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Aloré Network, KOLKATA (2026)

10/06/2026

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈, 𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐄, 𝐕𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑

The controversy surrounding the acquisition of Jaiprakash Associates, Vedanta's challenge to that acquisition, and the subsequent Enforcement Directorate searches at Vedanta-linked premises has become far more than a corporate dispute. It has evolved into a national conversation about power, influence, accountability and trust. More importantly, it has exposed a growing belief among ordinary Indians that some questions are never answered, some institutions are never scrutinised, and some controversies disappear from public debate far too quickly.

The facts themselves are not complicated.

Jaiprakash Associates, burdened with debts exceeding ₹55,000 crore, entered insolvency proceedings. The company possessed some of the most attractive assets available in the Indian market, including vast land banks across Noida and Greater Noida, infrastructure projects, commercial developments, hospitality assets and the Buddh International Circuit. Unsurprisingly, some of India's largest corporate groups entered the bidding process.

Among the most significant bidders were the Adani Group and Vedanta.

Following evaluation by the Committee of Creditors, Adani's proposal was approved. Creditors argued that the proposal provided stronger recovery prospects, greater certainty and faster ex*****on. Vedanta disagreed and challenged the process through legal channels. The company argued that its proposal offered greater value and that creditors had failed to maximise recovery. The dispute reached the NCLT, NCLAT and related judicial forums.

Ultimately, the courts sided with the creditors. Adani won. Vedanta lost.

Under normal circumstances, that should have been the end of the story.

Instead, it became the beginning of a much bigger one.

Shortly after Vedanta's challenge failed, the Enforcement Directorate conducted searches at multiple Vedanta-linked premises under a FEMA investigation. The official explanation was straightforward. Authorities stated that the searches were related to foreign-exchange compliance matters, royalty payments and cross-border transactions. No charges were announced. No penalties were imposed. No findings of wrongdoing were publicly released.

Yet a simple chronology triggered a national debate.

Vedanta challenged Adani.

Vedanta lost.

The ED arrived.

That sequence may not prove anything. But it certainly raises questions.

The first uncomfortable question is directed at the Government of India.

If the investigation was completely unrelated to the Jaypee dispute, why has the government not publicly released a detailed chronology? When did the FEMA investigation actually begin? Was it initiated before Vedanta challenged the acquisition? Was it already under active consideration months earlier? If the answer is yes, why leave room for speculation? Transparency destroys rumours. Silence feeds them.

The second uncomfortable question is directed at the Bharatiya Janata Party.

For years, the BJP has presented itself as the party of accountability, governance and institutional integrity. If that is the case, why do so many politically sensitive controversies eventually generate questions about the independence of investigative agencies? Why does every major corporate controversy seem to acquire a political dimension? Why are citizens increasingly asking whether the same standards are applied to all corporations, regardless of their influence or connections?

The issue is not whether wrongdoing has occurred. The issue is perception. And perception matters because trust matters.

The third uncomfortable question is directed at the Adani Group.

Legally, the group won the acquisition. Courts upheld the process. Creditors approved the proposal. Those facts cannot be ignored. Yet another fact also cannot be ignored: whenever a strategic national asset changes hands and ultimately lands within an already dominant corporate empire, public scrutiny becomes inevitable.

Why do so many valuable assets repeatedly end up under the control of a handful of conglomerates? Is this merely the outcome of business efficiency and financial strength, or does it reflect a broader concentration of economic power? Is India creating competitive markets, or is it creating corporate kingdoms? These are not anti-business questions. They are questions about the long-term health of a modern economy.

The fourth uncomfortable question is directed at the opposition.

Where is the evidence?

Opposition parties have been quick to raise suspicions and insinuations. Yet have they produced documentary proof linking the ED investigation to the Jaypee dispute? Have they demonstrated political interference? Have they shown that the investigation was improperly initiated? If not, are they asking legitimate questions or simply exploiting public scepticism for political gain?

Democracy requires scrutiny, but scrutiny without evidence risks becoming theatre.

Then comes perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the entire controversy: the role of the mainstream media.

Why did this story not dominate national debate?

Why were prime-time studios not relentlessly examining the chronology?

Why were journalists not demanding a detailed public timeline?

