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Pandit was picked up from his Kothrud residence at around 1 a.m., shortly after a second complaint was filed over videos in which he allegedly made obscene, sexually coloured and defamatory remarks while targeting Maharashtra cabinet minister Chandrakant Patil, BJP corporator Mitali Salvekar and Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis. A local Pune court, on September 3, sent Pandit into police custody till September 8, as per The Wire. The extraordinary speed and manner of the police response cannot be divorced from the political context in which Pandit was arrested: he had been using his large social-media following to publicly question politicians over roads, civic infrastructure, alleged misuse of power and the preferential treatment routinely enjoyed by the politically connected. That is where the real controversy begins.

The issue is not whether Pandit is “above the law”. He is not. The issue is whether the law suddenly becomes exceptionally efficient when the accused is a vocal critic of those in power— and markedly less, urgent when allegations are directed at the powerful themselves.  Pandit’s arrest therefore cannot be examined merely through the language of the FIR. It has to be examined through the larger pattern of policing dissent in Maharashtra: who is investigated, who is arrested, whose speech is treated as an urgent threat, and whose conduct is tolerated despite repeated complaints.

From civic critic to criminal accused

Pandit has built a substantial following by turning everyday failures of governance into highly visible social-media campaigns. His videos routinely focus on potholes, poor-quality infrastructure, traffic violations and what he describes as preferential treatment for politicians and other VIPs. His YouTube channel, launched in 2022, has grown to more than a million subscribers. Some of his videos have attracted millions of views.

One of his widely circulated videos showed him pursuing a vehicle carrying an allegedly illegal number plate, confronting the driver and approaching the police to demand action. The video eventually showed the vehicle owner apologising and agreeing to correct the violation. Pandit’s activism, however, increasingly brought him into direct confrontation with political figures.

On August 31, he uploaded a video in which he confronted BJP MLC Gopichand Padalkar, a close associate of Chief Minister Fadnavis, over an allegedly non-compliant high-security registration plate and the absence of seat belts. The video reportedly crossed 6.8 million views. Pandit subsequently claimed that he had received threats from persons associated with Padalkar.

This was not the first time he had alleged threats following his criticism of BJP leaders. Earlier, he had claimed that BJP workers had threatened him after he criticised Maharashtra minister and senior BJP leader Chandrakant Patil. Then came the complaints—and, within days, the arrest.

Two complaints, one arrest

A complaint was first lodged on August 31 by BJP corporator Sunil Pande, reportedly an associate of Chandrakant Patil, over Pandit’s alleged remarks against the minister. A second complaint was subsequently filed at Kothrud Police Station by a 36-year-old Pune Municipal Corporation sanitation worker.

According to The Indian Express, the woman alleged that she had encountered videos in which Pandit made objectionable remarks concerning Patil and a woman corporator. She also referred to another video in which Pandit allegedly used obscene language while questioning Chief Minister Fadnavis over the quality of road-laying work.

The Wire, which reviewed a copy of the FIR, reported that Pandit was booked under Sections 75(1)(iv), 75(3), 356(2) and 352 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), 2023, along with Section 67 of the Information Technology Act. The provisions invoked relate, among other things, to sexually coloured remarks, sexual harassment, defamation, intentional insult and the electronic transmission or publication of allegedly obscene material.

Pandit’s lawyer, advocate Wahed Khan, disputes the characterisation of his client’s language as sexually suggestive. He has argued that the words were being interpreted out of context and were expressions used in everyday parlance.

Why a 1 a.m. arrest?

According to Pandit’s lawyer, police arrived at his home around 12.30 a.m. and took him away. The FIR was registered at Kothrud Police Station at approximately 1.18 a.m. A local court subsequently remanded Pandit to police custody until September 8. The timing has become one of the most contentious aspects of the case.

Khan has argued that the police failed to follow the safeguards governing arrests for offences carrying relatively limited maximum sentences. He specifically invoked Section 35 of the BNSS and the Supreme Court’s safeguards in Arnesh Kumar v. State of Bihar, arguing that a notice to cooperate with the investigation should ordinarily precede arrest where the statutory conditions require it. He further alleged that police issued a notice only after Pandit had already been taken into custody.

Police, however, have maintained that Pandit had previously been served a notice to cooperate with the investigation.

The most uncomfortable aspect of the Pandit case is therefore not simply the language allegedly used by him. It is the apparent disparity in the State’s response to allegations involving different categories of people. An analysis published by The Wire found that 13 of the 39 ministers in the Maharashtra cabinet had serious criminal charges registered against them. BJP minister Nitesh Rane alone had 38 FIRs, according to the newspaper, including 20 concerning alleged hate speeches directed at Muslims involving abuse and threats of violence.

Every third minister in Maha has serious charges. One alone has 20 pending FIRs for hate speech.

But none of them face action. #SantoshPandit made viral videos highlighting VIP treatment, traffic violations. Within an hour of FIR against him, he was arrested.

For @thewire_in pic.twitter.com/kXSOycfP0j

— Kunal Purohit (@kunalpurohit) September 6, 2026

The contrast is nevertheless legitimate grounds for public scrutiny. If the police can act with extraordinary speed when a social-media activist is accused of making obscene remarks about a minister and a woman politician, citizens are entitled to ask why comparable urgency is not always visible when allegations of inflammatory, abusive or threatening speech are levelled against powerful political actors.

Opposition cries foul

The arrest has already drawn criticism from opposition parties. NCP (Sharadchandra Pawar) spokesperson Anish Gawande described the 1 a.m. arrest as an instance of political intimidation and questioned the alleged failure to comply with Section 35 of the BNSS and the Arnesh Kumar safeguards.

I have formally written to the Pune DCP Crime Gauhar Hasan regarding the 1 AM arrest of activist Santosh Pandit.

Executing a midnight raid on a citizen for criticising the government without serving a mandatory notice under Sec 35 BNSS, Arnesh Kumar guidelines & Maharashtra… pic.twitter.com/CImixr4kX7

— Anish Gawande (@anishgawande) September 3, 2026

Maharashtra Congress chief Harshvardhan Sapkal also criticised the action, asking whether the Modi-Fadnavis government was using police power to intimidate those who question the government.

A protest was held at Kalakar Katta on Fergusson College Road in Shivajinagar, Pune, demanding justice for Santosh Pandit and Vidyanand Bapat.

Citizens and activists gathered under the banner of Jagruk Punekar, raising slogans and calling for justice for both individuals.… pic.twitter.com/Uqzz2pdn1v

— Punekar News (@punekarnews) September 4, 2026

The midnight arrest of civic activist and social media influencer Santosh Pandit has escalated into a major political face-off in Pune, with the Nationalist Congress Party (Sharadchandra Pawar) strongly condemning the police action. NCP (SP) youth leader Mehboob Shaikh visited… pic.twitter.com/OLET1R3r6w

— Pune Mirror (@ThePuneMirror) September 4, 2026

The politics behind the videos

Pandit’s own public trajectory adds another dimension to the controversy. In a podcast cited by The Wire, Pandit spoke about losing his travel business and home following the economic fallout from the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks. He said that the experience left him angry and looking for an opportunity to challenge the government.

He subsequently supported Narendra Modi and campaigned for the BJP in 2014. Over time, however, he became increasingly disillusioned with the party and began directing his criticism at what he saw as failures of governance and the misuse of political power.  Much of Pandit’s online work is built around an extremely basic civic proposition: politicians and public officials should follow the rules that ordinary citizens are expected to follow. His confrontation with Padalkar over a number plate is precisely the kind of incident that can be uncomfortable for political establishments because it collapses the distance between the ordinary citizen and the political VIP.

Meet Santosh Pandit:

-Known for exposing civic scams, potholes.
-Exposing bad roads and VIP rule-breaking in Pune
-Regularly questioned ministers and government loopholes on camera
-Arrested at 1 AM after videos targeting a Maharashtra minister and corporator

So they… pic.twitter.com/eikjRT5hF1

— ʀᴀᴍ (@ramdevkar07) September 4, 2026

A telling video by activist Santosh Pandit from Pune:

While ordinary people struggle, a BJP leader who holds no posts, nor is an elected representative, is accompanied by police cars and is given the VIP treatment. Why @MahaPolice?
pic.twitter.com/OwlwmcZAv1

— Kunal Purohit (@kunalpurohit) September 2, 2026

Related:

Pune’s DJ Controversy, Ganeshotsav and Assault: The politics of who gets to make noise

Two women journalists allege police assault after questioning Delhi CM, say attack intensified after police heard they were Muslim

Maharashtra SIR draft rolls leave 2.07 crore electors out; Pune records highest exclusions at 28.66 lakh

Mumbai’s everyday life is getting costlier, one essential at a time

The Normalisation of Suicide at IITs: Institutional blindness and failure

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Let me first clarify that I am not making a value judgement here. Nor am I pushing forward an argument that students of yesterday were avid readers, while students of the present time are an anti-knowledge lot.

