For the past one year, I have written this column with a changing surface but with an unchanging concern. The subjects moved from democracy to administration, from cities to education, from health to agriculture, from unemployment to inequality, and from social harmony to the moral anxieties of public life. Yet beneath every article there lay one central question: seventy-five years after Independence, where does India truly stand, and where does it intend to stand when the Republic reaches the hundredth year of freedom?

We have completed seventy-five years of Independence. We have clothed this moment in a luminous phrase—Amritkaal. The word is beautiful. It carries the fragrance of hope and the music of national confidence. The ceremonies are grand. The slogans are emphatic. The public language is full of promise. But nations are not judged by the brightness of their celebrations. They are judged by the brightness that reaches the doorstep of the ordinary citizen.

Can an ordinary family afford quality education? Does a serious illness push a household into debt and despair? Does a young person receive dignified work, or only certificates, coaching classes and disappointment? Does the farmer receive a fair return for his labour, or only seasonal sympathy? Is the woman safe on the street, in the workplace and within the home? Does the urban citizen breathe clean air, drink safe water, move on decent roads and live without the daily humiliation of civic disorder? These are not minor administrative questions. They are the real instruments by which Amritkaal must be measured.

India must certainly aspire to become an economic power in the next twenty-five years. But economic power cannot be defined merely by impressive figures, glittering summits, expanding markets and private fortunes. Growth that does not enter the life of the common citizen becomes a statistic, not a civilisation. Prosperity that remains locked in the vaults of a few cannot be called national progress. The true test of economic rise is whether it creates dignity, opportunity and security for the many.

India must become self-reliant in energy. It must reduce the unbearable dependence of its people on agriculture. The rural youth must not be compelled to migrate from the distress of the village to the indignity of the urban slum and then be told that this is progress. The generation trapped in unemployment must not be pacified with slogans, fairs and certificates. It must be empowered through quality education, real skills, entrepreneurship, industrial expansion and fair opportunity.

Inequality must be confronted as a national emergency, not as an academic subject. Social harmony must be protected as a constitutional necessity, not as ceremonial vocabulary. The market of suspicion that profits by dividing citizens in the name of religion, caste, language and region must be resisted with moral courage and institutional clarity. No nation can become great while its people are trained to distrust one another.

Women’s empowerment must move beyond speeches, posters, anniversaries and decorative representation. It must be visible in inheritance, education, health, employment, safety, mobility and actual power in decision-making. Crime control cannot remain a matter of angry statements after every tragedy. It must be reflected in professional policing, timely investigation, social prevention and a justice system that does not punish the victim by delay.

Education must reach global standards. Healthcare must be made affordable and humane. Cities must be planned before they become ungovernable. The barbaric habit of calling concrete congestion “development” must end. A city without air, water, mobility, public space and civic dignity is not a city. It is merely a crowded accident of real estate.

The purpose of raising these issues has never been to indulge in despair or to belittle the achievements of the past seventy-five years. India has achieved much, often against enormous odds. But gratitude for achievement must not become blindness to failure. The purpose is diagnosis. A nation that refuses to recognise its disease forfeits its right to medicine. Self-deception may produce applause for a while; it cannot produce transformation.

The growing uneasiness today comes from a disturbing question: are we solving problems, or merely managing their headlines? Are we moving towards the centenary of Independence with a national plan, or are we drifting through a fog of announcements, events and slogans?

Government and administration today appear too often reactive rather than visionary. An accident occurs, and a meeting is called. A disaster strikes, and an inquiry is ordered. Floods arrive, and inspection tours begin. A crime shocks the public, and outrage is expressed. Unemployment rises, and job fairs are announced. Cities deteriorate, and new plans are unveiled. Farmers suffer, and packages are declared. This is not governance by design. This is governance by bandage.

The wound is deep. The bandage is temporary. And sometimes even the bandage seems to be applied more for the camera than for the cure.

The strength of democracy does not lie merely in periodic elections. Elections are essential, but they are not sufficient. They are the breath of democracy; they are not its entire body. The body of democracy is made of Parliament, legislatures, local self-governments, judiciary, administration, media, constitutional authorities and vigilant citizens. If these institutions stand outwardly but become hollow inwardly, democracy does not survive in substance. Only its architecture remains.

A Parliament without deliberation, a legislature without scrutiny, a municipality without autonomy, an administration without courage, a media without independence and a citizenry without questions together create only the theatre of democracy. They do not create democracy itself.

India now needs a serious national introspection. Celebration is not wrong. Pride is not wrong. National confidence is necessary. But when celebration replaces assessment, when pride replaces honesty, and when self-praise replaces self-correction, decline begins quietly. It does not announce itself. It enters through the doors of complacency.

If, in the name of Amritkaal, we ignore unemployment, inequality, insecurity, institutional decay, urban collapse and social fragmentation, history will not be generous to us. History is patient, but it is not blind.

The responsibility now lies with the people as much as with governments. Democracy is not a ritual performed once in five years by placing ink on a finger. It is a daily discipline. It requires citizens to ask questions, demand accounts, examine promises, judge results and keep elected representatives under constitutional watch. It requires administration to remember that it is not a private instrument of power, but a public trust.

Citizens must place the nation above party loyalty. They must place constitutional morality above personality worship. They must prefer evidence to emotion, policy to propaganda and results to rhetoric. A democracy begins to weaken not only when rulers overreach, but also when citizens surrender their right to question.

The centenary of Independence is not far away. Twenty-five years may appear long in the life of an individual, but in the life of a nation they are a brief hour. If we do not correct our course now, 2047 may find us with the same unemployment, only more bitter; the same inequality, only more brutal; the same cities, only more unliveable; the same institutions, only more exhausted; and the same society, only more divided.

Whom shall we blame then? Foreign rule? History? Destiny? Or our own silence?

That is why the question must be asked with urgency and honesty: will Amritkaal remain merely an official expression, or will it become a lived experience for the citizen? A nation is not made great by adjectives. It is made great by justice, competence, compassion, courage and public integrity.

India will truly become great not when the powerful praise it from decorated platforms, but when the last citizen can live with dignity, safety and opportunity. Otherwise, we shall continue to light lamps, hold ceremonies, raise slogans and deliver speeches; and history, with its cold and unforgiving pen, will record that one generation celebrated Amritkaal with great noise, but left behind for the next generation a Republic burdened with unbearable problems.

-Mahesh Zagade

मानवी मूल्ये आणि त्यांचा अभाव. 