Why are celebrity controversies, social-media disputes and political shouting matches often given more airtime than corporate developments involving tens of thousands of crores and questions about institutional independence?

The media frequently describes itself as the fourth pillar of democracy. Yet a pillar that refuses to support public accountability eventually becomes decoration rather than protection.

The frustration felt across India, including in West Bengal, is not emerging from a single incident. It is accumulating from many incidents.

Students see examination controversies.

Job seekers see recruitment scandals.

Citizens see rising costs of living.

Voters see endless political warfare.

Taxpayers see accusations and counter-accusations.

And increasingly, many feel that institutions expect trust while providing fewer reasons to grant it.

This controversy has therefore become a symbol of something larger.

The government says the investigation is unrelated.

Critics say the timing looks suspicious.

The opposition raises allegations.

The media largely moves on.

The public remains unconvinced.

That gap between official explanations and public belief is where democratic legitimacy begins to erode.

It is important to state clearly that no public evidence currently proves that the ED investigation was connected to Vedanta's challenge against Adani's acquisition. Responsible analysis requires acknowledging that fact.

However, it is equally important to recognise that citizens are entitled to ask difficult questions. They are entitled to ask why the chronology appears troubling. They are entitled to ask whether institutions are genuinely independent. They are entitled to ask whether corporate concentration is becoming excessive. They are entitled to ask whether investigative agencies are perceived as impartial. They are entitled to ask why transparency often appears reactive rather than proactive.

The most significant exposure arising from this controversy is not evidence of a conspiracy. No such evidence has been publicly established.

The real exposure is something else.

It is the exposure of a deep and growing trust deficit.

A healthy democracy does not merely require institutions to be independent. It requires citizens to believe that they are independent.

A healthy democracy does not merely require investigations to be lawful. It requires investigations to appear beyond political suspicion.

A healthy democracy does not merely require corporate success. It requires confidence that success is achieved through fair competition.

Until those concerns are addressed openly, transparently and convincingly, every acquisition, every investigation and every politically sensitive controversy will continue to generate the same uncomfortable question:

Are we witnessing ordinary regulatory processes, or are we witnessing a system that increasingly asks citizens to accept explanations without asking questions?

That question may ultimately become the most important legacy of the Adani–Jaypee–Vedanta controversy.

09/06/2026

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌

India is witnessing a dangerous collision between three crises that the political establishment, large sections of the mainstream media and many institutions appear unwilling to confront honestly. The first is an education crisis. The second is an employment crisis. The third, and perhaps the most dangerous of all, is a crisis of trust.

The controversy surrounding remarks made about YouTube educators should never have become a national issue. In a healthy democracy with a healthy education system, it would have remained a brief television argument. Instead, it exploded into a nationwide debate because millions of students saw something larger behind it. They did not hear criticism of a few online teachers. They heard a dismissal of an entire generation's struggle.

When a television anchor described YouTube educators as people with little knowledge who were turning education into a business, the reaction was immediate. Khan Sir and several online educators responded sharply. Their argument was simple: if online teachers are so worthless, why are millions of students learning from them? If schools, colleges and universities are functioning perfectly, why are coaching centres overflowing? If public institutions are delivering quality education, why are students searching for alternatives?

These questions are uncomfortable because they expose a reality that policymakers often avoid.

The coaching industry did not create itself.

YouTube educators did not create themselves.

They emerged because there was demand.

And there was demand because students increasingly felt that the formal system was failing them.

The establishment would prefer to discuss personalities. Students want to discuss systems.

The establishment wants to debate teachers. Students want to debate examinations.

The establishment wants to debate YouTube. Students want to debate their future.

That difference matters.

For years, students have watched controversy after controversy emerge around major examinations and recruitment processes. NEET controversies. Recruitment delays. Evaluation disputes. Allegations of paper leaks. Questions regarding transparency. Court cases. Re-examinations. Endless uncertainty.

The question is no longer whether mistakes occur. Every system makes mistakes.

The real question is why these controversies keep recurring.

Why does every examination cycle seem to produce another crisis?

Why are students repeatedly being asked to trust systems that appear increasingly difficult to trust?

Why do authorities often react only after public outrage reaches a breaking point?

Most importantly, why do millions of young Indians feel that their future can be altered by failures entirely outside their control?

