On a Saturday that marked two years of the BJP’s third term in Haryana, former Chief Minister and Leader of Opposition Bhupinder Singh Hooda stood before the public with a message that sounded less like a political speech and more like a lament. This was not a moment of celebration for him, and he made no effort to hide it. For Hooda, the completion of the government’s second year in office was not a milestone but a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. His voice carried the weight of twelve long years, and he spoke with the quiet authority of a man who had once run the state himself and now watched it struggle under a different hand. He said that the twelve years of BJP rule in Haryana could be defined by a handful of harsh realities: false promises, rising crime, the highest unemployment in the country, the highest debt, rampant scams, and the repeated lathicharge on ordinary people, especially farmers. He challenged the ruling party to show even one real achievement after all this time, and he answered his own challenge by saying there was none. This was not merely a partisan attack; it was a reckoning grounded in statistics, government reports, and the lived experiences of thousands of Haryanvis. His words were meant to stir people, to remind them of what they had been promised and what they had actually received. For those listening, there was a sense of heartbreak in his tone, because he was not just attacking a rival government but mourning the lost promise of a state that had once been a model of progress.
The sharpest edge of Hooda’s criticism was reserved for the broken promises around employment. He recalled how the BJP had assured workers of the Skill Development Corporation that they would be given permanent jobs, yet in the last Assembly session, the Chief Minister himself made it clear that this would never happen. That admission, Hooda said, was a betrayal of thousands of young men and women who had trained, waited, and believed in the government’s word. He also pointed to the much larger promise of two lakh government recruitments, a pledge that had raised hopes in every district and every village. But the reality, he said, was that not a single HSSC recruitment had been released since 2024. Even the Common Eligibility Test, or CET, which was supposed to be the gateway to these jobs, had not been conducted. Meanwhile, around two lakh posts remained vacant in various government departments, meaning the jobs existed but the government simply would not fill them. For the young people of Haryana, this was not an abstract political issue. It was the difference between staying home and leaving forever. Hooda spoke of unemployed youth fleeing the state and the country, carrying their degrees and their dreams to places that were ready to give them a chance. His language was simple, but the image it created was powerful: a generation packing its bags because the state that raised them had turned its back on them. He did not blame the young for leaving, but he made it clear that they should not have to leave. The government’s inaction, he said, was not a failure of policy but a failure of heart.
Hooda also took aim at the BJP’s treatment of women, pointing to a promise that had once seemed so attractive: the provision of Rs 2,100 to every woman in need. This was a pledge designed to win hearts, and for a time, it did. But Hooda said the promise had already been broken. The government, he argued, had imposed nearly fifty different conditions on the scheme, making so many women ineligible that the promise became meaningless. What sounded like a gesture of respect and support had become a maze of paperwork and technicalities. Women who had planned their household budgets around that money were left with nothing but disappointment. Hooda’s point was not just about the money itself; it was about the way the government viewed the people. He suggested that the BJP’s relationship with the public was not built on care but on calculation. He claimed the party had formed the government on the basis of false promises and vote theft, and he invoked Congress leader Rahul Gandhi’s allegations of electoral manipulation that had been heard across the country. According to Hooda, the entire nation was now protesting against the theft of votes, and Haryana was no exception. He went further, recalling how, right before the elections, the government had made lakhs of people BPL overnight and handed them ration cards, luring them with free grains and securing their votes in exchange. This, he argued, was not governance but exploitation, a cynical use of people’s hunger and vulnerability for political gain. His voice here was particularly emotional, because he was speaking about people who had been treated as commodities rather than citizens.
Beyond the broken promises and political manipulation, Hooda painted a broader picture of a state in crisis. He spoke of rising crime, a subject that touches every family in Haryana, and he linked it to a wider failure of governance. He talked about the crushing debt that the state had accumulated under the BJP, a burden that would be passed on to future generations. He mentioned the endless scams that had eroded public trust, and he did not shy away from recalling the brutal lathicharge that had been used against farmers and other members of society. For Hooda, these were not isolated incidents but symptoms of a deeper problem: a government that did not see itself as accountable to the people. He said that the BJP had nothing to do with the public, because it had not earned power through trust or performance. It had won, he claimed, by making promises it never intended to keep and by manipulating the very systems that were supposed to protect democracy. The result was a government that could celebrate its own anniversaries while the people endured the consequences of its failures. Hooda’s words were harsh, but they came from a place of frustration that many could understand. He was not simply trying to win an argument; he was trying to wake people up. He wanted them to see that the state they loved was being harmed by the very people they had entrusted with its future. And he was asking a simple question: how much longer would they accept this?
In the midst of his criticism, Hooda offered a reminder of what Haryana once was, and what it could be again. He asked people to remember the year 2014, when the Congress government left office. At that time, he said, Haryana was the number one state in the country in terms of per capita income. It led the nation in per capita investment, meaning that businesses believed in the state and were willing to put their money there. It was also the leader in employment generation, which stood in stark contrast to the jobless crisis of today. The state honored its sportspersons and its elders, treating them as heroes rather than afterthoughts. It provided minimum support prices to farmers, protecting those who fed the nation from the cruelty of market fluctuations. It was a state known for its welfare programs and its law and order, where people felt safe and cared for. Hooda’s point was not simply to boast about the past, but to show that the current situation was not inevitable. Haryana had been a success story once, and it could be again if the right leadership were in place. But under the BJP, he argued, those achievements had been squandered. The things that made Haryana proud had been replaced by things that made its people ashamed. His comparison was not meant to be nostalgic; it was meant to be a call to action. If the state had been number one before, why was it now struggling? If the government could create jobs before, why was it failing now? The answer, for Hooda, was clear: the difference was not the people of Haryana, but the people who governed them.
In the end, Hooda’s message was not just a summary of grievances but an appeal to the conscience of the state. He wanted the public to understand that the power to change things lay in their hands. The twelve years of BJP rule, he warned, had been defined by false promises, economic distress, and a government that seemed to operate for its own benefit rather than the public good. But he also suggested that this was not the end of the story. The people of Haryana had chosen before, and they could choose again. They could demand a government that kept its word, that treated every citizen with respect, that provided jobs for the young, support for women, dignity for farmers, and safety for all. Hooda’s words were a reminder that politics is not a game to be played with people’s lives. It is a sacred responsibility, and when that responsibility is betrayed, the people have the right to rise up and say enough. He urged them not to be fooled by temporary relief or clever slogans, and not to be silenced by fear or intimidation. The state he described as a former leader, a state that had once stood at the top of the country, was still there beneath the surface, waiting to be restored. He ended with a vision of a Haryana that honored its workers, protected its farmers, cared for its women, and gave its young people a reason to stay. It was a vision rooted not in anger but in hope, and it carried a simple truth: that the promise of a better future is only real when leaders have the courage to keep it.