The shakers: Politics, power and personalities, all served with a generous pinch of salt

No matter what the Opposition may say, Chief Minister Bhagwant Mann never misplaces a punchline. When the BJP began distributing sindoor after Operation Sindoor, Mann wondered aloud if the nation was heading towards “one nation, one husband”.

In July, he took aim at the prime minister’s foreign tours, rattling off destinations like “Magnesia”, “Galveaisa” and “Tarvesia”, each seemingly smaller than a Punjab  town. And when asked about the lone BJP vote in his native Satoj village, Mann deadpanned, “The investigation is on. We have two suspects.”

Case closed. Laughter delivered.

No prizes for guessing this one. Former Haryana DGP OP Singh wins the title hands down. Known for innovation in his earlier stints, Singh took charge when the force was reeling from two suicides in quick succession and FIRs naming a clutch of senior officers. The state was spinning with whataboutery when he stepped in. And lo, the narrative shifted within days, if not hours.

For the next three months, Singh kept up a blistering pace, conducting surprise nocturnal checks from Panchkula to Gurugram. He also addressed press conferences freely, a largely uncharted territory for his mostly reclusive predecessors. Haryanvis suddenly awoke to a DGP who was not just visible but audible, several times a day. From crackdowns on goondas to updates on his gym schedule, every interaction was broadcast.

For once, people felt part of a police bandobast long shrouded in mystery behind fortified offices and opaque procedures. Singh simply reminded everyone that a cop is a public servant first, sahib later.

Whether it was cosmic alignment or a renewed commitment to fitness, Punjab Congress chief Amrinder Singh Raja Warring was unusually articulate this year. Unfortunately, articulation and interpretation refused to get along. An emotional reference to late home minister Buta Singh snowballed into a complaint before the SC/ST Commission. No sooner had that fire been doused with legal buckets, than two young boys took offence to his playful “tooo, too”. Last heard, Warring has resolved to weigh every word. But who will provide the weighing scale.

Punjab DGP Gaurav Yadav likes to lead from the front. Unlike many bosses who duck when it comes to taking blame for a misstep, he takes it on his chest. Be it the Col PS Batth assault case where the cops dragged their feet for as long as they could before registering an FIR against police officers involved or the Lawrence Bishnoi interview when he stoutly defended his force (until proven wrong) this police chief guards his men like a Punjabi sher, with a stiff upper lip instead of a roar.  All this while studying the backward and forward linkages to bust transnational gangs.

Like a large-hearted leader, he  is also quick to reward his foot soldiers . This was quite evident after the shaheedi Diwas commemoration at Anandpur Sahib  when he rewarded 110 officers and two constables. Even officers  caught on the wrong side are roundly upbraided and quickly rehabilitated  so that harsh words and stinging  media reports don’t dent their morale. Little wonder that those in other arms want a boss like him. As the ditty goes, Accha boss kaisa ho, Gaurav Yadav jaisa ho.

A salute to the never-say-die spirit that shone during the floods, when villagers chose action over waiting. Punjabis were at their jugaadi best, fashioning boats out of boards and bundhs out of sand, proving yet again that help, when needed most, often comes from next door.

Kharar’s sanitation philosophy: burn, baby, burn

While Chandigarh experiments with garbage segregation, consultants and PowerPoint presentations, Kharar has adopted an elegant three-step waste policy: collect, ignite, repeat. Environment? Pollutants? Technicalities. Even a ₹50 lakh fine by the NGT hasn’t dulled Kharar’s romance with fire. Smoke rises faithfully every day, adding character to Mohali’s fog and giving meteorologists fresh excuses. Ever wondered why Chandigarh wakes up to clear skies while Mohali peers through haze? Forget climate change. Follow the smoke..

Divided we stand, united we debate

If democracy is the art of disagreement, Punjab Congress deserves an Oscar. Its members, ever mindful of free speech, exercise it with gusto, particularly against one another. A party insider described it best: “We’re not a crowd of workers, we’re a constellation of leaders — each one brighter than the sun.” True enough: Punjab being the land of “sawa lakh,” every leader, by definition, outnumbers his followers. In the end, one wonders if this is politics or a reality show titled Who Will Disagree Next?

If calamities had a preferred officer, Sakshi Sawhney would be on speed dial. Floods in Patiala? She’s there, baby in official vehicle, wading through water. Op Sindoor chaos in Amritsar? Sleepless nights, steady hand. Majha floods? Back in the water, hugging elders and briefing media. As floods reached areas previously untouched, public admiration quietly shifted from Sawhney to the photographers tailing her everywhere. As one villager asked, eyes wide: “Inni baarish ch, camera charge kithon karde ne?”

