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By:

Dr. Kishore Paknikar

29 January 2025 at 2:43:00 pm

The Maintenance Imperative

On Technology Day, India’s future as a technological power will depend as much on a culture of maintenance as on innovation itself. National Technology Day, observed on May 11, commemorates India’s successful Pokhran-II nuclear tests in 1998, a powerful demonstration of scientific capability, strategic ambition, and sustained national effort. These milestones rightly celebrate innovation and breakthroughs. Yet they also prompt a deeper reflection: such achievements rest not only on moments of...

The Maintenance Imperative

On Technology Day, India’s future as a technological power will depend as much on a culture of maintenance as on innovation itself. National Technology Day, observed on May 11, commemorates India’s successful Pokhran-II nuclear tests in 1998, a powerful demonstration of scientific capability, strategic ambition, and sustained national effort. These milestones rightly celebrate innovation and breakthroughs. Yet they also prompt a deeper reflection: such achievements rest not only on moments of genius but on decades of meticulous planning, testing, repair and upkeep. Technology thrives on continuity, discipline, and the unglamorous work of keeping complex systems operational over time. The Pokhran-II tests, conducted under conditions of extraordinary secrecy, represented the culmination of decades of scientific institution-building that began soon after Independence. Under figures such as Homi Jehangir Bhabha and later Vikram Sarabhai, India invested heavily in indigenous scientific capacity despite scarce resources and international technology restrictions. The country’s atomic and space programmes evolved not through sudden bursts of innovation alone, but through years of patient experimentation, repeated setbacks, rigorous maintenance of facilities and the cultivation of technical expertise across generations. Even India’s early space missions depended on engineers improvising with limited infrastructure while carefully preserving and refining the systems they already possessed. Costly Pattern However, across India, a familiar and costly pattern persists. New infrastructure is inaugurated with fanfare, but maintenance often receives far less attention. Costly medical equipment in public hospitals lies idle for want of timely servicing or trained operators. Roads develop potholes within months. Water pipelines leak chronically, and public buildings deteriorate rapidly. These are not failures of design but of upkeep and institutional follow-through. The economic toll is substantial. According to World Bank estimates, poor maintenance costs low- and middle-income countries at least $390 billion annually in infrastructure disruptions. In India, the maintenance and repair market is projected to grow from around $202 billion in 2024 to over $500 billion by 2033. Poor maintenance accelerates asset degradation, inflates long-term costs, and undermines returns on public investments. History offers repeated warnings about the consequences of neglect. The decline of once-formidable public infrastructure in many postcolonial states was not always due to lack of ambition or engineering skill, but to inadequate maintenance cultures and weak institutional continuity. Even great empires understood this principle. The Romans maintained roads and aqueducts through disciplined administrative systems; the British Empire sustained its vast railway networks through relentless inspection and repair schedules. In post-Independence India, however, public discourse often celebrated the symbolism of construction more than the less glamorous responsibility of preservation. While ribbon-cutting ceremonies often attract political attention, maintenance budgets rarely do. Lack of Maintenance The neglect extends to education and research institutions. New laboratories and campuses are built, yet equipment becomes outdated or non-functional, buildings fall into disrepair, and even guest houses often fail to meet basic standards. This mindset begins in our education system. Engineering, management, and vocational curricula focus heavily on creation and innovation while treating maintenance, reliability engineering, and lifecycle management as secondary concerns. We must elevate maintenance as a respected, technically rigorous field of study and practice. Maintenance work itself remains largely invisible. Technicians, operators, and field engineers who keep systems running rarely receive the recognition given to designers. Yet a robust technological ecosystem depends equally on both. Focusing on maintenance does not diminish innovation. It sustains and amplifies it. Well-maintained systems last longer, operate more efficiently, and free up resources for new endeavours. Industries using preventive and predictive maintenance have reported up to 30% reductions in overheads and sharp drops in unplanned downtime. Policy and cultural shifts are essential: dedicated long-term funding for asset maintenance, stronger accountability through performance audits and uptime incentives, greater investment in training maintenance professionals, integration of reliability engineering into mainstream curricula, and wider adoption of tools like IoT-based predictive monitoring. As India aspires to become a developed nation and global technology leader, success will be measured not only by what we build but by how reliably we keep it running. A truly technological society honours the full lifecycle of its creations. On this Technology Day, let us recognise the quiet professionals who maintain our systems daily and commit to building a national culture of maintenance. Nations do not fail for lack of bold ideas; they falter when they stop sustaining what they have built. (The writer is an ANRF Prime Minister Professor at COEP Technological University, Pune, and former Director of the Agharkar Research Institute, Pune. Views personal.)

