On tanks, tableaux, constitutional promises, invisible workers, and the distance between sovereignty and citizenship

My twelve-year-old woke up early this morning, excited to watch the parade. I found myself unable to share his enthusiasm. Not because I don't feel something when the national anthem plays — I do — but because after more than two decades watching the sausage of governance get made, from inside ministries and outside them, from fieldwork in villages and fluorescent-lit offices inside various Bhawans, Republic Day has started to feel like an elaborate performance that obscures what it claims to celebrate.

The Constituent Assembly that gave us this document didn't meet to showcase missiles. They debated, argued, compromised — lawyers fighting over fundamental rights, farmers' representatives demanding land reform, women activists insisting on equal citizenship, Dalit leaders warning that political democracy without economic democracy would be hollow. The republic was made through deliberation, not firepower.

B.R. Ambedkar, presenting the final draft on November 25, 1949, issued three warnings that read today as prophecy. He warned against what he called "the grammar of anarchy" — the use of unconstitutional methods to achieve political ends. He warned against hero-worship, calling bhakti in politics "a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship." And he warned that India was about to enter "a life of contradictions" — political equality coexisting with social and economic inequality.

"How long shall we continue to live this life of contradictions?" he asked. "If we continue to deny equality in our social and economic life for long, we will do so only by putting our political democracy in peril."

Seventy-seven years later, as tanks roll down Kartavya Path, as wealth concentration exceeds British colonial levels while real wages flatline, as the Centre hollows out fiscal federalism while ASHA workers earn less than minimum wage — this essay attempts to answer Ambedkar's question by asking a simpler one: What maketh a republic?

The costs we don't count

Here's a number that doesn't appear in any official report: the total cost of Republic Day celebrations across India.

The government's own admission, in response to a parliamentary question in 2023, is that expenditure is "not compiled or exhibited under one Head of account." The spending is scattered across the Defence Ministry, Home Ministry, paramilitary forces, state governments, and 700-odd district administrations — by design, it seems, untraceable.

What we do know from RTI data cited in multiple reports: the central parade alone cost ₹320 crore in 2014, up 54.51% from ₹145 crore in 2001. That's just Delhi. Every state capital hosts its own parade. Every district headquarters conducts ceremonies. The cascading fiscal footprint of this single day of pageantry likely exceeds ₹1,000 crore annually — and we genuinely don't know because nobody is required to add it up.

This year's parade features EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and European Council President António Costa as chief guests — the first time two EU leaders serve jointly. The parade features a "Battle Array" format for the first time, showcasing weapons in actual combat formations. Thirty tableaux from states and ministries parade down Kartavya Path, built around the theme "150 Years of Vande Mataram".

The first Republic Day, by contrast, cost ₹11,093 according to archival records from the Delhi Chief Commissioner's office. President Rajendra Prasad visited relief homes and orphanages. The celebrations were decentralised, modest, focused on displaced families and Partition refugees rather than state power. Indonesian President Sukarno was chief guest at Irwin Amphitheatre — the parade shifted to Rajpath only in 1955.

What happened between 1950 and 2026 is the story of a republic that gradually forgot the difference between sovereignty and citizenship.

The colonial inheritance

The parade format itself is borrowed from British imperial durbars — the great assemblages of 1877, 1903, and 1911 where the Raj displayed its power to Indian subjects. The Delhi Durbar of 1911, where George V announced the transfer of the capital from Calcutta to Delhi, featured precisely the kind of military spectacle we now use to celebrate constitutional democracy: marching regiments, mounted cavalry, artillery displays.

Nehru recognised this uncomfortable inheritance. In 1952, he intervened to add cultural tableaux as counterbalance. His explicit intent, as documented by historian Srirupa Roy: to ensure the young Republic valued "cultural progress no less than military strength."

Seventy-four years later, the missiles get more coverage than any tableau. We have inverted Nehru's formula while keeping his language.

How other republics celebrate

Is this just how republics celebrate themselves? It isn't.

