Vande Mataram at 150: A Lost Chance for Unity, Claimed by Electoral Optics

 

-Ramphal Kataria

Vande Mataram — Between Emotion, History and Electoral Optics

Vande Mataram once united India against colonial rule. Today, it fuels political polarization. This analysis examines how nationalism, identity, and electoral optics have reshaped the meaning of a national symbol.

 

Summary 

The current debate over Vande Mataram demonstrates a larger pattern in contemporary Indian politics — where symbols of national identity are increasingly instrumentalized rather than celebrated. Historically a unifying cultural artefact that influenced the anti-colonial movement, the song is now framed through the logic of majority assertion and identity verification. This transformation reflects a deeper ideological shift: instead of fostering citizenship rooted in constitutional values and shared belonging, political discourse now leans toward conditional nationalism where dissent, nuance, or alternative historical memory is seen as deviation. Such polarization pushes national identity away from inclusion and towards performative nationalism, diluting the pluralist ethos embedded in India's freedom struggle and constitutional foundations.

 

Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s decision to open the Lok Sabha debate marking 150 years of Vande Mataram was not merely ceremonial — it was political. The song, penned by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee in Anandamath (1875), played an undeniably important role in stirring revolutionary consciousness and energising India’s freedom struggle. Yet the moment chosen to spotlight it — alongside rhetoric targeting the Opposition and revisiting historical disputes — indicates that the commemoration is inseparable from the ongoing electoral calculations, especially with West Bengal entering a high-stakes election cycle. As The Tribune editorial aptly observed, Vande Mataram remains an emotive symbol — and therefore, a strategic one.

While the Prime Minister framed the song as a unifier, the political messaging beneath the celebration was unmistakably polarising — drawing upon religious identity rather than shared national memory. What should have been an occasion to acknowledge India’s plural past instead risked deepening ideological fissures.

Vande Mataram Controversy: Unity Lost in Electoral Optics

The political storm around Vande Mataram refuses to die down — not because the song itself is problematic, but because the context in which it is invoked has turned a symbol of anti-colonial unity into a partisan litmus test of nationalism. On its 150-year mark, the ruling establishment revived the debate inside Parliament, not as a cultural commemoration or civilizational reflection, but as a confrontational political device. The symbolism was deliberate: if Vande Mataram mirrors the emotional spine of India’s freedom struggle, then opposing or questioning its mandated use can be portrayed as morally suspect, even “anti-nation.”

Yet historically, Vande Mataram was never meant to be a coercive performance of nationalism. It belonged to a political moment where Indian identity was imagined as plural — linguistic, regional, religious — and united not by fear or conformity, but by shared struggle against colonial power. The spirit that animated the song was collective sacrifice, not majoritarian assertion.

Today, that shared moral vocabulary has eroded. Political actors weaponize national symbols to create ideological binaries. Instead of asking why the song mattered, the debate now focuses on who must prove loyalty by singing it, and who should be publicly shamed if they do not. With this shift, the question becomes: Is nationalism now a performance rather than a conviction?

A Consensus in History — Not a Weapon of Partisanship

It is important to recall that Vande Mataram became the National Song of India through consensus — not divisiveness.

On January 24, 1950, at the final session of the Constituent Assembly, Dr. Rajendra Prasad announced the formal adoption of Vande Mataram as the National Song. The declaration was collective, inclusive, and uncontested. Key leaders — Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Patel, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, KM Munshi, Alladi Krishnaswami Ayyar, H.C. Mookerjee, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan and even Syama Prasad Mookerjee (now projected as an ideological forefather of the ruling BJP) — were part of that same national consensus.

The decision to adopt only the first two stanzas, originally sung by Rabindranath Tagore, was intentional. Tagore admired the poetic beauty and spiritual universality of the opening verses, yet expressed concern about the later sections — which closely link the nation to Hindu goddess imagery, specifically Durga, thus raising the potential for exclusion in a multi-faith nation.

Far from rejection, the accommodation demonstrated statesmanship and foresight: nationalism would unify — not alienate.

The Novel Behind the Song: A Political and Cultural Fault Line

Understanding the present debate requires revisiting Anandamath itself.

Bankim Chandra Chatterjee’s work fused revived Hindu religio-cultural identity with anti-colonial patriotism. Key ideological strands include:

Personification of the motherland as a Hindu deity (Bharat Mata), invoking Durga, Kali, Lakshmi and Saraswati.