मानवी मूल्यांपैकी एखादे जरी मूल्य ज्याच्यामध्ये नसेल, तो मनुष्य म्हणवून घेण्यासही पात्र नसतो; न्यायाधीश म्हणवून घेणे तर फारच दूरची गोष्ट आहे.

हे वाक्य केवळ नैतिक उद्गार नाहीत.
हे संस्कृतीचे सत्य आहे.
एक इशारा आहे.
एक आरसा आहे.
मानवजातीवर दिलेला एक निर्णय आहे.

कारण मानवतेशिवाय असलेला कायदा केवळ प्रक्रिया बनतो.
नीतीविरहित सत्ता भक्षक बनते.
करुणेविना असलेली बुद्धिमत्ता ही तर्कशुद्ध क्रूरता बनते.
आणि मानवी मूल्यांविना असलेला न्यायाधीश हा न्यायाचा रक्षक नसून त्याचा सर्वात कुशल विध्वंसक ठरतो.

मानवी संस्कृतीने हा सिद्धांत शतकानुशतके धर्मग्रंथांतून, तत्त्वज्ञानातून, साहित्यांतून, क्रांतींतून, राज्यघटनांतून आणि न्यायालयांतून पुन्हा पुन्हा घोषित केला आहे. भिन्न खंडांतील आणि भिन्न युगांतील ज्ञानी पुरुषांनी एकच गोष्ट सांगितली आहे—मानवाचे मूल्य हे त्याच्या संपत्तीत, बुद्धीत, पदात, पांडित्यात किंवा सत्तेत नसून, त्याच्या आचरणात प्रकट होणाऱ्या मूल्यांत असते.

व्यावसायिक होण्यापूर्वी मनुष्य असणे आवश्यक

आधुनिक जगाने पात्रता आणि चारित्र्य यांची गल्लत केली आहे.

पदव्या म्हणजे शहाणपण असे मानले जाते.
यश म्हणजे सद्गुण असे मानले जाते.
सत्ता म्हणजे महानता असे मानले जाते.
तांत्रिक कौशल्य म्हणजे नैतिक पात्रता असे मानले जाते.

परंतु टिकून राहिलेल्या प्रत्येक संस्कृतीने हे जाणले होते की सद्गुणांशिवाय असलेले कौशल्य धोकादायक असते.

महाभारतात ज्ञानाला कधीही अंतिम मान्यता दिलेली नाही. दुर्योधन अज्ञानी नव्हता. रावण मूर्ख नव्हता. शकुनी रणनीतीत अत्यंत कुशल होता. तरीही हे सर्व नैतिक पतनाची प्रतीके बनले; कारण धर्मविरहित बुद्धिमत्ता विष बनते.

भगवद्गीतेत श्रीकृष्ण म्हणतात—

“अहिंसा सत्यमक्रोधस्त्यागः शान्तिरपैशुनम्…”

अहिंसा. सत्य. क्रोधाचा अभाव. त्याग. शांतता. करुणा. ही दैवी गुणसंपत्ती आहे.

येथे संदेश अत्यंत स्पष्ट आहे.
मनुष्याची ओळख त्याच्या क्षमतेने नव्हे, तर त्याच्या चारित्र्याने ठरते.

धैर्य. क्षमा. संयम. चोरी न करणे. शुद्धता. इंद्रियनिग्रह. बुद्धी. विद्या. सत्य. अक्रोध. ही धर्माची लक्षणे आहेत.

पद नव्हे.
प्रतिष्ठा नव्हे.
वेशभूषा नव्हे.
अधिकार नव्हे.

न्यायाधीश म्हणजे चालती-बोलती नैतिक संस्कृती

न्यायाधीशाचे पद हे समाजाने दिलेल्या सर्वोच्च नैतिक जबाबदाऱ्यांपैकी एक आहे.

वैद्य शरीर मन निरोगी करतो.
अभियंता संरचनांशी व्यवहार करतो.
सैनिक सीमांचे रक्षण करतो.
परंतु न्यायाधीश मानवी प्रतिष्ठेशी व्यवहार करतो.

न्यायालयातील एक वाक्य एखाद्याचे आयुष्य वाचवू शकते.
किंवा पिढ्यान्पिढ्या उद्ध्वस्त करू शकते.

म्हणूनच इतिहासभर न्यायाधीशाकडून केवळ कायद्याचे ज्ञान नव्हे, तर नैतिक भव्यता अपेक्षित होती.

प्राचीन भारतात राजा देखील राजधर्माला बांधील होता. सार्वभौम सत्तेलाही धर्माच्या अधीन मानले जात होते. रामायणात प्रभू राम स्वतःचे सुख त्यागतात; कारण राजेपण म्हणजे नैतिक विश्वस्तपद मानले जात होते.

हीच कल्पना पाश्चात्त्य परंपरेतही दिसते.

रोमन न्यायशास्त्रज्ञ उलपियन म्हणतो—

“प्रत्येक मनुष्याला त्याचा हक्क देण्याची सतत आणि अखंड इच्छा म्हणजे न्याय.”

कायदेशीर कसरत नव्हे.
तांत्रिक शब्दच्छल नव्हे.
तर सततची नैतिक इच्छा.

इंग्लंडचे प्रसिद्ध न्यायमूर्ती लॉर्ड डेनिंग म्हणाले होते—

“न्याय हा विश्वासावर उभा असतो, आणि लोक न्यायाधीश पक्षपाती होता असे मानून बाहेर पडले तर तो विश्वास नष्ट होतो.”

पक्षपात हा केवळ कायदेशीर दोष नसतो.
तो नैतिक अध:पात असतो.

एखाद्या न्यायाधीशाला सर्व कायदे पाठ असू शकतात; पण जर त्याच्यात करुणा, समता, नम्रता, संयम, धैर्य, प्रामाणिकता नसतील, तर तो त्या आसनासाठी अयोग्यच ठरतो.

मानवी मूल्ये अविभाज्य असतात

“एक जरी मानवी मूल्य नसले तरी मनुष्यत्वच नष्ट होते” हे विधान आधुनिक जगाला अतिशयोक्त वाटू शकते. परंतु प्रत्यक्षात संपूर्ण संस्कृती ही मूल्यांच्या अविभाज्यतेवर उभी असते.