The BJP-led Central Government must answer these questions.

The Government frequently speaks about demographic dividends, youth power and India's future. Ministers regularly celebrate India's young population as the country's greatest strength.

If that is true, why do so many young people feel abandoned?

Why do examination controversies keep dominating national headlines?

Why are recruitment processes repeatedly delayed?

Why do millions compete for a handful of vacancies?

Why does every controversy seem to require public pressure before accountability appears?

Why do students increasingly believe that institutions listen only when social media explodes?

These are not anti-government questions.

These are accountability questions.

And accountability is supposed to be the foundation of democracy.

However, responsibility does not end with the Government.

State Governments must answer difficult questions as well.

Why are government schools in many regions still struggling with infrastructure?

Why do teacher shortages continue to exist?

Why are parents still compelled to spend substantial sums on private coaching?

Why has educational inequality become normalised?

Why do so many students believe that their success depends not upon their school but upon what happens after school?

Every political party promises educational reform.

Yet generation after generation inherits the same problems.

The Opposition also deserves scrutiny.

Opposition parties have aggressively attacked the Government over examination controversies, paper leaks and recruitment failures.

That is their right.

That is their responsibility.

But where are their solutions?

How many opposition-ruled states have built educational systems that others should emulate?

How many have eliminated dependence on coaching culture?

How many have ensured recruitment processes free from controversy?

If every failure belongs to the ruling party and every success belongs to the opposition, then serious reform becomes impossible.

Students need solutions.

Not slogans.

Then there is the mainstream media.

Perhaps no institution has suffered a greater credibility crisis in recent years.

A large number of young Indians increasingly believe that television news spends more time amplifying political narratives than investigating public failures.

Whether that perception is entirely fair is almost beside the point.

The perception exists.

And perceptions shape trust.

The media must ask itself a brutally honest question.

Why do millions of students increasingly trust independent YouTube educators more than some of the country's biggest news organisations?

Why do students believe that digital educators speak more forcefully about examination controversies than national television channels?

Why do many young people feel that some television anchors are more interested in political theatre than public accountability?

The role of journalism is not to protect power.

The role of journalism is to question power.

If students increasingly believe that this role is being abandoned, then journalism faces a crisis far greater than declining ratings.

It faces a crisis of legitimacy.

At the same time, online educators should not be placed beyond criticism.

Some undoubtedly exploit student anxiety.

Some undoubtedly market unrealistic dreams.

Some undoubtedly prioritise popularity over pedagogy.

Some undoubtedly blur the line between education, activism and personal branding.

These concerns are real.

But criticism must be proportionate.

Condemning an entire community because of the actions of a few individuals is intellectually lazy.

Millions of students experienced first-hand what online education provided during the pandemic.

When schools closed.

When colleges shut their doors.

When uncertainty dominated daily life.

Thousands of educators stepped forward and taught students free of charge or at affordable costs.

That contribution cannot simply be erased because it is politically inconvenient.

The deeper issue is trust.

Trust in examinations.

Trust in recruitment.

Trust in institutions.

Trust in journalism.

Trust in political parties.

Trust in promises.

And that trust is eroding.

Perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all is this:

Why are young Indians increasingly looking outside traditional institutions for answers?

Why are students trusting teachers on YouTube more than institutions specifically designed to educate them?

Why are they trusting social media discussions more than official statements?

Why do they increasingly believe that raising questions attracts hostility rather than solutions?

A confident democracy welcomes scrutiny.

An insecure system fears it.

The danger for India is not that students are asking questions.

The danger is that too many powerful institutions appear uncomfortable answering them.

The controversy surrounding YouTube educators will eventually fade.

The television debates will end.

The political shouting will move elsewhere.

But the questions will remain.

If India's education system is functioning properly, why are students so angry?

If India's recruitment systems are functioning properly, why are job aspirants so anxious?

If India's institutions are functioning properly, why is trust collapsing?

And if those in power genuinely believe that everything is working, then perhaps they should stop asking why students are protesting and start asking why students no longer believe them.

Because the greatest threat to any democracy is not criticism.

It is the moment when an entire generation concludes that nobody in authority is listening.