Militant nationalism, calling for action rather than renunciation.

A Hindu cultural unity narrative, imagined as a unifying force against foreign rule.

However, the novel’s depiction of Muslims as oppressive rulers, contrasted with idealised Hindu ascetics, continues to provoke scholarly and political debate. Critics argue that the framing promotes a binary religious nationalism that did not reflect the socio-political realities of the 18th century. As historians note, the Sannyasi groups the novel glorifies were not nationalist revolutionaries but fragmented bands with diverse motivations — including resistance, survival and opportunistic plunder.

Bankim’s creative license served a purpose: constructing a mythic nationalist narrative during colonial rule. But contemporary politics repurposing this narrative as literal history risks converting literature into ideological artillery.

The Missed Opportunity

For decades, leaders like Maulana Abul Kalam Azad and Rafi Ahmad Kidwai defended Vande Mataram from communal mischaracterisation — not to diminish Hindu symbolism, but to protect national unity. They rejected Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s communal framing and insisted on shared ownership of the freedom movement’s heritage.

Today, however, the same song is used as a litmus test of patriotism, often to stigmatise disagreement rather than celebrate belonging. The BJP’s framing — particularly in Bengal — echoes a familiar pattern of cultural majoritarianism masquerading as nationalism.

This milestone could have been an occasion to highlight:

India’s civilisational plurality

The accommodative wisdom of the Constituent Assembly

The song’s role in collective resistance to colonial rule

Instead, it risks becoming yet another chapter in the politics of polarisation.

Conclusion

In a democracy, patriotism cannot be policed. National identity cannot be certified by a slogan or a song. India’s freedom struggle wielded Vande Mataram as a shared cry of resistance — but never as a tool to exclude. If modern politics continues reducing national symbols to ideological checkpoints, the cost will not be borne by songs or flags, but by the pluralistic idea of India itself.

Vande Mataram stands at the crossroads of memory, literature, nationalism and belief. Its legacy is rich — but also layered and complex. A mature democracy honours that complexity rather than flattening it into electoral messaging.

The 150-year commemoration should have strengthened the idea of India — many-voiced, plural, confident. Instead, it reveals a shrinking political imagination — one that chooses cultural fault lines over historical wisdom.

India deserved reflection.
It received rhetoric.

References

1. Bandyopadhyay, Sekhar. From Plassey to Partition: A History of Modern India. Orient Blackswan, 2015.

2. Chatterjee, Partha. Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse? University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

3. Guha, Ramachandra. India After Gandhi: The History of the World's Largest Democracy. HarperCollins, 2016.

4. Tharoor, Shashi. Inglorious Empire: What the British Did to India. Penguin Books, 2017.

5. The Tribune Editorial Board. “Vande Mataram: Unity Lost in Electoral Optics.” The Tribune, December 2025.

6. Lok Sabha Parliamentary Debate Transcripts, Winter Session 2025.

 

 

 

From Guardian to Hostage: How India's Election Watchdog Lost its Leash

 

-Ramphal Kataria 

The Manufactured Mandate: When the EC Works for the Government, Not the Constitution

Summary

The Election Commission of India (ECI), a cornerstone of Indian democracy, is facing a severe crisis of public trust driven by controversial administrative actions and legislative changes. This crisis undermines the fairness of the electoral process through three main avenues:  

1. Administrative Overreach and Exclusion: The Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, challenged in the Supreme Court, is criticized as an illegal, non-statutory en masse exercise (violating Section 21(3) of ROPA, 1950) that places an unreasonable burden of proof on citizens. The deletion of an estimated 65 lakh voters in Bihar and detailed allegations of "Vote Theft" (including claims of 25 lakh fake voters in Haryana and one lakh 'stolen' votes in Mahadevpura) have been dismissed by the ECI without releasing key technical evidence (like IP addresses), fueling a narrative of systemic fraud.

2. Erosion of Independence and Accountability: The Chief Election Commissioner and Other Election Commissioners Act, 2023, fundamentally compromised the ECI's autonomy. It replaced the Supreme Court-mandated selection committee with one dominated by the Executive (PM + Union Cabinet Minister + LoP), ensuring the appointment of politically favourable candidates. Furthermore, Section 16 of the Act grants ECI members near-absolute immunity from civil or criminal proceedings for official acts, effectively shielding them from post-retirement accountability.

