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By:

Akhilesh Sinha

25 June 2025 at 2:53:54 pm

Code for the Many

India wants artificial intelligence to serve development rather than deepen divides Prime Minister Narendra Modi during a meeting with his Bhutanese counterpart Tshering Tobgay in New Delhi. New Delhi:  As the IndiaAI Impact Summit 2026 enters its third day, India appears to be pressing a case that cuts against the grain of much global AI discourse. The summit has been framed by the Sanskrit maxim  sarvajan hitaya, sarvajan sukhaya  (for the welfare and happiness of all) and seeks to move the...

Code for the Many

India wants artificial intelligence to serve development rather than deepen divides Prime Minister Narendra Modi during a meeting with his Bhutanese counterpart Tshering Tobgay in New Delhi. New Delhi:  As the IndiaAI Impact Summit 2026 enters its third day, India appears to be pressing a case that cuts against the grain of much global AI discourse. The summit has been framed by the Sanskrit maxim  sarvajan hitaya, sarvajan sukhaya  (for the welfare and happiness of all) and seeks to move the debate beyond safety alarms and corporate rivalry towards a more pointed question: who, exactly, should benefit from artificial intelligence. Building on its advocacy in 2023 for fairer digital and financial access for the Global South, India is now positioning itself as a steward of a more democratic, human-centric AI that is meant to narrow, rather than entrench, global and domestic inequalities. That ambition builds on India’s posture at earlier global forums. In 2023, New Delhi argued that digital public infrastructure and concessional financing should be treated as global public goods, particularly for poorer nations. Three years on, the argument has sharpened. If AI is to shape growth, productivity and governance in the coming decades, India insists that its benefits must not mirror the inequalities of the industrial and digital revolutions before it. This sets India apart from the dominant poles of AI power. The United States and China have raced ahead with proprietary models and compute-heavy ecosystems. India, lacking the same scale of capital or chips, has instead emphasised deployment by asking how AI can be applied cheaply, widely and with human oversight. As Prime Minister Narendra Modi has often argued, AI is a double-edged tool: transformative when governed well, corrosive when left to markets alone. Stark Contrast The contrast with earlier summits is deliberate. Britain’s 2023 meeting at Bletchley Park fixated on catastrophic risks and frontier safety. South Korea’s Seoul summit in 2024 focused on scientific cooperation to mitigate harm. France’s Paris meeting in 2025 tried to tether AI to sustainability and public interest. India’s turn is broader and more political. The question it poses is not merely how to restrain AI, but how to distribute it. At the heart of the summit is an effort to make AI legible to ordinary citizens. Demonstrations are expected on its use in schools, hospitals, farms and welfare schemes, with particular emphasis on small towns and rural areas. The aim is to narrow what Indian officials increasingly describe as an “AI divide” between those who can exploit algorithms and those who remain invisible to them. The economic case is straightforward. AI-driven tools can raise productivity by automating routine work, improve hiring by reducing bias, and conserve energy through smarter consumption. In education, adaptive learning systems promise to personalise instruction in overcrowded classrooms. In agriculture, predictive models can guide farmers on soil health, pests and weather, lifting incomes while improving food security. In healthcare, AI-assisted diagnostics, from cancer detection in scans to remote patient monitoring, could compensate for India’s chronic shortage of doctors, especially outside cities. One of the summit’s most politically charged themes is road safety. India records between four and five lakh road accidents a year. According to figures cited in Parliament by Nitin Gadkari, 2024 alone saw 1.77 lakh fatalities, a third of them on national highways that make up just 2% of the road network. Officials argue that AI - through speed monitoring, pre-collision alerts and predictive traffic management - could dramatically cut deaths and emissions alike. Panels on data-driven transport policy will test how far such optimism can be translated into enforcement. Critics note that India still struggles with patchy data quality, weak local capacity and uneven internet access. Grand visions, they warn, risk dissolving into pilot projects. Yet that is precisely why New Delhi is pressing its case internationally. By pooling models, datasets and best practices, especially among countries of the Global South, it hopes to reduce costs and avoid dependence on a handful of foreign platforms. If successful, the IndiaAI Impact Summit will mark a shift in the global AI conversation. From fear to function; from concentration to diffusion. India is betting that the future of artificial intelligence will not be decided solely in data centres and boardrooms, but in classrooms, clinics, fields and highways. Whether the world follows is another matter. But New Delhi has made clear where it wants the argument to go.

