Is Modi’s India Moving in the Right Direction?

 

They never tell you in college that political internships are 40% drafting representations, 30% printing malfunction management, and 30% pretending you understood what the PS just said about the Appropriation Bill. My desk is a strange universe; stacks of Lok Sabha starred questions, copies of The Hindu and Indian Express, a mousepad that squeaks like it disapproves of my browsing habits, and a thought that “Is Modi’s India moving in the right direction?”

That’s not an intern-level question. That’s an “eminent panel on NDTV at 9 pm with Shekhar Gupta moderating” kind of question. But here I am, laptop glowing at midnight, sipping vending-machine coffee that tastes like caffeinated regret, trying to decide if India’s moving forward, sideways, or doing the bhangra in circles.

The thing about Modi’s India is that everyone already has an answer, often before the question is finished. To some, Modi is the Vikas Purush, the man who turned India into the world’s growth engine. To others, he’s the authoritarian architect of democratic decline. And somewhere between the GDP growth charts and the press freedom rankings lies the truth which, spoiler alert, is complicated. As Indians, we love grand narratives. “Tryst with destiny” in 1947. “Garibi Hatao” in the 70s. “India Shining” in the 2000s. Modi’s India? It’s “New India”, a phrase shouted in rallies, printed on hoardings, whispered in policy seminars. But what does “new” mean? And is new always right?

The truth, as usual, lies somewhere between the chest-thumping WhatsApp forwards and the alarmist op-eds. And my job as part-time philosopher, is to sift through it all, armed with IMF reports, Pratap Bhanu Mehta essays, and my sceptical eyebrow.

India Before 2014 (Decades of Chaos & Coalition Compromises)

Like every Bollywood blockbuster has a dramatic “before” montage; the hero washing dishes, the villain plotting in a dimly lit room, the heroine singing to the moon. India in 2013 was that montage: messy, dramatic, and begging for a plot twist. Back in the mid-2000s, India strutted on the world stage. GDP growth averaged over 8% between 2004 and 2008. Economists in Davos sipped wine and whispered about the “India Story.” Goldman Sachs tossed us into the BRICS basket alongside Brazil, Russia, China, South Africa, countries destined to dominate the 21st century.

But fast-forward to 2012–13, and the party hangover was real. Growth slipped to around 5%. Inflation refused to leave the house, hovering near 10%. The rupee tumbled to nearly ₹68 per dollar in mid-2013, forcing the RBI to step in. The phrase “Fragile Five” was coined by Morgan Stanley, lumping India with Turkey, Brazil, South Africa, and Indonesia as vulnerable economies. From shining to fragile, scriptwriters couldn’t have written it better.

The economy’s slowdown would have been survivable if not for the flood of scandals that drowned the Congress-led UPA-II. The 2G spectrum allocation scandal, with “zero-loss theory” by Kapil Sibal and a CAG report estimating losses of ₹1.76 lakh crore, became dinner-table gossip. The Commonwealth Games corruption headlines gave India global embarrassment right when Delhi was supposed to impress athletes. Then came Coalgate, where coal block allocations without competitive bidding sparked outrage. Together, these created the image of a government swimming in scams, unable to govern. The phrase “policy paralysis” stuck; unfairly or not, it became UPA’s epitaph.

Manmohan Singh, the soft-spoken technocrat who had once saved India in 1991 with liberalization reforms, now became the butt of jokes. His silence in Parliament and public life made him the “mute PM.” Memes (yes, early Twitter had them) mocked him as the man who spoke less in a decade than Modi did in one rally. It was tragic. Singh was an intellectual giant, but politics demanded showmanship, not footnotes. And in the age of 24/7 news and Twitter hashtags, Singh’s quiet dignity looked like weakness.

Meanwhile, India’s population was young, restless, and ambitious. Over 65% of Indians were under 35. Engineering colleges mushroomed like roadside chai stalls. Everyone wanted a startup, an MBA, or a job at Infosys. But jobs didn’t grow at the same pace. Unemployment among graduates climbed. In villages, MGNREGA (the rural jobs scheme) gave some respite, but farm incomes stagnated. Urban inflation made onions cost as much as gold; always the surest way to lose middle-class votes. The middle class wanted better infrastructure, less corruption, and some dignity when dealing with government offices. They were tired of grease-stained files, power cuts, and endless queues. India was ready for something new, something bold.

