prominent figures. By financing political leaders across several European countries, he reportedly influenced their political systems. Once connections with him were exposed, major figures in ten countries resigned. Diplomats and ministers stepped down in multiple nations. Some expressed regret; most remained silent. “Documents may fuel rumors, but cases cannot be built solely on them,” remarked an American legal expert. The entire episode exposed the nexus between politicians, criminals, and major business magnates. It demonstrated that brokers and intermediaries often determine the dynamics of political and economic systems.

    Do we not have brokers here? The late Prime Minister P. V. Narasimha Rao briefly alluded, in his novel The Insider, to the role played by brokers in the streets of Delhi, in the Prime Minister’s Office, other ministries, and party offices, including the presence of women in such networks. A report prepared by the Central Vigilance Commission during the Vajpayee era about the influence of middlemen in defense procurements was never made public. Although the Commission suggested legalizing intermediaries, who would be willing to transparently disclose financial transactions?

    Global capitalism operates largely through wealth, social connections, and political networks. Power often flows not through official positions but through networks. In our country too, networks and lobbying are used to settle cases, transfer illicit funds abroad, and secure advantages for big business houses. Sponsorships, sexual favors, expensive gifts, and banquets in luxury hotels are common in this process, all under the guise of development. Leaders show little discretion about whom they elevate. Tragically, these brokers sometimes appear openly—and are even helped by political leaders to become members of legislative bodies.

    According to Transparency International, India ranks 91st out of 182 countries in corruption. As per the National Crime Records Bureau, one girl goes missing every eight minutes. The Supreme Court of India has also expressed serious concern about sex trafficking and child exploitation in the country. Does this not reveal how our systems function? Do political leaders who speak grandly about Sanatana Dharma, tradition, Ram Rajya, patriotism, and righteousness practice honesty, transparency, and accountability? Are investigative agencies and judicial processes functioning properly? Are systems protecting those who abide by the law? Above all, are moral standards being upheld?

    In the United States, at least under public pressure, documents related to a depraved individual were made public. In our country, who will discuss such grave secrets?

  • Telangana Checkmates BJP

    It was reported in the media that on December 11, 2025, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in a review meeting with his party leaders, expressed dissatisfaction with the performance of BJP MPs from Telangana. The meeting appears to have conveyed a clear message to Telangana BJP leaders: set aside internal differences, work as a united team, strengthen grassroots outreach, and make better use of social media to improve the party’s prospects in the state. Modi is said to have remarked that although the party has strong potential in Telangana, leadership weaknesses and internal factionalism are weakening it. Despite having eight MPs and two Union Ministers, the party has not effectively played the role of a strong opposition, he reportedly observed.

    But what happened in the recent municipal elections held for seven corporations and 116 municipalities in Telangana? The BJP, which emerged as the single largest party in neighbouring Maharashtra elections, secured third place in Telangana with just 15.68 percent of the votes. With eight MPs — half of the total Lok Sabha seats from the state — and an equal number of MLAs, the party won only 259 wards and not even a single municipality. The saffron party’s performance in other municipalities falling under the Lok Sabha constituencies represented by its MPs has been dismal. Though the BJP has the potential to grow in Telangana, especially after its good Lok Sabha results, it has not fully capitalized on the opportunities. However, strong local leaders have made some difference in places like Karimnagar and Nizamabad, but this will not be sufficient to give a tough fight in the next Lok Sabha elections.

    The municipal results followed strong performances in recent Panchayat elections, where Congress-supported candidates secured approximately 66 percent of Gram Panchayats statewide. In an Assembly segment-wise analysis, Congress secured majorities in 68 out of 81 constituencies where municipal elections were held. After forming the government on December 7, 2023, Congress also won the Cantonment by-election and the Jubilee Hills by-election. This indicates that both urban and rural voters are increasingly supporting Congress.

