Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s reply to the Presidential Address in the Rajya Sabha was not merely a political rebuttal—it was a forensic dissection of a party that ruled India for most of its post-Independence history, yet left behind a legacy of stagnation, entitlement, and institutional decay. This came after his entry was stalled by some women lawmakers of the Congress party, forcing the Lok Sabha to pass the Presidential Address without the customary Prime Minister’s reply. What unfolded was less about today’s Opposition theatrics and more about holding history to account. For the first time in years, the Congress was forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: that its long grip on power did not translate into dignity for the marginalised, strength for national institutions, or respect for India’s people. Modi’s speech tore apart the carefully cultivated myth of the Congress as the natural custodian of Indian democracy, exposing it instead as a dynasty-driven enterprise that repeatedly demeaned constitutional offices and the very people it claimed to represent. He reminded the House how Presidents from Dalit and tribal backgrounds were treated with barely concealed disdain under Congress rule. From the cold neglect of K.R. Narayanan and Pratibha Patil to the studied silence, symbolic snubs, and visible discomfort with President Droupadi Murmu today, the pattern is unmistakable. The same contempt was once extended to Lok Sabha Speakers like G.M.C. Balayogi and P.A. Sangma—revealing a deep-seated hostility towards leaders who rose from outside the Congress’s feudal comfort zone. For the Congress, symbolic elevation was acceptable; genuine respect was not. Constitutional posts mattered only when occupied by those aligned to the “first family.” Perhaps the most damning indictment came from Congress’s own history. Jawaharlal Nehru reportedly described India’s population of 37 crore as a “problem” while addressing foreign leaders—a mindset Indira Gandhi later echoed, merely updating the figure to 57 crore. Modi contrasted this colonial, elitist worldview with his own articulation of India as a nation of 140 crore aspirations, ideas, and energies. The difference is not rhetorical but civilisational. One worldview saw Indians as a burden to be controlled; the other sees them as partners in national resurgence. This ingrained contempt for the masses, Modi argued, was not incidental—it was the defining ethos of Congress governance.
Decades of rule failed to build robust defence preparedness. Indian soldiers guarding icy frontiers were sent without adequate winter gear, bulletproof jackets, or modern rifles. Public sector banks were weakened by political interference, PSUs were bled dry, and scientific institutions were shackled by indecision and corruption. By the time the UPA exited office in 2014, India was an economy marked by policy paralysis, fragile infrastructure, and strategic hesitation. The Prime Minister’s reference to “remote control governance” was not rhetorical excess. The UPA years were effectively administered from 10 Janpath, with elected authority reduced to a ceremonial façade. Modi flipped that charge on its head, asserting that if his government runs on a remote, it is the collective will of 140 crore Indians that holds it. He also did not shy away from exposing the dangerous political desperation now gripping the Congress ecosystem. Slogans raised during so-called “mohabbat yatras” calling for the Prime Minister’s grave being dug were not slips of the tongue—they revealed an Opposition that has mentally conceded electoral defeat and begun flirting with moral collapse. When democratic contest is replaced by eliminationist fantasies, it signals political bankruptcy. On development, Modi pointed to tangible contrasts: a telecom revolution moving from 2G scams to 5G rollout, India’s push into semiconductors and chip manufacturing, rising rural purchasing power, and global confidence in India’s economic trajectory. These are not abstract promises but visible shifts acknowledged worldwide. Finally, Modi touched a raw nerve—the Congress family’s appropriation of the “Gandhi” surname. By invoking the irony of a dynasty borrowing moral capital from a Gujarati who gave India freedom, while presiding over decades of drift, he questioned not lineage but legitimacy. In sum, the Rajya Sabha reply was not about humiliating the Congress—it was about ending the immunity it long enjoyed from historical scrutiny. The party that ruled India the longest can no longer hide behind slogans, surnames, or selective amnesia. The era of entitlement has collided with accountability—and the verdict, delivered from Parliament’s floor, was unequivocal.
