Congress’s Young CM Slips on Land Mine — Literally and Politically
It seems Telangana Chief Minister A. Revanth Reddy has hit the ground, stumbling. Not long ago, he rode a wave of youthful charisma and rhetorical fire into the Chief Minister’s chair, pledging transparency, reform, and a break from dynastic decay. But just a few months in, the shine appears to be peeling — and fast.
The most recent thud came from the country’s highest court. The Supreme Court unceremoniously slapped down Revanth’s ambitious plan to auction off 400 acres of land near the University of Hyderabad — land the court said falls within a designated forest zone. That land, nestled in Gachibowli on Hyderabad’s rapidly urbanizing outskirts, was supposed to fill the state’s barren coffers. Instead, it exposed the hollowness of the Congress’s governance model.
Let me be clear as a longstanding political analyst. The problem isn’t just a botched land deal. It’s a telling symptom of a much deeper malaise. And that malaise is both Revanth’s and his party’s.
Revanth Reddy’s honesty — or what some call political bluntness — might be admirable in a classroom. In politics, though, it’s often suicidal. His critics say he’s too outspoken, too transparent, and dangerously sincere in a political environment that rewards exactly the opposite. Add to that a party known more for backstabbing than backroom strategy, and you get a man who’s walking a tightrope with no safety net.
Congress’s culture of internal sabotage hasn’t changed with time. Some say it’s gotten worse. The party runs less on ideology and more on loyalty — not to voters or state interests but to the Gandhis. When Revanth, a former TDP man, was parachuted in, murmurs of discontent were predictable. Now, those murmurs are turning into whispers of revolt.
The Congress’s national slide since 2014 has drained more than just political clout — it’s dried up its funding too. Today, it’s a party with champagne promises and a tap water budget. “Guarantees” are the new electoral candy — free electricity, financial schemes, and subsidies galore. But after winning, state leaders like Revanth realize those goodies cost real money.
The result? Scramble mode. In Karnataka, Siddaramaiah is taxing milk. In Himachal, Sukhu came up with a bizarre “toilet tax.” And in Telangana, Revanth tried to monetize forest land. If that sounds desperate, it’s because it is. These CMs are being asked not only to run their states but also to fund a party that’s financially gasping and ideologically aimless.
Add to this the burden of pleasing Delhi — not the electorate, but the high command. Congress CMs are expected to send both loyalty and liquidity to the mothership, all while pretending to govern. It’s no surprise that administration suffers, anti-incumbency creeps in fast, and internal rifts widen.
Ironically, it was students — not politicians — who showed more spine and sense. Students of the University of Hyderabad took to the streets, protesting the auction plan and exposing its environmental risks. They faced police high-handedness, but their resistance worked. They reminded a state — and a nation — that urban growth doesn’t need to bulldoze ecology.
Revanth’s political mentor, N. Chandrababu Naidu, once got away with similar land deals in the 1990s under the garb of development and established Hi-tech City, helping his community members earn tons of money disposing off government lands for a song. But those were different times. Coalition governments were fragile, the media was pliant, and Naidu was considered a “kingmaker.” Today’s central government is far less forgiving, the media is hyper-alert, and the courts are quick to step in. Revanth tried to play a big-stakes game with a weak hand — and lost.
The most dangerous thing in politics isn’t failure. It’s becoming irrelevant. Revanth is not quite there yet, but he’s veering dangerously close. If he can’t steady the administration, secure finances, and outmaneuver rivals within his own party, he might find his term cut short not by voters — but by his own colleagues.
Congress’s track record suggests that the knives come out fast when the throne wobbles. And in a party where the word “collective responsibility” means “let the CM take the fall,” Revanth may soon find himself isolated.
The slap from the Supreme Court might feel like a legal blow, but it’s also a metaphor. A reality check. Governance isn’t about optics or oratory. It’s about navigating complexity — fiscal, ecological, political. If Revanth wants to survive, let alone thrive, he’ll need more than ambition and idealism. Also needs better ideas and an advisor. He’ll need tact, strategy, and a party culture that doesn’t eat its own.
And unfortunately, on that last count, he’s still very much on his own.