To make such a sweeping generalisation, one would need to conduct a scientific study and take into consideration multiple factors. On the occasion of Teachers’ Day, I simply want to share my own experience—something that has been troubling my mind.

One of the first major signs of the decline of reading culture is the disappearance of shops and stalls selling books, magazines, and newspapers. Even the Xerox shops around colleges and universities are now busy printing and photocopying documents to be submitted to the administration, rather than essays, articles, or relevant portions of books and magazines.

Even newspaper hawkers are hardly visible, not only around colleges in semi-rural areas but also at those located in district headquarters and cities. Around college and university campuses, what one mostly sees is the mushrooming growth of fast-food kiosks. Since the administrations are often unable to run the canteens properly, students have little choice but to go outside and eat junk food.

Inside the campus, library culture is also on the decline. One of the main reasons for this is the lack of library staff. Most of the library staff are contractual workers who are poorly paid. As a result, they often do not work there with a sense of commitment. Even among those who are working, many are not trained in library science. Nor are they sensitized to the needs of readers. The reading hall is also poorly maintained. The seating arrangements and lighting are inadequate. The books are not properly arranged, making it difficult for readers to access them.

However, the growing corruption within the publishing world has also infected our campuses. As a result, a large portion of the books purchased in recent years are simply garbage. Even in the journal sections, substandard journals are purchased while quality journals are often ignored. Everywhere, there are cuts in the budget, and even when money is spent, it is rarely spent on the welfare of students or the promotion of genuine academic activity.

The administration is happy to display this garbage on the shelves of the library in return for hefty kickbacks, while caring little about valuable books that are damaged by pests or due to neglect.

I do not know much about the complex rules and norms that determine how colleges and universities are ranked among the top institutes by government agencies. But my yardstick for judging whether a college or university is academically vibrant is very simple. Whenever I visit a new academic institution, I first try to visit its library because a well-attended library is a sign of a healthy academic environment.

While no bhajan (devotion) is possible without bhojan (food), I next visit the canteen inside the academic premises. A canteen not only provides food but also creates a space for interaction, debate, and discussion. I am sad to say that most universities and colleges cannot boast of having such a happening place. If there are a few such eateries, they are highly commercialised, serving mostly fast food. While the food may be ‘hot’ and ‘spicy’, the public culture there is dull and lifeless.

The shrinking democratic space is no less responsible for the declining reading culture. The administration is becoming more authoritarian day by day. The regime of security and surveillance is intensifying with each passing day. Even teachers often maintain a sense of superiority. Most teachers favour students who act meekly before them, touch their feet, and flatter them at every opportunity.

The caste network is also deeply pernicious on campuses. It is not a coincidence that the students or research scholars favoured by a teacher are often those who belong to his caste. While our teachers project themselves as the biggest “patriots” in public life, in their personal lives they often indulge in what can only be described as anti-national behaviour by practising caste-based discrimination.

Worse still, our educational campuses are not adequately sensitised to the needs and concerns of female students, religious minorities, and differently-abled people. The syllabus has been framed to glorify the past rather than to meet the needs of students in the present. Students from marginalised sections often find it difficult to relate to the course structure and feel alienated from the academic environment. The rise of majoritarianism and intolerance, along with the display of religiosity on campuses, has further alienated minorities.

Discussions and jokes in staff rooms and classrooms are often anti-women. The rampant misogyny prevalent on campuses makes women feel unsafe. Parents, too, often seize this opportunity to further control the freedom of their daughters.

The lack of student activism and the disappearance of debating and seminar culture are among the major reasons why students do not feel motivated to read. Often, student organisations are banned on campuses by the administration on the grounds that they are involved in violence. It is true that some student bodies have been involved in violent activities, and no one is arguing that they should not be held accountable for their misdeeds. But one also needs to recognise that banning student politics is not the solution to violence. Even elections are sometimes marred by violence, but no one argues that elections should be abolished.

Even the seminars held within campuses often fail to achieve their intended purpose. This has much to do with the relationship between funding agencies and the ideologies they seek to impose on the organisers. Seminars have now turned into occasions to facilitate politicians in power and echo the political lines of the establishment, without critically examining whether such policies are indeed framed in the public interest or merely serve vested interests. Since students and researchers are required to produce certificates of participation, they are often more concerned with obtaining the certificate and filling the chairs in the audience than with participating in any meaningful and fruitful discussion.

It is not only the academic spaces that are responsible; parents, too, often impose their own will on their children. We hardly find parents who facilitate their children in pursuing the goals of their choice. Most are in a hurry to see their children settle into high-salaried and secure jobs. Both at home and in our society, a person is often judged “successful” on the basis of how much wealth they have amassed, how trendy their clothes are, and how luxurious a car they drive.

The anti-intellectual environment at homes get extended into our academic spaces. The teachers hardly read. They have forgotten that a good teacher is the one who is first a student. The advancement in career is the bigger concern for the teachers rather than acting as the source of knowledge. They hardly speak on the pressing political issues because they want to remain in the good book of the establishment.

Even if our Constitution gives every citizen the fundamental right to freedom of speech, and the highest court of the country has held that dissent and criticism are integral parts of democracy, a large section of teachers have imposed self-censorship on themselves. They write only when they need papers for promotion, and most of these papers are poorly written and make little sense. Yet they get published as “research papers” because the authors pay publishers huge amounts of money.

Even in the staff room, teachers hardly discuss academic issues. The favourite gossip among male teachers is often about the clothes of their female colleagues, accompanied by rumours about their personal lives and sexual relationships. Worse still, many teachers are excessively flattering towards their seniors while being rude and dismissive towards their students.

All these factors contribute negatively to the lives of our young students. The smarter among them have come to realise that knowledge is not the first criterion for getting jobs in academia. That is why they spend a large amount of their energy flattering their teachers and developing networks with those in the administration and politics. Sensing that joining the political outfits of the ruling party is a more secure way of getting jobs, they are often too busy attending sectarian political programmes rather than spending time in the classroom and library.

Since a large number of students hardly read, they are unable to write. Whenever they turn up to submit their assignments, their writings are often copied and pasted from the internet. These are some of the more disturbing trends that I have noticed while working as a teacher. I do not know how these issues can be addressed. But if India has to excel in the field of knowledge and ensure that its democracy remains meaningful, policymakers cannot afford to ignore these questions.

(Dr Abhay Kumar teaches Political Science. His recently published book is Muslim Personal Law: Definitions, Sources and Contestations (Manohar, 2026). Email: debatingissues@gmail.com)

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She was reportedly employed as a domestic worker by the alleged rapist, who was also her neighbour and teacher at the school where she studied in the eighth grade. She carried the pregnancy resulting from the sexual assault for seven months and ultimately died beneath the weight of a stigmatised identity ‘Gujjar’ while her financially and socially vulnerable father was allegedly pressured into compromising and settling through the dominant social apparatus. The tyranny of the local social hierarchy the ‘Kechari milieu’ is said to have terrified her father from the moment the pregnancy became apparent. He was reportedly terrified to succumb” either settle the matter or face consequences. Political cum social intervention of influential and dominant figures, allegedly, including former Sarpanch Haji Ghulam Qadir, raises an even more disturbing question about the manner in which social power can transform justice into a bargain. It was, in effect, a negotiation between the powerful and the vulnerable, as though a butcher were bargaining with a shepherd over the price of a life. After the matter remained unsettled, the girl returned to her father’s home, where she remained for approximately seven months. During this period, a neighbour, Mohd Iqbal, was paid to assume responsibility for the pregnancy and was settled with a certain amount of money. On August 19-20, however, she was reportedly suddenly and secretly taken to Kishtwar hospital. Hospital staff were persuaded that Mohd Iqbal was her husband. An abortion was subsequently carried out without informing her father.

Adivasi (tribal) activist Talib Hussain has claimed that this plan was designed to conceal the identity of the biological father and potentially manipulate subsequent DNA evidence by exchanging or disposing of the foetus through hospital personnel. These allegations, if established through an impartial investigation, would indicate an attempt not merely to terminate a pregnancy but to destroy potential evidence of sexual violence. When the initial reports and allegations are read together, the case raises disturbing similarity with the 2018 rape and murder of the minor tribal girl in Kathua, Jammu and Kashmir. That how social power, political influence, and the vulnerability of a tribal minor intersect.