Enter Anna Hazare, the Gandhian activist who launched a hunger strike in 2011 demanding a Lokpal (anti-corruption ombudsman). Jantar Mantar became the new Tahrir Square. Crowds thronged, waving the tricolor, chanting slogans, and, crucially, livestreaming on social media. Hazare’s fast wasn’t just about a law; it was about pent-up frustration. For the first time, middle-class India, usually apathetic, hit the streets. Youngsters with laptops and office badges skipped work to join protests. It was messy, dramatic, and cathartic. Out of that movement rose new political energy: Arvind Kejriwal and the Aam Aadmi Party. They would later snatch Delhi from both Congress and BJP. But the bigger beneficiary of the anti-corruption wave was Narendra Modi, watching keenly from Gujarat.

In the foreign policy arena, India wasn’t invisible, but it wasn’t magnetic either. The US–India civil nuclear deal in 2008 was Manmohan Singh’s crowning diplomatic jewel, giving India legitimacy as a responsible nuclear power. Trade with the USA and EU grew. Relations with Russia stayed stable. But India was not yet the “global south leader.” China was racing ahead; building highways, ports, and asserting itself in Africa. The U.S. often looked to Beijing before Delhi. In global climate talks, India was more often seen as an obstructionist than a leader. When Barack Obama visited in 2010, it was historic, but the narrative was cautious, not celebratory. India was a rising power, yes, but not the power everyone adjusted their watches to.

By 2013, the Congress had no story left. “Garibi Hatao” was old. “India Shining” was overturned. What was the Congress offering? Entitlements, schemes, subsidies, all useful, but not inspirational. Contrast that with Narendra Modi, who was building a narrative of vikas (development), efficiency, and decisive leadership in Gujarat. He sold Gujarat’s highways, electricity surplus, and industrial corridors as proof of his governance. Whether the Gujarat model was universally replicable didn’t matter; it sounded like a vision. Congress looked tired. Modi looked hungry. And in politics, hunger wins.

Ask anyone in 2013 what they wanted, and they’d say:

Ø  Jobs.

Ø  An end to corruption.

Ø  Faster decision-making.

Ø  A leader who spoke to the people, not just economists. 

The Congress, despite its historical legacy, had lost connection. Rahul Gandhi was awkward in interviews (Oh that Arnab interview as well. My god!). Manmohan Singh was quiet. Modi was fiery, commanding, a master of oratory. The public was primed for change. It didn’t matter if Modi exaggerated, or if achhe din was vague. People wanted to believe. And in politics, belief often matters more than data.

So, when the 2014 elections rolled around, India wasn’t just voting, it was yearning. Modi campaigned like a man possessed: 437 rallies, hologram speeches, 3D projections. He promised “Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikas.” He presented himself as the son of a tea-seller, not a dynasty prince. Against a tired Congress, riddled with scandal, Modi’s message was irresistible. The BJP won 282 seats; the first majority for a single party in 30 years.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the flashback. India in 2013 was frustrated, scandal-fatigued, and restless. Modi rode that wave with oratory, branding, and timing.

If Indian politics is a movie, 2013 was the cliffhanger. And 2014 was when the sequel began; starring Narendra Damodardas Modi, in 70mm, with surround sound. But let’s get serious. Every government promises rivers of milk and honey; the question is, what did India actually get on the domestic front between 2014 and now?

Modi's Domestic Report Card (Many Exams, Mixed Grades)

First, GDP growth. Under Modi, India averaged ~6.8% GDP growth between 2014–2025, making it the fastest-growing major economy in most years. Even during the pandemic crash of 2020 (GDP shrank by –6.6%), India bounced back with 9.1% growth in 2021. As of now, India is clocking around 7.6% growth: higher than China, higher than the U.S., and higher than the EU combined.

IMF chief Kristalina Georgieva called India the “bright spot in a dark global economy.” Not bad for the class topper. But economist Kaushik Basu, former World Bank chief economist, warns against being dazzled: India’s growth was already high before Modi, and employment hasn’t kept pace. He calls it “jobless growth”; GDP rising, but young graduates still lining up for government exams and hoping for “sarkari naukri stability”. Unemployment data backs him. The CMIE (Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy) reported unemployment hovering around 7–8% nationally, with youth unemployment sometimes exceeding 20%. That’s not exactly “achhe din” for the job-hunting crowd.

