For decades, Raisina Hill was not just a location but a metaphor. North and South Block symbolised where power resided, where files gathered momentum, and where governance unfolded through proximity as much as procedure. That geography is now being deliberately dismantled as key ministries relocate to the newly constructed Kartavya Bhawan complexes along Kartavya Path.
The shift of nine ministries and departments—including Defence, Law and Justice, Agriculture, Education, Information and Broadcasting, Chemicals and Fertilisers, and the CBI—is not a routine administrative reshuffle. It reflects a conscious reordering of the spatial logic of governance. As the Central Vista shapes up, the daily business of the state is being pulled away from colonial-era icons into a consolidated, purpose-built Secretariat, while North and South Blocks are repositioned as heritage structures and museums.
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Modern infrastructure, shared facilities, energy savings, and co-location are expected to improve coordination and reduce the operational clutter created by decades of scattered offices across Delhi. The argument is sensible and long overdue.
Yet power in babudom has never been purely architectural. It thrives on proximity, habit, and informal networks. The old Raisina ecosystem worked not because of grandeur but because of density. Relocation disrupts those rhythms, creating new patterns of access and influence that will inevitably favour those quick to adapt to the new geography.
This makes the move as symbolic as it is functional. It reflects a broader attempt to redefine where authority is seen to operate, aligning governance with a reimagined Central Vista that privileges modernity over inherited legacy.
This is not a cosmetic exercise but a recalibration of how the Indian state organises itself, signals power and conducts governance. For babus, where one sits still shapes how one matters.
Trump’s man in Delhi
The arrival of Sergio Gor in New Delhi comes at an awkward moment in Indo-US ties, certainly not at a high point but near a fresh low. Trump’s second term has stripped the relationship of its diplomatic cushioning. Stiff tariffs overshadow ties, trade frictions are sharper, and the old comfort of “strategic partnership” is being stress-tested almost weekly.
Gor is no conventional envoy sent to smooth edges. He is Trump’s insider — political, transactional, and perfectly aligned with a White House that sees diplomacy as leverage, not reassurance. That matters because India is no longer dealing with a friendly but demanding partner; it is dealing with a sceptical one that believes pressure works. And often, it does.
For India, this changes the playbook. The mandarins in MEA and babus in the Commerce, Finance and Defence ministries can no longer assume policy continuity or goodwill as a default setting. Washington’s moves are now driven less by long-term strategy and more by domestic politics and deal optics. One tweet or one off-the-cuff remark can undo months of hard work.
Trade is where the pain is most visible. Tariffs and hard bargaining have replaced the earlier rhetoric of convergence. Indian negotiators must now plan for sharper scenarios, faster coordination and credible fallback options beyond the US market.
There’s also a strategic irritant: Gor’s wider regional remit revives the risk of India being viewed through a South Asia lens rather than as a distinct Indo-Pacific power. That distinction will need constant reinforcement. For India, this is no longer relationship management; it’s damage control mixed with opportunity. If India adapts quickly and strategically, volatility can be managed. If it clings to old assumptions, it will spend Trump’s second term permanently on the back foot.
When PSU chiefs start looking over the fence
The latest buzz from the Ministry of Steel’s corridors is equal parts intrigue and frustration: Amarendu Prakash, the Chairman & Managing Director of Steel Authority of India Limited (SAIL), may have submitted his resignation, and might be eyeing a senior role at a global steel giant. However, nobody in the ministry will publicly acknowledge it, and that is precisely the problem.
Prakash isn’t some mid-level bean counter. He’s a seasoned technocrat with deep roots in steel production and decades of experience in the sector. His leadership was supposed to anchor SAIL through a delicate phase of expansion and policy navigation. Instead, we’re left with silence, speculation and whispers – the worst possible currency in administrative governance.
If these rumours are true, it may signal something bigger, that the flight of talent from the public sector to private players isn’t just a headline, but a trend. And it shouldn’t surprise anyone. When top leaders fi nd better opportunities elsewhere, and when ministries respond with tight-lipped bureaucracy rather than clarity, it tells markets, PSUs and even foreign investors that India’s leadership pipeline is volatile. Worse still, the timing couldn’t be more awkward. Critical decisions around key appointments and oversight are in the queue, and the ministry looks like it’s stuck between denials and rumour control.
