About a decade and a half ago, I was teaching at the National Institute of Social Communication, Research and Training (NISCORT) in New Delhi. One afternoon in August 2011, a group of students approached me with an unusual request. They wanted the class to end early so that they could join the anti-corruption movement led by Anna Hazare at Delhi's Ramlila Maidan.
Anna Hazare had begun his indefinite fast on August 16, 2011, demanding a strong Jan Lokpal Bill. He wanted an independent anti-corruption ombudsman with powers to investigate everyone, including the Prime Minister.
The agitation quickly became one of the biggest mass movements India had witnessed in decades. Thousands gathered at Ramlila Maidan, waving the Tricolour and wearing white Gandhi caps bearing the words, "Main Anna Hoon."
History would show that the movement achieved its immediate objective. Parliament passed the Lokpal Act in December 2013. It created an institution to investigate allegations of corruption against public servants, including the Prime Minister. At that moment, the movement was celebrated as a victory for people's power.
Looking back, the movement changed India's political landscape. It created an atmosphere in which corruption became the defining issue of national politics. The campaign severely damaged the image of the Congress-led United Progressive Alliance government. It helped create the political climate that enabled Narendra Modi to sweep the 2014 general election.
Ironically, twelve years later, despite countless allegations made against Congress leaders before the election, very few of the sensational corruption charges resulted in convictions. Many of those who were once described as symbols of corruption crossed over to the BJP and were welcomed with open arms.
The Lokpal has largely disappeared from public discussion. It made headlines recently not because of a major anti-corruption investigation but because reports said it approved the purchase of BMW vehicles similar to those used by the President and the Prime Minister. That was hardly what millions of Indians had imagined while chanting slogans at Ramlila Maidan.
More disappointing has been Anna Hazare's silence. The moral crusader who once shook the nation has remained largely absent when major controversies erupted. Questions were raised over the Rafale fighter aircraft deal. The opaque electoral bonds scheme was struck down by the Supreme Court for violating citizens' right to information.
Serious allegations surfaced in different sectors. India's leading women wrestlers sat on protest demanding action against BJP MP and wrestling federation chief Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, who faced allegations of sexual harassment, including complaints involving a minor. In ordinary criminal cases involving such allegations, arrest is usually the norm. Yet Anna Hazare's voice was barely heard.
Nor did he emerge when examination scandals shook the country. Instead, another figure has begun occupying that space—Sonam Wangchuk.
Wangchuk is an innovator, education reformer, environmental activist and climate campaigner from Ladakh. His ideas inspired important portions of the 2009 blockbuster 3 Idiots, starring Aamir Khan. Although the film was not a biographical account of Wangchuk's life, the character of Rancho drew heavily from his philosophy of learning through curiosity, innovation and practical problem-solving rather than blind memorisation. The movie transformed the public conversation about education and made Wangchuk a household name.
Interestingly, Wangchuk was initially supportive of many initiatives of the Modi government. He did not join nationwide protests against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act. He even supported the 2019 decision to reorganise the former State of Jammu and Kashmir into two Union Territories.
But his support came with expectations. He believed Ladakh would receive statehood and constitutional protection under the Sixth Schedule, safeguarding tribal rights, land and fragile ecology. Instead, those promises remained unfulfilled. Wangchuk repeatedly warned against reckless commercial development that could irreversibly damage one of the world's most sensitive mountain ecosystems.
I had the opportunity to meet him briefly in Delhi when he received a cash award of Rs 5 lakh from the Kottayam-headquartered Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church. He struck me as a soft-spoken man with extraordinary conviction.
That conviction was evident when he undertook a 21-day fast in freezing temperatures in Ladakh, surviving only on water and salt while demanding constitutional safeguards for his people. Few public figures today display such personal courage.
His reward was not dialogue but repression. He and many of his supporters were detained under stringent legal provisions while marching peacefully towards Delhi. Later, on the pretext of violence, he was jailed. He spent 170 days in custody and was shifted to a jail in Rajasthan, far from his Himalayan home. Anyone familiar with high-altitude physiology knows how difficult it is for people accustomed to the thin mountain air to adapt to the scorching heat of the desert. Punishment seemed to extend beyond imprisonment itself.
Now Wangchuk has again become a symbol of resistance by supporting students protesting examination irregularities and demanding accountability from Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. Prime Minister Modi does not publicly greet every minister on social media on birthdays. Yet he recently used X to wish Pradhan and praised his contribution to education. The political message was unmistakable: the minister enjoyed the Prime Minister's complete confidence. Defence Minister Rajnath Singh reinforced that message by saying that the BJP does not function by accepting such demands for resignation.
The politics surrounding student protests has become increasingly complicated. A new youth movement—popularly nicknamed the "Cockroach Party" because of its mascot and internet-driven style of mobilisation—has succeeded in capturing the imagination of many urban students.
Some critics believe sections of the establishment quietly encouraged its rise to prevent Rahul Gandhi from becoming the principal voice of young India, even though he was among the first national leaders to raise the NEET issue consistently. Whether or not that belief is true, the contrast in official responses has been striking. While poor students were subjected to a lathi charge, their leader, Abhijeet Dipke, was treated with kid gloves.
Education itself tells another story. Instead of expanding universal access, several northern states have closed or merged tens of thousands of government schools citing low enrolment and administrative reasons. The UP government has initiated action to demolish the Mohammad Ali Jauhar University, founded by former minister Azam Khan. Critics see these moves as reflecting political priorities rather than educational ones.
Recent reports that ONGC donated more than Rs 668 crore over the past decade to organisations associated with the Sangh Parivar, including Seva Bharati, have added another layer to the debate. Dharmendra Pradhan had earlier served as Petroleum Minister before taking charge of the Education Ministry, inviting further political scrutiny.
India's young people have repeatedly searched for leaders who speak with moral authority. Yesterday it was Anna Hazare. Today, for many, it is Sonam Wangchuk. Tomorrow it may be someone else.
Governments often bank on the belief that public memory is short and that emotionally charged issues such as temple politics, religion and nationalism can eclipse uncomfortable questions about jobs, education and governance before the next election. Sometimes that calculation works. But they should remember the old saying: you can fool some of the people all the time, and all the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.