3. Destruction of Evidence and Financial Inequity: The ECI directed that all CCTV/webcasting footage be destroyed after 45 days, precisely the deadline for filing an Election Petition (EP). This pre-emptive destruction of "unimpeachable evidence" severely cripples judicial review. Concurrently, the Supreme Court's failure to order the recovery of the proceeds from the unconstitutional Electoral Bond Scheme has allowed the ruling party to retain an unconstitutional war chest of over ₹16,518 crore (with the largest beneficiary receiving approximately 70%), institutionalizing massive financial disparity in the electoral contest.  

These combined actions transform the ECI from an independent guardian of democracy into an institution widely perceived as being subservient to the ruling establishment, thereby endangering the integrity and fairness of Indian elections.

The Election Commission of India (ECI), a constitutional bulwark created to ensure free and fair elections, is embroiled in an unprecedented crisis of trust. This crisis is not fueled by mere political rhetoric but by a confluence of controversial administrative actions and legislative changes that collectively undermine the ECI's independence, transparency, and neutrality. The result is a profound threat to the core democratic principle: that the loser must believe the process was fair.

The ECI was established on January 25, 1950, under Article 324 of the Constitution of India. Its fundamental mandate is the "superintendence, direction and control of the preparation of the electoral rolls for, and the conduct of, all elections" to the Parliament and State Legislatures.

Historically, the ECI has piloted major reforms to strengthen democracy, driven by judicial, legislative, and ECI initiative:

1988 (61st Amendment): Reduced the voting age from 21 to 18.

1989: Empowered the ECI to countermand elections due to booth capturing (Section 58A, Representation of the People Act, 1951 (ROPA)).

1993: Introduced Electors Photo Identity Cards (EPIC) to curb impersonation.

2003: Mandated disclosure of criminal antecedents of candidates (following a Supreme Court order).

2019: Full implementation of Voter Verifiable Paper Audit Trail (VVPAT) to confirm EVM votes

These efforts built public confidence. However, recent developments—particularly the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) and a new law governing ECI appointments—signal a dangerous retreat into opacity and executive subservience.

 

The Special Intensive Revision (SIR), a deep, document-intensive audit of electoral rolls, is the central administrative controversy. Unlike the routine Summary Revision (SR), SIR forces citizens to re-establish their constitutional right to vote, placing an unreasonable burden of proof upon them.

The Core Objections and the Supreme Court Challenge

Multiple petitions, including those from opposition parties and NGOs like the Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR), have been consolidated before the Supreme Court, challenging the SIR's very legality and methodology in states like Bihar, Kerala, and West Bengal.

Legal Challenge	Petitioner's Argument	ECI's Stance/Judicial Concern
En Masse Jurisdiction	Senior Advocate A. M. Singhvi argued that the ECI's power under Section 21(3) of ROPA, 1950, is limited to a "constituency or part of a constituency," not an en masse, state-wide exercise. This constitutes an overreach of statutory power, where Article 324 (plenary power) cannot plug the gaps in ROPA.	The ECI defends SIR as "constitutionally mandated" to ensure purity of rolls due to migration. The SC is actively testing whether the ECI is treating electors as 'presumptive guests,' shifting the burden unfairly.
SIR as Indirect NRC	Petitioners argue SIR acts as a de facto National Register of Citizens (NRC), forcing citizens to prove citizenship using stringent, multiple documents (Passport, Birth Certificate, Parents' records, etc.). The ECI lacks constitutional authority to determine citizenship.	The ECI claims it only verifies eligibility under Article 326 and Section 16 of ROPA. However, the strict document requirements and the threat of deletion have been criticized as leading to structural disenfranchisement.
Mass Disenfranchisement (Bihar)	In Bihar, critics allege around 65 lakh voters were deleted in the name of correction. The process was rushed, the criteria opaque, and the ECI refused to use its own software to clean the rolls, allowing the mass deletion to stand and allegedly influencing the election outcome.	The SC has had to order the ECI to publish details of the deleted names and the reasons, highlighting the ECI's initial lack of transparency. Advocates noted the SIR failed to weed out many duplicate names that were pointed out to the court.

