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21 August 2024 at 10:20:16 am

Broken Corridors

India likes to celebrate its growing tiger population as one of conservation’s great success stories. But tigers survive and thrive because their habitats remain connected. Fragmenting those forests entails risks for thriving tiger populations. The decision to grant an in-principle wildlife clearance for a third railway line through the Satpura-Melghat tiger corridor carries with it precisely that risk. The proposed railway line between Jujharpur and Chichonda cuts through one of central...

Broken Corridors

India likes to celebrate its growing tiger population as one of conservation’s great success stories. But tigers survive and thrive because their habitats remain connected. Fragmenting those forests entails risks for thriving tiger populations. The decision to grant an in-principle wildlife clearance for a third railway line through the Satpura-Melghat tiger corridor carries with it precisely that risk. The proposed railway line between Jujharpur and Chichonda cuts through one of central India’s most critical wildlife landscapes, linking the Satpura and Melghat tiger reserves and forming part of the larger Satpura-Pench-Melghat landscape. This corridor is a biological highway, allowing tigers and other wildlife to disperse, breed and maintain healthy genetic diversity. The Standing Committee of the National Board for Wildlife has insisted that mitigation measures such as wildlife overpasses be scientifically designed and reviewed before implementation. Yet the clearance itself exposes an unsettling contradiction. The committee’s own inspection found that the proposed 34 wildlife overpasses were based largely on field observations and mortality records rather than rigorous scientific assessment. Detailed engineering designs are still absent. Importantly, the comprehensive landscape study by the State Forest Research Institute, Jabalpur, is still awaited. The approval has been granted before the study is in. This reverses the basic principle that should govern projects in ecologically sensitive landscapes. Scientific evidence must guide approvals, not merely refine them after the fact. Once a project gathers administrative momentum, conditions often become exercises in compliance rather than conservation. There have been far too many examples where mitigation structures were inadequately designed, poorly located or inconsistently monitored, leaving wildlife to bear the consequences. The danger extends beyond tigers. The Satpura-Melghat landscape supports leopards, sloth bears, wild dogs, gaur and countless smaller species that depend on uninterrupted forests. Railways have already emerged as a significant source of wildlife mortality across India. Faster trains, higher traffic density and expanding rail infrastructure multiply these risks, especially where animal movement corridors intersect transport networks. None of this argues against development. India’s expanding economy requires better freight movement and modern transport infrastructure. But development ceases to be sustainable when it treats ecological safeguards as hurdles instead of foundations. While a railway can be built, a forest corridor, once fragmented, cannot simply be reconstructed through concrete overpasses and engineering optimism. India has spent decades and enormous public resources restoring tiger habitats and expanding protected areas. Allowing critical corridors to shrink through piecemeal clearances would squander those gains. The Satpura-Melghat corridor is the artery through which one of India’s finest wildlife landscapes continues to breathe. That said, if the government gets the balance between development and conversation right, this project could well become a model for reconciling economic ambition with ecological responsibility.

From Force to Fellowship

India’s laws and policing must finally shed their colonial skin and learn to govern by consent rather than coercion.

India’s legal and policing architecture still carries the unmistakable imprint of the Raj. Its instincts are adversarial, its reflexes coercive, and its imagination confined to order rather than justice. That gap between authority and legitimacy is not merely administrative but philosophical, and it urgently needs repair.


Let us turn to statecraft as explained in the Valmiki Ramayana. In a dialogue in the Ayodhya Kand, Lord Ram explains the meaning of justice to Bharat. It is worth revisiting these ideas in the original epic to appreciate the values emphasised there and apply them to our present circumstances. Justice, in that telling, is not domination by law but moral authority exercised for public welfare. Modern India, for all its constitutional sophistication, has drifted far from that intuition.

 

Unruly Dissent

Consider the management of protest where roads are blocked, railways paralysed, campuses shut down often in the name of peaceful dissent. Courts are increasingly impatient with this theatre of disruption. In January 2026, while rejecting bail for Umar Khalid and Shajeel Imran, the Supreme Court of India held that a “terrorist act” under UAPA could extend to disruption of essential supplies and civic life even without overt violence. Universities have followed suit. Delhi University recently warned that “unrestricted public gathering” risks escalation and deterioration of law and order.

