By Dilip Cherian
The controversy surrounding Odisha’s next DGP is not really about Sanjeeb Panda or others in the race. It’s about whether rules meant to protect police leadership from political discretion can be bent when they are inconvenient.
The elevation of Panda and YK Jethwa to DG rank came at a particularly sensitive time. The previous exercise by the state to find the next DGP had not resulted in a final panel and the government was preparing a fresh list for the UPSC. The timing inevitably raised eyebrows as Panda was viewed as a contender for the top job.
The Supreme Court’s intervention has therefore brought the real issue into focus. Under its 2006 Prakash Singh directions, the state must choose its DGP from three senior-most officers empanelled by the UPSC based on service record, seniority and experience. The objective was to make the appointment a professional, merit-based decision rather than an exercise in executive preference.
That principle has gained even greater force this year. In February, the Supreme Court criticised states for delaying regular DGP appointments and relying on ad hoc arrangements, warning that such practices undermine the Prakash Singh framework. Against that backdrop, promoting an officer immediately before a crucial selection exercise may be perfectly defensible if driven by genuine administrative requirements.
But if the elevation appears designed to alter the eligibility pool, the government owes the public more than procedural assurances. It owes an explanation. The larger danger is precedent. If governments can reshuffle the qualifying field just before a supposedly independent selection process, the UPSC’s role becomes little more than post-facto validation. The Supreme Court’s scrutiny is therefore welcome. This is not about who becomes Odisha’s DGP. It is about whether the rules remain rules when the stakes are high.
Himachal govt needs a trim, not a tweak
Himachal Pradesh may finally be confronting a question that governments have long dodged: how many senior babus does a state actually need?
Chief Minister Sukhvinder Singh Sukhu says the state will approach the Centre to cut its sanctioned IAS strength from 153 to 130, IFS posts from 118 to 83, and also trim the IPS cadre. The stated reason is blunt enough: maintaining an oversized bureaucracy costs the state around Rs 200 crore a year, while some officers allegedly have too little work.
This is less about punishing the bureaucracy than admitting an uncomfortable administrative truth. A sanctioned post is not sacred simply because it has existed for years. If the work has changed, the structure must change too. But downsizing cadres cannot become a cosmetic exercise in fiscal prudence. Himachal’s problem is larger than the number of IAS, IPS or IFS officers sitting in Shimla.
The state faces debt exceeding Rs 1 lakh crore and enormous salary, pension and establishment liabilities. So the real test is whether the government is prepared to apply the same logic beyond the All India Services. Otherwise, this risks becoming bureaucratic calorie-counting while the larger administrative elephant remains untouched. If fewer officers can deliver better governance, cut them. But if the state genuinely needs more capacity in health, education, disaster management, policing and the mountains’ increasingly complex environmental challenges, indiscriminate pruning could prove penny-wise and pound-foolish. What Himachal needs is a leaner state, not just fewer babus.
In Corporate Affairs, continuity runs in the family
Delhi’s babu corridors have been handed another delicious talking point. Pallavi Jain Govil, the 1994-batch Madhya Pradesh cadre IAS officer, has been appointed Secretary, Ministry of Corporate Affairs. Nothing unusual. Govil is a seasoned officer, and the appointment is entirely within the rules. The amusing bit is the ministry’s recent history: her husband, Manoj Govil, a 1991-batch IAS officer, had previously occupied the very same secretary’s chair before moving on to the Finance Ministry and subsequently the Cabinet Secretariat.
In babu terms, this is called coincidence. In Delhi drawing rooms, it is called good dinner-table conversation! Of course, there is no reason to suggest that Pallavi Jain Govil owes her appointment to her husband. Her career stands on its own. And the list of senior officer couples occupying important government positions is hardly short. Still, the optics are irresistible.
The corporate world has long talked about succession planning. The IAS establishment may now have discovered the domestic version. Corporate Affairs is the ministry that closely monitors corporate governance, related-party transactions, and conflicts of interest. Thankfully, this one is none of those things.




