08/06/2026

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐊 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐉𝐄𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

There are moments in a democracy when the incident itself is important, but the response to the incident becomes even more important. The attack on Trinamool Congress National General Secretary and Member of Parliament Abhishek Banerjee in Sonarpur is one such moment.

At first glance, this may appear to be another episode in West Bengal's long and troubled history of political confrontation. Bengal has witnessed decades of political violence under different governments and different parties. Every major political force in the state has, at one point or another, accused its opponents of intimidation, attacks, and abuse of power. The BJP accused the TMC of political violence for years. The TMC accused the Left before that. The Left made similar allegations during its own period of decline. Political violence is unfortunately not a new phenomenon in Bengal.

Yet what happened in Sonarpur is different because the victim was not an ordinary political worker. The victim was a sitting Member of Parliament, one of the most recognisable opposition leaders in the state, travelling to meet families allegedly affected by post-election violence. The images that emerged from the incident were shocking. Stones were thrown. Security personnel struggled to protect him. A helmet had to be placed on his head. Reports suggested injuries to his face, neck and chest. Videos showed chaos, aggression and a complete collapse of political civility.

And yet, instead of a unified condemnation, the country witnessed something far more troubling. Sections of the political establishment immediately attempted to explain the incident away as "public anger".

Public anger?

That explanation raises more questions than answers.

If this was merely public anger, who organised the gathering? If this was merely public anger, why did the crowd appear ready for confrontation? If this was merely public anger, why were projectiles repeatedly directed at a sitting MP? If this was merely public anger, why did security personnel feel compelled to place protective headgear on him? If this was merely public anger, why are there continuing allegations that identifiable political workers were present within the crowd?

The BJP has every democratic right to oppose Abhishek Banerjee. It has every right to criticise him. It has every right to remind the public of the allegations, controversies and accusations that have followed him and the TMC over the years. But there is a line that separates political opposition from physical intimidation. That line exists for a reason.

Many BJP leaders and supporters argue that people remain angry about allegations of corruption, political intimidation and violence during the years when TMC was in power. Fair enough. Those allegations exist. They deserve scrutiny. They deserve investigation. They deserve debate. What they do not deserve is to become a licence for mob behaviour.

If allegations against a politician become justification for violence, then every major political leader in India becomes a legitimate target. Is that the standard the ruling establishment wishes to endorse? Is that the precedent it wants to establish? If tomorrow a BJP leader is attacked because opponents claim to be angry about unemployment, inflation, communal tensions, corruption allegations or policy failures, will the same voices dismiss it as "public anger"?

The principle cannot change according to political convenience.

One of the most uncomfortable questions concerns security. Before the incident, Abhishek Banerjee's enhanced security cover was reportedly reduced following the change of government. The official explanation was administrative. Yet the timing has become impossible to ignore.

The authorities must answer some straightforward questions.

Why was the security of one of the state's most prominent opposition leaders reduced?

What threat assessment justified that decision?

Who approved it?

Did intelligence agencies conclude that there was no significant risk?

If they did, were they catastrophically wrong?

If they did not, why was the protection reduced?

The contradiction becomes even more glaring when viewed against the broader national picture. India has repeatedly extended substantial security arrangements to controversial religious figures, convicted individuals and politically influential personalities. Citizens are therefore entitled to ask a blunt question: if people with criminal convictions can receive extensive protection because authorities perceive a threat, why should a sitting Member of Parliament receive less consideration?

The government may dislike the question. It does not have the luxury of avoiding it.

Then comes the investigation itself.

The police insist that arrests have been made. The government insists that action has been taken. Yet the controversy refuses to disappear because many people continue to ask whether the individuals arrested were actually the principal attackers visible in the footage.

The public has seen videos. The public has seen photographs. The public has heard allegations that some of the most visible participants remain untouched.

Perhaps those allegations are wrong.

Perhaps investigators are proceeding methodically.

Perhaps more arrests will follow.

But if that is the case, why has there been so little transparency?

Who has been arrested?

What evidence links them to the attack?

Have all visible participants been identified?

Have all visible participants been questioned?

Have any politically connected individuals escaped scrutiny?

These are not partisan questions. They are questions that naturally arise when an elected representative is attacked in broad daylight and the public is expected to trust a process it cannot see.