This is not necessarily an isolated event. Rather, it must be examined within a larger pattern of social stratification and institutional neglect. Consider the case of Suraya Begum of Kalaroos, Kupwara, on January 17, 2019. When she was nine months pregnant, she was reportedly carried on a charpoy through heavy snow to Lal Ded Hospital in Srinagar because the local roads were impassable. At Lal Ded, however, she was allegedly not admitted overnight. Her family repeatedly requested that she be allowed to remain in the hospital, explaining that they had travelled from a distant, snowbound area. They were reportedly refused and told to leave, with the alleged remark: “Gujjar happat” (“You Gujjars are bears”) and “Amis chu fakh yiwan, yim chi Gujjar” (“They smell foul; they are Gujjars”). At approximately 8:30 p.m., Suraya reportedly went into severe labour and delivered a baby girl by the roadside. The new-born died shortly afterwards. Srinagar’s temperature that night was reportedly around −0.7°C.

And how can we ignore Noor Jahan, a 45-year-old woman who was reportedly gang-raped on May 4, 2025 at Nishat, Srinagar? Neither civil society appeared to express comparable outrage, nor did the case receive significant national-media attention. Her case once again exposes the hierarchy of public empathy, whose suffering becomes a national outrage and whose suffering disappears into silence! The tragic death of Razim Akhter on December 23, 2024 at GMC Rajouri, and the fatal delay in medical care reportedly suffered by Naseem Akhter on February 18, 2021 at District Hospital Poonch, are among the recorded cases, yet they should not be dismissed as isolated medical anomalies. They point instead towards a deeper crisis in healthcare infrastructure and access in the border districts, where marginalised and nomadic communities can face disproportionate barriers to timely medical care.

While Gujjar and Bakarwal communities traverse harsh terrains to sustain an important pastoral economy, the state apparatus too often appears incapable of guaranteeing them equal access to healthcare and, ultimately, equal protection of the right to life.

In the Chenab region and, to some extent, in the Kashmir Valley, Gujjars and Bakarwals are often reduced, in the dominant social imagination, to a labouring and servile population. Their social position is frequently determined by dominant groups rather than by their own agency. Justice, therefore, becomes selective, and so does outrage. If Gujjar itself can function as a social slur, and if individuals can be judged through expressions such as “Gujjar khaslat” (“Gujjar traits” or “Gujjar habits”), then the problem is no longer merely individual prejudice. It is a structure of social perception. Generations of Gujjars and Bakarwals have grown up within conditions of poverty, exclusion, geographical isolation, and social stratification. In such a setting, a child can be socially assigned a position even before birth. The prevailing hierarchy can determine not merely where that child will live, but what kind of work, dignity, and social status society expects that child to possess. If a community is historically imagined as born to serve, how can one expect society at large to respond to violence against its members with the same moral urgency accorded to those belonging to socially privileged groups?

The deeper problem, therefore, is that crime, criminality, and the administration of social justice cannot be completely separated from the social structure in which they occur. As Hunter S. Thompson put it, “In a close society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In the world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.”

According to local media reporter Asif Iqbal Naik, there was allegedly no anaesthesia technician available during the thirteen year old girl’s abortion procedure and, consequently, she may not have been properly anaesthetised. Her initial medical reports, according to him, reportedly support this possibility. Asif also stated that, when he spoke to a woman who performed the girl’s final rites, she described injuries to the victim’s private parts that appeared to have been inflicted unprofessionally. If these facts are independently verified, the absence of qualified medical personnel and the manner in which the procedure was conducted could become crucial elements in determining the circumstances of her death. Otherwise, the thirteen-year-old girl might have survived. The irony is devastating. Article 21 of the Constitution guarantees the right to life and personal liberty to every person, yet social prejudice can determine whose life receives its full protection in practice.

Rape is one thing. But the collective response that follows when families, relatives, community elders, Sarpanches, local leaders, medical personnel, and politically influential individuals allegedly become involved in concealing the consequences of rape is something altogether different. Had she survived, the seven-month-long history of alleged sexual violence, pregnancy, and subsequent attempts at settlement might have not come to light.

Was her life also the culmination of a collective effort to prevent the truth from becoming public? The real tragedy is not merely that one individual allegedly committed sexual violence. It is that a wider social environment which have normalised, concealed, negotiated, and ultimately enabled the consequences of that violence because the victim belonged to a socially marginalised community. This is the brutality of identity-based dehumanisation.

When a society in general have expression such as “Agar toi wechew janglas manz aike anndhh saruf (snake) bai Gujjur, Gujjur gase marun, saruf gasai travun”— “If you ever encounter a Gujjar and a snake at the same time, kill the Gujjar and leave the snake” it becomes necessary to ask what happens when such prejudices enter institutions. How does one expect a doctor, teacher, administrator, political leader, or police officer to respond with ordinary human compassion if the social environment has already taught them to see a particular identity as inferior? It is like expecting a butcher to show compassion towards the goat standing before him. The problem, however, is not the individual butcher alone, it is the social system that has taught him to see the goat merely as an object for slaughter.

The victim may have been beaten, threatened, frightened, humiliated, and psychologically broken during those seven months. She may have cried out to the sky, while the social apparatus around her remained unmoved. And when, in the name of abortion, she allegedly underwent a procedure that ultimately ended her life, her screams may have disappeared into the trenches of the identity assigned to her. Perhaps her greatest tragedy was not simply that she was allegedly raped. It was that her suffering could be negotiated because she was Gujjar. Her identity became the very condition through which her vulnerability was interpreted.

Her screams have yet to shake a society sufficiently to demand a comprehensive and impartial investigation. She may have hoped that her suffering would not disappear into the trench of identity rather a beginning where no other girl would be ruined, bargained over, and ultimately sacrificed beneath the accumulated weight of social stigma. The identity that isolated her from the social mainstream was not created by her. The stigma attached to it was inherited from generations before her.

Gujjar and Bakarwal marginalisation cannot simply be explained through a supposed cultural fear of modernity or by attributing their deprivation to ignorance. Many of them have remained rooted in the pristine valleys and higher altitudes of the Himalayas, but they have simultaneously been left miles behind the rapidly changing capitalist, technological, educational, and globalised world. It was and remains the responsibility of socially privileged sections of society to bring such communities into confidence, to create meaningful access to modern education and to make them feel that they too belong to the wider socio-economic and political order. When that process fails, the responsibility becomes even more urgent for an educated and conscious class emerging from within the marginalised community itself. For example, in twentieth-century Kashmir, Sheikh Muhammad Abdullah became associated, in a different historical context, with the mobilisation of people who had experienced generations of deprivation and political exclusion.

This thirteen-year-old girl must have been asking why has the social mobility achieved by a section of the Gujjar and Bakarwal elite not percolate into a sustained transformation of the conditions of the overwhelmingly deprived majority? The Gujjar and Bakarwal question deserve to be viewed through a similar lens. The relationship between an emerging community elite and an overwhelmingly deprived majority. A considerable socio-economic distance has emerged between sections of the Gujjar elite and the ordinary people whose identity has provided much of the basis for their political and institutional representation. Some politically and economically prosperous members of the community have built political careers and public faces around their tribal belonging. Yet examples of their sustained efforts to mobilise, educate, organise, and unite the most deprived sections of their own community remain comparatively rare.

Her death should not be reduced to another isolated crime report. It should force us to confront the deeper structures that determine whose suffering becomes visible, whose testimony is believed, whose death produces outrage, and whose identity makes suffering easier to ignore.

(The author is a Research Scholar in Modern Indian History at the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU). His writings engage with questions of history, society, identity, and contemporary Indian public discourse)

Related:

J&K: Hospital Refuses to Keep Pregnant Patient Overnight, Baby Dies

5 Doctors Suspended After Pregnant Woman’s Death In Jammu And Kashmir

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Sonya Gill was a member of the CPI(M) Maharashtra state committee and the Mumbai district secretariat since long, a member of the AIDWA central executive committee for nearly two decades, the Maharashtra state general secretary of AIDWA for three terms from 2010 to 2019, and state vice president later. Along with her husband, the renowned journalist P Sainath, she was the co-founder and trustee of the People’s Archive of Rural India (PARI).

Sonya hailed from a Punjabi Sikh family. Her father was an Army officer and mother a home-maker. Sonya was born on September 27, 1955, and studied at the Mater Dei School in Delhi where she excelled in academics, and was also adjudged the best all-rounder. She graduated from the S P College in Pune. From 1976 to 1980, she did her MA and MPhil in Sociology at the JNU in Delhi. She won A grades in both. It is in JNU that she was exposed to Left ideology. She then taught Sociology at the Sophia College in Mumbai for a year in 1981-82, and then worked at the Foundation for Research in Community Health (FRCH). Health was always one of the important subjects of her interest and study.