क्रूरता बाळगून कोणी प्रामाणिक असल्याचा दावा करू शकत नाही.
अपमान करून कोणी करुणेचा दावा करू शकत नाही.
स्वतःच्या देशबांधवांचा तिरस्कार करून कोणी देशभक्तीचा दावा करू शकत नाही.
दुबळ्यांच्या दुःखात आनंद मानून कोणी न्यायप्रिय असल्याचा दावा करू शकत नाही.

मानवी मूल्ये ही सजावटी वस्तू नसतात.
ती आत्म्याच्या रचनेचे परस्परसंबंधित अवयव असतात.

करुणेविना सत्य म्हणजे निर्दयता.
सत्याविना करुणा म्हणजे कमजोरी.
शहाणपणाविना धैर्य म्हणजे बेफिकिरी.
नम्रतेविना विद्वत्ता म्हणजे अहंकार.

कन्फ्यूशियस म्हणतो—

“श्रेष्ठ मनुष्य सद्गुणांचा विचार करतो; कनिष्ठ मनुष्य सुखसोयींचा विचार करतो.”

अरिस्टॉटल म्हणतो—

“ज्ञानी मनुष्याचा उद्देश सुख मिळवणे नसून अतिरेकामुळे होणारे दुःख टाळणे हा असतो.”

अरिस्टॉटलसाठी सद्गुण म्हणजे चारित्र्याची समरसता होती.
खंडित नैतिकता नव्हे.

मूल्यशून्य बुद्धिमत्तेची आपत्ती

आधुनिक संस्कृती “कौशल्य” साजरे करते; पण प्रश्न विचारत नाही—कशासाठी?

इतिहासाने भयावह उत्तरे दिली आहेत.

वंशसंहाराचे नियोजक सुशिक्षित होते.
वसाहतवादी अत्यंत सुसंस्कृत मानले जात होते.
आर्थिक फसवणूक करणारे लोक बहुधा अत्यंत बुद्धिमान असतात.
हुकूमशहा अनेकदा विलक्षण प्रशासकीय कौशल्य असलेले असतात.

तत्त्वज्ञ Hannah Arendt यांनी अडॉल्फ आयखमनबद्दल “दुष्टतेची सामान्यता” असे म्हटले. दुष्टता आता राक्षसी भावनांमधून नव्हे, तर नैतिक चिंतनाशिवाय चालणाऱ्या कार्यक्षम व्यवस्थापनातून जन्मत होती.

हीच संस्कृतीची अंतिम भीती आहे.
रानटीपणा नव्हे.
तर सुशिक्षित रानटीपणा.

टी. एस. इलियट वेदनेने विचारतो—

“ज्ञानात हरवलेले शहाणपण कुठे आहे?
माहितीमध्ये हरवलेले ज्ञान कुठे आहे?”

आधुनिक जग माहिती निर्माण करते.
परंतु विवेक निर्माण करत नाही.
पदव्या निर्माण करते.
परंतु अंतरात्मा निर्माण करत नाही.

न्यायसंस्था आणि लोकशाहीचा आत्मा

न्यायालये ही केवळ कायदेशीर संस्था नसतात.
ती लोकशाहीची नैतिक रंगभूमी असतात.

जेव्हा नागरिकांचा न्यायसंस्थेवरील विश्वास उडतो, तेव्हा त्यांचा केवळ कायद्यावरील नव्हे, तर संपूर्ण संस्कृतीवरील विश्वास ढासळतो.

India च्या राज्यघटनेच्या प्रस्तावनेत “न्याय” हा शब्द सर्वप्रथम येतो; कारण न्याय हा प्रजासत्ताकाचा आत्मा आहे.

डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर  यांनी इशारा दिला होता—

“घटनात्मक नैतिकता ही नैसर्गिक भावना नसते; ती जोपासावी लागते.”

नैतिकदृष्ट्या दिवाळखोर समाजाला कोणतीही राज्यघटना वाचवू शकत नाही.
कोणताही कायदा नैतिक पतनाची भरपाई करू शकत नाही.

भारताच्या सर्वोच्च न्यायालयाने अनेक निर्णयांत न्यायाधीशांच्या चारित्र्याचे महत्त्व अधोरेखित केले आहे.

सी. रविचंद्रन अय्यर विरुद्ध न्यायमूर्ती ए. एम. भट्टाचार्जी या खटल्यात न्यायालय म्हणाले—

“न्यायाधीश हा निर्दोष प्रामाणिकता आणि अविचल स्वातंत्र्य असलेला असला पाहिजे.”

प्रामाणिकता ही सजावट नाही.
ती न्यायिक वैधतेचा पाया आहे.

ऑल इंडिया जजेस असोसिएशन विरुद्ध युनियन ऑफ इंडिया या प्रकरणात न्यायालयाने न्यायसेवा ही केवळ नोकरी नसून सार्वजनिक विश्वासाचे ध्येय असल्याचे नमूद केले.

करुणेविना न्यायाधीश न्यायाचा अपमान करतो.
संयमाविना न्यायाधीश प्रतिष्ठेचा अपमान करतो.
नम्रतेविना न्यायाधीश न्यायालयांना सरंजामी दरबार बनवतो.

साहित्याचा सनातन इशारा

मानवजातीचे महान साहित्य सतत नैतिक पतनाविषयी सावध करते.

Crime and Punishment मध्ये अपराधापेक्षा अपराधीपणाची भावना आत्म्याला अधिक नष्ट करते.

Les Misérables मध्ये दया त्या ठिकाणी उद्धार करते जिथे कोरडा कायदा अपयशी ठरतो.

व्हिक्टर ह्यूगो म्हणतो—

“दुसऱ्या मनुष्यावर प्रेम करणे म्हणजे देवाचे मुख पाहणे.”

या वाक्यात करुणेला कायद्यापेक्षा उच्च स्थान दिले आहे.

William Shakespeare यांनी द मर्चंट ऑफ व्हेनिस मध्ये लिहिले—

“दयेचा गुण जबरदस्तीने निर्माण होत नाही.”

दया म्हणजे कमजोरी नाही.
ती सूडावर मात करणारी संस्कृती आहे.

दॉस्तोएव्हस्की म्हणतो—

“एखाद्या समाजाची संस्कृती त्याच्या तुरुंगांत जाऊन पाहिली तर समजते.”

तसेच असेही म्हणता येईल—
एखाद्या समाजाची संस्कृती त्याच्या न्यायालयांत दिसते.

