Every generation inherits a different India.
The generation that fought for Independence dreamed of freedom. The generation that lived through the Emergency fought to restore democracy. Those who came later struggled for social justice, equality and economic opportunity.
The youth of today have inherited something different. They have inherited a country full of talent and aspiration, but also one where many young people feel that institutions are becoming less accountable, opportunities more uncertain, and dialogue increasingly difficult. Their struggle is not only about politics. It is about trust, trust in examinations, trust in public institutions, trust in democracy, and trust that their voices still matter.
For more than a decade, India's universities have become the conscience of the nation. From Jawaharlal Nehru University to Jamia Millia Islamia, from Aligarh Muslim University to the University of Hyderabad, campuses have repeatedly become places where young Indians questioned policies, defended constitutional values, and debated the future of the Republic. Every generation of students has challenged authority in its own way. That is not a weakness of democracy; it is one of its greatest strengths.
Unfortunately, many of these conversations were overshadowed by labels. Instead of debating ideas, the debate often shifted to questioning the people who raised them. Words like "anti-national" entered public discourse with unusual force. Students, professors, researchers, journalists and social activists were sometimes judged by political labels before their arguments were heard. Public debate became increasingly divided into "us" and "them," leaving little room for thoughtful disagreement.
Behind every headline was a human story.
There was a father who had worked all his life to send his child to university.
There was a mother who believed education would protect her children from hardship.
There was a young scholar who believed that asking questions was not an act of rebellion but an act of citizenship.
Many of them never imagined that their classrooms would become battlefields of national politics.
Few stories reflect this pain more deeply than that of Rohith Vemula.
Rohith was a gifted research scholar at the University of Hyderabad. His death in 2016 shook the conscience of the country and sparked difficult conversations about caste, dignity, institutional responsibility and the emotional burdens carried by students. His final letter was not written with hatred or revenge. It was written with sadness, loneliness and extraordinary sensitivity. Years have passed, legal and political debates have continued, yet his words still remind us that every student deserves not only an education but also dignity, belonging and hope.
Then came the protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC). University campuses and public spaces across India witnessed large demonstrations. Citizens disagreed on the laws and on the protests themselves. That is natural in any democracy. But one thing became impossible to ignore: young people had begun reading the Constitution not as a textbook but as a living document. They were asking questions about citizenship, equality and the responsibilities of the State. Whether one agreed with them or not, their engagement reflected a deep concern for the future of the Republic.
For many student leaders and social activists, the years that followed were deeply difficult. Some faced prolonged investigations or imprisonment while legal proceedings continued. The courts will ultimately decide the legal issues in individual cases, and due process must be respected. Yet beyond the courtroom lies another reality, the ageing parents waiting for their children, the books left unfinished, the research interrupted, the careers placed on hold, and the years of youth that cannot be recovered. These are human stories before they are political ones.
History reminds us that this is not unique to our time. Mahatma Gandhi wrote from prison. Bal Gangadhar Tilak wrote Gita Rahasya while imprisoned in Mandalay. Jawaharlal Nehru wrote The Discovery of India from Ahmednagar Fort. Nelson Mandela spent twenty-seven years in prison before leading South Africa towards reconciliation. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote from a Birmingham jail that injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere. Democracies often look differently at dissent with the passage of time. Many who were once criticised for questioning authority are later remembered for strengthening democratic values.
Today, however, something important has changed.
The language of protest has changed.
The concerns of India's youth have changed.
If the last decade was dominated by arguments over identity, religion and ideology, the present generation is increasingly speaking the language of accountability. Young people are asking why examination papers leak, why recruitment processes are delayed, why unemployment continues to rise, why institutions appear less transparent, and why responsibility is so rarely accepted when public systems fail.
These questions unite rather than divide.
A leaked examination paper destroys the dreams of every student, regardless of religion or caste.
Delayed recruitment disappoints every family that invested its savings in education.
Unemployment does not ask whether a young graduate is Hindu, Muslim, Sikh or Christian.
Failure in governance affects everyone.
This is perhaps the biggest change taking place in India today. The politics of identity is slowly making space for the politics of accountability.
The young people gathering today from universities to Jantar Mantar are not only protesting against a policy or a government. They are asking whether public institutions remain answerable to the people they serve. They are asking whether democracy means more than voting once every five years. They are asking whether governments are willing to listen as carefully as they expect citizens to obey.
Democracy has never demanded silence. It has always demanded dialogue.
The greatness of a nation is not measured by the absence of protests but by its willingness to hear uncomfortable voices with patience and confidence. Governments earn lasting respect not by avoiding criticism but by responding to it with openness, humility and accountability.
Every generation leaves behind a question for history.
The generation before us asked, "Who belongs?"
The generation before that asked, "Who governs?"
The young people of today are asking a simpler and perhaps more powerful question:
Who is accountable?
The future of Indian democracy may well depend on how honestly we answer it.
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