Sonya joined the AIDWA and became active in the women’s movement in 1989. She began her work among women in central Mumbai’s working-class areas in Worli BDD Chawls, Jijamata Nagar, and Delisle Road, under the guidance of Ahilya Rangnekar and Prabha Sawant. She was elected President of the AIDWA Mumbai District Committee in 1994. In this capacity, she paid meticulous attention to building up local units of AIDWA across the city. She also made special efforts in building joint activities with other secular, democratic and progressive women’s organisations in Mumbai. She remained a pillar of the Mumbai AIDWA till the end.

She was later elected to the AIDWA Maharashtra State Committee, then its State Secretariat, and then as State General Secretary in 2010. She ably carried out this responsibility for three terms till 2019. She moved widely in several districts and helped to strengthen the organisation. She was elected to the AIDWA Central Executive Committee (CEC) from 2007 up to 2023. Her contribution to the discussions on reproductive health, population policies and other health-related issues was very valuable. It helped AIDWA in formulating its positions on health issues at the national level. Sonya represented AIDWA in the Jan Swasthya Abhiyaan (JSA) and played an important role in bringing out the gender perspectives in its campaigns.

Sonya joined the CPI (M) in 1990; was elected to the CPI (M) Mumbai district committee in 1997, to the district secretariat in 2005, and to the Maharashtra state committee in 2012.

Sonya married P Sainath on March 29, 1986. They met when they were studying in the JNU.  Their extraordinarily strong four-decade long personal and political partnership came to an abrupt end with their evening walk together on August 25, when Sonya suddenly collapsed. None of us have ever seen Sainath so shattered as we did at Sonya’s funeral. Her contribution to PARI was immense, and it deserves a separate account of its own.

Sonya battled her serious illness for the last few years with magnificent courage. Words can never describe what she and Sainath went through in that period. But through it all, her commitment, her grace, and her radiant smile never left her even once. Not a word was ever heard from her about her pain or her difficulties. P Sainath says, “That was true even at home. In 40 years, I never heard her complain even once about her health, her pain, or narrate her unhappiness with it. She was extremely positive each time – after major surgeries, she’d be back at work, first online, then in office.” She continued to participate in the activities of AIDWA and CPI(M) till the end, right up to the nationwide Jail Bharo struggle in Mumbai on August 10, 2026. All this was courage and fortitude of the very highest order.

Sonya and I worked together in AIDWA for 32 years since 1994 when I joined the women’s movement after being relieved from the SFI. We worked closely together at all levels, and for one term as President and General Secretary of the Maharashtra AIDWA. It was a joy to work with her. It was inspiring to see her grit when facing the police during protests. It was so exciting when we travelled ticketless from Mumbai to Delhi with hundreds of women for the All India rallies. Songs, slogans and laughter reverberated in the train. Sonya easily melted into the bevy of women in the train, and became part of a collective strength.

Remarkable Comrade

Sonya was a grassroots organiser in the truest sense of the term. Her politics was rooted in the lives and struggles of ordinary people, particularly working-class women. She diligently took up local issues of women, organising struggles, mobilising them for action. This helped women to realise their own strength and they became capable of raising their voice against injustice in various bastis of Mumbai. For decades, she devoted herself to strengthening the collective struggles of women for equality, dignity and justice.

Sonya also paid meticulous attention to the ideological and political training of women activists. Developing politically conscious, confident and independent women activists was for her the key.  She constantly encouraged younger comrades to understand the broader political and economic forces behind the problems faced by women. She explained that struggles over water, ration, housing, education, employment, health, and violence had to be connected to the larger struggle against class exploitation, caste oppression and patriarchy. She strongly opposed communal and casteist forces and emphasised the unity of women.

Sonya was an extraordinary combination of ideological firmness and personal warmth. Her quiet determination and ability to encourage others was exemplary. She did not seek the limelight. Her satisfaction came from seeing other women emerge as confident leaders. She believed in the capacity of ordinary women to transform their own lives and society.

Her death leaves a profound void. But a true tribute to Sonya cannot be just words of sorrow; it must carry forward the work to which she dedicated her life. It must mean strengthening the women’s movement, building struggles of the exploited and the oppressed, defending democratic and secular values, and fighting communalism, casteism, and patriarchy.

Comrade Sonya, the communist, never separated women’s emancipation from radical social transformation. She understood that revolutionary work requires patience, discipline, and sacrifice. She leaves behind not only memories, but also a rich collective of women activists.

Her absence will always be deeply felt by AIDWA, by CPI(M), by PARI and by innumerable comrades and friends. But her legacy will live wherever women organise, wherever workers and peasants raise their fists, and wherever people struggle for a just and equal society!

Comrade Sonya Gill, Lal Salaam! Comrade Sonya Gill Amar Rahe!

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The post Comrade Sonya Gill: A life dedicated to the struggle for equality and justice appeared first on SabrangIndia.

–Editors

Professor Faizan Mustafa

Vice-Chancellor, Chanakya National Law University, Patna

(Former Vice-Chancellor, NALSAR & NLUO; Former Registrar, Aligarh Muslim University)

Date September 2, 2026

Subject: An Open Letter on Ideological Opportunism, Public Intellectualism, and More

Dear Professor Faizan Mustafa,

In recent years, your public profile as a legal commentator has expanded considerably through frequent columns in national dailies.

In enhancing your public profile, Ravish Kumar has played a considerable role. On NDTV Prime Time he provided you with a platform. He never brought you into a panel discussion though. He always provided you with a solo programme with no uncomfortable, critical questions and counter-questions being put to you. That is how he initiated the practice of Godi Media (Milquetoast Media) with you on NDTV Prime Time Shows. Today, Ravish Kumar, on his own YouTube channel also does not expose you by criticising your pro-Sangh columns in the Indian Express and elsewhere. Of course, no Liberal, Left remains Liberal when it comes to exposing and critiquing Muslim conservatism-communalism!

However, a systematic review of your published op-eds alongside your institutional footprint reveals a troubling pattern of political accommodation, academic displacement, and prolonged reliance on university deputation rules. In short, this appears to be a form of the crassest possible opportunism that you have consistently been displaying for the last nine years or so.

This open letter addresses three distinct areas where your public record stands in sharp contrast to the expectations of a senior constitutional law professor.

Early Writings and Conservative Stance on Affirmative Action

Your ideological shifts are not a recent development. As far back as 1992, in an essay titled “Reservation-Politics or Social Upliftment” published in the AMU-Arts Faculty Magazine (1992-93, pp. 128–131), you articulated a deeply conservative and critical stance against social justice initiatives.

Writing as a Lecturer in the Department of Law, AMU, you argued that affirmative action had failed, was monopolised by elites, and was driven purely by electoral vote-bank politics (such as the Mandal Commission implementation in 1990). You went on to advocate for drawing a hard line against reservations in science and technology, capping benefits to a single generation or stage of career, and ultimately calling to “do away with reservation policy step by step.”

This early record underlines a long-standing ideological pattern that prioritised anti-reservation rhetoric well before your later shifts toward political accommodation with right-wing majoritarianism.

The Timeline of Ideological Shifts and Selective Silence

Your commentary over the past decade demonstrates a consistent eagerness to accommodate Hindu majoritarian power structures, juxtaposed against a complete absence of critique toward conservative elements within your own institutional and religious baseline.

January 18, 2018 (The Tribune): On the eve of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s visit to India, your piece titled “Learn from Israel’s Legal Pluralism” praised Israel’s legal framework, deceptively likening it with Ottoman-era Millet personal law system. Written while serving as a visiting professor at Tel Aviv University, the article presented Israel’s religious legal autonomy as a model for India, choosing to ignore the ongoing structural disenfranchisement of Palestinians.

May 28, 2019 (The Indian Express): Following the 2019 general elections, your column “Reaching out to Muslims” argued that the Muslim community should expect better treatment from the RSS, initiating a public stance of seeking reconciliation with Hindutva leadership. Obviously, this was less because of your conviction in the principle of “Truth and Reconciliation”, and more intended to appease the RSS-BJP for personal favours?

March 21, 2020 (The Indian Express): In “Why Hindu Rashtra should not terrify Muslims”, you engaged in an accommodating re-reading of majoritarian nationalism, a piece subsequently amplified by right-wing media outlets like Swarajya (April 22, 2020) as an endorsement from a prominent Muslim academic.

July 6, 2021 (The Indian Express): In “What Mohan Bhagwat Said”, you offered praise for RSS Chief Mohan Bhagwat’s public statements on Hindu-Muslim shared ancestry. This was part of a broader pattern of synchronized op-eds from the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) leadership—followed closely by the then-AMU-VC (now BJP Vice President cum MLC, Uttar Pradesh), Tariq Mansoor in The Hindu (July 13, 2021) and his son, Assistant Professor (Law), Mohd Nasir in Hindustan Times (July 15, 2021).

