“In our government, ministers don’t resign, my friend. This is the UPA government, not the NDA.” This line dates back 11 years. The date was June 24, 2015; the speaker was Rajnath Singh. Even then, the question was the same: the opposition and the public were demanding a minister’s resignation—why wasn’t the government accepting it? And the response given that day wasn’t merely an answer; it was a declaration. That statement held for 11 years. Trains derailed—nothing happened; bridges collapsed—nothing happened; stampedes occurred—nothing happened; exam papers leaked—nothing happened; states burned—nothing happened; wrestlers took to the streets—nothing happened. Every time, the onus was shifted onto an official, an agency, or the previous government. The country had come to accept that holding office and bearing responsibility were two separate things. But on July 25, 2026, Dharmendra Pradhan resigned, and that narrative was shattered. Yes. While ministers had left the government before, they hadn’t done so on moral grounds. MJ Akbar left due to the #MeToo movement; Harsimrat Kaur left amidst the farmers’ protest. But this was the first time someone stepped down due to a ministry’s failure. However, the minister who left didn’t do so by admitting failure—which is also interesting. If you read his letter, there is no mention of failure; he departed by highlighting his achievements. But the question remains: how much of a dent did this resignation make in the Modi government? Did the wall—symbolizing a government that supposedly never bows—actually crack? How much damage was done? Or was this a trade-off? A deal where the government sacrificed a minister to quell a protest? We need to understand the extent of the impact.
How much has the Modi government gained or lost?
There is a saying in English: “Politics is perception.” This means that in politics, what actually happened is only half the story, while what the public perceives is the whole story—and elections aren’t fought on just half the story. Let me give you a simple example so you understand. A man quits his job; this can be described in two ways: first, that he was fired. Second, that he decided it was better to leave on his own terms. The event is the same. Yet, hearing the first version makes you view the man as a failure, while the second version commands your respect. That is the game of perception. And that is precisely the game at play with Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation. If you don’t quite grasp it, just look at that two-page letter of his. The battle wasn’t really about the resignation itself; it was about how the nation would remember this event in the future. That is why it highlights his 40-year track record. That is why it emphasizes that the government took action. And that is why it contains a specific word that demands your attention: a warning that “anti-national forces” might exploit the situation. Just think about it—a man stepping down from office is, even in his final moments, wielding that same old tool: the tool of labeling. He is addressing the students sitting before him, yet where is he actually pointing the finger? Nowhere in that entire document is there a single mention of the word “apology.” A wrong was committed against 2.2 million students, yet not once was there an apology—not even once. It is all about perception—preventing anti-national forces from capitalizing on the situation. But the question remains: why did the government yield, and to whom? The Narendra Modi government indeed yielded, but the question of *to whom* reveals a more significant truth. Was it to Rahul Gandhi? No. Akhilesh Yadav? No. Arvind Kejriwal? No. In the realm of perception, the government portrays itself as having yielded—but to the students. After all, in politics, losing to students isn’t really considered a defeat, is it? Politics is a fascinating thing. This discussion arises partly because the movement lacked a single, defining face—though that isn’t entirely accurate. There is an organization called CJP; its representatives went to speak with the ministers on July 24th. And Sonam Wangchuk is a well-known face. It was their hunger strike that brought the issue to this point. There is a difference; while there were other faces involved, none of them commanded a party, a vote bank, or the prospect of an upcoming election—and bargaining only happens where there is an electoral stake involved. How could one negotiate with them? That is why, although the position was relinquished, no one’s political stature grew; the government gave up the seat, yet no one claimed the credit. The narrative going forward will be: “We did not bow to opposition pressure; we yielded out of regard for our children.” In this country, if a father yields to his son, it isn’t called “bowing down”—it is called love. That is the magic of perception: a situation that begins as a defeat transforms into an act of empathy.
Now the question is: how did what failed to happen in 13 months come about in 36 days?
The first reason is that this time there wasn’t a collar to stamp their name. They could have told the farmers they were from one or two states. Wrestlers are few in number. What will the children say? They are voters of every party in every state, from every caste, and even those running the IT cell have children. Secondly, no weapon of pressure works on someone who has nothing to lose. How can you pressure children? Third, there’s less talk. This is the 2024 government, not the 2019 one. During the farmers’ protest, the wall was so thick that this problem didn’t arise after 13 months of struggle. This time there’s a coalition government. There could be problems. Fourth, according to the police’s own figures, more than 170 people were injured that day, including protesters. And when matters reach the court, the government runs out of time. Let me add this: the farmers didn’t get a minister, but three laws were repealed. The children got a minister. The law is yet to come. Therefore, it’s too early to say that the children got more.
But the question is, now that the resignation has taken place, where and to what extent has the Modi government taken a hit?
First Dent: The biggest earning of the Modi government was not any scheme. There was no law. The only earning was that the Modi government did not bow down. Because of this one thing, half the movements in the country died before they could start. People used to think that what will they do by sitting? They do not listen at all. This fear was a big weapon of the government. But today that weapon is lost. And the day the first crack is seen in the wall, that day everyone comes to know that Babu, the wall can be broken. Yes, there will be further movements. There will be resignations of ministers in the future too. Now nothing is impossible.
Second Dent: The was the second biggest weapon of the government in 12 years. Names were given to agitators: foreign funding, tukde-tukde gang, Naxalites, Chinese agents, Pakistanis; this time, that too was lost. Children started a movement and named their organization Cockro Janata Party; that is, they turned abuse into a reward. Now what will you make fun of?
