In the crumbling edifice of public trust, the latest act by the A Revanth Reddy-led Telangana government feels like another sledgehammer blow. A government, desperately clutching at financial straws, has now crossed an unforgivable line—mortgaging 400 acres of forest land through a private broker to a bank, land that wasn’t even theirs to pledge. Because here’s the punchline: that land legally belongs to the University of Hyderabad, allotted by the Government of India nearly 50 years ago.
The records don’t lie. In 1974, following the 32nd Amendment enacted the previous year to establish Central Universities, then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s government allocated around 2,000 acres of forest land for a Central University. The official allotment took effect on October 2—a date steeped in Gandhian symbolism, now ironically cloaked in bureaucratic betrayal.
The first Vice Chancellor, Dr. Gurubax Singh, laboured not just to set up academic infrastructure but also to demarcate and safeguard the land. He oversaw the construction of a boundary wall encompassing 200 acres of the vast tract, laying the foundation for what was to become one of India’s premier educational institutions. Survey records show the university’s spread across multiple parcels— survey number 22 – 2 acres 12 Guntas, Survey number 23 – 32 acres, Survey number 24 – 8 acres.16 Guntas, Survey number 25 – 2079 acres 18 guntas, Survey number 25 – 62 acres. But like all land that breathes value, this too caught the eye of politicians hungry for quick cash and shady deals.
In comes the 1990s, and with it, the so-called liberalization ethos was weaponized for land exploitation. During his tenure, then Chief Minister N. Chandrababu Naidu, under the smokescreen of “development,” carved out 850 acres from this allotted land and gifted it to a dubious Florida-based entity—ING Academy—via its Indian franchise. The deal was pegged at a paltry Rs. 50 crores, a price tag laughably low for prime Hyderabad land and tragically high for academic integrity.
Naidu’s rationale? The university, he claimed, didn’t need more than 200 acres for its operations.
But it didn’t end there.
When the YSR government swept to power in 2004, it did what seemed right on paper: it cancelled the dubious allotment to the foreign entity. However, instead of restoring the entire 2,000 acres to its rightful owner—the University of Hyderabad—the land simply sat in bureaucratic limbo. The government “sat over it,” as though it was a game of political musical chairs, with public land as the prize.
Now, the Revanth Reddy government has taken this cynical game to the next level. Mired in a financial mess, the state chose to mortgage 400 acres of this land—land that neither belongs to it morally nor legally. Worse, it did so through a broker, bypassing all norms of public accountability. The final insult? The legal fight to justify this act is being led by none other than Advocate-General Sudarshan Reddy—the same man who, in a previous life, built his legal reputation by opposing this very land grab in court.
Yes, you read that right. Sudarshan Reddy, who once fought tooth and nail against the illegal transfer of University of Hyderabad land to the Florida firm during the Naidu regime, is now the legal face of its second betrayal.
If hypocrisy could be patented, Telangana’s corridors of power would be its factory floor.
The Supreme Court, fortunately, intervened when it sensed the stench of another impending scandal. It stalled the state government’s clearance of forest trees on the 400-acre tract, even as the Union Ministry of Environment and Forests raised a red flag over any development activity on what is still classified as forest land. But even apex court intervention hasn’t doused the brazenness with which the state continues to pursue its claim.
The state’s argument, crafted under the watch of its current legal luminaries, rests on technicalities—that the land isn’t “formally” in possession of the university, that it was “unused,” that it can be “repurposed.” These excuses ignore the elephant in the room: it was never the state’s land to begin with. It was allocated for education, not auction.
Let’s call this what it is: a plunder of academic legacy under the guise of fiscal necessity. Telangana’s financial crunch, no doubt severe, cannot become a justification to violate the Constitution, bulldoze educational rights, and mortgage national assets through middlemen.
The Revanth Reddy government is not just mortgaging forest land—it is mortgaging public trust, academic futures, and environmental stewardship. All for what? A short-term loan? A fiscal band-aid on a haemorrhaging economy?
The University of Hyderabad, whose alumni include some of India’s finest minds in science, literature, and social thought, deserves better. This is not just an institutional slight—it’s an assault on the idea that public land, once given for education, should remain sacrosanct.
It’s time for the Union government, judiciary, and civil society to intervene decisively. Enough with the ambiguity. The land belongs to the University of Hyderabad—return it, protect it, and enshrine it from future grabs.
Anything less would be an unforgivable betrayal of history, education, and the public good.