Germany's Day of German Unity features no military parade whatsoever. Instead, a rotating Bürgerfest (Citizens' Festival) celebrates reunification through cultural exhibitions, food, music, and regional diversity. Post-World War II Germany consciously rejected militaristic nationalism. Each year a different state hosts; the celebration travels to citizens rather than requiring citizens to watch from behind barricades.

South Africa's Freedom Day, commemorating the 1994 elections that ended apartheid, is almost entirely civic — speeches, educational programming, visits to historic sites like Robben Island. No tanks. Since 2005, activists have organised "UnFreedom Day" to highlight persistent poverty and inequality, demonstrating that democratic space exists for critique of the republic's unfulfilled promises. The state tolerates this parallel tradition. Imagine an "Un-Republic Day" in India.

The United States — not exactly a pacifist nation — has no regular national military parade on July 4th. Celebrations centre on community parades, fireworks, and special naturalisation ceremonies at iconic locations like Mount Vernon and the National Archives. When President Trump attempted to militarise July 4th in 2019, the $5.4 million "Salute to America" drew bipartisan criticism for politicising a nonpartisan holiday.

France does have Europe's oldest and largest military parade on Bastille Day — approximately 7,000 troops marching down the Champs-Élysées, costing around €3.5-4 million. But even there, evening celebrations shift to civilian fireworks and the democratic tradition of Bals des Pompiers (firemen's balls) — ordinary citizens dancing in public spaces, community rather than spectacle.

India's parade now costs approximately $40 million equivalent. The comparisons that suggest themselves — China, Russia, North Korea — are uncomfortable but increasingly apt.

The Constitution established India as a Union of States with significant fiscal autonomy. Article 1 famously declares India "a Union of States" — not a unitary nation with administrative subdivisions. The federal architecture presumed shared sovereignty, with the Centre and States each possessing distinct domains of taxation and expenditure.

That architecture is being quietly demolished.

The cess and surcharge loophole

The 14th Finance Commission's historic recommendation to increase states' share of the divisible pool from 32% to 42% — the largest ever increase — appeared to signal genuine fiscal devolution.

Reality diverged sharply.

The Centre discovered a constitutional loophole: cesses and surcharges fall outside the divisible pool under Article 270. Unlike regular taxes, which must be shared with states according to the Finance Commission formula, cesses and surcharges are retained entirely by the Centre.

These non-shareable levies surged from 10.4% of Gross Tax Revenue in 2011-12 to a peak of 20.2% in 2020-21. They have since declined to 14.5% in 2023-24 — still significantly higher than a decade ago.

The arithmetic is devastating for states. When the divisible pool shrinks (because more revenue is classified as non-shareable cesses), the 42% share becomes 42% of a smaller pie. The CAG found that in 2018-19, only 60% of cess collections (₹1.64 lakh crore of ₹2.74 lakh crore) actually reached designated reserve funds. The remaining 40% was retained in the Consolidated Fund of India.

The cess for building rural roads goes into general revenue. The cess for cleaning the Ganga goes into general revenue. The education cess goes into general revenue. The stated purposes become justifications for extraction; the actual spending happens elsewhere — or doesn't happen at all.

GST: The broken promise

GST was sold to states as a grand bargain: surrender your fiscal autonomy over indirect taxes, and in return receive guaranteed 14% annual growth in GST revenue for five years.

The guarantee ended in June 2022. The Centre declined to extend it, despite states' requests. For states like Punjab, where GST compensation constituted 20% of revenue receipts, this created structural shortfalls with no replacement mechanism.

The GST Council, notionally a federal body with states represented, has increasingly become a mechanism for Centre-dominated decision-making. Revenue that once accrued directly to state treasuries now flows through a central mechanism that delays releases and imposes conditions.

The resource-expenditure asymmetry

The numbers tell the story starkly. The Centre holds approximately 63% of resources but bears only 38% of expenditure. States receive 37% of resources but must deliver 62% of public services — health, education, welfare, law and order, local infrastructure.

This asymmetry has widened since 2014. The states that deliver education, that run hospitals, that pay ASHA workers and anganwadi helpers, that maintain rural roads — they have less money to do so. The Centre that celebrates on Kartavya Path has more.