Projecting yourself as a champion of social justice and Pasmanda uplift, you tweeted a respectful tribute to Manu’s statue in the Rajasthan High Court (Jaipur Bench), in late 2021. What you chose to ignore is the fact that the name Manu is just an epithet and imagine calling a misogynist-casteist to be the greatest law giver! No wonder, then, that you endorse Instant Triple Talaq (ITT) and extend support to the Muslim regressives! Your extraordinary brilliance of reading thousands of pages of judgments and elucidating –in writing or video your analyses ready to be published in a few moments to publish in next morning’s English daily/portals has already made you acquire an-almost divine untouchable position. Salman Khurshid’s book, The Sunrise over Ayodhya exposes this with a subtle sarcasm; also excerpted on The Print.in, October 26, 2021.

Your great respect shown to Shri Ram Madhav Ji of the RSS on your YouTube video is already the subject of jokes and ridicule.

June 14, 2024 (The Indian Express): In your column titled “Unity with diversity“, published following the 2024 general election results, you asserted: “This author continues to believe that declaring Hinduism as the dominant spiritual heritage of India may be a good thing for our secularism.” Commentators have highlighted how egregious this observation is for a constitutional scholar. Under the pretext of defending federalism and constitutionalism, such arguments effectively build a case for ethnocracy. Applying political geographer Oren Yiftachel’s framework, endorsing a dominant religious/spiritual heritage erodes essential democratic structures—specifically equal citizenship, a unified territorial demos, and basic protections against majoritarian tyranny.

And now comes the latest. A nail in the coffin?

August 31 / September 1, 2026 (The Indian Express): Your column “Mohan Bhagwat’s Hindutva is not narrow: Are his words in New York heard in India?” again selectively praised the RSS Chief’s address in New York, asserting that Bhagwat’s stance demolishes the foreign-origin argument against Muslims. Written from the position of a university head, this piece minimises contemporary ground realities under the guise of intellectual engagement. The very same day, Professor Tahir Mahmood (also an AMU Law alumnus) published his piece in the same Indian Express, appreciating the Manusmriti.

Is this just a mere coincidence? Or, part of something else, moves of sections of the Muslim elite towards co-option into a specific narrative-setting?

The Ideological Paradox

While you continuously seek to project moderation onto majoritarian leadership (which is actually your pretence and sophistry), you have systematically avoided issuing any public critique of Muslim Right-Wing orthodoxy, reactionary student outfit politics, or conservative religious organizations (such as, for example, the alleged Saudi-funded frameworks linked with the Institute of Objective Studies).

This calculated dualism allows you to cultivate favour with the ruling saffron dispensation as a “pragmatic bridge-builder” while retaining support among conservative Muslim elites (maslehat; actually, it is collective makkari of the Muslim elites), who view your manoeuvres as strategic preservation rather than principled scholarship.

Intellectual Production vs. Administrative Dominance

A review of your academic trajectory reveals that for over two decades, classroom teaching and peer-reviewed legal research have been displaced by administrative appointments.

Lack of Peer-Reviewed Output: Since your 1991 publication (Strict Liability in the Criminal Law) from a non-descript publication house, you have produced virtually no top-tier, internationally peer-reviewed academic monographs or high-impact journal articles. Media op-eds have replaced rigorous legal research.

The 1991 title is “plagiarized” from Richard Wasserstorm’s 1960 essay, in the Stanford Law Review. As per news-report (mark the word, only, in the news-report), in The Hindu, Aug 20, 2014, “India’s only book on ‘Strict Liability in Criminal Law’ was written by him in 1991 and he was awarded Commonwealth British Fellowship to further pursue this subject”. Have you really produced anything with the fellowship? No. The truth of your Fulbright (not the prestigious Fulbright Fellowship! you got the Fulbright Visiting Scholar Programme, as the VC in NLSIU Hyderabad, Oct 2018. You got the best SAARC Teacher award, in 2014, whereas since 2004, you have not been teaching. You are aimply governing various universities.

Administrative Tenure: From your tenure as AMU Registrar (2004–2007; when AMU was pushed into a judicial crisis of minority status. The issue is still sub judice and far from resolved) to successive terms as Vice-Chancellor at NLUO (Odisha), NALSAR (Hyderabad), and CNLU (Patna), you have operated primarily as an administrative officer rather than as an active teacher or researcher. Receiving teaching awards or academic fellowships while serving exclusively in executive officer roles, raises serious questions regarding academic evaluation standards.

AMU Deputation Rules and Systemic Accommodation

Your continuous absence from your substantive academic post at Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) highlights a significant administrative anomaly regarding University Grants Commission (UGC) and AMU service rules:

Statutory Limits on Deputation

Under standard UGC guidelines, Central University Ordinances and Govt of India Service rules, there is a cap on deputation. Deputation or Extraordinary Leave (EOL) to serve in external organizations or state universities is strictly capped—typically not exceeding 5 years continuously, with an absolute career ceiling of 7 years (or less) under exceptional circumstances.

AMU allows you to retain lien on your permanent substantive post. Holding a post on deputation for nearly two decades flagrantly violates the fundamental intent of the AMU recruitment ethics and rules. It freezes departmental vacancies, and prevents fresh/junior faculty recruitments and progression. Nobody however asks the AMU-VCs and its Executive Council (EC) as to why do they keep extending your deputation endlessly? Shall they extend similar favour to anyone except you?

Governance Failure within the AMU Executive Council

The repeated granting of continuous deputations and extensions by the AMU Executive Council (EC) over two decades demonstrates how institutional governance is bent to accommodate elite networking. By retaining your lien at AMU while continuously holding Vice-Chancellorships elsewhere, you have used the university as a safety net while denying the institution your active teaching presence.

Furthermore, the en masse support you received from the AMU Court and EC during Vice-Chancellor empanelment processes (October 2023) underscores how internal political networks prioritise opportunism and administrative clout over academic output and institutional integrity.

Conclusion

A constitutional law professor owes an unambiguous duty to truth, institutional ethics, and systemic accountability. When commentary routinely aligns with the politics of the ruling power, when administrative tenure stretches past statutory limits, and when community critique is applied selectively, the credibility of the public intellectual is entirely compromised.

The above account reveals a lot about you and also about the Muslim elites as much as about the Liberal-Left in not exposing you; in fact they have been promoting you. So much so that recently, the Leader of Opposition, Rahul Gandhi proposed your name to the Prime Minister Modi to appoint you as the Chief Information Commissioner of India (The Hindu, April 24, 2026).  This only means, the Liberal-Left as well as the Muslim elites have kept Rahul Gandhi ill-informed about your pro-Sangh credentials articulated in the prominent English dailies of New Delhi.

The academic community deserves clear answers: On what statutory grounds has AMU extended your deputation for two decades, and why has your constitutional critique remained silent on Muslim reactionary politics while consistently validating the ruling power?

Respectfully,

Members of the University and Academic Community

(The authors who are currently teaching and studying at the AMU have requested anonymity)

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author’s personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of Sabrangindia.

Links:

The Tribune https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/comment/learn-from-israel-s-legal-pluralism-530205/

The Indian Express, May 28, 2019   https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/muslims-india-narendra-modi-bjp-elections-2019-5751350/

The Indian Express, 21 March 2020  https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/narendra-modi-govt-6324468/

July 6, 2021 https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/are-mohan-bhagwats-recent-remarks-a-sign-of-moderation-in-hindutva-7390598/lite/

Salman Khurshid, Sunrise over Ayodhya, https://theprint.in/pageturner/excerpt/if-you-cant-beat-them-join-them-cant-be-our-response-to-hindu-rashtra-salman-khurshid/756821/

June 10, 2024 https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/new-government-diversity-constitutionalism-federalism-india-9382218/

YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtHFAJ5ZH78

Sept 1, 2026 https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/mohan-bhagwats-hindutva-is-not-narrow-are-his-words-in-new-york-heard-in-india-10857107/

Tahir Mahmood, Sept 1, 2026, https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/on-women-manusmriti-has-a-context-dont-go-by-colonial-interpretation-10857186/

April 24, 2026 https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/rahul-gandhi-disagreed-on-government-cic-candidate-rti-response-reveals/article70901317.ece

Richard A. Wasserstrom, Strict Liability in the Criminal Law (Stanford Law Review, Vol. 12, No. 4 (Jul., 1960), pp. 731-745 (15 pages), https://doi.org/10.2307/1226524

The Hindu, 20 Aug 2014, https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/andhra-pradesh/NALSAR-V-C-gets-SAARC%E2%80%99s-best-law-teacher-award/article11208173.ece

The post “Balancing Principles”: Are Hindutva far-right supporters and Muslim illiberalism often cosy bedfellows? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The latest round of increases came into effect on September 1. As India Today reported, Mahanagar Gas Limited (MGL) raised CNG prices by ₹2 per kg to ₹88 in Mumbai and surrounding areas, while domestic PNG became ₹1 per standard cubic metre more expensive. The CNG increase is the fourth hike in the current financial year, following two ₹2 increases in May and a ₹1 increase in April. Around 13 lakh CNG vehicle owners and nearly 30 lakh domestic PNG consumers are expected to be affected.