Keeping the Sacred Sacred

Updated: Mar 20, 2025

The Kedarnath Temple controversy underscores that if mosques and churches can enforce strict codes, then why should temples be treated differently?

Kedarnath Temple

The controversy surrounding the alleged sale and consumption of meat and alcohol near the Kedarnath shrine has reignited a larger question of Hindu temples being treated with casual indifference while religious discipline is stringently upheld elsewhere? Reports that mule owners and workers, predominantly from Nepal and other communities, are consuming non-vegetarian food and alcohol along the pilgrimage route have led to calls for a ban on non-Hindus in the area. While such a measure would be controversial, the demand for stricter regulations on activities near Hindu temples is long overdue.


Hinduism is often characterized by its inclusivity, but this openness has paradoxically resulted in a lack of safeguards for its most sacred spaces. Kedarnath, one of the four holiest shrines in the Char Dham circuit, is a site of deep spiritual significance. The idea that liquor and meat, both traditionally considered impure in Hindu customs, are being consumed so close to the temple is a cause for genuine concern. Yet, unlike other religious institutions, Hindu temples have historically been left to the whims of state governance, while stricter rules are imposed elsewhere.


Consider the contrast. Mosques, gurudwaras, and churches maintain well-enforced codes of conduct, with strict prohibitions against behaviour deemed disrespectful. The upkeep and administration of these places of worship are often managed by dedicated religious bodies that exercise clear authority over who can enter and what activities are permissible. In contrast, Hindu temples are frequently treated as open spaces, often under state control, with inadequate regulation over who enters and what practices they follow. This discrepancy creates a permissive environment where anything goes, eroding the sanctity of these sites.


In contrast, other religions maintain strict codes around their sacred spaces. Mosques, for instance, universally prohibit alcohol and often restrict non-Muslims from entering. Churches enforce decorum, modest attire, and silence. Synagogues maintain dietary laws with unwavering consistency. And yet, when it comes to Hindu temples, rules seem to be more negotiable, subject to political correctness, or dismissed as parochialism.


Critics argue that banning non-Hindus from Kedarnath’s vicinity would be discriminatory. But is it truly discrimination or an assertion of religious identity? When the Vatican enforces rules about entry, it is viewed as cultural preservation. When Mecca remains off-limits to non-Muslims, it is seen as a matter of faith. But when Hindu sites seek to impose dietary or entry restrictions, it is labelled exclusionary.


The broader problem lies in how Hindu religious spaces are administered. Unlike the management of mosques and churches, which remain largely within the purview of religious authorities, many Hindu temples fall under state control. This paradoxically results in temples being treated as public spaces rather than sacred ones, allowing for external influences that would be unthinkable in other religious contexts. The fact that liquor and meat vendors operate anywhere near a temple of Kedarnath’s stature is a testament to this neglect.


Beyond the religious debate, there is a pragmatic argument for a vegetarian zone around Kedarnath. Pilgrims visiting the temple do so under the belief that they are stepping into a realm of divine purity. Regulating food consumption near temples is neither new nor radical; several temple towns in India already enforce such restrictions. Tirupati, one of Hinduism’s wealthiest temples, bans meat consumption in its vicinity. Jagannath Puri, while famous for its chhappanbhog, discourages non-vegetarian fare within its immediate surroundings. Why, then, should Kedarnath be any different?


At its core, this debate is not about exclusion but about respect. Respect for the traditions of a place that predates modern political constructs. Respect for the sentiments of millions who consider Kedarnath sacrosanct. If other religions can demand adherence to their codes, Hinduism should not be the exception. Enforcing a vegetarian and liquor-free zone around Kedarnath is not a radical demand but a necessary measure to preserve the sanctity of one of Hinduism’s holiest sites.

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