-Bruhaspati Samal-
The year 2025 dawned not with hope, but with a quiet unease, as if the Republic itself was holding its breath. Two decades after the turn of the millennium, people across India entered this year burdened by a strange paradox: the nation spoke the language of growth and global leadership, yet its citizens—workers, employees, pensioners, women, farmers, and the poor—felt increasingly unheard (nearly 47 crore workers, about 6.6 crore pensioners, over 28 crore households). Streets echoed with slogans, courtrooms with petitions, and households with anxieties (thousands of protests across states, hundreds of PILs pending in High Courts and the Supreme Court). From environmental destruction in the Aravallis to the moral shockwaves of crimes against women, from shrinking pensions to extravagant pay hikes for political elites, 2025 became a mirror reflecting the widening gap between governance and ground reality. India has witnessed turbulent years before. The Emergency of the 1970s, the liberalisation shocks of the 1990s, and the agrarian crises of the 2000s all left deep scars (1975–77 Emergency; post-1991 reforms affecting over 10 crore workers; repeated farm distress involving more than 14 crore cultivators). Yet what distinguished 2025 was not merely the number of issues, but the common thread of public sentiment being persistently ignored until resistance became unavoidable.
The Aravalli hills controversy stood out as a symbol of this governance failure. Stretching over 800 kilometres, the Aravallis are among the world’s oldest mountain ranges and serve as a natural barrier against desertification (spread across Delhi, Haryana, Rajasthan, Gujarat; protecting nearly 13 million people from desert expansion). Despite Supreme Court interventions in the past, successive governments diluted environmental safeguards, regularised illegal constructions, and allowed mining to continue under administrative camouflage (over 25,000 hectares affected by mining and illegal construction; hundreds of mining leases flagged). Public outrage, scientific warnings, and judicial scrutiny finally forced reversals (mass protests involving tens of thousands; multiple expert committee reports). The lesson was stark: when the State treats ecology as expendable, people and courts will intervene to restore balance. The rollback of decisions in the Aravalli case reaffirmed that development divorced from sustainability cannot survive democratic scrutiny.
Equally disturbing was the persistence of heinous crimes against women, reminiscent of the Unnao gang rape case that had once shaken the nation (case involving a sitting MLA; nationwide protests across several states). Despite stronger laws after the Nirbhaya movement, National Crime Records Bureau data continue to show over 4 lakh crimes against women annually (around 4.45 lakh cases reported in the latest NCRB data), with conviction rates hovering distressingly low (below 30 percent in many categories). In 2025, every such incident reignited public anger not merely against the perpetrators, but against institutional apathy (large-scale demonstrations, candlelight marches, and social media campaigns involving lakhs). When survivors struggle for justice while the powerful enjoy protection, courts are compelled to step in—as they did in Unnao—to restore public faith. These episodes serve as a reminder that justice delayed or diluted is justice denied, and public patience is not infinite.
For workers, employees, and pensioners, however, the year unfolded as a relentless struggle for economic dignity (about 47 crore workers; around 3 crore central and state government employees; nearly 6.6 crore pensioners). Inflation officially hovered around 5–6 percent, but real household inflation—driven by food, fuel, healthcare, and education—was far higher (food inflation touching 8–10 percent at several points). Yet wages remained stagnant, Dearness Allowance hikes were delayed, and pension revisions were treated as fiscal burdens rather than social obligations (DA arrears pending for months; pension revisions delayed for years). At the same time, unprecedented pay and allowance hikes for MLAs and ministers, including the much-criticised hike in Odisha (salary hikes ranging from 50 to over 100 percent; affecting 147 MLAs), exposed the moral contradiction of austerity for the many and abundance for the few. Public resentment forced governments to defend, dilute, or reconsider such decisions, proving once again that economic injustice, when too blatant, invites democratic backlash.