MGL attributed the increase to higher international gas prices amid the continuing crisis in West Asia and the consequent rise in the cost of spot RLNG. However, for households, the reason matters less than the cumulative effect: higher fuel costs feed into transport, deliveries and other everyday expenses.

Public and private transport have both become more expensive. The minimum auto-rickshaw fare in Mumbai has risen from ₹26 to ₹27, while the minimum black-and-yellow taxi fare has increased from ₹31 to ₹33. The per-kilometre auto fare has gone up from ₹17.14 to ₹18.22, and the taxi rate from ₹20.66 to ₹21.90. India Today noted that Mumbai has more than 4.5 lakh autos and over 50,000 taxis, meaning the increase touches a substantial part of the city’s daily commuting population.

Milk has taken another significant hit. The Bombay Milk Producers’ Association raised the wholesale price of tabela milk from ₹93 to ₹102 per litre. NDTV reported that retail prices could reach around ₹110 per litre, depending on the supplier and locality. The association has cited rising production and operating costs, with key cattle-feed ingredients such as green fodder, chuni and oil cakes reportedly becoming up to 25% more expensive over the past year.

This comes soon after another milk price increase across Maharashtra. Hindustan Times reported that cow and buffalo milk prices were raised by ₹2 per litre from August 11. The Milk Producers and Processors Welfare Association attributed the increase to higher diesel, procurement and packaging costs, with packaging expenses alone reported to have risen by around 30%.

The pressure is not restricted to households that buy milk or use autos. Commercial establishments are also facing higher input costs. NDTV Profit reported a ₹9.50 increase in the price of 19-kg commercial LPG cylinders from September 1. The report linked the increase to supply pressures following disruptions to imported cooking gas amid the West Asia conflict.

The escalation in everyday costs has been building for months. In July, the Maharashtra State Road Transport Corporation (MSRTC) raised bus fares by an average 13.5%, with the minimum fare for a six-kilometre journey increasing from ₹13 to ₹15. The Times of India noted that this was the second major fare increase for the state transport undertaking within a year, compared with the 4–5% annual revisions that had been more typical in the past. MSRTC carries around 55–60 lakh passengers every day, making even modest fare increases significant for workers, students and rural commuters.

Food prices have also been moving upwards. Clarion India, reporting from Mumbai on September 2, said residents were already dealing with higher prices of sugar, packaged milk, pulses, rice, eggs and other essentials. One resident cited in the report said sugar prices had risen by ₹20–25 per kilogram within a few weeks, while other routine household purchases had also become more expensive. Families, the report noted, were struggling to balance rent, education and food expenses amid stagnant incomes and employment pressures.

The squeeze is therefore not simply about a ₹1 increase in an auto fare or ₹2 more for CNG. The problem is cumulative. A household pays more to travel to work, more to buy milk, more to cook, and increasingly more for basic groceries. Businesses facing higher fuel, transport and input costs then pass at least some of those expenses on to consumers.

Even the state’s farmers are confronting the same inflationary pressure. A report carried by ThePrint noted that the cost of producing a quintal of cotton in Maharashtra has risen from around ₹3,500 in 2018 to approximately ₹5,000 today. Fertiliser, pesticide, tractor and labour costs have all increased, while the area under cotton cultivation has declined by 2.5 lakh hectares between 2024–25 and the following year.

Taken together, these developments point to a broader problem than isolated price revisions. The cost of maintaining an ordinary household is rising across multiple fronts, while the ability of families to absorb those increases depends on whether their incomes are keeping pace. For many, they are not. That is what makes the latest round of hikes significant. Each increase may appear manageable in isolation. However, when milk, fuel, transport, food and other essentials rise together, the question is no longer what one additional rupee or five additional rupees means. It is how much more a family must spend simply to maintain the same standard of living it had before.

In a city where rent and education already consume a large share of household incomes, the steady rise in the price of necessities is turning the ordinary act of getting through the day into an increasingly expensive proposition.

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The post Mumbai’s everyday life is getting costlier, one essential at a time appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The contemporary economic crisis, dangerously hollowed out middle classes and mounting unemployment (of their children) has brought Indian youth to the brink of becoming Weary Generations (udaas naslein), an expression used by the Urdu novelist, Abdullah Husain (1931-2015), for the generation wasted in Partition, violence, migration and traumatic displacement.

How does one then place or read the energies and fearlessness of the present upsurge be it in Bihar, UP, Delhi or Mumbai? It is not just these seemingly apolitical mobilisations but also smaller left formations (AISA, SFI) that have sustained protests, a) spoken and highlighted education and access for all b) examined structural failures, yes, but also lack of voice and representation c) refused to be black-holed into the Hindu-Muslim paradigm d) broken through a paralysis of fear; e) while in Delhi and Mumbai these may have been dominated by a class difficult for the far right to pigeonhole, in Bihar they are subaltern students. Plus, a protest by Adivasi/tribal students in Maharashtra reached a successful end (though they had been fasting for over 47 days) after Leader of Opposition Rahul Gandhi highlighted their demands. LOP Gandhi speaking of withdrawing criminal cases, getting an FIR lodged, and speaking on youth issues of access and social justice together show how the narrative is for once not being dominated by the regime. The icing on the cake is the union government’s concrete withdrawal of FIRs against many/most if not all the protesters.

Global history demonstrates that youth energy in times of crisis takes one of two distinct paths: violent criminal implosion or revolutionary democratic renewal. In May 1968, France witnessed an explosive student movement that began on university campuses like Nanterre and Sorbonne. French students did not merely demand educational reforms; they linked arms with the working class, paralysed a Gaullist state, and fundamentally reshaped modern European political consciousness through raw democratic assertion. Conversely, where youth energy is denied legitimate political expression and institutional avenues of dissent, it devolves into structural criminality. In 20th-century Sicily (in Italy), the complete absence of democratic avenues for youth advancement permitted underworld gangsterism to swallow an entire generation—a social decay famously captured in Mario Puzo’s literary studies of omertà, patronage, and syndicate power.

Indian campuses today stand precariously at these very crossroads. The current stagnation stands in sharp contrast to the analytical framework established by Philip Altbach in his books, Turmoil and Transition: Higher Education and Student Politics in India (1968) and Student Politics in India (1972). Altbach demonstrated that students in developing democracies operate as a vital “incipient elite” and a primary political conscience. Unencumbered by institutional vested interests, they function as a catalyst for broader societal democratization. This theoretical reality materialised during the 1960s and 1970s across northern and western India. The Navnirman Movement in Gujarat in 1973–1974 began over price hikes in university canteens and escalated into a mass agitation that dissolved the state legislative assembly. Shortly after, the Bihar Movement of 1974, spearheaded by student leaders under Jayaprakash Narayan (1902-1979), directly challenged state authoritarianism and catalysed the nationwide opposition that eventually defeated Congress rule in 1977, after the Emergency (1975-77).

The anti-Congress political forces that seized state power on the back of these youth mobilisations recognized a key reality: an organised, democratically elected student body is an unpredictable, counter-hegemonic force. Consequently, once in power, the anti-Congress and regional regimes (communal reactionaries, single caste, personalized, dynastic and champions of identity-based divisive political forces) systematically disarmed the very machinery that elevated them. Province after province, most notably Uttar Pradesh, campus elections have been suspended across state universities for years, banning, curbing, or neutering Students’ Unions.

Crucially, this structural paralysis of student democracy was not merely a post-2014 phenomenon under the BJP regime; key policy frameworks that enabled this containment were set in motion earlier, notably under UPA-II through the implementation of the Lyngdoh Committee recommendations. As Albeena Shakil highlights in Economic and Political Weekly (2008), the Lyngdoh Committee was constituted following Supreme Court orders to frame guidelines on student union elections—focusing on ‘curbing criminalisation’, ensuring financial transparency, and setting eligibility criteria. However, the committee’s recommendations introduced rigid constraints, such as a maximum age limit of 28 years for research scholars and restricting candidates from contesting office-bearer positions more than once.