The state government is not the only institution facing scrutiny. The opposition must also confront its own contradictions. The TMC cannot demand accountability today while pretending that citizens have forgotten allegations raised during its own years in power. If the party now champions the rule of law, impartial investigations and democratic protections, it must recognise that these principles are not seasonal. They cannot be invoked only when politically convenient.

However, acknowledging those contradictions does not weaken the central issue. Two wrongs do not make a right. If violence was wrong when BJP workers allegedly suffered, it remains wrong when TMC leaders suffer. If intimidation was unacceptable yesterday, it is unacceptable today. Democracy cannot become an endless cycle of revenge in which every government justifies its conduct by citing the alleged conduct of its predecessor.

Perhaps the most disappointing institution in this entire episode has been the mainstream media.

Where was the national outrage?

Where were the prime-time debates?

Where were the dramatic studio discussions about democracy under threat?

Where were the endless breaking-news banners?

A sitting opposition MP was attacked. Yet many of the very channels that routinely lecture the country about democratic values appeared remarkably uninterested.

The question is unavoidable.

Would the coverage have been the same if the victim had been a BJP MP?

Would every major channel have devoted hours of airtime to the story if stones had been thrown at a ruling-party leader?

Would national debates have dominated the news cycle if the attack had occurred in a non-BJP state governed by an opposition party?

The media cannot claim neutrality while displaying selective outrage. Journalistic credibility is not measured by how aggressively one covers attacks on allies. It is measured by whether the same standards apply to everyone.

The deeper issue extends far beyond Abhishek Banerjee, the TMC or even West Bengal. The incident reflects a growing problem within Indian politics. Increasingly, political opponents are not treated as rivals but as enemies. Increasingly, dissent is viewed as disloyalty. Increasingly, democratic competition is being replaced by intimidation, hostility and tribal loyalty.

That is why public frustration is growing.

People are tired of hearing that every incident is somebody else's fault.

People are tired of selective morality.

People are tired of political parties defending behaviour they would condemn if their opponents engaged in it.

People are tired of institutions that appear increasingly unable—or unwilling—to inspire confidence.

The attack on Abhishek Banerjee is therefore about much more than one politician. It is about whether democratic norms still matter. It is about whether security decisions are made professionally or politically. It is about whether investigations are conducted impartially. It is about whether the media still performs its watchdog role. It is about whether governments are willing to answer difficult questions.

Until convincing answers emerge, the uncomfortable questions will remain.

Who organised the crowd?

Who threw the stones?

Why was security reduced?

Why did law enforcement fail to prevent the violence?

Were all attackers identified?

Were all attackers investigated?

Why has the investigation failed to eliminate public doubt?

Why did sections of the political establishment rush to describe the attack as public anger before the investigation was complete?

Why did the media not treat the incident as a major national story?

And perhaps the most important question of all: if a sitting Member of Parliament can be attacked while carrying out political duties, what confidence should ordinary citizens have that democratic institutions are capable of protecting anyone?

A democracy is not judged by how it treats those who support the government. It is judged by how it treats those who challenge it. Until these questions are answered, the attack on Abhishek Banerjee will remain not merely a political controversy, but a troubling reflection of a democracy struggling to convince its citizens that the rule of law still applies equally to all.

07/06/2026

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋? 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐘, 𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊

For the past several years, Indians have been told that the country has entered a new era. We have been told that India is no longer merely a developing nation but a rising global power, a civilisation-state, a Vishwaguru and a country commanding unprecedented respect across the world. Every international summit, every diplomatic handshake and every foreign visit is presented as proof that India's stature has never been higher.

Yet a recent controversy surrounding Thailand's visa-policy changes has exposed a far more uncomfortable reality. Thailand did not officially blame Indian tourists. Thai authorities cited concerns relating to visa misuse, illegal employment, overstays and broader immigration management. Nevertheless, the moment the announcement was made, social media across India erupted with a different question: have some Indians become so notorious abroad that countries are beginning to reconsider how they are treated?

Whether that conclusion is fair or not is almost secondary. The more important question is this: why did so many Indians immediately find it believable?

The answer lies in a growing collection of incidents that have accumulated over the years. Viral videos of Indian tourists creating disturbances abroad. Reports of littering at tourist destinations. Allegations of shoplifting in Vietnam. Groups dancing in public places with little regard for local customs. Loud behaviour in countries where public discipline is deeply valued. Social media influencers treating foreign countries as backdrops for content rather than societies deserving respect.