Maharashtra’s Relentless Power Broker

Devendra Fadnavis’ return to the centre of power shows how modern Indian politics rewards those who learn how to lose.

Love him or loathe him, Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has become impossible to ignore. In a state where political reputations are usually inherited or quietly managed by shadowy fixers, Fadnavis has successfully made himself the story. For more than a decade now, every tremor in Maharashtra’s politics, every revolt, realignment or rumour has seemed to revolve around his presence.


This marks a striking point of departure as for decades, the state’s politics had been narrated through a single prism: Sharad Pawar. Whether governments fell, alliances formed or rebellions fizzled out, the assumption was that ‘Pawar Saheb’ (as he is respectfully known) was the invisible hand behind any upheaval. Even those who disliked him conceded his reach. The state was less a political arena than a chessboard on which only one player truly mattered.


New Narrative

But Fadnavis’ arrival as Chief Minister in 2014 punctured that narrative. He did not fit the stereotype of a Maharashtra strongman. He was young, unshowy, soft-spoken and widely regarded as a technocrat. Many in Mumbai’s political salons assumed he would be a placeholder, a ‘polite’ face for a government ultimately run from Delhi. They were soon to be proven wrong.


Between 2014 and 2019, he governed with a confidence that surprised both admirers and critics. Infrastructure projects moved at a pace Maharashtra had not seen in years; bureaucratic bottlenecks were cleared; and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), once a marginal force in large parts of the state, built a formidable organisation. Fadnavis combined a command of files with an instinct for the street. Party workers began calling him ‘Deva Bhau,’ a term that conveyed both affection and authority. He was not merely the BJP’s man in Mumbai; he was becoming Maharashtra’s own.


However, in 2019, after a bruising election, Fadnavis lost the Chief Minister’s chair to Uddhav Thackeray, who stitched together an improbable alliance with Pawar’s Nationalist Congress Party and the Congress. For the first time since 2014, Fadnavis was on the outside. Many in the state’s political class, and not a few within his own party, concluded that his moment had passed.


They were to be proven wrong once again. The two and a half years that Fadnavis spent as Leader of the Opposition (LoP) were a political apprenticeship in adversity. He travelled relentlessly, kept BJP cadres energised and used the Assembly floor to harry a government that was often more united by its dislike of him than by any shared programme. He learned how to fight without the levers of power and, crucially, to be patient.


When the Thackeray-led MVA coalition eventually unravelled, Fadnavis returned not as a chastened survivor but as a sharper, more seasoned operator. He had discovered that in India’s increasingly transactional politics, patience can be as potent as patronage.


That education is now on display as Maharashtra heads into a crucial round of municipal-corporation elections. These contests, far from being parochial, are in the machinery rooms of Indian politics. Control of the cities translates into control of contracts, of cadres and cash. Accordingly, Fadnavis he is criss-crossing the state, holding rallies, chairing strategy meetings and micromanaging candidate lists. In some places he campaigns alongside uneasy allies; in others he faces them across the barricades.


Unperturbed Player

What is striking is how little he seems distracted by the noise. Speculation about a reunion of the Thackeray brothers - an idea that has set television studios ablaze – has barely registered in his public utterances. His speeches are dry, even technocratic, dealing with poll nitty-gritties like roads, water supply, sanitation and good governance. He talks less about ideology than about drains. It is a curious strategy in a political culture addicted to theatrics, but it plays to his strengths as Fadnavis has always preferred competence to charisma.


Not everyone in the BJP is pleased. There is a quiet, persistent murmur from a small faction that would like to see him stumble, especially in these municipal battles. But Fadnavis’ grip on the party organisation, his rapport with the BJP’s central leadership and his standing among the rank and file make him a difficult man to undercut. More importantly, he looks unruffled. That, in politics, is often the most unnerving signal of all.


While to dub him the ‘king’ of Maharashtra politics would perhaps be a stretch, yet he has achieved something almost as formidable: he has made himself indispensable to every conversation about power. He understands that modern politics is not just about winning elections but about managing narratives, cultivating networks and, above all, timing one’s moves. He knows when to speak and when to fall silent, when to strike and when to let others overreach.


Maharashtra is entering another volatile phase, with alliances fraying and old families reasserting themselves. Yet through the churn, Fadnavis remains fixed at the centre. Whether voters reward him this time will depend on factors beyond his control. But one thing is already clear. In a state long accustomed to being run from the shadows, Devendra Fadnavis has dragged politics into the open and made himself its most compelling protagonist.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

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