Ambedkar warned we would enter "a life of contradictions" — political equality coexisting with social and economic inequality. Let me show you what that looks like in 2026.

Wealth concentration exceeds colonial levels

The World Inequality Report 2026, released December 2025, places India among the most unequal countries globally. The top 1% now hold approximately 40% of total national wealth; the top 10% hold around 65%. The bottom 50% — over 700 million people — hold barely 6-7% of wealth.

This exceeds concentration levels during the British Raj. In 1947, the top 10% held approximately 50-55% of wealth. We have regressed to inequality levels not seen since colonial rule.

In terms of income: the top 10% capture 58% of national income; the bottom 50% receive just 15%. This gap has remained stable between 2014 and 2024, indicating that a decade of high GDP growth has done nothing to reduce inequality.

The Constitution's Preamble promises "social, economic and political justice" and "equality of status and of opportunity." Article 38 directs the State to "minimise the inequalities in income." Article 39 mandates that "the ownership and control of material resources of the community are so distributed as best to subserve the common good."

Seventy-seven years of evidence reveals systematic departure from these commitments.

Real wages have flatlined

The India Ratings report on labour dynamics (November 2024), using Periodic Labour Force Survey data, found that real wage growth at the national level was 0.01% annually between Q2 FY2020 and Q1 FY2025. Effectively zero.

In Uttar Pradesh and Haryana, real wages actually contracted over this period. Only 17 of 28 states exceeded the national average — a low bar given the average was near zero.

The Labour Bureau's Wage Rates in Rural India data, analysed by economists Jean Drèze and Arindam Das, confirms: real wages for agricultural and non-agricultural workers have shown virtually no growth since 2014, "in contrast with rapid growth in the preceding seven years." The contrast with capital is stark. Corporate profits (Nifty 500) grew at 34.5% annually from 2020-2024. The stock market boomed. CEO compensation soared. Worker wages contracted.

The minimum wage freeze

The National Floor Level Minimum Wage — the baseline below which no state is supposed to set wages — remains ₹178 per day ($2.13). This figure has not been revised since July 2017 — over seven years of inflation without adjustment.

The Code on Wages (2019), which consolidated four labour laws and was supposed to establish a framework for living wages, came into effect in November 2025 — six years after passage. Yet the floor wage remains unchanged. The Code empowers the government to set wages considering "minimum living standards of workers," but no revision has followed. Draft Central Rules were published December 30, 2025, with state rules still pending. The aspiration of transitioning from minimum wage to living wage — discussed with the ILO — remains aspiration.

Article 43 of the Constitution — a Directive Principle — explicitly calls for "a living wage, conditions of work ensuring a decent standard of life." Seventy-seven years, unimplemented.

Hunger in the land of surpluses

Between 2015 and 2018, researchers documented at least 57 starvation deaths across India. The Right to Food Campaign linked at least 19 deaths directly to Aadhaar-related denial of public distribution system entitlements — authentication failures, cancelled ration cards, biometric mismatches.

The 2021 Census has been indefinitely postponed — a constitutional requirement unmet for over five years. This delay means National Food Security Act coverage remains based on 2011 population figures, potentially excluding 100-200 million people from legal entitlements.

The National Family Health Survey-5 (2019-21) found 35.5% of children under five are stunted — chronic malnutrition indicating long-term deprivation. Food rots in overflowing FCI godowns while children go hungry — not market failure but state choice.

The Republic Day parade celebrates state power. It does not celebrate the people who actually build and sustain the nation. Let me introduce you to them.

ASHA workers: WHO-honoured, government-denied

In May 2022, the World Health Organisation awarded India's Accredited Social Health Activists the WHO Director-General's Global Health Leaders Award. The citation praised their role in "connecting communities to healthcare, particularly during the pandemic."

There are approximately 10.4 lakh ASHA workers across India — the largest cadre of community health workers in the world. During COVID-19, they conducted door-to-door surveillance, distributed medicine kits, enrolled citizens for vaccination, and served as the first point of contact in rural areas. An estimated 98% are women.

