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By:

Rajendra Pandharpure

15 April 2025 at 2:25:54 pm

Policing a Restless City

The Pune police’s crackdown on nightlife and assemblies exposes the uneasy nexus between crime, politics and public security AI generated image Pune: Pune likes to think of itself as Maharashtra’s cultured capital, a city of students, software engineers and retirees. But in the past decade or so, that reputation has taken a beating with the city increasingly turning into a netherworld where criminal gangs operate with growing audacity and where citizens are no longer certain that the state...

Policing a Restless City

The Pune police’s crackdown on nightlife and assemblies exposes the uneasy nexus between crime, politics and public security AI generated image Pune: Pune likes to think of itself as Maharashtra’s cultured capital, a city of students, software engineers and retirees. But in the past decade or so, that reputation has taken a beating with the city increasingly turning into a netherworld where criminal gangs operate with growing audacity and where citizens are no longer certain that the state can guarantee their safety. Faced with mounting public anxiety over deteriorating law and order, the Pune Police have recently imposed two stringent restrictions. Night-time checkpoints now dot the city's roads after 10 p.m. while food stalls, carts and riverside eateries are being ordered to shut early. Simultaneously, authorities have enforced a 14-day prohibition on public assemblies, effective from May 26. The measures have triggered an intense political debate. Crime Wave The immediate backdrop is an unmistakable rise in criminal activity. Across several neighbourhoods, local strongmen known as ‘Bhais’ and ‘Dadas’ continue to wield influence. Their reach extends beyond mere street-level intimidation. Many residents believe these figures enjoy varying degrees of patronage from political parties, creating a perception that law enforcement is either reluctant or unable to act decisively against them. Such perceptions erode public confidence in the police and strengthen the atmosphere of fear. Particularly troubling has been the escalation of gang rivalries. Violent confrontations involving koytas have become alarmingly common. What was once an occasional occurrence has evolved into a recurring feature of the city’s urban life. Attacks now take place in crowded public spaces and during daylight hours, signalling a brazen disregard for authority. The phenomenon has spread to Kothrud, regarded as one of Pune’s quieter and more settled suburbs. The area has found itself drawn into the orbit of gang violence, most notably through the turbulent history of the Andekar gang. The murder of Vanraj Andekar, a former corporator associated with the Nationalist Congress Party, marked a dramatic turning point. Investigators subsequently found that members of his own extended family were allegedly involved in the crime. Retaliatory killings followed as violence spilled onto major roads and public gatherings, while one accused gangster reportedly fled abroad. The rise of the so-called ‘Koyta Gang’ has become emblematic of this trend. To outsiders, the preference for machetes over firearms may appear puzzling. Yet law-enforcement officials argue that such weapons are often used to ensure a killing is completed. Their symbolism is equally important: the koyta serves not merely as a weapon but as an instrument of intimidation, projecting fear in neighbourhoods where gangs seek to establish dominance. Public Nuisance At the same time, the city’s authorities are grappling with a different, though related, challenge. Pune’s burgeoning night-time food culture has transformed several streets and riverside stretches into lively social spaces. But these gathering spots have also generated complaints about drunkenness, disorderly conduct and public nuisance. Residents have increasingly demanded intervention. The police response therefore reflects not only concerns about crime but also an attempt to restore civic order. Whether these measures prove effective remains uncertain. Restricting late-night activity may reduce opportunities for disorder, but it also affects legitimate businesses and social life.

Lingua Pragmatica

Updated: Mar 20, 2025

As Southern leaders like M.K. Stalin rage against Hindi, Andhra Pradesh’s Chief Minister Chandrababu Naidu offers a model of pragmatism over parochialism.

Chandrababu Naidu
Andhra Pradesh

Amid the cacophony of opposition in southern states to Hindi, Andhra Pradesh CM N. Chandrababu Naidu has taken a markedly pragmatic stance by remarking recently in the state Assembly that there was no harm in learning other languages. Hindi, Naidu noted, was useful for communication across India, particularly in political and commercial hubs like Delhi. His remarks, though avoiding explicit mention of the NEP, were widely seen as an endorsement of multilingualism and a rebuke to the linguistic chauvinism that has gripped parts of the South.


Few issues in India stir political passions quite like language. It is not merely a means of communication but a marker of identity, a relic of colonial resistance, and a source of political mobilization. In the southern states, where anti-Hindi sentiment has long been entrenched, the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 and its three-language formula have reignited old tensions. No state embodies this defiance more than Tamil Nadu, where the ruling Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) led by M.K. Stalin has framed the policy as an assault on its linguistic autonomy.


Naidu’s words, welcomed by his ally and Deputy Chief Minister Pawan Kalyan, mark a sharp contrast with the DMK’s position. Tamil Nadu’s hostility towards Hindi dates back to the 1930s, when C. Rajagopalachari’s attempt to introduce it in schools met with fierce resistance. The anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s cemented the DMK’s ideological stance, with its first Chief Minister, C.N. Annadurai, famously warning that Hindi imposition could push Tamil Nadu towards secession.


The question, however, is whether this rigid opposition serves Tamil Nadu’s interests. While Stalin, with an eye to the upcoming Tamil Nadu Assembly polls, has been relentlessly portraying Hindi as a threat to his state’s regional identity, Naidu, a partner of the BJP-led Centre, is framing it as a tool for economic mobility. His argument is not that Hindi should replace Telugu or English but that it offers a competitive advantage.


The economic case for multilingualism is compelling. Indians who speak multiple languages tend to have better job prospects, higher earnings and greater geographic mobility. Andhra Pradesh’s Telugu-speaking diaspora is a case in point. Telugus make up a significant proportion of Indian-origin professionals in the United States, the Gulf, and Southeast Asia as Naidu pointed out, hinting that this success story was built not on linguistic rigidity but on adaptability.


In a country where inter-state migration is rising and where Hindi remains the most widely spoken language, refusing to learn it amounts to self-imposed isolation. Tamil Nadu’s approach, by contrast, risks limiting its youth. The DMK government has refused to implement the three-language policy, keeping schools strictly bilingual with Tamil and English. Its justification that Hindi is not necessary for global success could be true in a narrow sense but ignores the domestic context. If Tamil filmmakers can dub their movies into Hindi to expand their audience, why should Tamil students be denied access to the language that could open more doors for them within India?


The DMK has accused successive central governments, particularly under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), of pushing Hindi at the expense of regional languages. Yet, rejecting Hindi outright is an overcorrection. The reality is that Hindi is an important language in India’s economic and political landscape. Naidu’s position, one of accommodation rather than confrontation, offers a middle ground that other Southern leaders would do well to consider.


Some states already recognize this. Karnataka, despite its own history of linguistic pride, has allowed Hindi to be taught as an optional language. Kerala, whose migrants work in Hindi-speaking regions and the Gulf, has been less hostile to Hindi education. Naidu’s model, balancing regional identity with practical necessity, offers a way forward. Languages should be embraced, not politicized. Southern leaders would do well to listen to him.

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