For three days, Naya Raipur is set to cosplay as a “mini-PMO”, complete with the full weight of India’s security establishment descending on the city for the 60th National DGP/IGP Conference. Modi, Shah, Doval, DGPs, IGs, and the chiefs of every Central force will be in attendance. It’s a rare moment when the entire internal security command structure briefly migrates out of Delhi. The state machinery has gone into overdrive. Government residences have been upgraded to SPG-style standards, so no VVIP has to risk a hotel stay. Over 650 vehicles and more than 2,000 security personnel will ensure everything moves with precision. The theatrics are impressive; the purpose, at least on the surface, is noble. But the seasoned watcher knows the difference between choreography and change.
When the Prime Minister steps out of Delhi, the bureaucracy instinctively snaps into attention. Once the motorcades leave, the tempo quietly returns to its familiar amble. That’s the real test for this conference: whether anything survives beyond the manicured lawns and multiple security rings. The gathering comes just after the killing of Maoist commander Madvi Hidma and ahead of the Centre’s ambitious deadline for ending Left-wing extremism. The message is unmistakable: the state is in control and expects its policing and intelligence arms to match the declared urgency. The conference, then, isn’t just an annual review; it’s a performance of intent. Whether that intent leads to better intel-sharing, smoother inter-agency coordination, and smarter policing is the larger question. India has never lacked grand conferences or glossy presentations. What it lacks is durable institutional memory — the kind that prevents every crisis from triggering another round of reinvention. Still, Raipur has a window. If the tight security planning, coordination drills and logistical muscle assembled for these three days are translated into long-term systems, the “mini-PMO” experiment might leave behind more than photo ops. If not, this will simply join the long list of beautifully choreographed weekends that promised transformation but delivered nostalgia. For now, Raipur will shine. Whether anything glows after the VIP lights dim is up to babus, as always.
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Babus’ big retirement gamble
The Centre has handed IAS officers an oddly specific November 30 homework deadline: pick your pension scheme and don’t come back later saying you weren’t warned. OPS, NPS, UPS may sound like alphabet soup, but the implications are huge. The Old Pension Scheme is the nostalgia pick. It entails guaranteed payouts, no market drama, and a comfort blanket big enough to wrap a mid-career officer and their anxieties. The National Pension System, meanwhile, is the “grow up and face the markets” option, where your retirement depends on investment performance rather than a promise. And then there’s the newbie on the block, the Unified Pension Scheme, which tries to be all things: a bit of assurance, a bit of market exposure, and a lot of “trust the government, we’ve thought this through.” What’s interesting isn’t just the menu of choices, but the urgency. When babus are asked to make a decision quickly, you know something’s shifting. This is essentially the government signalling that pension reforms are no longer hypothetical.
Fiscal pressure is real, the 8th Pay Commission’s shadow is long, and clarity on future liabilities can’t wait for committee-after-committee procrastination. For officers, though, the psychological battle is the real one. Either way, this isn’t just a pension choice. It’s a referendum on how India’s steel frame sees its own future — risk-averse and cushioned, or reform-aligned and willing to adapt. December will tell us which instinct wins.
MEA in overdrive
If anyone thinks Indian diplomacy is cruising on autopilot, they haven’t glanced at the MEA’s calendar this week. It’s less a schedule and more a diplomatic obstacle course. Yes, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent outing was limited to the G20 Leaders’ Summit in South Africa, but the real action is what’s unfolding around it. Russian President Vladimir Putin is expected in Delhi in December, and that single visit is already generating more geopolitical calculations than a Defence Ministry budget meeting.
In dia’s long-standing ties with Moscow remain strategically valuable, but managing them while avoiding the appearance of leaning too far into Russia’s embrace, especially with Washington watching like a hawk, is a balancing act that requires the MEA’s full finesse.
Meanwhile, the neighbourhood is hardly behaving. Bangladesh, usually India’s most predictable partner in South Asia, has plunged into extraordinary turbulence. With Sheikh Hasina handed a death sentence by the interim government and Dhaka demanding her return, the region’s political temperature has shot up. Against this backdrop, the quiet arrival of Bangladesh’s National Security Advisor Khalilur Rahman in Delhi is no routine check-in. It’s a crisis-management moment. India’s deep stakes in Bangladesh mean that instability in Dhaka isn’t just a neighbour’s headache; it’s a direct strategic and economic risk. Add to this a foreign policy environment where India must project autonomy, navigate great-power rivalries, reassure partners in the neighbourhood, and keep global forums from collapsing into performative talk-shops, and you begin to see the pressure on Indian diplomats. The MEA isn’t just “busy”. It’s fi refighting, bridge-building, signalling, and recalibrating—often all in the same hour. Indian diplomacy has its hands full, and dropping even one ball is not an option.
