An open letter to PM Modi on his ‘pakoda' statement
Mr. Prime Minister,
In a TV interview recently, you asserted that a person is earning Rs. 200 a day selling pakodas is also an employed person. Many people took offense to this statement, claiming that your promise to generate one crore jobs is a hoax.
While we appreciate the fact that you recognize street vending as employment, the harsh realities under which street vendors carry out their livelihood has been lost in your statement. Street vending is an independent and dignified profession. We are proud to be street
vendors.
However, we cannot take away the context in which we have become street vendors. It is out of distress of migrating to a city, of drought in villages, agricultural crisis reeling in this country, and more importantly lack of employment options that we have resorted to treet vending.
Moreover, education has become a costly affair for millions of people in the country. In fact, you are further distancing it from the people by decreasing the budget outlay for education, which you presented yesterday. The poor in this country cannot get an education, but there are no job options for those educated either. And even when we want to earn a decent livelihood of street vending, we face
harassment and threats of evictions from various authorities on a daily basis.
Even when the Street Vendors (Protection of Livelihoods and Regulating Street Vending) Act, 2014 was passed by the UPA II Government, very few State Governments have implemented the legislation. The Act grants a right to livelihood to us street vendors and is intended to provide solace to us from all the harassment. However, we continue to be left out of public spaces; police officers demand hafta, municipal authorities threaten to evict us, residents call us dirty, that we obstruct traffic, and other
such unreasonable allegations are made against us. It has been four years since the Act came into force and four years since you have been the Prime Minister of India.
If you thought this was an honorable profession, why do we continue to be perceived as a nuisance? The Lieutenant General of Delhi ordered massive evictions, in blatant violation of the 2014 Act. Why has no action been taken against any authority across the
country for trying to evict vendors? What have you, Mr. Prime Minister, done for us street vendors? When you sat in opposition to the UPA Government, you vehemently opposed Foreign Direct Investments in Retail – against Walmart and Target entering our country. However, you have now approved 100 percent in single-brand retail. This will no doubt harm small businesses, including us street vendors. To add insult to injury, your ‘smart cities' project is ensuring complete evictions of street vendors.This project is not only affecting our livelihood, but is taking away our right to shelter as well. The smart city has become synonymous with evictions of street vendors and slums. Your vision of development does not include us, sir. Instead, your policies are increasing the number of dispossessed people every day. There is no respite for us from poverty. So, where is our acche din? When you demonetized the Rs. 500 and Rs. 1,000 currency notes, us street vendors were the most affected. You want to make India cashless.
Do you expect our customers to swipe money into our phones for a dozen banana? In addition to this, you've introduced GST. It is wiping out small usinesses who source small items for us to sell.
Sir, we do not want a ‘Smart City,' we do not want a ‘Digital India,' we do not want ‘Make In India' or your ‘Swacch Bharath,' if it doesn't allow municipal workers, construction workers, slum dwellers, and street vendors to live with dignity. We want public education, public health system, and public housing! You are shirking your responsibility to provide us all of this and are instead privatizing our entitlements. Yes, it is employment if a person sells pakoda on the streets. But, do not use us as an excuse for your inability to provide jobs to the citizens of this country, and going back on your promise. On the contrary, we street vendors stand on our abilities
and hard work.
We will fight against anyone who takes away our rights!
Yours Sincerely,
Bengaluru Jilla Beedhi Vyapari Sanghatanegala Okkuta
Contact: 9880316961, 9880595032, 9686757053
Email: bvokkuta@gmail.com
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Ballari violence: Were cops made scapegoats to cover political failure?
Bengaluru: Across Karnataka, a serious discussion has begun after the violence in Ballari and the swift action taken against police officers who were on the ground that day. The core question being asked is simple: when law and order fails, why are police officers the first to be shown the door, while political responsibility is quietly pushed aside?
The January 1 clash in Ballari was not a sudden street fight. It was a political confrontation involving supporters of two sitting MLAs. A banner related to the unveiling of a Valmiki statue became the flashpoint. What followed was stone-pelting, firing, and the death of a Congress worker. The situation spiralled within hours.
Within a day, Ballari SP Pavan Nejjur was suspended. Soon after, senior officers were reshuffled. Deputy Inspector General of Police Vartika Katiyar was transferred. No official reason was cited in the notification. But the timing made one thing clear: accountability, at least on paper, had been fixed.
Since then, there has been unease within police circles and political debate outside it.
Unconfirmed reports that Nejjur attempted suicide after his suspension were firmly denied by senior officers and the home minister. They said he was safe, resting, and under stress. Still, the very fact that such reports gained traction says something about the pressure officers feel when action is taken overnight, without public clarity.
Opposition leaders have called Nejjur a scapegoat, pointing out that he had taken charge only hours before the violence. They have asked how an officer can be blamed for a political clash he barely had time to assess. They have also drawn parallels with earlier incidents where police leadership was suspended after tragedies, while political decision-making remained untouched.
However, responding to this criticism, Home Minister G Parameshwara rejected the argument that the suspension was unfair because Nejjur had assumed charge only hours earlier. “It is not important whether he reported to duty on the same day (of incident) or one hour back. Duty is duty. He is not new to the department. IPS officers are trained to handle such situations any time. If he had acted swiftly and promptly, he could have prevented the situation from escalating.” He had said adding that Nejjur did not discharge his duties properly and that this was the reason for his suspension.
Now, fresh and unconfirmed reports suggest that Vartika Katiyar may have met a senior cabinet minister, questioning why she was made to pay the price for a situation that was political in nature. There is no official confirmation of this meeting. But the talk itself has added fuel to the debate.
What is being discussed in the state is not whether the police made mistakes. Many acknowledge that the situation on January 1 was mishandled. A clash earlier in the day was allowed to cool down without strong preventive action. Later, a banner came up near a politically sensitive location. The crowd should not have been allowed to build up. Better anticipation was needed.
At the same time, critics are asking whether the entire burden can be placed on officers when the trigger itself was political rivalry. Who installed the banner? Who mobilised supporters? Who had armed private gunmen present at the spot? These are questions that are still part of the investigation, yet administrative punishment moved faster than political accountability.
This has led to a wider comparison with past incidents, including the Bengaluru stampede after the RCB victory celebrations. There too, police officers were suspended after lives were lost, while decisions taken at higher levels were defended as unavoidable. Many are now saying Ballari fits into the same pattern.
The argument being made is not that the police are blameless. The argument is that responsibility appears to stop at the uniform. When things go wrong, officers are transferred or suspended to send a message. But when the violence is rooted in political rivalry, that message feels incomplete.
Within police ranks, there is also quiet concern about working conditions. Officers say they are expected to manage volatile political situations overnight, often with little room to push back against powerful interests. When things hold, they are invisible. When they collapse, they stand alone.
The Ballari episode has once again exposed this fault line.
For the government, the challenge is larger than one suspension or transfer. The real test is whether it is willing to publicly acknowledge political failures when law and order breaks down, instead of letting the system suggest that the police alone dropped the ball.
For now, what remains is a growing feeling across Karnataka that accountability is selective. And that whenever politics turns violent, the easiest answer is to change the officers, not the decisions that led to the violence in the first place.