 

The unilateral imposition of SIR, particularly in opposition-ruled states like West Bengal and Kerala, is seen as a targeted political exercise to "rob the election" by selectively purging votes from demographic groups or regions perceived as anti-incumbency, thereby manufacturing a favourable electoral result.

 

The controversy escalated dramatically with the Leader of the Opposition, Rahul Gandhi, leveling direct accusations of a "Vote Chori" (vote theft) operation conducted through a centralized software system.

Key Revelations (Mahadevpura, Aland, and Haryana)

Location/Event	Allegation Detail	Implication for ECI Credibility
Mahadevapura (Karnataka)	Claimed at least one lakh votes were 'stolen' in the 2024 polls using manipulative practices.	Suggested that manipulation was systematic and widespread, not isolated.
Aland (Karnataka) & Rajura (Maharashtra)	Presented "100 per cent proof" of "targeted deletion" of voters, primarily from communities opposed to the ruling party (Dalits, Adivasis, Minorities, OBCs).	Accused a centralized software/call-center operation of picking the 'Serial number-1' voter in a booth to apply for mass deletions without their knowledge (e.g., Suryakant deleting 12 names in 14 minutes), proving it was automated and malicious.
Haryana Assembly Elections	Claimed the election was a "theft" orchestrated by "Operation Sarkar Chori" which allegedly created 25 lakh fake voters and involved the registration of the same voter in multiple states.	Directly accused the ECI of being in partnership with the Prime Minister and Home Minister to "destroy Indian democracy," asserting that the massive fraud happened at the state and national level.
Attack on CEC	Accused Chief Election Commissioner (CEC) Gyanesh Kumar of "protecting" the culprits by refusing to share technical evidence (IP addresses, OTP trails, device ports) with the Karnataka CID, which wrote 18 letters over 18 months for the data.	This refusal is cited as the strongest evidence of collusion and institutional cover-up, confirming the ECI's role as a silent accomplice in subverting the process.

 

The ECI has simply dismissed these specific, detailed, and documented allegations as "incorrect and baseless," without releasing the technical data requested by law enforcement, thus ensuring the allegations remain unresolved and the trust deficit grows.

The crisis of trust is fundamentally rooted in the legislative changes that have compromised the ECI's independence and accountability.

The Chief Election Commissioner and Other Election Commissioners Act, 2023

This Act, passed in 2023, significantly alters the selection and protection of ECI members:

1. Selection by Executive Dominance: The Act replaced the Supreme Court-mandated selection committee (PM + CJI + LoP) with a government-dominated one: PM + Union Cabinet Minister + LoP. This move ensures that the ruling party can appoint Commissioners who are politically favourable, making the ECI a "legislative hostage" of the executive.

2. Protection and Accountability (Section 16): The inclusion of a clause (Section 16) protecting the CEC and ECs from civil or criminal proceedings for acts done in their official capacity is viewed as a deliberate attempt to "protect their misdeeds." This provision, combined with executive-led appointments, virtually guarantees immunity, eliminating the threat of post-retirement judicial scrutiny for controversial decisions like the SIR or selective application of the Model Code of Conduct. The consequence is a destruction of accountability and an encouragement for officials to prioritize the executive's interests over the Constitution's.

The ECI has taken administrative steps to actively remove evidence of malpractices, further fueling suspicion:

Destruction of CCTV Footage: The ECI issued a directive that all CCTV/webcasting footage of polling and counting be destroyed after 45 days, coinciding exactly with the statutory deadline for filing an Election Petition (EP) under Section 81 of ROPA, 1951.

Sabotaging Judicial Review: By ordering the pre-emptive destruction of "unimpeachable evidence" on the very day the filing deadline expires, the ECI virtually eliminates the possibility of discovering new grounds or substantiating existing claims for an EP. This renders judicial scrutiny of the electoral process ineffective, making the court reliant on potentially manipulated paper records rather than objective video proof.

The Privacy Pretext: The ECI justifies this by citing voter privacy (Section 128, ROPA) and the need to curb "misinformation." Critics argue this is a "disproportionate and extreme response," sacrificing electoral integrity at the altar of speculative risk. As Rahul Gandhi remarked, "The one who was supposed to provide answers - is the one deleting the evidence... It is clear that the match is fixed."

