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By:

Correspondent

21 August 2024 at 10:20:16 am

Hollow Hearts

Pune has long cultivated an image of itself as Maharashtra’s cultural and educational capital. Yet, the alleged murder of a young businessman by his fiancée and her lover at Lohagad Fort reveals a darker reality that beneath the city’s polished image lies a growing culture of selfishness, emotional emptiness and moral decay. According to police investigations, what initially appeared to be a tragic trekking accident has been revealed as a carefully planned killing. The victim was allegedly...

Hollow Hearts

Pune has long cultivated an image of itself as Maharashtra’s cultural and educational capital. Yet, the alleged murder of a young businessman by his fiancée and her lover at Lohagad Fort reveals a darker reality that beneath the city’s polished image lies a growing culture of selfishness, emotional emptiness and moral decay. According to police investigations, what initially appeared to be a tragic trekking accident has been revealed as a carefully planned killing. The victim was allegedly pushed into a gorge by his fiancée and her lover. The details are chilling not merely because of the violence involved, but because of the cold calculation that appears to underpin it. The shocking part is that the victim was not allegedly targeted by strangers or enemies, but by someone who was due to be his life partner. The victim’s father’s, suspecting a bigger conspiracy, has said his son now appears to have been targeted on previous occasions. A society functions on the assumption that bonds of affection, loyalty and commitment still matter. When those bonds are betrayed with such apparent ease, the damage extends far beyond a single crime. Previous generations in Pune, for all their imperfections, tended to view courtship, marriage and family obligations through the lens of duty as much as desire. Commitments were not always honoured, but they were generally regarded as sacred. Today, among sections of the urban middle class, a more transactional ethic appears to be taking hold. Individual fulfilment is elevated above every other consideration and fidelity is seen less as a virtue than as a lifestyle choice. Modern India is witnessing unprecedented prosperity. Cities like Pune have transformed from sleepy educational centres into hubs of real estate, information technology and consumption. While prosperity has expanded opportunities that previous generations could scarcely imagine, rising wealth has regrettably become the sole measure of worth. The Lohagad case is not entirely isolated from broader trends visible in the city. In recent years Pune has repeatedly found itself in the headlines for reasons that sit uneasily with its self-image. Reckless displays of privilege, rising criminality among affluent youth and a growing sense that money can bend rules have all tarnished the city's reputation. The Porsche crash that outraged the nation became a symbol of entitlement unconstrained by responsibility. The Lohagad case, though very different in its particulars, speaks to a similar malaise of the weakening of moral limits. The tragedy at Lohagad should be seen as more than a lurid crime story. It is a warning about a city, and perhaps a country, in which material advancement has outpaced moral reflection. Pune’s greatest challenge today is not managing growth. It is preserving the values that once gave meaning to that growth.

Trigger Justice

Updated: Jan 22, 2025

Encounter killings often find public support as a swift form of justice, but they undermine the very foundations of a democratic society. The killing of Akshay Shinde, prime accused in the molestation of two toddlers in Badlapur last year, is a chilling reminder of an enduring culture of extrajudicial killings in Mumbai’s police force after a magistrate’s inquiry dismantled the official narrative that Shinde had died in a firefight while attempting to escape custody.


The inquiry report, submitted to the Bombay High Court, exposes a fabricated police narrative which had long been suspected. It implicated five police officers, thus raising troubling questions about Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis’ management of the Home Department.

The report found no fingerprints of Shinde on the gun he allegedly snatched, no traces of gunpowder on his hands and no justification for the deadly force used by five police officers present at the scene.


Maharashtra’s police history is replete with tales of encounter specialists who were once hailed as crime-fighting heroes but often operated outside the bounds of the law. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Mumbai’s encounter squads, led by officers like Pradeep Sharma and Daya Nayak, were celebrated for their role in curbing the underworld. Yet, their methods—extrajudicial executions masquerading as shootouts—created a culture of impunity that still haunts the state’s law enforcement.


Shinde’s case was different. Arrested for the sexual abuse of two girls in a school toilet, he was a prime suspect in a case that implicated influential figures tied to the school’s management. Opposition parties have alleged that his killing was a deliberate attempt to shield powerful individuals with connections to the ruling BJP and RSS.


The public outrage following Shinde’s initial arrest had already put immense pressure on law enforcement. Protesters demanded swift justice, but their demands appear to have been met with a travesty of due process.

The resurgence of extrajudicial killings in Maharashtra signals a worrying erosion of the rule of law. Shinde’s death raises critical questions: Who decides who lives or dies without trial? What mechanisms ensure that the state does not wield its power arbitrarily?


Maharashtra’s history with encounter killings offers grim lessons. In the past, these extrajudicial actions were rationalized as necessary to combat the underworld. But they also normalized a dangerous precedent that the state could bypass its own legal system. Shinde’s case suggests that this precedent has extended beyond organized crime, targeting individuals who threaten political or institutional interests.


Failure to address these systemic issues will only deepen public mistrust in law enforcement. The Bombay High Court’s directive for an FIR is a step in the right direction, but a broader reckoning is needed. Maharashtra must confront its reliance on extrajudicial methods.


Justice cannot thrive in the shadow of a gun. If democracy is to endure, the rule of law must be sacrosanct, no matter how grave the crime or how powerful the accused.

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