Food inflation has been a headache. Remember onions? In 2019, prices shot up to over ₹100 per kilo, and memes flooded social media. The government scrambled to ban exports, import onions from abroad, and promise long-term storage solutions. The irony? In India, onions often decide elections more than manifestos. Yet, Modi scored political points through welfare schemes. Over 80 crore Indians receive free foodgrains under the PM Garib Kalyan Anna Yojana. Over 12 crore toilets were built under Swachh Bharat Mission, with Modi declaring rural India “open defecation free” in 2019. Critics argue usage is lower than construction figures suggest, but even Nobel laureate Abhijit Banerjee has acknowledged that access itself is a huge step.

Electricity reached 97% of households by 2019, according to government claims, and rural electrification was formally declared complete. LPG connections under Ujjwala Yojana topped 9 crore, reducing dependence on firewood. Welfare delivery became smoother through Aadhaar-based direct transfers; cutting middlemen out of the corruption loop. Pratap Bhanu Mehta, the political theorist, puts it sharply: “Modi has fused welfarism with authoritarian populism. The poor get benefits, but the price is silence.” That’s the catch; people see tangible gains, but also fear speaking against the government.

If India’s economy is the body, infrastructure is the skeleton, Modi has been obsessed with bone-building. Highways, expressways, airports, metros: all rolled out with a PR flourish. The National Highways network expanded from 91,000 km in 2014 to over 1,46,000 km by 2023. Expressways like the Delhi-Mumbai corridor, the Bengaluru-Mysuru expressway, and UP’s Purvanchal expressway became showcase projects. Railways got semi-high-speed trains like Vande Bharat Express, with 34 routes operational by mid-2023. Airports nearly doubled, with UDAN (regional air connectivity scheme) linking smaller towns. Digital infrastructure became India’s proudest export. UPI transactions skyrocketed to over 10 billion monthly payments in 2023. Even The Economist grudgingly admitted India leads the world in fintech inclusion.

But critics ask: are shiny expressways masking slower progress in jobs and manufacturing? Economist Raghuram Rajan cautions: “India cannot grow on infrastructure alone. We need private investment and job creation in manufacturing, or else growth will stall.”

Here’s where the report card gets controversial. Modi has aced nationalism, no one disputes his ability to rally crowds with cries of Bharat Mata ki Jai. After Balakot airstrikes in 2019, BJP posters carried pictures of fighter jets as campaign mascots. But scholars like Christophe Jaffrelot argue that Modi’s domestic politics rely heavily on majoritarian Hindu nationalism. The abrogation of Article 370 in Kashmir in 2019 was hailed by supporters as bold statecraft, but critics saw it as crushing federalism and silencing an entire state. The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) triggered nationwide protests in 2019–20, with opponents calling it discriminatory against Muslims. Police crackdowns, internet shutdowns, and arrests of activists followed. Human Rights Watch and Freedom House both downgraded India’s democracy ratings, with Freedom House classifying India as “partly free.”

Yet Modi’s popularity has remained sky-high. Why? Yogendra Yadav (maybe a psephologist, who knows!) explains: “Welfare schemes keep the poor invested, nationalism keeps the middle class emotional, and religious identity keeps the base mobilized.” It’s a cocktail few opposition leaders have managed to counter.

The pandemic exposed cracks in India’s health system. Who can forget April 2021, when hospitals ran out of oxygen and crematoriums overflowed? International headlines painted a grim picture. Yet, within months, India ramped up the world’s largest vaccination drive, delivering over 2.2 billion doses. By 2022, Modi was being applauded at the G20 for India’s vaccine logistics. But systemic investment remains low: India spends barely 2% of GDP on healthcare, compared to China’s 5% or OECD’s 8–10%. Education too lags, with public schools suffering teacher shortages and learning poverty (students unable to read basic text by age 10) at over 50%, according to the World Bank. The NEP 2020 promised big reforms, but implementation is slow.

Under Modi, the GST (Goods and Services Tax) created “one nation, one tax,” simplifying trade but sparking rows over compensation to states. Opposition-ruled states like West Bengal and Kerala often accuse the Centre of using investigative agencies (CBI, ED, IT) to harass their leaders. About India’s federal nature, political scientist Suhas Palshikar notes: “Federalism in India has tilted decisively toward the Centre. The Modi era is a centralizing era.”

Finally, the watchdogs. Scholars like Ramachandra Guha argue that media independence has weakened, with large TV networks reduced to cheerleaders. The judiciary, while still occasionally assertive (striking down NJAC, questioning electoral bonds), has often been accused of “judicial evasion.” Yet for the average citizen, these elite debates matter less than whether roads are paved, rations are delivered, and trains run on time. Modi understands that instinctively.