मानवतेचे आध्यात्मिक आकलन

जगातील प्रत्येक अध्यात्मपरंपरा एका मूलभूत सत्यावर एकवटते—मानवी मूल्ये ही मनुष्यातील दैवीतेची अभिव्यक्ती आहेत.

ख्रिस्ती धर्मात म्हटले आहे—

“संपूर्ण जग जिंकूनही जर मनुष्याने आपला आत्मा गमावला, तर त्याचा काय लाभ?”

इस्लाममध्ये कुराण सांगते—

“अल्लाह न्याय, उत्कृष्टता आणि दयाळूपणाची आज्ञा देतो.”

बौद्ध धर्मात करुणा ही पर्यायी गोष्ट नाही.
तीच प्रबोधन आहे.

भगवान बुद्ध म्हणतात—

“द्वेषाने द्वेष संपत नाही; प्रेमानेच तो संपतो.”

शीख धर्म म्हणतो—

“संपूर्ण मानवजातीला एकच समजा.”

म्हणून सर्व अध्यात्मपरंपरा मानवतेला नैतिकतेपासून वेगळे करत नाहीत.

सत्तेचा अहंकार

सत्ता अनेकदा असा भ्रम निर्माण करते की जबाबदारी फक्त इतरांसाठी असते.

परंतु संस्कृती टिकते ती याच कारणाने की कोणताही मनुष्य नैतिक नियमांपेक्षा मोठा नसतो.

पद जितके उंच, तितकी जबाबदारी अधिक.

एक भ्रष्ट सामान्य मनुष्य काही लोकांचे नुकसान करतो.
एक भ्रष्ट न्यायाधीश न्यायाचेच नुकसान करतो.
नैतिकदृष्ट्या भ्रष्ट शासक राष्ट्रांचे नुकसान करतो.
नैतिकदृष्ट्या भ्रष्ट बुद्धिजीवी पिढ्या भ्रष्ट करतो.

म्हणूनच प्राचीन संस्कृतींना अज्ञानापेक्षा अहंकार अधिक भयावह वाटत असे.

ग्रीक शोकांतिकांनी त्याला “ह्युब्रिस” म्हटले.
भारतीय तत्त्वज्ञानाने त्याला “अहंकार” म्हटले.
ख्रिस्ती तत्त्वज्ञानाने त्याला “प्राइड” म्हटले.
आधुनिक मानसशास्त्र त्याला “नार्सिसिझम” म्हणते.

नावे बदलतात.
विध्वंस तोच राहतो.

मनुष्यत्व ही नैतिक साधना आहे

जैविक जन्मामुळे कोणी मनुष्य होत नाही.

मानवी शरीर असलेला एखादा व्यक्ती नैतिकदृष्ट्या आदिमच राहू शकतो.

खरे मनुष्यत्व हे अंतःकरणाच्या शिस्तीतून निर्माण होते.

रवींद्रनाथ टागोर यांनी प्रार्थना केली—

“जिथे मन भयमुक्त आहे आणि मस्तक उन्नत आहे…”

परंतु नैतिकतेविना स्वातंत्र्य स्वार्थात परिवर्तित होते.

महात्मा गांधी  यांनी सात सामाजिक पापे सांगितली—

“चारित्र्याविना ज्ञान.”
“नैतिकतेविना व्यापार.”
“तत्त्वांशिवाय राजकारण.”

त्यात आणखी एक भर घालावीशी वाटते—

मानवतेविना न्याय.

अंतिम कसोटी

शेवटी संस्कृती प्रत्येक व्यक्तीला एकच प्रश्न विचारते—

तुमच्या अस्तित्वामुळे दुःख कमी झाले की वाढले?

हे विचारले जात नाही—

तुम्ही किती श्रीमंत होता?
किती शक्तिशाली होता?
किती प्रसिद्ध होता?
किती विद्वान होता?

प्रश्न हा असतो—

तुम्ही न्यायी होता का?
तुम्ही करुणामय होता का?
तुम्ही सत्यनिष्ठ होता का?
तुम्ही मानवतावादी होता का?

ज्याच्यात एखादे जरी मूलभूत मानवी मूल्य नसते, त्याचे मनुष्यत्व आतून तुटू लागते. कारण मूल्ये ही वेगवेगळी सद्गुणे नसतात; ती आत्म्याच्या वास्तूला आधार देणारे खांब असतात.

आणि जर हा निकष सामान्य मनुष्यालाही लागू होत असेल, तर न्यायाधीश, राज्यकर्ते, शिक्षक, विधिनिर्माते आणि सार्वजनिक विश्वासाचे रक्षक यांच्यासाठी तो किती कठोर असला पाहिजे!

कारण न्यायाधीश मानवता गमावतात तेव्हा कायदा दडपशाही बनतो.
राज्यकर्ते मानवता गमावतात तेव्हा शासन शोषण बनते.
नागरिक मानवता गमावतात तेव्हा लोकशाही जमावशाही बनते.
आणि संस्कृती मानवता गमावते तेव्हा इतिहास त्याला अध:पतन म्हणतो.

म्हणून हे विधान अतिशयोक्ती नाही.
ते नैतिक आवश्यकता आहे—

“मानवी मूल्यांपैकी एखादे जरी मूल्य ज्याच्यामध्ये नसेल, तो मनुष्य म्हणवून घेण्यासही पात्र नसतो; न्यायाधीश म्हणवून घेणे तर फारच दूरची गोष्ट आहे.”

कारण न्याय हा कायद्याच्या पुस्तकांत जन्मत नाही.
तो अंतरात्म्यात जन्मतो.

आणि संस्कृती टिकते ती केवळ कायद्यांमुळे नव्हे,
तर त्या कायद्यांचे अर्थ लावणाऱ्या मनुष्यांच्या नैतिक गुणवत्तेमुळे.

-महेश झगडे 

“A person is not even being qualified to be called a human if he is bereft of even a single human value of all the values, leave alone being called a judge.”

This statement is not merely moral rhetoric.
It is civilisational truth.
A warning.
A mirror.
A verdict upon humanity itself.

For law without humanity becomes procedure.
Power without morality becomes predation.
Intelligence without compassion becomes cruelty refined by logic.
And a judge without human values becomes not the guardian of justice, but its most sophisticated destroyer.

Human civilisation has repeatedly proclaimed this truth through scriptures, philosophy, poetry, revolutions, constitutions, and courts. Across continents and centuries, the wisest minds have agreed upon one principle: the worth of a human being is not measured by wealth, intellect, title, scholarship, or authority, but by the values embodied in conduct.