Their reward? They remain classified as "honorary volunteers" — not government employees. The NRHM guidelines explicitly state that an ASHA "would be an 'honorary volunteer', not receive any salary." They earn through task-based incentives: ₹300 per institutional delivery facilitated, ₹150 per child completing immunisation, ₹1 for distributing ORS packets.

Monthly earnings vary by state — typically ₹5,000 to ₹15,000. The central government provides a fixed ₹2,000 monthly honorarium for routine activities; states may add top-ups. Andhra Pradesh pays ₹10,000 and recently introduced gratuity and maternity leave; most states pay far less. Without employee status, they have no minimum wage protection, no pension, no job security.

In the twenty years since the programme began, no ASHA worker has received national honours representing her profession. The systematic contribution of a million women holding together rural public health? Invisible.

Anganwadi workers: Feeding the nation's children

The Integrated Child Development Services scheme employs approximately 24 lakh anganwadi workers and helpers across 13.9 lakh centres. They serve roughly 8 crore children under six and 2 crore pregnant/lactating mothers — implementing supplementary nutrition, pre-school education, immunisation coordination, and health referrals.

Like ASHA workers, they are classified as "honorary workers" — not government employees. Their honoraria: ₹4,500-12,000 monthly depending on state and position, with helpers earning ₹2,250-6,000. For work that requires managing nutrition records, conducting home visits, teaching pre-schoolers, coordinating with health systems, and maintaining centres.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly directed states to regularise anganwadi workers; most have not complied.

Sanitation workers: Dying in the republic's sewers

Between 1993 and December 2024, the National Commission for Safai Karamcharis documented 1,289 deaths of workers cleaning sewers and septic tanks. That's one death approximately every six days for three decades — deaths from toxic gases, asphyxiation, drowning in human waste.

Manual scavenging has been legally banned since 1993 and reinforced by the Prohibition of Employment as Manual Scavengers Act, 2013. The government officially claims manual scavenging has been "eradicated." Yet deaths continue.

In July 2024, the government informed the Rajya Sabha that 377 people died between 2019 and 2023 while cleaning sewers and septic tanks. In January 2025, the Supreme Court ordered an absolute ban on manual scavenging in six metro cities including Delhi. In June 2025, Delhi's Public Works Department posted images showing workers in sewage without safety gear — the post was removed after outrage. Deaths have continued.

Who dies in India's sewers? The NAMASTE scheme's profiling data shows approximately 69% belong to Scheduled Caste communities, 15% to OBCs, 8% to STs — meaning roughly 77-92% are from Dalit communities. The intersection of caste and occupation remains lethal.

Compensation — when paid — was ₹10 lakh until a 2023 Supreme Court order raised it to ₹30 lakh. Families report waiting years for payment, if it comes at all.

Government teachers: Vacant posts and contractual exploitation

India has approximately 10 lakh sanctioned teaching positions lying vacant in government schools. The Parliamentary Standing Committee on Education has repeatedly flagged this. States cope by hiring contractual teachers at ₹10,000-24,000 monthly — a fraction of regular teachers' ₹35,000-62,000 — with no job security, limited benefits, and no pension.

The right to education exists on paper. The teachers needed to deliver it exist in vacancy registers.

Farmers: Feeding 1.4 billion, dying by the thousands

Between 1995 and 2023, at least 394,206 farmers and agricultural labourers died by suicide in India, according to NCRB data — an average of approximately 13,600 deaths annually.

The crisis peaked between 2000-2009, with over 154,000 suicides; 2002 recorded the highest single-year toll (17,971). After years of decline — coinciding with MGNREGA expansion — the trend reversed sharply in 2023: 10,786 farmer suicides, up 75% from 2022. Maharashtra accounts for 38.5% of cases, Karnataka 22.5%.

A significant shift has occurred: agricultural labourers now outnumber cultivators among suicide victims (6,096 vs 4,690 in 2023). Distress extends beyond landholding farmers to the landless workers who toil on others' fields.

Agriculture contributes approximately 15% of GDP while employing 45.5% of the workforce. This structural imbalance underlies chronic agrarian distress that no government has resolved.