    The credit goes to Mr. Revanth Reddy, the Chief Minister of Telangana, who has been able to stop the juggernaut of the BJP in the state, despite the Prime Minister himself showing keen interest in Telangana. Under his leadership, the Congress party has demonstrated its strength convincingly. These elections were held at a time when there was widespread speculation in political circles that public dissatisfaction with the Revanth Reddy government was growing. The principal opposition, BRS, had been strongly criticizing the government and claiming that its end was near. Given that the government had completed two years, interest in the municipal results was high, and doubts were raised about Congress’ prospects.

    However, contrary to predictions, Congress performed well. Though leaders like KTR may not acknowledge the importance of the results, it is significant for a party like Congress, which is often known for internal dissent, to achieve this level of success. Revanth Reddy’s strategy ensured favorable outcomes across both North and South Telangana. Districts like Nizamabad, Adilabad, and Karimnagar, previously considered strongholds of BJP and BRS, saw gains for Congress. Even in his home district of Mahabubnagar, where BRS appeared strong, Congress made inroads.

    The Congress party attributes its success to development and welfare initiatives under Chief Minister Revanth Reddy, such as ₹17,000 crore spent on urban development, 200 units of free electricity for poor families, free RTC bus travel for women, issuance of 30 lakh ration cards, expansion of Rajiv Aarogyasri coverage from ₹5 lakh to ₹10 lakh, construction of 3,500 houses per constituency, and the Young India Integrated Schools initiative.

    Apart from its socio-economic agenda, it seems that Revanth Reddy adopted a clever strategy of not completely annihilating the BRS. He understands that if the BRS is finished, it would create space for the BJP to rise. He instead put the BRS on the defensive by exposing alleged corrupt practices such as the Kaleswaram project and the telephone tapping controversy. It is a strategy similar to the one adopted by KCR a few years ago, when he allowed the BJP to rise after sensing that Revanth Reddy was gaining momentum in the state as a Congress leader.

    The Telangana setback for the BJP has come at a time when the party is facing pressure from opposition parties at the national level over issues such as General Naravane’s book, Indo-US trade matters, and elections in five states. The political graph of Narendra Modi appears to be facing challenging weather, and the Modi-Shah duo are trying their best to prevent it from declining.

    Revanth Reddy has shown the Congress party a path forward. The Congress should not confine itself to parliamentary tactics alone; it must reach out to the people on issues such as farmers’ concerns, price rise, and unemployment, and strengthen the party at the grassroots level.

  • Freebies or Bribery? India’s Welfare State on Constitutional Trial

    The debate over “freebies” in Indian politics has now entered the constitutional arena, with the Supreme Court of India agreeing to examine whether pre-election promises of cash transfers funded from the public exchequer amount to a “corrupt practice” under the Representation of the People Act, 1951. The Supreme Court said the petition will be heard in March. What began as a political accusation has evolved into a deeper inquiry into fiscal responsibility, democratic fairness, and the character of India’s welfare state. At stake is not merely the legality of campaign promises, but the broader balance between social justice and macroeconomic prudence in a competitive democracy.

    Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin’s announcement on February 13, 2026, implementing a major bonanza for women in the poll-bound state of Tamil Nadu—crediting ₹5,000 each to the bank accounts of 1.31 crore women family heads who are beneficiaries under the scheme Kalaignar Magalir Urimai Thittam (KMUT)—has added further interest to the debate.

    The petition filed by BJP leader Ashwini Kumar Upadhyay raises foundational questions. Can electoral promises financed from public funds distort the level playing field? Where does legitimate welfare end and electoral inducement begin? And should courts regulate what is essentially a political and fiscal policy choice? The Representation of the People Act identifies certain forms of bribery and inducement as corrupt practices, yet it does not clearly define whether manifesto promises of welfare schemes fall within that ambit. This definitional ambiguity has allowed successive governments across party lines to expand direct benefit transfers without clear judicial boundaries.