So, what’s the verdict?

• Economy: Fast growth, but uneven jobs.
• Welfare: Broad reach, but not enough to end poverty traps.
• Infrastructure: Impressive, visible, tangible.
• Social Fabric: Nationalism strong, but with a hint of polarisation.
• Health/Education: Weak investments, pandemic exposed fragility.
• Institutions: Centralised, with dissent under pressure. 

That’s the domestic report card. Modi passes every exam with flying colors in popularity, but the answer sheets show more red ink than his supporters admit. Still, I do think Modi deserves some slack. After all, he wasn’t handed a shining India, but a Congress-handled wreckage of scams, stalled growth, and policy paralysis.

Global Modi-fication (Soft Smiles with Hardcore Negotiations)

It all began with hugs. Barack Obama at Republic Day 2015, Shinzo Abe in Kyoto, Donald Trump at “Howdy Modi,” Emmanuel Macron in Paris: Modi perfected the chest-crushing embrace. Western journalists called it hug diplomacy. Indians called it “dil jeet liya, boss.” Whatever the label, it sent a message: India had stopped mumbling in the corner and started speaking in surround sound.

India’s partnership with the US has never looked shinier. Defense trade ballooned from barely $1 billion in 2008 to over $20 billion by 2020. India signed logistics agreements, joined military exercises like Malabar, and became a key pillar in America’s Indo-Pacific strategy to balance China. Economically, the USA is now India’s largest trading partner, crossing $190 billion in goods and services trade in 2022–23. Apple began assembling iPhones in India, while Google and Amazon expanded billions in investments. And don’t forget the optics: Modi’s mega rallies in New York (2014) and Houston (2019) looked less like diplomacy and more like rock concerts. Ashley Tellis of Carnegie calls Modi’s USA policy “pragmatic nationalism” take what benefits India, but never become anyone’s junior partner.

Modi initially courted Xi Jinping. Remember the riverside swing in Ahmedabad in 2014, or the “informal summits” at Wuhan and Mamallapuram? But reality bit hard. The Doklam standoff in 2017 was a warning. The Galwan clash in 2020, where 20 Indian soldiers were killed, was a full stop. Since then, India-China relations have iced over. Border troops remain eyeball-to-eyeball, trade deficit is massive (India imported $101 billion from China in 2022, exported just $17 billion), and apps like TikTok & PUBG were banned. Strategist C. Raja Mohan says it bluntly: “India’s China policy has shifted from engagement to managed confrontation.” Translation: we can’t trust them, but we can’t afford divorce either.

For decades, Moscow was Delhi’s best friend. And despite Ukraine 2022, Modi didn’t dump Putin. Instead, India went bargain hunting: Russian crude imports jumped from 2% in 2021 to over 35% in 2023, saving billions. At the same time, Modi told Putin on live TV: “This is not an era of war.” The West clapped, Russia shrugged, and India kept buying oil. Scholars call it hedging. India milks cheap oil, keeps Russian arms flowing, but doesn’t burn bridges with Washington. It’s a trapeze act; dangerous, but impressive when it works.

India’s Gulf ties have gone from labor-exporter pragmatism to strategic partnership. Over 9 million Indian workers in the region send home $55–60 billion annually, keeping remittances flowing. Modi received the UAE’s highest civilian honor, signed energy deals, and championed the India–Middle East–Europe Economic Corridor at the 2023 G20, a rival to China’s Belt and Road. Saudi Arabia and UAE now see India as a rising power, not just a source of manpower.

India’s diplomatic Oscars moment came with the G20 Summit in Delhi, 2023. Despite USA–Russia–China fractures, India delivered a joint declaration. It wasn’t just paper-pushing, it was a show of convening power. More importantly, Modi positioned India as the voice of the Global South, from Africa’s debt crisis to climate finance. The African Union was admitted as a permanent G20 member under India’s presidency, a coup for Delhi’s soft power. Shivshankar Menon, former NSA, summed it up: “India has moved from being a rule-taker to a rule-shaper, though not yet a rule-maker.”

So, what’s Modi’s foreign policy legacy?

• With the U.S., India is closer than ever, without being a pawn.
• With China, it has managed hostility.
• With Russia, it’s oil discounts and old ties.
• With the Gulf, it’s energy, remittances, and newfound respect.
• With the Global South, it’s leadership branding — Vishwaguru India.