The fundamental flaw in this approach was its mechanical, uniform enforcement across vastly different universities without accounting for their specific institutional characters. The Lyngdoh Committee report itself explicitly acknowledged the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) model as an exemplary “model to be followed”—a peaceful, direct election process conducted entirely by students through an independent, elected Student Election Committee without administrative interference, money, or muscle power. Yet, despite JNU’s flawless democratic track record, the Supreme Court stayed the JNUSU elections in 2008 on technical procedural grounds like the candidate age limits and re-contesting of posts. By imposing arbitrary eligibility constraints and administrative control over a self-regulated, highly participatory student democracy, the policy environment under UPA-II severely weakened the capacity of student bodies to function as independent, capably led representative unions.

To understand how youth energy is absorbed in the absence of democratic representation, Craig Jeffrey’s 2009 essay on Meerut University, Fixing Futures: Educated Unemployment, Youth, and Politics in North India, provides the necessary framework. Jeffrey demonstrates how structural unemployment converts campuses into waiting rooms. Deprived of representative unions to bargain collectively against systemic failures, young people are forced into individual survival mechanisms. They become fixers (jugaad intermediaries, or brokers, dalals), trading political compliance for minor administrative concessions or informal rents. The failure of contemporary campuses to rise up in the style of global youth protests or digital mobilisations is not due to apathy; it is the direct structural result of an environment where collective bargaining has been replaced by atomised patronage networks akin to the Sicilian boss-client relationship.

This suppression of student democracy occurs alongside a mounting crisis of economic precarity backed by grim statistical realities. Data from the International Labour Organization (ILO) and the Institute for Human Development (IHD) India Employment Report reveals that educated youth bear the brunt of the nation’s job crisis. Youths account for nearly 83% of the total unemployed workforce in India, with the unemployment rate for university graduates standing at an astonishing 29.1%—nearly nine times higher than for those without formal schooling. Furthermore, the Periodic Labour Force Survey (PLFS) metrics continuously highlight that urban youth unemployment hovers at elevated levels between 13.6% and 14.3%, while roughly 90% of employed youth are pushed into informal, unprotected work. Despite holding degrees, millions of graduates remain trapped in underemployment, gig work, or endless competitive exam preparation. Yet, because campuses lack elected Students’ Unions to channel this systemic frustration into organised political demands, this massive reservoir of youth precarity remains politically inert, barring the latest ongoing movements. India, like the Germany of the 1930s, is on the brink of driving the unemployed youth and the campuses towards political extremism, crime, and murderous narco-culture.

Compounding this crisis is the wholesale capture of university governing bodies by pliant, regime-acolyte administrators and accomplishment-deficient academics. In his scathing critique of Indian higher education, Asking for Trouble: Crises with a Meaning (1984), veteran educationist Amrik Singh (d. 2010) laid bare how the Indian university system was being subverted from within by weak administrative leadership and corrupt appointments. Decades later, in the mid-2020s, Amrik Singh’s earlier warnings have metastasized into absolute reality. A knowledge campus must be led by scholars of recognised distinction, who exercise moral and inspirational influence upon the students. Instead, the internal governing bodies of Indian universities, such as Executive Councils, Academic Councils, Selection Committees, and Vice-Chancellorships, have been stuffed with under-accomplished, pliant, sycophantic individuals whose primary credential is ideological compliance and administrative servitude to the ruling political apparatus.

Across state and central universities, appointments to the highest academic offices routinely bypass scholars with high citation indices, major research monographs, or international peer recognition. Instead, pliant, regime-acolyte Vice-Chancellors with minimal publication records and negligible scholarly impact are installed as political commissars. To maintain their illegitimate control, these Vice-Chancellors surround themselves with similarly under-accomplished internal academics, who function as key collaborators and administrative fixers. Selection panels are shamelessly rigged to bypass highly cited, productive researchers in favour of candidates whose sole qualification is political alignment. Consequently, statutory bodies intended to protect academic freedom are transformed into rubber-stamp committees that penalize dissenting faculty, manipulate recruitment, and ignore systemic corruption.

This institutional decay manifests in distinct ways across major, historic, residential and state-funded campuses, illustrating the stark difference between passive compliance and active resistance.

At the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU), an internal administrative oligarchy has long controlled key university apparatuses. With the prolonged absence of elected student union checks, a small network of senior teacher-administrators has maintained an unchallenged hold over the campus. This environment has allowed serious institutional irregularities to persist—ranging from a huge fee scam, illegal annual increments, illegal placements in the Old Pension Scheme (OPS), and financial opacities in civil construction contracts to administrative nepotism, the illegal retention of perks, unauthorized security deployment, and questionable pension schemes. Rather than challenging these abuses, executive bodies and elected teacher associations have largely chosen silence. At the same time, they offer instant, sharp, and unparliamentary reactions against internal whistle-blowers who expose the internal rot of the administration as well as elected bodies. The narrative-setting elites among Muslims rally desperately to fight for the minority status of AMU, but go silent on rampant irregularities within the very university of theirs. Further, they don’t mobilise themselves with equal alacrity and enthusiasm on other issues of social and gender justice, caste exclusions and economic grievances.

To make things far worse, this specific kind of minority-ism finds support from Left-Liberals. Operating under an unwritten code of Omertà, reminiscent of the institutionalized silence of Sicilian mafia structures depicted in Mario Puzo’s novels, they shield administrative failures under the pretext of protecting institutional identity from external hostility. In AMU this code of Omertà is turned into a more dangerous tool. Internal whistle-blowers are hounded, maligned, vilified, and humiliated by plunderers disguising as men of religiosity. They play dangerous politics of demonstrative religiosity and piety, giving a drum-beating clarion call of “Qaum in danger”. It is an open secret among campus insiders that these very demonstrably and instrumentally “pious” Muslim minority professors queue up in large numbers before Sangh functionaries running the Rashtriya Muslim Manch, intending to become Vice Chancellors (Felix Pal, 2020, offers an insight as to why Muslims join it), even while surreptitiously instigating common Muslim youth that the incumbent regime is rabidly anti-Muslim.

Globally too, Peter Fleming’s 2021 book, Dark Academia: How Universities Die, rightly diagnoses that with the neo-liberalisation of higher education over the last 20 years, universities have been turned into psychological hells for professionally committed academics.

Yet, despite all these odds, the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) demonstrates how active representation can disrupt administrative opacity. On August 13, 2026, the JNU Teachers’ Association (JNUTA), alongside the elected JNU Students’ Union (JNUSU), held a joint press conference at New Delhi’s Press Club of India. Rather than hiding inner ills, they publicly detailed administrative irregularities, arbitrary changes to promotion guidelines, and compromised recruitment procedures enforced by the university executive. Despite facing intense administrative pressure, the presence of an elected student union—built on JNU’s long-standing tradition of self-managed student democracy that survived even the legal curbs of the Lyngdoh recommendations—allowed JNU to maintain a counter-hegemonic force against administrative overreach.

The tragedy of contemporary Indian public universities is an existential crisis of purpose. When campuses are stripped of democratic unions, handed over to regime-acolyte Vice-Chancellors, and silenced by co-opted faculty collaborators, they cease to function as spaces of higher learning and degenerate into administrative fiefdoms. Indian youth stand at a decisive crossroads: to remain passive captives within waiting rooms of managed mediocrity, or to reclaim the historic mantle of May 1968. Reclaiming the university requires breaking the institutional code of silence, ousting unaccomplished administrative syndicates, restoring elected Students’ Unions, and transforming quiet frustration into organised political agitation. Of course, ignoring or delaying the task of employment creation is absolutely unaffordable for India at this point of time.

[The author, a Professor teaches Modern and Contemporary History at Aligarh Muslim University. His X-handle is: @sajjadhist]

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The post Closing of the Indian Mind: Campus subjugation, intellectual mediocrity, & death of democratic assertion appeared first on SabrangIndia.

His name is on the voter list. His family says he has voted in India. He has a voter ID, Aadhaar card, ration card and a land deed in his name.

Yet, according to his family, Akhtar was taken away from his home in Karan Dighi, Uttar Dinajpur, late on the night of June 29, allegedly on suspicion of being a Bangladeshi national.

Nearly two-and-a-half months later, he is still not home.

When Akhtar did not return that night, his family initially thought he might have gone to the mosque to offer prayers. It was only later that they learnt that police personnel from a local camp had allegedly visited his house and taken him away.

For his wife, Tofa Bibi, the question has remained painfully simple.

“If he is an Indian citizen, why was he taken away like this? It has been two months, yet he has still not returned home,” Bibi told eNewsroom (Watch the video).