On the life of contradictions

Ambedkar's November 25, 1949 speech deserves quotation at length:

"On the 26th of January 1950, we are going to enter into a life of contradictions. In politics we will have equality and in social and economic life we will have inequality. In politics we will be recognising the principle of one man one vote and one vote one value. In our social and economic life, we shall, by reason of our social and economic structure, continue to deny the principle of one man one value.

How long shall we continue to live this life of contradictions? How long shall we continue to deny equality in our social and economic life? If we continue to deny it for long, we will do so only by putting our political democracy in peril. We must remove this contradiction at the earliest possible moment or else those who suffer from inequality will blow up the structure of political democracy which this Assembly has so laboriously built up."

The statistics assembled in this essay are Ambedkar's prophecy quantified.

On hero-worship

His warning on bhakti cuts closer to present circumstances:

"Bhakti in religion may be a road to the salvation of the soul. But in politics, Bhakti or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship."

The parade itself has become an exercise in bhakti — not toward constitutional values but toward state power. The missiles that now dominate the display are named after Hindu mythology: Pralay (cosmic destruction), Agni (fire).

On what democracy requires

Ambedkar's conception of democracy went beyond voting:

"Democracy is not merely a form of government. It is primarily a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience. It is essentially an attitude of respect and reverence towards fellow men."

By this measure, the parade inverts Republic Day's meaning. We celebrate the state's capacity for coercion rather than citizens' capacity for self-governance. We display weapons rather than welfare.

The Directive Principles — Articles 38 through 43 — laid out a vision of economic democracy underlying political democracy. Living wages. Right to work. Protection against economic exploitation. Resources distributed to serve the common good. These were meant to be implemented, not merely admired.

What would it take to build a republic that honours its constitutional promises?

To pay workers what they're owed

The floor wage could be raised from ₹178 to a calculated living wage of approximately ₹375-450 per day — the 7th Pay Commission's methodology applied to unorganised workers. This would require political will, not economic impossibility. The Labour Codes are now in effect; the implementing rules could mandate meaningful revision.

ASHA and anganwadi workers could be recognised as government employees rather than honorary volunteers. States like Chhattisgarh have shown this is possible — the Mitanin workers have been regularised. Extending this nationally would cost approximately ₹15,000-20,000 crore annually — less than 0.1% of GDP.

To end deaths in sewers

The technology exists: mechanised sewer cleaning equipment costs ₹8-15 lakh per unit. The NAMASTE scheme aims to provide this, but implementation has been slow — only 54% PPE distribution coverage according to a 2025 Parliamentary Standing Committee report. A genuine commitment would mean: no worker enters a sewer without mechanical equipment, full safety gear, oxygen supply, and emergency response capability.

To count those who should be counted

The Census could be conducted. It is constitutionally mandated. The apparatus exists. The delay is a choice. With accurate population data, welfare entitlements under NFSA, MGNREGA, and other schemes could reach intended beneficiaries rather than excluding millions through outdated eligibility lists.

A comprehensive internal migrant registration system — as mandated by a 1979 law never fully implemented — would enable portable benefits, emergency response capability, and basic visibility for 140 million people.

To restore fiscal federalism

The Sixteenth Finance Commission could recommend that states receive their 42% share of all central taxes — including cesses and surcharges. This would require constitutional amendment but would reverse the systematic erosion of federal fiscal space. The CAG's repeated observations on cess under-utilisation provide the evidentiary basis.

To make Republic Day republican

The parade could include citizenship ceremonies — naturalisation oaths administered publicly in state capitals, welcoming new citizens into the constitutional community. It could honour professions that sustain the republic — teachers, nurses, sanitation workers, farmers — not as individual exceptions but as systematic recognition.

We could celebrate what the state enables citizens to achieve rather than what the state can do to adversaries.

The Question Remains

The first Republic Day cost ₹11,093 and focused on relief homes and displaced families. Today's celebration costs hundreds of crores, deploys AI-powered surveillance, and showcases weapons in combat formations.