The uncertainty surrounding the 8th Central Pay Commission through its anti-employee and anti-pensioners Terms of Reference of maintaining financial prudence (impacting over 1 crore central employees and pensioners) added with the arbitrary provisions under Finance Act 2025 (affecting taxation and pension structures of millions) with an apprehension on timely implementation of the recommendations of the 8th CPC and revision of pension thereafter deepened this resentment. Employees and pensioners were left wondering whether fiscal discipline had replaced fairness as the guiding principle of governance. Pensioners faced an even harsher reality. The expansion of market-linked pension systems such as NPS and the introduction of modified schemes in the name of UPS transformed retirement into a financial gamble (NPS covering over 70 lakh government employees; UPS proposed to affect future retirees). India, where less than 20 percent of the workforce enjoys formal social security (over 90 percent informal workforce), cannot afford to weaken pension guarantees. The widespread demand for restoration of the Old Pension Scheme (OPS restored fully or partially in several states affecting lakhs of employees) was not nostalgia, but a plea for dignity after decades of service. History teaches that societies which abandon their elderly eventually lose moral legitimacy.
Labour reforms further aggravated public anxiety. The four Labour Codes, promoted as efficiency measures, were perceived by workers as instruments of insecurity (impacting nearly the entire organised workforce and indirectly the informal sector). With India already recording over four lakh occupational injuries and over four thousand workplace deaths annually (official figures, with underreporting widely acknowledged), dilution of safety norms and restrictions on union rights appeared dangerously regressive. Protests, legal challenges, and state-level hesitations (participation of lakhs of workers across states) forced the government to slow down implementation—another instance where public resistance compelled policy retreat.
The plight of Anganwadi, ASHA, and other scheme workers exposed a deeper contradiction (around 25 lakh Anganwadi workers and helpers; over 10 lakh ASHA workers). Hailed as frontline warriors during the pandemic, they continued to be denied worker status, minimum wages, and pensions. Token honorarium hikes failed to address structural injustice. Their protests in 2025 (statewide and national mobilisations involving lakhs) were not for charity, but for recognition—an aspiration that resonates with constitutional promises of equality and dignity. Unemployment and contractualisation added fuel to the fire. Despite claims of job creation, youth unemployment remained alarmingly high (over 15 percent among urban youth), and public sector recruitment lagged (millions of sanctioned posts lying vacant). Long-serving contractual workers demanded regularisation, citing decades of service without security (lakhs of contractual workers across states). The courts have repeatedly upheld the principle of “equal pay for equal work,” yet administrative reluctance persisted, forcing judicial interventions (hundreds of judgments and contempt petitions).
Underlying all these issues was a troubling trend: the shrinking space for democratic dissent. Restrictions on protests, administrative crackdowns, and selective use of laws (thousands detained or booked during protests) created an atmosphere where speaking out became an act of courage. Yet history shows that silencing voices does not erase grievances—it amplifies them until institutions are forced to respond. As 2025 unfolded, a clear pattern emerged. Whether in environmental policy, criminal justice, economic governance, or labour rights, decisions taken without empathy and consultation eventually had to be revisited. The reversals in the Aravalli case, the judicial corrections in heinous crime cases like Unnao, and the public backlash against self-serving pay hikes all underline a fundamental truth: governments and courts do not govern in isolation; they govern under the watchful gaze of the people (nearly 97 crore voters in the Republic).
As the nation steps into 2026, it stands at a moral crossroads. The coming year can either deepen distrust or rebuild faith. The choice lies with those in power. Governance cannot be sustained by statistics alone, nor can justice survive on paper assurances. Policies that wound public sentiment will inevitably face resistance, and decisions taken in arrogance will have to be withdrawn in humility. Democracy, after all, is not merely the act of ruling—it is the art of listening. If 2025 was the year when the people reminded the State of this truth, then 2026 must be the year when that reminder is heeded, lest history repeats its stern lessons once again.
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(The author is a Service Union Representative currently working as the General Secretary, Confederation of Central Govt. Employees and Workers, Odisha State CoC and President Forum of Civil Pensioners’ Association, Odisha State Committee, Bhubaneswar and a columnist. eMail: samalbruhaspati@gmail.com)
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