The Human Before the Professional

The modern world often mistakes qualification for character.

Degrees are mistaken for wisdom.
Success for virtue.
Power for greatness.
Technical expertise for moral fitness.

But every civilisation that endured understood that skill without virtue is dangerous.

In the Mahabharata, knowledge alone is never considered sufficient. Duryodhana was not ignorant. Ravana was not unintelligent. Shakuni was strategically brilliant. Yet all became symbols of moral collapse because intellect divorced from righteousness becomes poison.

The Bhagavad Gita declares:

“Ahimsa, satyam, akrodhah, tyagah, shantir apaisunam…”
Non-violence, truth, absence of anger, renunciation, peace, and compassion are divine qualities.

The emphasis is unmistakable.
A human being is defined not by capability, but by character.

Fortitude. Forgiveness. Self-restraint. Purity. Control over senses. Wisdom. Truthfulness. Freedom from anger. These are the marks of dharma.

Not position.
Not status.
Not robes.
Not office.

The Judge as Moral Civilization

The office of a judge is among the highest moral responsibilities entrusted by society.

A doctor deals with the body.
An engineer with structures.
A soldier with borders.
But a judge deals with human dignity itself.

One judicial sentence can rescue a life.
Or destroy generations.

Therefore, throughout history, the judge was expected to possess not merely legal knowledge but ethical magnificence.

In ancient India, the king himself was bound by Rajdharma. Even sovereign authority was subordinate to moral law. In the Ramayana, Lord Rama abandons personal comfort to uphold public morality because kingship was seen as ethical trusteeship.

The same principle appears in the Western tradition.

The Roman jurist Ulpian defined justice as:

“The constant and perpetual will to render to every man his due.”

Not procedural cleverness.
Not technical literalism.
But perpetual moral will.

The English jurist Lord Denning famously said:

“Justice is rooted in confidence, and confidence is destroyed when right-minded people go away thinking: the judge was biased.”

Bias is not merely legal failure.
It is moral failure.

A judge may know every statute and still be unworthy of the chair if devoid of empathy, fairness, humility, restraint, patience, or integrity.

Human Values Are Indivisible

The statement that even the absence of a single human value disqualifies a person from true humanity may appear extreme to modern sensibilities. Yet civilisation itself is built upon the indivisibility of moral values.

A man cannot claim honesty while nurturing cruelty.
Cannot claim compassion while practicing humiliation.
Cannot claim patriotism while despising fellow citizens.
Cannot claim justice while enjoying the suffering of the weak.

Human values are not decorative accessories.
They are interconnected organs of moral existence.

Compassion without truth becomes weakness.
Truth without compassion becomes brutality.
Courage without wisdom becomes recklessness.
Wisdom without humility becomes arrogance.

Confucius observed:

“The superior man thinks of virtue; the small man thinks of comfort.”

Similarly, Aristotle declared:

“The aim of the wise is not to secure pleasure, but to avoid pain caused by excess.”

Virtue, for Aristotle, was harmony of character.
Not fragmented morality.

The Catastrophe of Value-Neutral Intelligence

Modern civilisation increasingly celebrates “competence” without asking: competence for what purpose?

History provides terrifying answers.

The architects of genocides were educated.
Colonial exploiters were sophisticated.
Financial fraudsters are often brilliant.
Dictators frequently possess extraordinary administrative skill.

The Nazi bureaucrat Adolf Eichmann was described by philosopher Hannah Arendt as embodying the “banality of evil.” Evil was no longer monstrous passion. It became efficient administration without moral reflection.

That is the final horror of civilisation.
Not barbarism.
But educated barbarism.

T. S. Eliot asked in anguish:

“Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”

The modern world produces information faster than wisdom.
Credentials faster than conscience.
Experts faster than humans.

The Judiciary and the Soul of Democracy

Courts are not merely legal institutions.
They are moral theatres of democracy.

When citizens lose faith in the judiciary, they lose faith not only in law, but in civilisation itself.

The Constitution of India begins with justice — social, economic, and political — because justice is the soul of republican morality.

Dr. B. R. Ambedkar warned:

“Constitutional morality is not a natural sentiment. It has to be cultivated.”

A constitution cannot save a morally bankrupt society.
No legal framework can compensate for ethical collapse.

The Supreme Court of India itself has repeatedly emphasised that judges must possess impeccable character.

In C. Ravichandran Iyer v. Justice A.M. Bhattacharjee (1995), the Court observed:

“A judge should be a person of impeccable integrity and unimpeachable independence.”

Integrity is not an ornamental expectation.
It is the very foundation of judicial legitimacy.

Similarly, in All India Judges’ Association v. Union of India, the Court emphasised that judicial service is not employment alone but a mission of public trust.

A judge who lacks compassion humiliates justice.
A judge who lacks patience injures dignity.
A judge who lacks humility converts courtrooms into feudal chambers.

Literature’s Eternal Warning

The greatest literature of humanity repeatedly warns against the collapse of moral values.

In Crime and Punishment, guilt destroys the soul more thoroughly than punishment.

In Les Misérables, mercy redeems where law alone fails.

Victor Hugo wrote:

“To love another person is to see the face of God.”

The statement elevates compassion above legalism.

William Shakespeare wrote in The Merchant of Venice:

“The quality of mercy is not strained.”

Mercy is not weakness.
It is civilisation transcending revenge.

Dostoevsky declared:

“The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.”

One may equally say:
The degree of civilisation can be judged by observing its courts.

The Spiritual Understanding of Humanity

Every spiritual tradition converges upon one essential idea: human values are manifestations of the divine within man.

In Christianity:

“What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

In Islam, the Quran declares:

“Indeed, Allah commands justice, excellence, and kindness.”

In Buddhism, compassion is not optional. It is enlightenment itself.

The Buddha taught:

“Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.”

In Sikhism:

“Recognize the human race as one.”

Thus, spirituality across cultures refuses to separate humanity from morality.

The Arrogance of Power

Power often produces the illusion that accountability belongs only to others.

But civilisation survives precisely because no human being is above moral law.

The higher the office, the greater the obligation.

A corrupt ordinary citizen harms a few.
A corrupt judge harms justice itself.
A morally bankrupt ruler harms nations.
A morally bankrupt intellectual corrupts generations.

That is why the ancients feared arrogance more than ignorance.