Critics like Pratap Bhanu Mehta argue that it’s still heavy on optics and light on long-term strategy. But for the public, perception is power. And perception says India is finally walking with a swagger, not shuffling with hesitation. From where I sit in the MP’s office, it looks like Modi has turned India’s foreign policy from chai and samosas in a conference room to a full-blown Netflix series; complete with cliffhangers, surprise twists, and, yes, plenty of hugs.

Majority vs Democracy (Debating Dissent in Modi's Era)

Take the judiciary. In theory, it’s the referee. In practice, critics say it’s often playing third umpire with the volume off. Big-ticket verdicts, from the Ayodhya temple ruling in 2019 to the abolition of Article 370 in Kashmir, went in the government’s favor. Legal scholars like Gautam Bhatia argue this shows a “deferential judiciary”, while government supporters insist it reflects judicial wisdom finally aligning with “national interest.” The Election Commission, once the pride of India’s democracy, has been accused by opposition parties of being too cozy with the ruling side; scheduling elections in ways that allegedly help the BJP’s campaign machinery. Meanwhile, institutions like the CBI and ED are increasingly referred to by critics as the government’s pet bulldogs, with raids often coinciding suspiciously with opposition rallies.

The press, once proudly combative, now feels more like a talk-show where anchors scream louder than the politicians. International watchdogs like Reporters Without Borders have ranked India 161 out of 180 in the World Press Freedom Index (2023). Yet, if you switch on primetime TV, you’ll see debates where opposition leaders are grilled while government representatives sip water calmly. The phrase “Godi Media” (lapdog media) has entered everyday slang; sharp, biting, and unflattering. Still, the counterpoint is the rise of digital media. From YouTube channels to independent platforms like The Wire or Scroll, dissenting voices have found new space. The government, however, isn’t too fond of this wild internet bazaar, cue new IT rules, takedowns, and occasional raids.

Freedom House, the U.S.-based think tank, downgraded India to “partly free” in 2021, citing crackdowns on dissent and civil liberties. Amnesty International shut down its India operations, complaining of harassment. Student protests, from JNU to CAA demonstrations, were met with heavy policing. But the government’s defense is simple: dissent isn’t being crushed, it’s just being regulated. To borrow Huntington’s logic, India is trying to maintain order in a society where participation has exploded. In other words, democracy must be streamlined for efficiency, or so the ruling narrative goes.

Pratap Bhanu Mehta calls this moment “democratic deconsolidation” where institutions lose independence even as elections remain free. The ballot is still sacred, but the ecosystem around it; courts, press, opposition, civil society, feels bruised.

Yet, here’s the paradox: voter turnout is at record highs, with over 67% participation in the 2019 general election. Citizens are not retreating; they’re lining up in longer queues. So maybe Indian democracy isn’t dying. Maybe it’s just changing costume, from Nehru’s sober kurta-pyjama version to Modi’s high-decibel, saffron-tinged blockbuster style. And like any reality TV, it’s messy, controversial, but compulsively watchable.

The Modi Digest (Lessons from India 2.0)

Political science loves typologies. Huntington spoke of waves of democratization. Francis Fukuyama predicted “the end of history.” Modi’s India is proof history is still very much alive. Scholars call it “democratic backsliding” elected leaders using majorities to erode checks and balances. Others call it “authoritarian capitalism” like China-lite, but with elections. Yet, India defies neat boxes. It is simultaneously a booming market economy, a proud democracy, a Hindu-majoritarian polity, and a leader of the Global South. Thinkers like Mehta warn of a “centralized Leviathan.” Others like Gurcharan Das see Modi as the “CEO India needed.” The contradiction is real: Modi is both admired globally as a statesman and criticized locally as a strongman.

So, is India moving in the right direction? My answer: it depends which lens you choose. Economic growth, welfare, and global stature? Definitely forward. Jobs, inequality, dissent, and institutional health? Still a work in progress.

As an intern, I’ve learned that politics isn’t neat. India isn’t neat. It’s a crowded train, running fast, with some passengers sprinting, some clinging, and a few missing stops entirely. And watching from the platform, chai in hand, papers in another, I realize: the journey is chaotic, exhilarating, and impossible to ignore.

This is India in the Modi era: fast, flashy, complicated, polarizing, and endlessly fascinating. And me? I’m just the intern, taking notes, making photocopies, and trying to understand a country sprinting toward the future while carrying the baggage of its past.