    The controversy gains urgency when viewed through the prism of fiscal sustainability. In Maharashtra, the Ladki Bahin Yojana reportedly costs approximately ₹46,000 crore annually—nearly 8 percent of the state’s total budget—at a time when the fiscal deficit exceeds ₹66,000 crore. Such recurring commitments constrain fiscal space for capital expenditure on infrastructure, education, and healthcare. The 2019 farm loan waiver of roughly ₹25,000 crore provided immediate relief but was widely criticized for restricting long-term investment capacity. Economists warn that debt-financed consumption spending can crowd out growth-oriented expenditure, raise debt-to-GSDP ratios, and increase interest burdens that future taxpayers must bear. The Reserve Bank of India has cautioned that excessive non-merit subsidies may affect macroeconomic stability, underscoring the long-term risks of fiscally expansive populism.

    Yet the debate is complicated by the absence of a universally accepted definition of a “freebie.” Economist C. Rangarajan has suggested distinguishing between subsidies on merit goods such as education and health and non-merit transfers that lack productivity linkages. But even this distinction is not always clear. Is free electricity for farmers a distortionary subsidy or a growth investment? Is free education merely welfare, or a constitutional obligation under the right to education framework? Is unconditional income support empowerment for vulnerable households, or an electoral inducement timed for political gain? The boundary between welfare and populism is not merely economic; it is normative and political.

    International comparisons add nuance but not easy solutions. Countries such as Germany and South Korea operate structured welfare systems in which benefits are often linked to employment search requirements, skill development, or contributory social insurance. These systems are embedded within stable fiscal architectures and high levels of formal employment. India, by contrast, confronts a large informal sector, weak employment absorption, and rising aspirations among its population. In such a setting, unconditional cash transfers are administratively simpler and politically more attractive than complex structural reforms.

    Electoral timing further complicates perceptions of legitimacy. In several states, welfare schemes have been expanded, advanced, or newly announced shortly before elections. Even when legally permissible, such timing creates the impression that public finances are being leveraged for electoral advantage. The criticism is not confined to one political formation. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has warned against what he termed “revdi culture,” arguing that fiscally irresponsible promises burden future generations. Yet critics note that the Modi government is providing free food grains to over 81 crore beneficiaries under the Pradhan Mantri Garib Kalyan Anna Yojana (PMGKAY) to ensure food security and reduce financial burdens. This initiative covers Antyodaya Anna Yojana (AAY) and Priority Households (PHH) under the National Food Security Act, with a five-year budget of ₹11.80 lakh crore. Moreover, BJP-led governments in states such as Assam, Delhi, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh operate substantial direct transfer schemes of their own. What emerges is less an ideological contradiction than a structural incentive within a competitive democracy.

    Direct transfers produce immediate and visible benefits to identifiable voters. Infrastructure projects, by contrast, yield slower and more diffuse gains that are harder to attribute to a particular government. In an electoral environment where tangible short-term relief can decisively influence outcomes, parties across the spectrum may feel compelled to adopt similar strategies. The result is a normalization of competitive cash-transfer politics, where the debate shifts from whether to provide transfers to how large and how frequent they should be.

    As the Supreme Court considers the legal framework, it faces a delicate institutional balance. An aggressive intervention could risk judicial overreach into policymaking and blur the separation of powers. A restrained approach, however, may leave fiscal populism unchecked in shaping electoral competition. The solution may not lie in absolute prohibition or blanket endorsement, but in greater transparency and accountability. Mechanisms such as mandatory fiscal impact disclosures in manifestos, adherence to medium-term fiscal responsibility frameworks, or the establishment of independent fiscal councils could introduce discipline without undermining democratic choice.

    Ultimately, the freebies debate reflects a deeper tension within India’s development trajectory—between redistribution and growth, between immediate relief and long-term investment, and between electoral competition and fiscal prudence. In a democracy committed to both social justice and economic stability, the challenge is not to eliminate welfare but to design it responsibly. Whether cash transfers represent empowerment or populism depends on their timing, targeting, sustainability, and measurable outcomes. The Court may clarify legal boundaries, but the enduring balance between welfare and responsibility will remain a political question, to be negotiated through informed public debate and accountable governance.