 

Some time back, when Manoj Jarange-Patil proposed to bringthousands of agitators in Mumbai in support of his demand forreservation for Maratha community, his advocates had furnishedwritten undertakings to the Bombay High Court stating they would not disrupt normal life in the city. However, things happened exactly opposite and when theHigh Court called for his explanation, Jarange submitted that the personswho did obstruct normal life were not his followers. Thus, protestleaders do not take the responsibility for the escalation of thesituation which takes unruly turn.

 

The right to protest does not include the right to paralyse normal economic and civil activity. The habit of defying law enforcement has roots in the freedom struggle, when M.K. Gandhi deployed non-cooperation as a weapon against foreign rule. After independence, however, mass protests that disrupt everyday life must be curtailed through clear legal provisions and broad political consensus.

 

No one has the right to block roads or railways while claiming peaceful intent. Protest leaders cannot disown responsibility when crowds turn unruly. A republic cannot function on perpetual exception.

 

If protest reveals the state’s weakness, corruption reveals its rot. Across South Asia, Africa, Latin America and Eastern Europe, recent upheavals share a common cause: youth anger at unaccountable, corrupt governance. According to the Berlin-based watchdog Transparency International, India ranks 91st on the Corruption Perception Index 2025. Its warning is stark: corruption hollows out hospitals, infrastructure and the hopes of young people.

 

Colonial Hangover

India’s anti-corruption framework remains a colonial hangover. The Prevention of Corruption Act was born amid wartime shortages, not democratic expectations. Today, there is a widespread perception that no routine work moves without greasing palms, often at the behest of seniors. Pay commissions have raised salaries handsomely; corruption has nevertheless escalated. Trap cases take a decade to be heard and disproportionate-assets cases languish. Even judicial officers are no longer immune from suspicion. In countries such as Japan, South Korea and Singapore, Prime Ministers and Presidents go to jail when wrongdoing is proved. In India, deterrence is weak and delay is the norm. Unless corruption is tackled in earnest, the fruits of growth will remain far from the common citizen.

 

Nowhere is the colonial inheritance clearer than in policing. The system of district superintendents under magistrates, and commissioners with magisterial powers, was designed to perpetuate imperial rule while maintaining a façade of order. Police were agents of authority, not partners of the public. That model persisted after 1947 with few changes. It is now overburdened and distrusted. The results are familiar: frequent breakdowns of law and order; the rise of organised crime, terrorism, narco-trafficking and cyber offences; political interference; and public hostility so intense that policemen are attacked even during routine duties. Police have become a reactive force, arriving after the damage is done.

 

Innovative Solutions

Yet India has changed. It has a youthful demographic surplus, socially committed citizens, and many able elderly people willing to contribute to public life. Policing must adapt accordingly. With this in mind, I experimented with a different approach while serving as Commissioner of Police in Nagpur between 2008 and 2010 in form of the ‘Police Mitr’a scheme.

 

In this, every police station involved vetted local volunteers - men and women, from all communities - to assist the police under strict supervision. They were trained to prevent rumours, identify suspicious objects, help missing children, assist senior citizens, manage traffic at peak hours, and regulate crowds during festivals and public meetings. They did not act independently. Volunteers performed tasks only under police guidance; no identity cards were issued to prevent misuse.

 

The effects were tangible. Street-level crime fell by over 15 percent. Complaints about non-registration of offences nearly disappeared. There were no custodial deaths and no allegations of third-degree methods. This was not vigilantism Volunteers helped uncover serious crimes, reduced corruption by increasing transparency, and educated neighbourhoods about cybercrime, fraud and radicalisation. They acted, quite literally, as ambassadors of peace and justice.

 

Encouraged by these results, I expanded the scheme across Maharashtra after 2015 (excluding Mumbai). Over 200,000 citizens volunteered. Assaults on vulnerable groups declined by more than 10 percent. Street crime fell sharply. Several radicalised youths were identified early and restored to normalcy. Coastal volunteers assisted with maritime security; rural volunteers helped prevent armed robberies; urban volunteers managed massive crowds during Eid, Ganapati and Navratri. The scheme had no financial burden and required no legal amendment, only leadership and trust.

 

Its limitation is revealing. The scheme survives only where senior officers support it. Without institutional backing or integration into police training, such initiatives remain fragile.

 

Legal reform in India need not mean endless new statutes. It requires a shift in attitude - from suspicion to trust, from force to fellowship. A state that distrusts its citizens will always need coercion. One that trusts them may finally earn peace and govern a truly modern republic.

 

(The author is former Director General of Police, Maharashtra. Views personal.)

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