The Greek tragedians called it hubris.
Indian philosophy called it ahankara.
Christian theology called it pride.
Modern psychology calls it narcissism.

The name changes.
The destruction remains identical.

Humanity Is a Moral Achievement

Biological birth alone does not create a human being.

A person may possess human anatomy while remaining morally primitive.

True humanity is achieved through discipline of conscience.

Rabindranath Rabindranath Tagore prayed:

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high…”

But freedom without morality degenerates into selfishness.

Mahatma Mahatma Gandhi identified seven social sins, including:

“Knowledge without character.”
“Commerce without morality.”
“Politics without principle.”

One may add:

Justice without humanity.

The Final Test

Ultimately, civilisation asks every individual one question:

Did your existence reduce suffering or increase it?

Not:
How wealthy were you?
How powerful were you?
How famous were you?
How learned were you?

But:
Were you just?
Were you compassionate?
Were you truthful?
Were you humane?

A person bereft of even one essential human value begins to fracture internally. For values are not isolated virtues. They are pillars supporting the architecture of the soul.

And if this standard applies to ordinary humans, how infinitely more rigorous must it be for judges, lawmakers, rulers, teachers, and guardians of public trust.

For when judges lose humanity, law becomes intimidation.
When rulers lose humanity, governance becomes exploitation.
When citizens lose humanity, democracy becomes a crowd.
And when civilisation loses humanity, history calls it decline.

Therefore the statement stands not as exaggeration, but as ethical necessity:

A person is not even qualified to be called a human if he is bereft of even a single human value of all the values, leave alone being called a judge.

Because justice is not born in statutes.
It is born in conscience.

And civilisation survives not by laws alone,
but by the moral quality of the humans who interpret them.

-Mahesh Zagade

There are lives that pass quietly through the corridors of public service, and then there are lives that illuminate those corridors, leaving behind a steady, incorruptible light by which others may find their way. The life and career of Padma Bhushan Mr Julio Ribeiro belong unmistakably to the latter kind. As he steps into the ninety-seventh year of a long and eventful life, one is compelled not merely to congratulate him, but to reflect upon the rare alloy of courage, discipline, intellect, and moral clarity that he has embodied across decades of national service.

To describe him merely as a distinguished officer of the Indian Police Service would be to understate his stature. He emerged, over time, as a defining figure in the evolution of policing in Maharashtra, setting standards in crime detection, maintenance of law and order, and institutional discipline that have endured long after his formal tenure. His approach was never ornamental; it was precise, unsentimental, and resolutely anchored in the idea that the rule of law must prevail without compromise. In an administrative culture often tempted by expediency, he stood as a reminder that firmness need not exclude fairness, and that authority derives its legitimacy from integrity.

It was, however, during one of the most turbulent chapters in independent India’s history—the rise of militancy associated with the Khalistan movement—that his leadership assumed a national, even international, significance. In the fraught aftermath of Operation Blue Star, when the country grappled with deep internal fissures and a volatile security environment, Mr Ribeiro’s role in restoring a semblance of order and confidence was marked by both strategic acumen and personal courage. These were not merely administrative challenges; they were moral trials, demanding decisions where the costs were immediate and the consequences enduring. His conduct during this period reinforced the idea that the state, when guided by principled leadership, can navigate even the most perilous crises without surrendering its constitutional bearings.

Beyond the domain of policing, his career extended into the sphere of diplomacy, where he represented India abroad with distinction. That transition—from the rigours of internal security to the subtleties of international engagement—speaks to the breadth of his abilities and the trust reposed in him by the nation. It is rare for a single career to traverse such diverse terrains with equal competence, and rarer still to do so while retaining an unblemished reputation.

The conferment of the Padma Bhushan upon him was not merely a recognition of past achievements; it was an acknowledgment of a standard. Indeed, it would not be an exaggeration to say that in the annals of Indian policing and administration, there are few careers that parallel the arc and impact of his own.

Yet, perhaps the most enduring testament to his character lies in what followed his formal retirement. Along with the late B. G. Deshmukh, former Cabinet Secretary to the Government of India, and other like-minded individuals, he established the Public Concern for Governance Trust. The very conception of this institution reflects a deep understanding of the vulnerabilities within governance systems and an unwavering commitment to strengthening them. By offering support to honest officers and advocating for transparency and accountability, the Trust has sought to create an ecosystem where integrity is not an exception but an expectation. That Mr Ribeiro continues to guide it as Chairman Emeritus well into his nineties is, in itself, a lesson in sustained public engagement.

I am one of those who have had the privilege of knowing him personally, the public narrative is only part of the story. From my probationary days in the Home Department at Mantralaya to regular interactions in the Trust’s deliberations these days every month during the PCGT’s monthly meetings, one encounters not merely a decorated officer, but a mind of remarkable vitality. Age, in his case, appears to have sharpened rather than diminished his faculties. His memory remains prodigious, his analytical insights incisive, and his willingness to speak plainly—sometimes uncomfortably so—entirely undiminished. In an era where caution often masquerades as wisdom, his readiness to “call out” what he perceives as wrong stands as a refreshing, if rare, virtue.

His writings in newspapers, engaging with contemporary national and international issues, further reveal a mind that refuses to retreat into the past. They are marked by clarity, conviction, and a certain moral impatience with mediocrity and equivocation. To read them is to engage with a voice that has witnessed history, shaped it in part, and continues to interrogate its present course.

On the occasion of his ninety-seventh year, therefore, the sentiment one offers cannot be confined to routine felicitation. It must carry with it a recognition of what he represents: a continuity of values in a time of flux, a reminder that public service, at its best, is an ethical enterprise. One wishes him not merely longevity, but continued strength—of mind, of voice, and of purpose—so that the torch of integrity he has carried for so long may continue to illuminate the path for those who follow.

In honouring Julio Ribeiro Sir today, we do more than celebrate a life; we reaffirm an ideal.

-Mahesh Zagade 

(This article was originally published on daily Divya Marathi on 26/4/2026)

At times, a grey pall of smoke settles over a city’s sky; breathing becomes laborious, the eyes sting, and we rise in immediate protest against the visible tyranny of pollution. Yet beyond these manifest afflictions lies another contamination—subtler, unseen, and far more insidious: the pollution of thought. It creeps quietly, almost imperceptibly, and gnaws away at the very consciousness of society.