The Supreme Court's landmark judgment on February 15, 2024, declaring the Electoral Bond (EB) Scheme unconstitutional for violating the voter's right to information (Article 19(1)(a)) stands as a clear victory for transparency, but its failure to act on the proceeds created a partial order with permanent, damaging consequences.

Unjust Enrichment: The ruling BJP cornered approximately 70% of the over ₹16,518 crore collected via the unconstitutional scheme. The Supreme Court, while striking down the scheme, failed to order the recovery or forfeiture of these proceeds, allowing the major beneficiary to retain a massive, unconstitutional war chest.

Institutionalizing Financial Theft: This non-action ensures the institutionalization of financial disparity. The huge, ill-gotten funds are now legally retained and used to disproportionately influence every subsequent election, making it virtually impossible for opposition parties to compete on a level playing field.

ECI's Complicity: The ECI's failure to proactively act—to either object to the unconstitutional scheme while it was in force or to advocate for remedial action (like recovery of proceeds) after it was struck down—reinforces the perception that it is unwilling to enforce a fair ground for all political parties when it conflicts with the interests of the ruling establishment.

Conclusion: The Retreat from Transparency

The ECI's trust crisis is a direct consequence of its retreat from its core constitutional mandate. The implementation of the exclusionary SIR, the refusal to respond to detailed allegations of "vote theft" by sharing evidence, the destruction of election footage, and the legislative protection afforded to its members paint a picture of an institution that is no longer an impartial guardian but is perceived as colluding with the government to "manufacture" electoral results. The parliamentary discussion, which the government only agreed to after evasion, will remain a hollow exercise unless the ECI corrects its course, releases the technical data, and submits to genuine, independent accountability. The integrity of Indian democracy now hinges on the ECI's immediate and demonstrated commitment to its original, unimpeachable objective: free and fair elections for every citizen.

References and Sources

1. The Chief Election Commissioner and Other Election Commissioners (Appointment, Conditions of Service and Term of Office) Act, 2023. (Specifically, Section 16 for Immunity and the composition of the Selection Committee in the full text.)

2. The Representation of the People Act, 1950 (ROPA). (Section 21(3) for legal limits on electoral roll revision.)

3. The Representation of the People Act, 1951 (ROPA). (Section 81 for the 45-day deadline for filing an Election Petition.)

4. The Conduct of Election Rules, 1961. (Rule 93 Amendment, December 2024, regarding restriction of public access to electronic records.)  

5. Supreme Court of India Judgment, February 15, 2024 (Association for Democratic Reforms v. Union of India) on the Electoral Bond Scheme.  

Note: Figures on the total value of Electoral Bonds (≈ ₹16,518 crore) and the percentage received by the largest beneficiary (≈ 70%) are derived from data released by the State Bank of India (SBI) following the SC order.

6. ECI Circulars/Directives (May 2025): Directives mandating the destruction of CCTV/webcasting footage after 45 days.

7. Reports by Association for Democratic Reforms (ADR) and other NGOs on the methodology and outcomes of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR).

8. Statements and Allegations by Opposition Leaders (Rahul Gandhi) regarding specific voter deletion and fraud cases (Mahadevpura, Aland, Haryana).

 

 

From Fraud Prevention to Digital Chains?

 

-Ramphal Kataria

Is Sanchar Saathi the Beginning of State-Controlled Surveillance in India?

 

Abstract

The recent directive by India’s Department of Telecommunications (DoT) mandating the pre-installation of the Sanchar Saathi app on all mobile devices has triggered intense debate over state surveillance, digital rights, and constitutional privacy guarantees. Although Telecom Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia stated that the app is “optional and can be deleted,” the DoT notification requires manufacturers to pre-install the app in a manner where its functions cannot be disabled — a stipulation that contradicts the minister’s public reassurance. This blog critically examines the political, legal, and technological implications of the mandate, compares it to global practices, and evaluates concerns raised by opposition parties, civil liberties groups, and cybersecurity experts. Placed within the context of India’s expanding digital governance apparatus and earlier controversies like Pegasus spyware, this analysis explores whether Sanchar Saathi represents a legitimate public security mechanism — or a step toward centralized digital monitoring, suppression of dissent, and erosion of the constitutional right to privacy affirmed by the Supreme Court in Puttaswamy (2017).

Sanchar Saathi Optional, Can Be Deleted: Scindia Clears the Air — Or Does He?

