Kolhapur Police corruption broker exposed

Khaki, Black Money - Part 1 Crores allegedly traded for transfers and promotions; seven bank accounts under scanner AI Generated Image Kolhapur: Kolhapur has stumbled upon a rare moment of truth — and possibly a historic reckoning — within the police force. An alleged broker in the police establishment, Satish Panekar, was caught red-handed by the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB) a few months ago for demanding hefty bribes in return for transfers and promotions. After spending time behind bars,...

min read

Kolhapur Police corruption broker exposed

Khaki, Black Money - Part 1 Crores allegedly traded for transfers and promotions; seven bank accounts under scanner AI Generated Image Kolhapur: Kolhapur has stumbled upon a rare moment of truth — and possibly a historic reckoning — within the police force. An alleged broker in the police establishment, Satish Panekar, was caught red-handed by the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB) a few months ago for demanding hefty bribes in return for transfers and promotions. After spending time behind bars, Panekar is now out on bail. Departmental and ACB probes are formally underway, and he is expected to face trial. Yet, the central question remains deliberately unanswered: who was Panekar working for? Who is the real architect of this racket — the invisible hand that turned postings and promotions into a marketplace? If that “big fish” is netted, the shockwaves could rattle the upper echelons of Maharashtra’s police hierarchy. This is not merely about one middleman. It is about dismantling a system that has converted the uniform into a licence to mint black money. Whether this opportunity is seized or squandered will determine the future credibility of a police force already battered by corruption. Big Scandal The Panekar case has now become the most talked-about scandal within the Kolhapur police. He allegedly acted as a broker for transfers and promotions, with a woman police officer accused of identifying and funneling “clients” to him. Officers seeking favourable postings or career advancement were directed to Panekar, where the “rate card” was fixed. Once the payment was made, the desired transfer or promotion allegedly followed — as if by divine intervention. What was earlier whispered in corridors is now openly discussed: the racket is believed to have handled transactions running into several crores of rupees. The Shiv Sena (Uddhav Thackeray faction) deputy leader Sanjay Pawar has formally alleged that Panekar parked this illegal wealth in multiple bank accounts held in his and his family members’ names. He has submitted details of seven such accounts to the district police chief, demanding a thorough probe. The ACB, too, has reportedly sought permission from the Reserve Bank of India to access details of these accounts. If pursued honestly, the coming days could reveal the true scale of black money generated through police transfers and promotions — money extracted under the very authority meant to uphold the law. The biggest challenge, however, remains untouched: the arrest and exposure of the real mastermind. Suspicion Widens Investigators believe the money collected by Panekar runs into several crores. The locations of the bank accounts raise further suspicion. Unlike ordinary citizens, who typically open accounts close to home, these accounts are spread across branches of nationalised and private banks in areas such as Kasba Bawda, Radhanagari and Gandhinagar. A pressure-free investigation could expose how deeply the police force has sunk into this cesspool — and who has been shielding whom. The needle of suspicion, meanwhile, points towards a senior police officer in the state. Since Panekar’s arrest, this officer is said to have visited Kolhapur on three occasions. There is talk that the officer even met Panekar while he was in custody at the Rajarampuri police station and stayed in the city for three days. Who is this officer? How much wealth was accumulated during his tenure in Kolhapur? If Panekar begins to speak candidly before the inquiry committee, these answers may no longer remain buried. But for that to happen, the committee needs more than procedure — it needs protection. Protection that can come only from the Chief Minister himself.

Festival Fiasco

Correspondent
1 day ago
3 min read

Sheer neglect of procedure and muddled leadership have done more harm to IFFK than any act of censorship.

The International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK) has long prided itself on being India’s most politically alert cinephile gathering and a place where serious cinema, global causes and robust debate intersect. This year, however, the 30th edition of the IFFK turned into a cautionary tale about how administrative laxity, dressed up as ideological resistance, can corrode credibility faster than any act of censorship.

At the heart of the controversy is the Union government’s initial denial of censorship exemption to 19 films slated for screening at the festival, including a clutch of Palestinian titles and even Sergei Eisenstein’s centenarian classic Battleship Potemkin. Four films were later cleared. However, protests followed and political denunciations came thick and fast. Kerala’s Chief Minister, Pinarayi Vijayan, stepped in with a directive that all scheduled films be screened. To many in the festival’s faithful audience, it looked like a familiar morality play - an overbearing Centre throttling artistic freedom, resisted heroically by a defiant state. But that tidy narrative is now fraying.

Deepika Suseelan, artistic director of IFFK as recently as 2022, has punctured the balloon with an inconvenient reminder: censorship exemptions are governed less by ideology than by paperwork. And paperwork, she suggests, was precisely where the organisers failed. Exemption, she notes, is not granted on the fly. It requires applications to be submitted at least a month in advance. For a December festival, that means early November. The exemption order itself is typically expected a fortnight before the festival opens.

This year, according to her, the Kerala State Chalachitra Academy (KSCA), which runs IFFK, submitted its application perilously late, only this month. The Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, she says, cited this delay as the sole reason for denial. If so, outrage directed at Delhi may be theatrics misdirected. Public grandstanding after administrative negligence as Suseelan tartly put it, is not a substitute for institutional discipline.

Others from within Kerala’s film fraternity echo that assessment. Filmmaker Dr Biju, a frequent IFFK participant and former jury member, has asked the most basic question: why were films scheduled at all without securing mandatory permissions? No serious international festival does that. To do so is to gamble the festival’s integrity on hope and to invite precisely the sort of last-minute chaos now unfolding.

Compounding the problem is a leadership vacuum. For the first time in its three-decade history, IFFK is being held without either an artistic director or the visible presence of its chairman. Resul Pookutty, the Oscar-winning sound designer who currently heads the KSCA, is abroad on prior commitments. Former chairman Kamal and others have noted that such an absence is institutionally indefensible.

The result is a credibility crisis that extends beyond this year’s screenings. Suseelan warns that mishandling the exemption process now could invite tighter scrutiny and stricter controls in future editions, complicating submissions, discouraging international participation and narrowing curatorial freedom. The damage, she suggests, will not be easy to undo.

There is also the question of intent. Choosing ‘Palestine 36’ as the opening film, which has been criticised by some as overtly one-sided political messaging, has fuelled perceptions that confrontation was not merely accidental.

The Modi government has adopted a calibrated West Asia policy, maintaining historic support for Palestinian welfare while deepening strategic ties with Israel. That balance has served India’s diplomatic and security interests well. Against this backdrop, it is neither unreasonable nor sinister for the Centre to expect strict procedural compliance before granting exemptions, especially when films are framed not merely as art but as political statements.

Kerala’s Chief Minister eventually directed that all films be screened, effectively converting a procedural lapse into a political showdown.

This may have played well to the gallery, but it sets a reckless precedent. If IFFK wishes to remain a serious festival rather than a performative one, it must relearn a basic truth: institutional credibility is built on process. When that collapses, no amount of righteous anger can fill the void.