This trajectory reveals what the Indian state believes a republic to be.

The Constitution's Preamble speaks of "We, the People" — not "We, the State" or "We, the Weapons" or "We, the Spectators." The republic, in theory, is res publica — the public thing, belonging to citizens. The parade treats it as res militaris — the military thing, displayed to subjects.

What maketh a republic? Not the display of sovereign power, but the daily labour of those who sustain each other. Not missiles named after mythology, but the ASHA worker who walks to a remote hamlet. Not combat formations, but the anganwadi helper who ensures children receive nutrition. Not facial recognition cameras, but the sanitation worker whose labour enables urban life. Not barricades keeping citizens away, but the migrant who built the infrastructure we inhabit. Not celebrities receiving Padma awards, but the teacher who educates despite vacancy-decimated faculties. Not tableaux showcasing "development," but the farmer who feeds 1.4 billion while earning a fraction of GDP.

Ambedkar warned that continuing to deny equality in social and economic life would put political democracy in peril. Seventy-seven years later, with wealth concentration exceeding colonial levels, real wages stagnant, the federal structure hollowed out, and welfare systems excluding their intended beneficiaries, his warning approaches its moment of reckoning.

The parade will end this afternoon. My son will go back to his homework. The tanks will return to cantonments. And tomorrow, an ASHA worker will walk to a remote hamlet, an anganwadi helper will feed children whose names no one in Delhi knows, a sanitation worker will descend into a sewer, a farmer will tend crops that feed a nation that barely acknowledges him.

They are the republic.

Seventy-seven years on, we still haven't decided which republic we want to be.

Further Reading

Primary Sources

1. Constituent Assembly Debates, Volume 11 (November 25, 1949) — Ambedkar's final speech

2. World Inequality Report 2026, World Inequality Lab (December 2025)

3. National Family Health Survey-5 (2019-21), Ministry of Health and Family Welfare

4. India Ratings State Labour Force Digest 2024, India Ratings and Research

5. 15th Finance Commission Report, Government of India

6. NCRB Accidental Deaths and Suicides in India, National Crime Records Bureau

On Inequality and Wages

1. Chancel, Lucas & Piketty, Thomas. Indian Income Inequality 1922-2015, World Inequality Database Working Paper

2. Drèze, Jean & Das, Arindam. The Problem of India's Stagnant Real Wages, Ideas for India

3. Income, Wealth and the Concentration of Capital, World Inequality Report 2022 (India Chapter)

4. Real Wages Grew Just 0.01% Over Five Years, The Print (March 2025)

On Frontline Workers

1. Why Do ASHA Workers in India Earn So Little?, Centre for Budget and Governance Accountability

2. ASHA Workers: Two Decades of Service, Still Fighting for Dignity, The Wire (March 2025)

3. Invisible Deaths: How India's Climate Crisis Abandons Its Sanitation Workers, Down to Earth (November 2025)

4. India's Shame: Unending Death of Workers in Sewers, GroundXero (May 2025)

On Fiscal Federalism

1. Share of Cesses & Surcharges in Gross Tax Revenue, Factly (March 2025)

2. How Centre Has Bullied States Over GST Compensation, The Federal

3. State Finances 2023-24, PRS Legislative Research

On Agrarian Distress

1. Farmer Suicides in India: What 28 Years of Data Shows, Down to Earth (December 2025)

2. Cultivating Distress: Cotton, Caste and Farmer Suicides in India, Anthropology & Medicine

On Hunger and Welfare Exclusion

1. Khera, Reetika. Starvation Deaths and the Collapse of India's Welfare State, Scroll.in

2. The Absence of Census Data is Undermining India's Welfare Programmes, Scroll.in

3. Aadhaar, Starvation Deaths and the Right to Food, The Wire

On Republic Day and National Celebrations

1. Roy, Srirupa. Beyond Belief: India and the Politics of Postcolonial Nationalism, Duke University Press

2. Souvenirs and Sweets: The Decentralised Spirit of India's First Republic Day, Daily Pioneer

Varna Sri Raman is a development economist and writes regularly at www.policygrounds.press.