A Critical Examination of Mandatory Surveillance, State Power, and Erosion of Digital Privacy in India

The announcement mandating Sanchar Saathi on all smartphones has become a frontline debate on civil liberties, state power, and the future of privacy in India. While the government insists Sanchar Saathi is a consumer protection tool, critics fear it may evolve into a state surveillance pipeline masked as cybersecurity infrastructure.

Telecom Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia asserted:

“Sanchar Saathi optional, can be deleted.”

However, this reassurance came only after political backlash, and crucially, it contradicts the binding DoT order.

The Notification: What It Says — Not What Is Now Being Claimed

The government’s notification dated 28 November 2025 states:

“Ensure that the Sanchar Saathi mobile application is pre-installed on all mobile handsets manufactured or imported for use in India.”

“Ensure that the functionalities are not disabled or restricted.”

“Push the app through software updates for devices already in sales channels.”

There is no mention of optional usage, user consent, or uninstallability.

Thus, Scindia’s statement appears to be a political response — not a policy reality.

Why This Alarms Citizens, Civil Society, and Opposition Parties

Congress President Mallikarjun Kharge called the move:

“Unilateral, dictatorial, and designed to muzzle citizens.”

Cyber-law experts and privacy advocates argue that the directive undermines the foundational principle of data autonomy — the right to decide what enters your device and what data it may access.

India lacks:

A strong data protection enforcement mechanism

An independent privacy regulator

Judicial oversight requirements for digital surveillance

This creates a vacuum ripe for misuse.

A Chilling Parallel: Democracies vs Authoritarian Models

No democratic nation — including the U.S., U.K., Canada, France, Australia, Japan, or South Korea — forces citizens to accept a permanent government-controlled system application.

By contrast:

China mandates similar apps linked to state monitoring.

Russia requires device-level compliance tools linked to state telecom security law.

North Korea runs Red Flag OS with built-in surveillance.

India’s directive resembles these governments — not liberal democracies.

Sanchar Saathi vs Pegasus: A Different Tool, Same Potential?

Parameter	Sanchar Saathi	Pegasus
Visibility	Public app	Covert spyware
Consent Model	Claimed optional; enforcement contradicts	No consent
Access Scope	May expand through updates	Full takeover
Legal Cover	Government mandate	Secret state use
Risk	Future escalation to surveillance infrastructure	Immediate espionage

Pegasus operated in the shadows — Sanchar Saathi threatens to normalize surveillance in plain sight.

Political Power Meets Technology

India’s recent history shows state digital tools often expand beyond their original stated purpose:

Government Tool	Initial Purpose	Later Criticism
Aadhaar	Welfare delivery	Covert tracking ecosystem
CCTNS	Crime database	Surveillance without warrants
Pegasus (alleged)	National security	Used against journalists & opposition

Sanchar Saathi could be the next step enabling monitoring of:

Journalists

Opposition leaders

Judges

Civil servants

Corporate dissidents

Social and political activists

Even ruling party detractors

Once infrastructure exists — intent can change with power.

Security Without Consent Is Control

Fraud prevention is legitimate.
State surveillance is not.

If the app truly protects citizens, users would install it voluntarily.

The mandatory model exposes the real problem:

The government is not asking — it is embedding itself into every smartphone in the country.

Conclusion: A Turning Point for Indian Democracy

Sanchar Saathi may prove to be either:

A necessary security tool, or

The first normalized layer of digital authoritarianism.

A democracy that watches its citizens stops being a democracy.

The question now is not whether the app can be deleted — but whether citizens are willing to surrender privacy as the price of using a phone.

References

1. Government of India — Department of Telecommunications Notification: Directions under Telecom Cyber Security Rules, issued 28 Nov 2025.

2. Statement by Telecom Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia, Parliament Media Interaction, 1 Dec 2025.

3. Sanchar Saathi Portal Data: Government release (PIB) 01 Dec 2025, 6:36 PM.

4. Mallikarjun Kharge’s public statement opposing the directive, news briefing Dec 2025.

5. Supreme Court of India — Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) vs Union of India, 2017 — Privacy as a Fundamental Right.

6. Citizen Lab Reports on Pegasus Surveillance (2019–2022).

7. International comparisons: U.S. FCC regulation archives, EU GDPR doctrine, and OECD privacy principles.