Third dent: The is inside the house. Yes, I mean, now this is my guess. According to me, the biggest uneasiness today will not be in the opposition but in the cabinet because every minister will be forced to think that if a crowd gathers in front of your ministry, the party will not save you, but will give you away. And brother, this one is serious. Fourth date. Till now, the first demand of every movement was to change the law and provide compensation. From now on, the first demand of every movement will be to remove the minister because today it has been proved that this demand can be fulfilled. And this is where the trap starts because it is easy to give in the first time, it is difficult to refuse the second time. And if you accept it and it becomes a trend, refuse it. The question will arise why you agreed that day. This is called a trap of precedent. You create it yourself and then get trapped yourself. And the fifth, the deepest date is of time. If this resignation had happened before the lathi charge on July 20, the government would have become wiser. The lathi charge pictures would not have made news. It would not have reached the court. In politics, the value is not of things but of time. And what is given at the right time becomes a favor. A delayed decision is a defeat. At the same time, move beyond Hindu-Muslim issues and corner the Modi government without falling into traps. This is a significant story in itself. This is the government’s biggest dent.
Very, very big. However, there was a reason behind the government’s action. The government was afraid. They were afraid of the child who might be voting for the first time or the second time. Just as we remember our first love, we also remember our first fight. The child knew this, and the government was afraid that the child might think Modi was a dictator, or anti-youth. However, the government has also benefited. As they say, “Blessings in Disguise.” You might remember, when people were dying from COVID-19 all over the world, some things turned out well. They call it “Blessings in Disguise.” The skies cleared, the rivers cleared, and people moved closer to nature. Similarly, when the first minister resigned in the history of the Modi government, “Blessings in Disguise” also yielded some benefits. For example, there was a tag on the Prime Minister: “He has zero connection with the public. He only speaks his own mind, but he listens to the public’s thoughts.” Look, not a single resignation has occurred in 10 years. This time, Modi came on Instagram and spoke to children. Hello friends. This benefited them. That’s probably why 350-400 million reels were sold. Connectivity isn’t always about big cameras. The Prime Minister is speaking directly to us.
Secondly, this resignation has shielded the Modi government’s system from scrutiny and removed the “dictator” label. After all, what kind of dictator would—after enduring such vitriol and insults directed at his mother and sister at Jantar Mantar—refrain from filing lawsuits, while also ensuring a minister’s resignation and the disbursement of funds? Now, the narrative shifts to: “Look, we are willing to yield; we bowed down for the sake of the students.” Consequently, the “dictator” tag attached to Modi ji has somewhat faded, which works to his advantage—though it remains to be seen how effectively he can leverage this, given that the opposition will try to prevent him from reaping the benefits. That said, I do believe he will benefit, and the CJP (Coalition for Justice and Peace) isn’t done yet; they will continue to push the issue. Kejriwal and Akhilesh Yadav will also want to keep raising these matters. It will be interesting to see what else emerges regarding the NTA, as the story is far from over. But the crucial question remains: who suffered the biggest loss—the government or the opposition? Who gained the most, or lost the most, following the Education Minister’s resignation? The opposition had been raising this issue for months—creating an uproar in Parliament and making statements on the streets—yet when the demand was finally met, who got the credit? No one. Today, not a single opposition leader can claim, “We made this happen,” because the common man knows exactly who was responsible. For ten years, the opposition wielded a powerful weapon: the “dictator” narrative—labelling Modi ji a dictator, a tyrant, or comparing him to Hitler—and this idea was taking root in people’s minds. That “dictator” label was a very strong perception, and as I said earlier, politics is all about perception. Now, that weapon has been taken away. Because if we were to call Modi ji a dictator tomorrow claiming he doesn’t listen the public would simply say, “Well, he *did* listen.” Even if he listened only after being scolded, the fact remains that he listened. They had to endure some flak, sure, but they did listen. They engaged in dialogue. They secured the resignation. After all, no one gets it done in a single go. Did this perception harm the opposition? Actually, there is a benefit for the opposition too. The advantage, my friend, is that they can now demand a minister’s resignation at every single protest—demanding one minister after another step down. They can do that, and perhaps even succeed in making it happen. That is the downside for the government. However, they will certainly capitalise on the “dictator” narrative. That said, the opposition also has a responsibility to take the fight to the floor of Parliament; if they do that, the youngsters won’t have to resort to these other measures. In this country, resignations based on taking responsibility have been rare. The first instance was the 1956 rail accident, where around 150 people lost their lives; Shastri-ji resigned back then and later went on to become Prime Minister. Nitish Kumar resigned in August 1999 and subsequently became Railway Minister again. Do you see my point? In this country, a resignation doesn’t mark the end of a career; it’s merely a break. Therefore, accountability won’t be measured today; it will be assessed later, based on four key milestones. The first is next week, when the law regarding paper leaks is introduced—that is crucial. The second concerns the new ministers who have been assigned roles—specifically, how those holding dual portfolios perform.
Third, make the 15 jobs currently unfilled at the NTA permanent. Let’s make it at least 39. Currently, there are 24. And fourth, where is Dharmendra Pradhan in sight? Will he become a minister again? Will he return to the organization? What if he gets a ministerial position? Transfers are important. The rest is fine. A great start, Guru. And the children deserve praise for this beginning. The government benefits. The government also suffers. The government also suffers. The government also suffers. The government also has an opportunity. The opposition also has an opportunity. The opposition also has a dent. Overall, if anyone has benefited from this entire incident, it is Indian democracy. The public’s resignation from the government is a heartening message for a healthy democracy. It gives the public hope that the next time something goes wrong, they will take to the streets and demand the minister’s resignation. Because you are our watchman. We are not yours. The public is the king, and this kingly feeling will prevail.