Once upon a time, Chandigarh’s roads were so silky smooth they inspired civic smugness. Potholes were a misfortune that befell lesser cities.

Cut to the present. The City Beautiful is now running neck-and-neck with Mohali and Panchkula in a spirited competition titled Who Dug That? The craters come in all shapes and moods, ensuring drivers experience everything from gentle rocking to spinal realignment.

Just as we were about to etch an epitaph for Chandigarh roads, the administration sprang to life. The stretch dividing Sectors 22 and 23, for instance, is suddenly smooth and civilized.

Officials blame the rains, with impressive unanimity. Fair enough. But how does one explain the still-pristine roads in some sectors? Are the rain gods selectively annoyed? Or is divine intervention subcontracted to certain contractors?

When it comes to squeezing every last drop out of technology, nobody beats the Punjab Police. From bandobast for rural games and college festivals to elections and the occasional personal  rest and recreation, conference calls are their weapon of choice. Senior officers leave nothing to chance. Instructions are delivered, repeated, rephrased and then repeated again, just in case a DSP blinked. Feedback is demanded. Instantly. It is little wonder artificial intelligence is trying to learn from them. Some scammers have even managed to mimic senior officers and their subordinates syllable by syllable. But our Punjab police officers remain unfazed. They simply press mute, unmute, and speak on, one conference call at a time.

When the Bhakra waters began behaving like an uninvited guest who refuses to leave, Punjab discovered its calm centre in Education Minister Harjot Singh Bains. While others speculated, panicked or vanished briefly from signal range, Bains appeared twice a day with water-level updates delivered in language so simple that even WhatsApp forwards paused to listen. Morning briefing. Evening briefing. Same calm face, same reassuring tone. Opposition leaders trusted him. Villagers trusted him. Urban residents trusted him. At one point, it seemed people trusted Bains more than the actual dam. Having established himself as Punjab’s unofficial weather channel, he then seamlessly shifted gears to the 350th martyrdom anniversary events at Anandpur Sahib and back to education matters, teacher protests included. Floods, faith, files, Bains handled them all with the air of a man who never misplaces the remote.

If consistency were a railway track, Ravneet Singh Bittu would be the scenic route. The Union Minister began the year clashing with police outside the Punjab CM’s residence, insisting he was merely trying to deliver his demands and not stage a drama—though the optics suggested otherwise. A vocal critic of Rahul Gandhi, Bittu then surprised friend and foe alike by supporting parole for Khadoor Sahib MP Amritpal Singh, whom he had previously criticised with great enthusiasm during the Lok Sabha polls. Public heads tilted collectively. Last week, his social media juxtaposition of Veer Bal Diwas with Christmas greetings added further layers to the puzzle. As one Ludhiana resident remarked with admirable restraint, this was politics of convenience. Others simply reached for popcorn.

AAP’s Punjab president Aman Arora has mastered two arts: answering media questions before they finish being asked, and wearing kurtas that can be spotted from across the Secretariat lawn. Policy discussions, employee unions, protest management, Arora handles them all with conversational ease. Then he turns up in a jacket so vibrant that it briefly distracts from the actual issue being discussed. Fitness, clearly, is part of the plan. Arora carries his colours confidently, proving that while politics may be grey, there is no constitutional ban on bright turquoise.

Declared politically fossilised by social media, Sukhbir Singh Badal responded the only sensible way, by winning. SAD’s strong showing in zila parishads and block samitis startled commentators who had already written the obituary. During floods, Badal was seen distributing cash to farmers on the spot, proving that dinosaurs, when necessary, can move quite fast. His swift responses to issues ranging from land pooling to delayed salaries and viral audio clips have nudged public acceptability back into fashion. Invoking the legacy of Parkash Singh Badal with increasing regularity, Sukhbir appears keen to remind voters that nostalgia, when deployed correctly, still works wonders.

Pandher and Dallewal: Same, same but different

For 400 days, Sarwan Singh Pandher and Jagjit Singh Dallewal marched together, spoke together and protested together. Then the protests were lifted, and the duo developed a curious talent for parallel existence. They now announce programmes on similar issues, on similar days, in similar tones, just not together. There is no public disagreement, no visible fallout, no dramatic statements. Just a polite distance that has become impossible to ignore. Among the masses, the question floats gently but persistently: is this coordination by coincidence, or separation with manners?

If statements earned frequent flyer miles, Pargat Singh would be boarding international flights weekly. The Jalandhar Cantt MLA ensured that no issue, be it local pothole or global geopolitics, went without commentary.

State governance, national democracy, Punjabis stranded abroad, global peace—everything received prompt attention. His statements were timely, relevant and plentiful, travelling far beyond constituency limits.