Thought is the axis upon which the entirety of human existence turns. Every action, every institution, every conflict, and every advance is first conceived in the realm of ideas. If thought itself is corrupted, then not only the health of society but its moral direction, intellectual vitality, and even the possibility of harmonious coexistence stand imperilled. Polluted air may wound the lungs, contaminated water may afflict the body, but polluted thought strikes at the very faculty of reason. It blurs the boundary between truth and falsehood, until discernment itself falters. In the final reckoning, the danger posed by the corrosion of thought may well exceed that of climate change, for it endangers not merely the environment but the essence of human life.

We inhabit an age of overwhelming information. Yet as swiftly as knowledge travels, so too do illusions, rumours, and half-truths. The consequence is stark: the voice of truth grows faint, while falsehood acquires a disquieting strength. Fabricated videos, distorted images, and deliberately propagated misinformation circulating through social media are not accidental distortions of fact; they are weapons—crafted to assault the mind, inflame emotion, and lull reason into a dangerous slumber.

In a country as richly diverse as India, the consequences of such cognitive pollution are magnified manifold. Here, every identity—religion, caste, language, region—holds the potential either to become a bridge of dialogue or a fault line of conflict. Regrettably, it is too often harnessed for the latter. A rumour, a falsified post, a provocative message—within hours, they can ignite tensions, turning neighbours who once lived in quiet harmony into adversaries. Indeed, the long history of unexamined belief and superstition has, for centuries, burdened the social fabric, leaving deep and enduring scars upon the collective mind.

Even in a state like Maharashtra, with its proud legacy of reform and rational inquiry, these tendencies reveal themselves with troubling frequency. Episodes of tension—whether in Pune, Nagpur, or elsewhere—are not isolated aberrations; they are symptoms of a deeper malaise. Festivals, which ought to serve as occasions of unity, sometimes become stages for division, eroding the very foundation of trust upon which society rests.

The most dangerous aspect of polluted thought is its capacity to transform the fellow human into the “other.” Once this transformation occurs, empathy recedes, and in its place arise suspicion, hostility, and fear. This is not an abrupt metamorphosis; it unfolds gradually—first in narratives, then in rhetoric, and finally in action. By the time it reaches its culmination, violence no longer appears as an aberration but as an inevitability.

Within the Indian social reality, caste remains one of the oldest and most deeply entrenched manifestations of such intellectual contamination. So normalized has it become that it often passes unquestioned as tradition. Yet beneath this veneer of continuity lies a persistent structure of inequality, humiliation, and exclusion. Even in progressive societies, subtle forms of discrimination endure, bearing testimony to the profound and pervasive nature of this ideological affliction.

What renders this phenomenon even more perilous is its frequent deployment as a political instrument. The deliberate stoking of emotion, the polarisation of communities, and the elevation of propaganda above truth have become disturbingly commonplace. Elections are no longer contests merely for votes but struggles for dominion over minds. When fear, hatred, and falsehood are thus weaponised, the very foundations of democracy begin to weaken. Indeed, contemporary political processes risk becoming breeding grounds for the most virulent forms of intellectual pollution.

The gravest consequence of this entire process is its silence. It does not erupt with immediate visibility; rather, it seeps into the interstices of society. Dialogue diminishes, trust evaporates, and the social fabric gradually fragments. People sharing the same city begin to inhabit entirely different mental worlds, where even reality itself diverges, and the meaning of truth becomes mutable.

Air pollution may destroy the body, but the pollution of thought strikes at the soul of society. While technology, law, and policy may purify the air, there exists no mechanical apparatus to cleanse the mind. For that, one requires vigilance, integrity, and the disciplined exercise of reason. More insidiously, the pollution of thought often disguises itself in the language of freedom, rendering its detection and resistance all the more difficult.

As India stands on the threshold of its centenary of independence, the challenge before it is not merely one of economic advancement, but of intellectual and moral renewal. The State must ensure firm and impartial enforcement of law, act decisively against hate speech and misinformation, and restore public trust. The education system must move beyond the mere transmission of information to the cultivation of critical thinking—the ability to question, to examine, and to understand. Even the mechanisms of public recruitment must evolve, privileging intellectual maturity, creativity, and analytical depth over rote memorisation.

Society, too, must rediscover the art of dialogue—embracing dissent, accommodating difference, and seeking unity within diversity. The media and the intelligentsia must shoulder their responsibility with sensitivity, honesty, and accountability. For social reformers, this is a new struggle—not against external adversaries, but against the darkness within.

And so, the question that ultimately confronts us is stark: shall we recognise this invisible contamination before it consumes us? For once thought itself is polluted, even the purest air cannot sustain life in its fullest sense. One may continue to exist, yet cease, in any meaningful way, to live.

-Mahesh Zagade

(MIT-World Peace University (MIT–DPU) recently gave me an opportunity to speak at a session during its annual initiative, the Bharat Chhatra Sansad.
Here is a brief excerpt from that speech)

Good morning all.

Hon Dr. Kuchekar, respected members of the faculty, and my young friends—

I was told that I may speak on a topic of your choice. That is both a privilege and a risk. I can speak on almost anything—except spirituality, about which I claim no authority. But after thirty-four years in government service, one inevitably becomes a jack of many trades, though perhaps master of none. And a jack, at least, must be prepared to speak.

So tell me—what would you like to hear? Shall I choose? Shall we speak of public policy? Of pharmacy? Of regulation? Or shall we speak of something larger—your place in this Republic?

Let us begin with public policy. That, after all, is what your Chhatra Sansad is meant to reflect. And before I proceed, let me invite you—no, challenge you—to ask questions. Sharp questions. Inconvenient questions. I am not your professor or examiner. I hold no grudges. And even if I did, what could I possibly do to you? So be fearless.

Now, here is my first question to you.

In seventy-six years of this Republic, can you name a single instance in which a public policy was conceived by students or young people, adopted by government, and implemented nationally?

Just one example.

If youth is not involved in shaping policy, then what exactly are we discussing? If there is no structural participation, then all this becomes rhetoric—sound without substance, chaff without grain.

If you truly wish to be stakeholders in this Republic—not merely voters, not merely beneficiaries, but architects—then the first question is this: How do you insert yourselves into the design of public policy?

For seventy-six years, you have largely remained outside that chamber.

Collectively, you must ask: How do we become integral to policy formulation? Not as spectators. Not as applause. But as force.

Before we design policies, however, we must confront a more uncomfortable question:

Do we even understand the problems we seek to solve through the policy formulations?

