top of page

By:

Correspondent

21 August 2024 at 3:50:16 pm

Arid State

Maharashtra has finally put an official number on a crisis that farmers have been experiencing for weeks. The state government has declared 265 of its 358 talukas drought-affected, activating the first stage of its drought-management framework. The scale of the distress should make this more than another seasonal relief exercise. It is a reminder that water stress is no longer an episodic crisis but a recurring governance challenge. The state received 798.2 mm of rain against a normal 970.9...

Arid State

Maharashtra has finally put an official number on a crisis that farmers have been experiencing for weeks. The state government has declared 265 of its 358 talukas drought-affected, activating the first stage of its drought-management framework. The scale of the distress should make this more than another seasonal relief exercise. It is a reminder that water stress is no longer an episodic crisis but a recurring governance challenge. The state received 798.2 mm of rain against a normal 970.9 mm between June 1 and September 26, a deficit of 18 percent. The first drought trigger is activated when rainfall falls more than 25 percent below normal and is accompanied by a prolonged dry spell of 21 days. Though the aggregate state deficit is lower than that threshold, the taluka-level assessment has established the conditions required for intervention. Except for five districts, rainfall has been deficient across the state. The government has ordered a stay on the recovery of agriculture-related loans and restructuring of crop loans, while extending concessions on electricity bills for agricultural pumps. Employment Guarantee Scheme norms are to be relaxed; food grains provided to farmers and arrangements made for drinking water and fodder. Crop-loss surveys will determine the eventual financial assistance. While these measures can cushion the shock, they cannot solve the problem. Maharashtra has lived with drought long enough for drought relief to have become an administrative routine. The more difficult question is why the state repeatedly finds itself having to mobilise the same machinery. Tankers, fodder camps, loan restructuring and employment guarantees are indispensable when the rains fail. But they are essentially the politics and economics of response, not resilience. The state has considerable experience in watershed development, farm ponds, check dams, groundwater recharge and other forms of water conservation. Yet the effectiveness of such interventions depends less on announcing them than on where they are built, whether they are maintained and whether groundwater extraction is regulated. Large-scale water-conservation works announced as part of the present relief package must therefore be judged by measurable outcomes rather than expenditure. There is a larger agricultural question. A state with highly variable rainfall cannot indefinitely expand water-intensive cropping patterns in regions whose hydrology cannot support them. Crop choices, irrigation efficiency and groundwater management have to become part of drought policy rather than being treated as separate subjects. The present declaration should consequently be viewed as both relief and warning. While the relief is urgent, the warning is structural. The state government cannot control the monsoon but it can decide how much water it captures when the rains arrive, how efficiently it uses what it stores and how resilient its farmers are when the skies fail. A drought code can declare an emergency. But only sustained water management can prevent the emergency from becoming routine.

Selective Outrage

Correspondent
May 9, 2025
2 min read

India’s left-liberal media has long prided itself on being the torchbearer of secularism, dissent and moral rectitude. In the aftermath of ‘Operation Sindoor,’ the precision military strike launched by the Modi government against Pakistan-based terror camps, it has revealed its not a principled commitment to peace or truth, but a disturbing penchant for ideological prejudice, performative sanctimony and selective outrage.


The operation itself was a textbook display of calibrated force and geopolitical prudence. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, often caricatured as ‘authoritarian’ by the ‘liberal’ English-language commentariat, chose patience over provocation. He consulted opposition leaders, held detailed discussions with defence chiefs and took key international stakeholders, notably the United States and Russia, into confidence before authorising limited military action. The symbolism of ‘Operation Sindoor’ was also carefully crafted: a pointed reminder that the attack’s real victims were Hindu women widowed by Pakistan-sponsored militants in Kashmir. The government’s briefings were also strategic and symbolic as two ranking female officers, one of them Muslim, were made the public face of the mission, underlining a new Indian confidence that blends military muscle with democratic pluralism.


But this was unacceptable for India’s entrenched ‘left-liberal’ press, steeped in academic jargon, Western validation and a knee-jerk hostility to anything remotely ‘Hindutva.’ That a Muslim officer briefed the nation on ‘Operation Sindoor’ was branded ‘tokenism’ by such commentators. Others crudely alleged that the April 22 Pahalgam massacre was the logical culmination of reported atrocities against Muslims since Modi came to power in 2014.


The semantic nitpicking over ‘Operation Sindoor’ was maddening. An editor of a prominent magazine dubbed the operation’s name as ‘patriarchal’ and coded in Hindutva tropes. In a bizarre case of moral inversion, sindoor was likened to symbols of ‘honour killings’ and gender oppression, ignoring both its cultural resonance and the cruel reality that these women had lost their husbands in cold blood. For years, India’s ‘secular’ commentariat nurtured a preordained binary: the Congress may be flawed but was at least ‘secular’ while the BJP was an inveterate ‘fascist.’ Thus, the 2002 Gujarat riots are always focused upon but the Congress-backed pogrom of the Sikhs in 1984 is either downplayed or rationalised. Terrorism in Kashmir is tragic, but state retaliation is ‘jingoism.’ A strong Muslim voice in government is ‘tokenism’ but its absence is ‘exclusion.’ Even journalistic rigour is selectively applied. When Pakistan claimed to have downed Indian jets, some Indian outlets rushed to amplify the story before verification, inadvertently echoing enemy propaganda.


Dissent is vital in any democracy. But when its becomes indistinguishable from disdain, when editorial choices are dictated by ideological conformity, then the press becomes a caricature of itself. Ironically, many of these journalists enjoy robust free speech and loudly lament India’s supposed slide into ‘fascism’ from the safety of their X handles. Yet they turn a blind eye to Putin’s repression, Erdogan’s purges or Xi Jinping’s camps. In their eyes, Modi remains the greatest threat to democracy even as they broadcast their outrage freely, without fear of censorship or reprisal. ‘Operation Sindoor’ was a statement of cultural self-confidence. That confidence has rattled those who have spent their careers gatekeeping Indian discourse. Today, their monopoly is over. The people are watching and they no longer believe that the emperor has clothes.

Recent Posts

See All

Comments

bottom of page