For voters, it has been a year-long reminder that silence, at least in Jalandhar Cantt, is not an option.

In Hoshiarpur, time is measured not in days but in press releases. Dr Raj Kumar Chabbewal, AAP MP, ensured that no visit, review or observation escaped documentation. Accompanied by son and MLA Dr Ishank Kumar, every inspection, big or small, reached the media with remarkable efficiency. If an event occurred at noon, chances are the press release was dispatched by tea time. Development, meanwhile, proceeded at its own dignified pace, unconcerned with deadlines.

One family, two seats, many equations

In Kapurthala politics, the Rana family does not merely contest elections, it expands. When ticket arithmetic intervened in 2022, Rana Gurjit Singh secured the Congress ticket from Kapurthala, while son Rana Inder Pratap contested Sultanpur Lodhi as an Independent.

The result was a political arrangement where the family competed not just with rivals, but with its own party. Navtej Singh Cheema, Congress’s defeated MLA, emerged as the principal opponent.

In Kapurthala, alliances may wobble, parties may sulk, but the family footprint only grows. Politics, after all, is best kept in the family.

Dismissed constable Amandeep Kaur has managed something few influencers can only dream of. While most people gain followers through diligent skincare routines and inspirational quotes, Kaur’s numbers shot up courtesy an NDPS case. Arrested in April with a respectable 30,000 followers, she emerged on bail to find her digital constituency had nearly tripled to 81,000.

YouTubers queued up like guests at a wedding buffet, microphones ready, and the resulting interviews caused considerable squirming within police circles. It is now widely believed that her growing fame of the inconvenient kind prompted the Punjab Vigilance Bureau to add a disproportionate assets case to her collection. Proof, perhaps, that in the age of reels, notoriety too comes with numbers. .

Kuldeep Singh Dhaliwal, once among the most industrious ministers in the Punjab Cabinet and later shown the door in 2025, has found new purpose, and an appreciative audience, online. Recently appointed AAP spokesperson, he treated followers to a video of buffaloes enjoying a shower at his home, an image that radiated calm pastoral bliss.

This was the same Dhaliwal who once warned of action against Sukhbir Singh Badal’s luxury resort and spoke sternly about reclaiming land from former MP Simranjit Singh Mann. These days, however, he informs Facebook that he is using his free time to assist his wife with livestock management. From cabinet files to cattle care, it has been quite the journey.

Navjot Kaur Sidhu has once again lobbed a verbal grenade, declaring that Rs 500 crore is what it takes to become Punjab’s chief ministerial face. The statement changed little for her, but sent husband Navjot Singh Sidhu scurrying between Punjab and Delhi like a man who has misplaced something important.

Sidhu was expected to clarify matters with the Congress high command but failed to secure an audience. His wife, meanwhile, calmly met Union Minister Nitin Gadkari regarding an Amritsar development project. The episode upset BJP leaders back home and revived whispers that the Sidhu household might be packing its political bags. One speaks, the other explains. Such is marital teamwork.

Sonia Mann, model-actor-turned-politician and AAP incharge of Rajasansi, has taken to public life with cinematic enthusiasm. During floods, she conducted rescue operations with the camera rolling, later becoming a meme sensation for a reel explaining how to plug a breach.

During the Zila Parishad elections, she stood alone among AAP leaders in accusing Congress and Akalis of beating up her supporters and rigging polls. The allegations came generously garnished with filmi dialogue, leaving viewers unsure whether they were witnessing a political complaint or an audition tape. The jury, as always, is still out.

Jalandhar MP Charanjit Singh Channi continues to supply politics with colour, rhythm and the occasional muddy kurta. Dancing to bhangra beats with Ranjit Bawa, plugging flood breaches shoulder to shoulder with farmers, or speaking in Parliament with a style that draws smiles from opposition benches and even the Speaker, Channi remains difficult to ignore.

His Sansad Ratna Award and Congress’s clean sweep in Chamkaur Sahib’s rural polls have only boosted his online fan club. Reels praising his brief but energetic tenure as chief minister, set to a popular Punjabi lyric, now circulate freely. Is he aiming for a second coming?

Industry and Power Minister Sanjeev Arora has emerged as the human embodiment of a tight schedule. One moment he is courting investors across continents, the next he is locked in a firm standoff with PSPCL employees, who have displayed rare unity in opposition to his decisions. Allegations and unrest swirl, but Arora remains unmoved, firing from all cylinders,  and strangely omnipresent. One minute he is in Ludhiana, the next in Chandigarh. No wonder he is called the iron man.

(With inputs from Raakhi Jagga,Kamaldeep Singh Brar and Anju Agnihotri Chaba)