By Dilip Cherian
Appointing Gaurav Yadav as regular Director General of Police in Punjab settles a question that should never have lingered for four years. Yadav became officiating DGP in July 2022. The Bhagwant Mann government then spent years resisting the established UPSC-led selection process and instead favoured a state-level mechanism. Meanwhile, Punjab’s most important police appointment remained in limbo, with senior officers superseded and an interim arrangement acquiring an extraordinary degree of permanence.
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The UPSC finally shortlisted Yadav, Sharad Satya Chauhan and Harpreet Singh Sidhu in July 2026. Yet the government delayed its decision until October, when the Punjab and Haryana High Court’s intervention brought the issue to a head.
The question is not whether Yadav deserved the job. Rather, why did it take four years to reach a decision? A government that allows an officiating arrangement to drag on indefinitely may not be openly defying the safeguards outlined by the Supreme Court on police reforms, but it is hardly respecting their spirit.
That is the real significance of this episode. An acting DGP can exercise the full authority of the office, yet the prolonged uncertainty surrounding his tenure weakens the institutional assurance that regular appointment is meant to provide. And when compliance comes only after judicial pressure, the question is not whether the system eventually worked, but why it had to be pushed so hard to work at all.
Training together, working apart
The proposed National Academy of Civil Services at Kevadia, near the Statue of Unity in Gujarat, is an interesting idea. Bringing officer trainees from different services under one roof could help them understand each other’s roles and develop a more joined-up approach to governance.
But will that understanding last once they return to their respective departments?
That is where the real challenge lies. Our babudom is notorious for service loyalties, turf battles and departmental silos. Officers may train together, but once they enter the system, old habits and institutional rivalries can quickly take over.
India already has established training academies, while Mission Karmayogi provides a framework for continuous learning. So, what exactly will a new academy do differently? That is a fair question, particularly when setting up another institution involves costs and the risk of duplicating existing arrangements.
Still, the idea deserves a chance, but its success will depend on what happens beyond the classroom. Will officers collaborate better, take decisions faster, and become more accountable? Or will they return to business as usual after a common training stint?
Apathy within the administration
A directive from the Chief Secretary should not need a string of reminders to get a response. Yet, in Tamil Nadu, that seems to be precisely what is happening. On August 5, Chief Secretary M Sai Kumar directed government employees to submit their annual statements of assets, debts and liabilities by October 31. By October 10, barely 3.12% had complied. The government has even proposed linking compliance to promotion panels. Clearly, the message has not travelled very far down the administrative chain.
Are government employees taking the directive lightly, or has the administration failed to make compliance a priority? Either way, the picture is hardly flattering.
Employee representatives have raised concerns about the implications for promotions and departmental procedures. This deserves a hearing, but filing an annual asset declaration is hardly an extraordinary demand. It is part of the accountability expected of babus, and the requirement is backed by the Tamil Nadu Government Servants’ Conduct Rules, 1973.
The more interesting question is what happens next. If departments scramble to meet the deadline only after the Chief Secretary turns up the pressure, it would suggest that routine compliance depends less on established rules than on the seniority of the officer issuing them.
That is a familiar weakness in government: orders are issued at the top, passed down the hierarchy and then quietly lose momentum somewhere along the way. Everyone knows the rules exist; enforcing them is another story.
Mr Sai Kumar now has a choice. He can keep issuing reminders, or establish who has complied, who has not and why. Those who continue to disregard the rules should face the consequences. The issue is bigger than a deadline for filing asset statements. If the government cannot secure compliance with a routine disclosure requirement, it is fair to wonder how effectively it can enforce more consequential decisions.
Heard on the street…
Delhi gets fortified for Gyanesh Kumar, but who will fortify the ordinary babu’s career when the heat is on? Lowly bureaucrats are quietly asking whether they, too, can expect such muscle when they are in trouble, or whether VIP protection is strictly for the chosen few. For most, a complaint can mean a transfer, a vigilance probe, or a career in cold storage.
Clearly, in our babu pecking order, all babus may be equal, but some come with a hefty security cordon and political endorsement from the very top.
