The Haryana Government's Mysterious New Department: What Lies Ahead?
A Surprising New Initiative
On May Day, while many were celebrating workers globally, the Haryana government discreetly introduced a new entity that sounds like it belongs in a sci-fi narrative: the Department of Future. There was no manifesto, no press briefing, and not even a vague mission statement—just an unexpected government notice appointing two IAS officers, Amneet P Kumar and Dr. Aditya Dahiya, to spearhead this initiative into… well, the future remains unclear. This announcement has generated a mix of intrigue and amusement among bureaucrats. Some speculate it might focus on long-term policy strategies or AI governance, while others guess it could relate to climate change, youth innovation, or simply serve as a cleverly named office for interdepartmental collaboration. Given that one officer also oversees Fisheries and Archives, and the other manages Parliamentary Affairs and Personnel, it’s challenging to determine if this is a serious endeavor or merely an administrative afterthought. However, it’s important to recognize that the concept of a forward-thinking government department isn’t entirely far-fetched. Nations like the UAE have established full-fledged Ministries of the Future, complete with budgets, AI strategies, and ambitious goals. Yet, those departments typically come with comprehensive vision documents, not just job titles. Nevertheless, the title “Director, Department of Future” certainly has a nice ring to it for business cards—and even better for LinkedIn. Let’s just hope this department doesn’t end up like many futuristic visions: endlessly postponed.
The Return of Puja Khedkar
Red beacon and red flags
Puja Khedkar has finally made her reappearance. After a lengthy 282-day absence from the Pune Police, the former IAS probationer, who faced allegations of forging disability and OBC certificates, has returned to face questioning. Her case had already stirred controversy last year—remember the Audi, the red beacon, and the VIP antics before she even completed her training? What followed was even murkier: a series of alleged fraud, dismissal from service, and then… silence until now. What’s particularly alarming isn’t just the allegations but the duration she was allowed to evade consequences. For nearly ten months, this high-profile case went cold. No sightings, no significant pressure, and no public updates. If an ordinary citizen attempted such a feat, they would likely be tracked down, detained, and served with legal notices promptly. So, what granted Khedkar this unusual leniency? That’s the pressing question, one that shouldn’t be overshadowed by procedural updates and bureaucratic jargon. Was there hidden protection? Political cover? Institutional apathy? Or are we to believe she simply slipped through the cracks? This situation transcends Puja Khedkar; it highlights how our system selectively forgets, forgives, and sometimes even enables misconduct, especially when it involves government officials. If this case is allowed to fade away again, it won’t just tarnish her reputation; it will undermine public trust in the integrity of our civil services. And that’s far more challenging to restore than one elusive bureaucrat.
A Defiant Bureaucrat's Farewell
Babu who refused to blink
If bureaucracy were a sport, Ashok Khemka would be the player who consistently showed up to play fair, even when the referee, the audience, and sometimes his own team tried to sideline him. Now, as he concludes his career after 34 years and an astonishing 57 transfers, it’s fitting to acknowledge one of the most quietly rebellious figures in the bureaucratic landscape. To be clear, in a system where discretion often trumps disruption, Khemka was the individual with a highlighter and a strong moral compass. He is best known for nullifying the Robert Vadra-DLF land deal in 2012, which certainly secured his place in administrative history. He continued to question, investigate, and, more often than not, faced transfers for it. His transfer record alone could fill a thriller novel, or at the very least, a substantial government file. Instead of giving up, Khemka chose to stand firm, wielding his pen and principles with equal passion. Was he difficult? Certainly. Was he inconvenient? Absolutely. But he was also essential. In an era of blurred lines and backroom deals, Khemka reminded us that bureaucratic roles weren’t meant to be mere rubber stamps for political ambitions. They were intended to be the backbone of governance. Now that he’s retired, the silence he leaves behind will resonate deeply. One can only hope that the next Khemka doesn’t encounter the same challenges in doing what is right. But if they do, they’ll know it has been done before.
Conclusion
Dilip Cherian