Some things to Reconsider

Not all transformative politicians are populists. Some, like Pratap Singh Kairon of Punjab, were pragmatic state-builders who resisted short-term populist temptations and thought institutionally. Kairon opposed the Punjabi Suba movement on linguistic and religious grounds, invested heavily in long-term electrification, and strengthened rural infrastructure. His fall owed more to the authoritarian style of his administration than to populism. Similarly, K. Kamaraj in Madras pioneered the mid-day meal scheme and educational expansion, embedding social policy in ways that outlived him. Internationally, Jacinda Ardern and Lee Kuan Yew exemplify leaders who did not merely ride waves of mass grievance but channelled state capacity to rebuild polities. But politics has a way of elevating not only such builders but also demagogues and provocateurs. If one studies populists across contexts, three things stand out. First, they rarely create grievances; they exploit those already fermenting b...

  Not long ago, we lost Surf’s Lalita Ji —Kavita Chaudhary—immortalised by the line, “Surf ki kharidari mein samajhdari hai.” That campaign from the 1980s celebrated intelligence in consumption—an India that sought value, where every rupee had to stretch, forcing manufacturers to sharpen their act. Compare that with today’s Swiggy Uncle , Naresh Gosain sneaking a Gulab Jamun behind his wife’s back. That ad isn’t about thrift at all—it’s about indulgence, instant gratification and premiumisation. Markets, as economists remind us, are giant information-processing machines. They respond to demand. If you take the Lalitaji-to-Swiggy arc as metaphor, our consumption has migrated from careful spend to aspirational spend. Lalitaji’s India wanted efficiency; Swiggy’s India wants convenience and small luxuries. Policy, however, is still struggling to catch up. The Union Budget this year tried to sweeten the middle class with some tax relief. The idea: give people more cash, they’ll spe...

  Recently, Amit Shah, the honourable Home Minister, while addressing a book launch, declared: “In a few years people who speak in English will feel ashamed.” This wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Shah has long shown his fondness for “One Nation, One Language” and his distaste for English. Read between the lines and the message is clear: India’s rulers want to dictate not just how we vote, but how we speak, eat, pray, and now, even how we play. Indian politicians have one hobby that beats all others: sermonising. Instead of governing—writing policy, enforcing contracts, ensuring safety—they prefer to instruct citizens. Governance becomes homily, laws become sermons. Take two excellent columns in Business Standard . Devangshu Dutta dissects India’s new Online Gaming Bill, 2025, calling it another example of politicians confusing governance with sermonising. The bill, with one sanctimonious sweep, outlaws fantasy sports, rummy, poker—any game where money is wagered in hope of winnin...

https://www.telegraphindia.com/opinion/show-of-honour-the-tweak-in-indias-military-traditions-prnt/cid/2118942 Two images remain stuck in my mind—not painful, but irritating thorns you can’t quite pluck out. The first is of Colonel Santosh Babu, killed in the brutal hand-to-hand clash with Chinese troops in Galwan in 2020. He was posthumously awarded the Maha Vir Chakra, India’s second-highest gallantry honour. So far, so dignified. But at Rashtrapati Bhavan, the medal wasn’t simply handed to his widow, Santoshi Babu. No, his mother, Manjula, was pulled into the frame. The cameras swooned, godi-media cheered —“See, for the first time, both wife and mother honoured. A new age of female emancipation!” My question was, where was the father? Is his grief of lesser value in the marketplace of sorrow? Or simply inconvenient for the photo-op? Grief, too, had been scripted for the storyboard. Call me old-fashioned, even chauvinist, but found it theatrics in poor taste. The second image ra...

 https://www.business-standard.com/opinion/columns/fiis-vs-diis-reversing-roles-in-india-s-equity-market-after-25-years-125081402018_1.html https://www.business-standard.com/economy/news/net-fdi-falls-to-40-million-in-may-2025-on-higher-outflows-125072301466_1.html Let’s stitch together three reports and an opinion piece from Business Standard all recent—and read the tea leaves. In 1992, foreign institutional investors (FIIs) dipped their toes into Indian equity with a modest investment of ₹13 crore. Domestic players (DIIs) then sat fat with ₹45,000 crore. Fast forward to 2014: the equations flipped. FIIs had ballooned to ₹6.6 trillion, while DIIs were crawling at ₹42,000 crore. In 2025, they’ve switched again: FIIs at ₹10 trillion, DIIs overtaking them at ₹14 trillion. Janak Raj of the Centre for Social and Economic Progress hails this as resilience. But let’s not dress up this as a symbol of “Atmanirbhar Bharat”. Capital has no hews of colour. Now to the horror story: net FD...

  https://theprint.in/national-interest/indian-pakistan-air-force-doctrines-1965-1971-kargil-op-sindoor/2722096/ Among the well-worn tales of the 1965 Indo-Pak war, one stands tall: Lal Bahadur Shastry’s fearless call to cross the International Border in Punjab, defying both diplomatic and military counsel (especially diplomatic), to relieve pressure in Kashmir or then LoAC. It was a rare moment in history when Delhi’s political leadership took a risk for the soldier in the trench. But during the recent monsoon session of Parliament, Narendra Modi, in what can only be described as his “Blames, Boasts & Bullshit — Volume Whatever,” introduced a new villain into his perpetual “blame-the-past” series. Nehru the usual punching bag, Manmohan Singh gets a usual swipe, Rajiv Gandhi a mention sometimes, and even Indira in a rare moment. But Shastry? Yes, Shastry. Accused, by insinuation, of “squandering” the chance to reclaim Haji Pir Pass and Kartarpur Sahib. Why? Because Op Sind...

  https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/debunking-the-myth-of-job-creation/article69924144.ece “Minimum Government and Maximum Governance” was the English couplet that powered the Modi juggernaut in 2014. Another line from the same sonnet was, “Government has no business to be in business.” Those lines weren’t policy; they were poetry. In Amit Shah’s own vocabulary, they were jumlas . And like most poetry in politics, they have aged into parody. Common sense tells us: when schemes multiply, so does discretion . Eligibility thresholds, definitions, continuity tests, pay-out schedules—each becomes a lever in the hands of the bureaucracy. Markets stop being a free actor, ingenuity is replaced by compliance, talent becomes a footnote, and entrepreneurship is reduced to a function of a bureaucrat’s enthusiasm or whim. Even with the best intentions and the clearest rules, someone in an office still decides who qualifies and who doesn’t. That someone is not “the market” —it is the Ba...