The vast majority of Indians do not behave this way. Most Indian tourists are responsible, respectful and law-abiding. But reputation is not built by majorities. Reputation is shaped by visibility. One viral video can undo the goodwill created by thousands of decent travellers.

This is where the real problem begins.

The Bharatiya Janata Party has spent years telling Indians that the world admires them. Every criticism is dismissed as jealousy. Every uncomfortable observation is labelled anti-India. Every negative report is brushed aside as propaganda. But where is the evidence that global admiration is growing at the same pace as the government's claims?

If India is truly becoming a Vishwaguru, why are discussions about Indian civic behaviour becoming increasingly common abroad?

If India is genuinely earning global respect, why are so many viral videos featuring Indians attracting criticism rather than admiration?

If the government's narrative is accurate, why are citizens increasingly forced to defend the country's image online?

Most importantly, why does the government appear more interested in marketing India than fixing the problems that damage India's reputation?

Where is the national mission for civic responsibility?

Where is the sustained campaign for public discipline?

Why are citizens taught advanced mathematics, physics and coding but not basic civic conduct?

Why does India produce world-class engineers and doctors yet continue to struggle with littering, queue-jumping, vandalism and disregard for public spaces?

These questions are not anti-national. They are questions that any serious nation should be asking itself.

The opposition, however, cannot escape scrutiny either.

Where is the opposition in this debate?

For years, opposition parties have criticised the government on economic and political grounds. Yet how often have they spoken seriously about civic culture? How often have they proposed reforms that would improve public behaviour, strengthen civic education or address India's image abroad?

Has the opposition become so obsessed with defeating the BJP that it has forgotten to discuss the social problems affecting ordinary citizens?

If the government is guilty of excessive self-promotion, is the opposition guilty of offering little more than outrage?

And then there is the mainstream media.

Why has so much of the media ignored the deeper issues exposed by this controversy?

Why are endless hours devoted to political theatre while discussions about civic behaviour receive minimal attention?

Why do news channels spend nights debating slogans, elections and celebrity controversies but rarely ask why Indians continue to struggle with basic public discipline?

Why were so many outlets willing to celebrate narratives of global admiration but reluctant to investigate whether those narratives match reality?

Has large sections of the media become more interested in protecting political narratives than examining uncomfortable truths?

The frustration many Indians feel today is not simply directed at politicians. It is directed at a culture of denial.

Too often, criticism is treated as betrayal.

Too often, self-reflection is dismissed as negativity.

Too often, legitimate concerns are answered with slogans.

Whenever someone points to poor civic behaviour, they are told to be proud of India's achievements.

Whenever someone questions India's global image, they are accused of undermining the nation.

Whenever someone highlights a problem, they are informed that critics are jealous of India's success.

But a nation cannot improve by arguing with reality.

The truth is that civic sense remains one of India's greatest weaknesses. Public spaces are routinely abused. Rules are ignored when convenient. Shortcuts are celebrated. Dishonesty is often romanticised as cleverness. The culture of jugaad may occasionally solve problems, but it has also encouraged a mindset in which breaking rules is admired rather than discouraged.

What happens inside India does not remain inside India.

Citizens carry those habits abroad.

And when they do, they carry India's reputation with them.

The Thailand controversy is therefore not really about Thailand. It is not about visas. It is not even about tourism.

It is about whether India is willing to confront the gap between perception and reality.

A country does not become respected because it repeatedly declares itself respected.

A country becomes respected when its citizens are welcomed wherever they go.

A country becomes respected when discipline becomes normal rather than exceptional.

A country becomes respected when civic responsibility becomes a national value rather than an afterthought.

The BJP must answer why its vision of a Vishwaguru appears to focus more on branding than behaviour.

The opposition must answer why it has failed to make civic reform a national issue.

The media must answer why it prefers spectacle over substance.

And citizens must answer a question that may be the most uncomfortable of all:

Do we genuinely want to improve, or do we simply want to be told that we are already great?

Because until India is willing to confront that question honestly, the gap between national ambition and international perception will continue to grow. And no slogan, no campaign and no political speech will be able to bridge it.

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