His Name Is on the Voter List. So Why Is Jalil Akhtar in Custody?

Akhtar’s family says he has lived in India for generations.

They point to the documents they have — his voter ID, Aadhaar card, ration card and a land deed in his name. They also say the names of his ancestors appear in old electoral rolls.

The family further claims that Akhtar exercised his right to vote this year.

For them, that makes his detention difficult to understand.

They say they have never known Akhtar to have travelled to Bangladesh. They are also unsure why his nationality came under suspicion in the first place.

The events of June 29 remain particularly difficult for them to forget.

According to relatives and residents, police arrived at Akhtar’s home late at night and took him away.

At first, nobody knew where he was.

Some villagers thought he had gone to the mosque. When he did not return, residents began looking for him. It was then, according to the family, that they learnt that police personnel from the local camp had visited his home.

The family later came to know that Akhtar had allegedly been kept at different holding centres.

They also claim that during court proceedings, he was described as a resident of Thakurgaon district in Bangladesh.

That is something the family disputes.

They say Akhtar has spent his life in India and has never travelled to Bangladesh.

‘If He Is an Indian Citizen, Why Was He Taken Away?’

For Bibi, the long separation has brought a different kind of worry.

Her husband is 66. The family says he is diabetic.

“He has been away from home for so long. We don’t know what will happen to him,” Bibi said.

Akhtar has two sons. Both work as migrant labourers in other states. He also has two daughters, both of whom are married.

With the sons away for work and the daughters living with their own families, Bibi has been left to deal with the uncertainty at home.

She does not know when her husband will return.

She also does not know what will happen to him if the authorities ultimately decide that he is not an Indian citizen.

The family fears that Akhtar could be sent to Bangladesh. They insist that he has never been there.

Residents have also reportedly raised their voices demanding his release.

But the question of Akhtar’s nationality is now before the court.

Rakesh Singh, Superintendent of Police, Islampur district, told The Telegraph that Akhtar is in judicial custody and that the court will take a decision. The matter, he said, is entirely sub judice.

Akhtar’s lawyer, Mukhtar Ahmed, says the family has already submitted the necessary documents before the court to establish his citizenship.

According to Ahmed, successive hearing dates have been fixed, while Akhtar has remained in jail for the past two-and-a-half months.

The lawyer said Akhtar has been languishing in custody despite the documents submitted in his case.

Dulal Rajbanshi, convenor of the Vote Rights Protection Coordination Committee, whose statement was published in The Telegraph, alleged that there were preparations to send the 66-year-old back to Bangladesh.

Rajbanshi described such a move as a violation of human and constitutional rights.

He also said police have so far failed to establish before the court that Akhtar is an illegal Bangladeshi national.

Those claims are disputed matters before the court and have not been finally established.

What Evidence Does the Administration Have?

The case leaves a number of questions unanswered.

What evidence does the administration have to establish that Akhtar is a Bangladeshi national?

How were the Indian documents held by him examined and verified?

If his name appears on the electoral roll and his family says he voted this year, what led the authorities to question his nationality?

And under what legal process has a 66-year-old man remained in custody for more than two months?

These are questions for the administration and the court to answer.

For Akhtar’s family, however, the matter is not about a legal argument alone.

It is about a man who was at home one night and did not come back.

His sons continue to work in other states. His daughters have their own families. His wife is still waiting.

The SIR process may have left Jalil Akhtar’s name on the electoral roll.

But for his family, that has not brought the relief they expected.

Instead, they are waiting for the return of a husband, father and grandfather whose nationality is now being contested.

And every day that passes leaves Bibi with the same question:

When will Jalil Akhtar come home?

Courtesy: https://enewsroom.in

The post His Name Survived SIR. Then Police Took Him Away: The Unexplained Detention of 66-Year-Old Jalil Akhtar appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A Bench comprising Justices Atul Sreedharan and Achal Sachdev allowed Chaudhary’s habeas corpus petition and held that the detention was founded on what the Court described as a “concocted story” by the State. The Court directed that she be released immediately if her custody was not required in any other case. The Court also directed the Noida authorities to pay her ₹5 lakh in compensation. The detailed order is awaited.

However, Bar & Bench has reported that Chaudhary is likely to remain in custody for the time being because she has not yet secured bail in the other criminal cases registered in connection with the Noida workers’ agitation. The judgment comes after the Bench subjected the State’s version of Chaudhary’s arrest and alleged involvement in the violence to close scrutiny, particularly the chronology of her arrest and the notices issued under the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS).

Court questions sequence of arrest and BNSS notices

During the hearing, the State told the Court that Chaudhary had been arrested at 10:56 a.m. on April 12, 2026 and that a notice under Section 130 of the BNSS had been issued to her. The State’s case was that Chaudhary had instigated protesters to engage in stone-pelting and arson. The Bench, however, questioned whether the procedure prescribed under the BNSS had actually been followed.

Justice Sreedharan specifically asked whether Chaudhary had first been served a notice under Section 126. The State acknowledged that no such notice had been issued and that the notice under Section 130 had instead been served. The Court then examined the chronology of the documents and the General Diary (GD) entry. Justice Sreedharan questioned how a notice could have been prepared after Chaudhary had already been arrested.

As reported by LiveLaw, the Court observed in court: “Ab ismei GD entry dekhiye, usko arrest karliya fir notice banaya.”

The Bench further pointed to the apparent inconsistency between the arrest record and the notice, observing that the record indicated that Chaudhary had already been arrested before the notice was prepared. The Court’s questioning went to the heart of the legality of the detention: whether the State had followed the statutory sequence required before taking the drastic step of arrest and subsequently placing Chaudhary under preventive detention.

‘Whatever violence has happened is after her arrest’

The Court also closely examined the State’s claim that Chaudhary had played a role in instigating the violence during the workers’ protest. The State relied on the events surrounding the workers’ mobilisation and alleged that Chaudhary had encouraged protesters to resort to violence, including stone-pelting and arson. But the Bench drew attention to the chronology of events.

According to the State’s own account, people had gathered for the protest on April 11. Justice Sreedharan pointed out that the significant violence relied upon by the prosecution occurred only later.

“Yani 11 ko koi violence nahi tha. Whatever violence has happened is after her arrest,” the Court observed, according to LiveLaw.

The observation was significant because the State’s case depended on establishing Chaudhary’s connection to the violence. If she had already been arrested before the violence that formed the basis of the allegations, the Court was evidently questioning how the State could attribute subsequent acts of violence to her.

Where is the video evidence?

The Bench had already expressed concern about the evidentiary basis of the State’s allegations during the previous hearing. On September 1, the Court had specifically asked the Uttar Pradesh government to produce video footage showing Chaudhary allegedly instigating protesters to throw stones or set vehicles on fire. The State sought additional time to obtain and produce the footage. The Court refused.

Justice Sreedharan noted that Chaudhary had already spent approximately five months in custody and said, “I won’t give time. She has been in jail for 5 months.”

The Bench had also warned that if the record ultimately showed an arbitrary exercise of power, costs could be imposed on the officials concerned. The issue resurfaced during the final hearing when the State relied upon witness statements that allegedly named Chaudhary. The Bench, however, sought something more specific: where was the material showing that she had actually instigated the violence?

The Court also questioned the State’s reliance on the chargesheet, asking where the witnesses had specifically implicated her and where the videographic evidence demonstrated the alleged acts of instigation.

From workers’ protest to NSA detention

Chaudhary’s detention stems from the Noida workers’ protests of April 2026, which began over demands for higher wages and improved working conditions and later escalated into violence, arson and clashes with the police. The protests began peacefully but turned violent on April 13. Police subsequently arrested a large number of workers and activists and registered multiple criminal cases.

Chaudhary, a Delhi University history graduate and activist, was among those arrested. The Uttar Pradesh government subsequently invoked the NSA against her and journalist and activist Satyam Verma on May 13. The police alleged that the two had played a significant role in the violence and disruption associated with the workers’ agitation.

At the time, Gautam Buddh Nagar Police Commissioner Laxmi Singh claimed that the police had “strong electronic and videographic evidence” against Chaudhary, Verma and others arrested in connection with the protests. The police’s version was that the violence was not spontaneous but part of a wider organised effort.

Detailed report may be read here and here.

Related:

Noida Protest 2026: A labour uprising the state refused to understand

No ‘Pakistan conspiracy’ in Noida labour unrest: Fact-finding report

NSA slapped on journalist, DU scholar in Noida workers’ protest case amid allegations of crackdown on dissent

The post Allahabad HC quashes NSA detention of Aakriti Chaudhary, questions ‘concocted’ State narrative in Noida workers’ protest case appeared first on SabrangIndia.