Public policy exists for one fundamental reason—to address a problem. No problem, no policy. But tell me: are we aware of the top ten problems facing this country? Not in abstraction. Not in slogans. In order of urgency. In clarity.

Let us forget ten. Tell me the top three.

One. Two. Three.

Are we certain?

I say this with all sincerity: we are a problem-illiterate nation.

In government. In politics. In bureaucracy. And yes, even among the youth.

Problem-illiteracy is our first crisis.

When I asked, on social media, for the ten most pressing problems of the country, the answers were scattered, emotional, fragmented. After days, I concluded: we do not know our problems in structural terms.

Unless we identify them precisely, policies will remain ornamental. Elegant on paper. Hollow in effect.

You speak of unemployment. Of pollution. Of population. Yes, these matter. But are we analysing them structurally? Are we quantifying? Are we ranking? Are we forecasting what will emerge in the next decade?

Without clarity, there can be no good policy.

You must begin there.

Let me move to something more foundational. Humanity itself was shaped by policy decisions. Seventy thousand years ago, Homo sapiens migrated out of East Africa. That was a collective decision—born of scarcity, perhaps led by youth. Migration was policy. Settlement was policy. Agriculture was policy.

The Indus Valley civilisation, nine thousand years ago, demonstrated urban planning, water management, and social organisation of extraordinary sophistication. Roads aligned. Drainage systems engineered. Civic design executed. That was policy in action.

In 1950, we gave ourselves a Constitution. That was policy enshrined in law.

And yet today, youth remain peripheral to policy design.

This Chhatra Sansad must not become ritual. It must become rehearsal for power.

Let us examine an example.

In 1972, Maharashtra faced a devastating famine. Crops failed. Water vanished. People starved. The government could have distributed cash. Instead, an Employment Guarantee Scheme was conceptualised: give people work; build assets; conserve water; strengthen infrastructure. People earned. Villages endured. Roads were built. Soil was conserved.

That is policy responding to crisis with structural intelligence and simultaneously build rural infrastructure that is productive!

Contrast that with schemes that is the current Ladaki Bhain Scheme just to distribute money without structural correction. Was this scheme conceptualised on the demand from women of the state? Were there agitations for this scheme?   Ask yourselves: does it solve the underlying problem? Or does it postpone reckoning while deepening fiscal strain?

You must learn to distinguish between populism and policy.

Now let us speak of economic superpower.

Before 1750, India accounted for roughly 24% of global GDP—comparable to the United States today. We were a leading economic civilisation when agriculture and artisanal industry dominated the world economy.

If you wish to become an economic superpower again, what does that mean?

Is it merely GDP size? Or is it per capita income? Or is it equitable distribution?

Here is the real structural problem: sectoral disparity.

Roughly 60% of our population depends on agriculture. Yet agriculture contributes only around 17% of GDP. Meanwhile, 40% of the population—engaged in industry and services—commands the remaining 83%.

This imbalance is a structural fault line.

If policy does not address sectoral inequality, economic superpower status will remain cosmetic.

Now let me turn to pharmacy—your field.

We have the Drugs and Cosmetics Act of 1940 and the Rules of 1945. It is, in many respects, among the most robust regulatory frameworks in the world. Amendments, from time to time, including latest amendment to Schedule M(WHO Good Manufacturing Practices) have aligned it with the statutory framework across the globe.

The law is strong.

Implementation, however, is the test.

When I became Commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration in Maharashtra in 2011, I discovered that for decades, a vast proportion of the law had not been meaningfully implemented. Provisions existed in statute. But practice was selective.

And whom was the law meant to protect?

Manufacturers? Traders? Regulators?

No.

The patient.

Yet the patient was absent from the regulatory ecosystem.

Consider three facts:

First, an overwhelming proportion of medicines—especially antibiotics—were sold without prescription.

Second, pharmacists were often absent, their licenses rented for nominal sums.

Third, generic prescribing was undermined by brand promotion, inflating cost and complicating pharmacovigilance.

The consequence? 

Antimicrobial resistance. 

Adverse drug reactions. 

Circulation of counterfeit medicines.

Policy without enforcement becomes decoration.

I cancelled hundreds of circulars that diluted statutory provisions. I insisted that the law be implemented as written. What was the reaction?

Strikes followed. 

Pressure followed. 

My transfers was attempted.

But I persisted in the post for a full term of three years with my own trick of the trade, instead of becoming victim and hero officer by donning the crown of “most frequently transferred honest officer”!

But regulation is not an ornament. It is a shield.

Let me narrate one case.

In 2011, complaints emerged regarding a hip implant manufactured by a subsidiary of Johnson & Johnson, DePuy —ASR hip joints. Patients reported excruciating pain. International regulators had raised concerns. Some countries had withdrawn approval.

Yet in India, thousands had been allowed to be imported and  implanted in spite of the adverse atmosphere against this product internationally. 

When I investigated, I found evidence that the implant could release cobalt and chromium into the adjoining tissues. 

Serious harm. 

Severe complications.

The company resisted recall. Pressure was exerted—from corporate channels, from political quarters, from bureaucratic hierarchies.

We filed a criminal FIR.

It was unprecedented. A state regulator initiating criminal proceedings against a global pharmaceutical giant.

The matter escalated. There was turbulence. Eventually, compensation mechanisms began to take shape for affected patients.

The lesson is simple: law must serve the citizen, not the corporation.

Now I return to you.

The world is entering an era beyond conventional pharmaceutical manufacturing—gene editing, CRISPR technologies, AI-driven molecule discovery, personalised medicine, preventive biotechnology. Some futurists even speculate that by mid-century, mortality may become increasingly postponable through radical life-extension technologies.

Whether exaggerated or not, the trajectory is clear: the future will not resemble the present.

If India merely imitates, we will always trail. If we innovate, we lead.

Policy must be future-oriented. Youth must be future-literate.

Do not be satisfied with ritual assemblies. Do not accept fiscal populism without structural reform. Do not celebrate GDP without questioning distribution. Do not revere law without demanding implementation.

This Republic belongs to you. The debts incurred today will be repaid by your taxes. The technologies emerging now will define your professions. The policies drafted in closed rooms will govern your freedoms.

So the real question is not what I should speak.

The real question is: when will you begin to speak—systematically, collectively, structurally—into the making of policy?

Ask. Analyse. Identify. Propose. Persist.

Otherwise, history will continue to be written without you.

Now, I invite your questions.

-Mahesh Zagade