In his note, he spoke of systematic harassment, caste-based humiliation and betrayal by seniors.

In his note, he spoke of systematic harassment, caste-based humiliation and betrayal by seniors.

In his note, he spoke of systematic harassment, caste-based humiliation and betrayal by seniors.

Chandigarh: On the afternoon of October 7, in the quiet lanes of Chandigarh’s Sector 11, senior IPS officer Y Puran Kumar was found dead, with an alleged self-inflicted gunshot wound. Near him lay a nine-page handwritten note.

In those pages, the Additional Director General of Police poured out anguish that now haunts Haryana’s corridors of power. He spoke of systematic harassment, caste-based humiliation and betrayal by seniors. Beyond personal tragedy, his words reflected a deeper malaise — how indignity can persist even within a uniform meant to command authority.

A life of service, a death in isolation
A 2001-batch IPS officer, Puran Kumar, was known for integrity and independence. Colleagues recall a man of few words but firm convictions — someone who valued procedure over patronage.

In recent years, however, he was repeatedly transferred, often to postings that appeared to mock his seniority. His last assignment as Inspector General at the Police Training College, Rohtak, felt to him like exile — or, as many in bureaucratic circles call it, a “punishment posting.”

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His final note named over a dozen bureaucrats and police officials — including the state DGP, a district SP, and senior IAS officers — accusing them of humiliation and conspiracy. One line stood out: he mentioned only one senior bureaucrat as having tried to help, “but too little, too late.”

The note alleged that he was hounded for entering a temple in Ambala, denied leave to visit his dying father, and shunted to “non-existent” posts. It painted a portrait of an officer steadily cornered by a system he once served with pride.

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The state’s reluctant response
Within 48 hours of his death, Chandigarh Police registered an FIR invoking abetment to suicide and sections of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act. Yet, as often happens in high-profile cases, the filing triggered more questions than answers.

His wife, Amneet P Kumar, herself an IAS officer, alleged that critical names from the note — including the DGP and Rohtak SP — were missing as accused. She demanded corrections, a stronger SC/ST provision, and a judicially monitored inquiry.

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A six-member SIT headed by an IG-rank officer has been formed. But procedural gaps persist. The family initially withheld consent for a post-mortem examination, citing loss of faith in the authorities. The report remains pending.

Each delay deepens public suspicion — is it caution or a calculated instinct to shield the powerful?

Caste, power, and institutional silence
The tragedy has sparked national outrage because Puran Kumar explicitly linked his persecution to caste bias. For many civil servants, that charge pierced deep — it questioned the illusion that elite ranks erase social fault-lines.

Dalit officers’ associations, student groups, and rights activists have demanded that the FIR include full caste-atrocity clauses and that a sitting High Court judge oversee the probe. Political parties across the spectrum have called for transparency and the release of the complete note.

In his writings, Kumar described public humiliation, orchestrated leaks, and professional isolation. The line “Only one man tried to help me” captures the loneliness of a man abandoned by the fraternity he trusted.

Institutional silence in the face of such despair is telling. Discrimination is not always loud — sometimes it is a transfer, a whisper, or a delay that sends the message that someone does not belong.

The fight for truth
Many of Kumar’s claims await corroboration. The chain of transfers and inquiries sits blurred between administrative process and alleged vendetta. Officials named have denied wrongdoing, saying decisions were procedural, not personal. Some have pointed to “stress” or “mental health issues,” deflecting scrutiny from the institution to the individual.

Fragility of dignity within power
Puran Kumar’s death exposes how rank offers no shield from humiliation. Hierarchies within government can reproduce the same biases they claim to dismantle. Power, without empathy, becomes a cage rather than protection.

His story forces a haunting question: if an IPS officer cannot seek justice within the system, what hope remains for the voiceless?

Politics of response
The government has promised an impartial inquiry, yet reactions remain divided. Some in the ruling establishment warn against “politicising a personal tragedy.” Opposition leaders — including Bhupinder Singh Hooda — have demanded a judicial probe.

National attention has followed swiftly. Sources suggest Rahul Gandhi and Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge may visit Chandigarh to meet the bereaved family and express solidarity. Even Chirag Paswan has also written to Chief Minister Nayab Saini, demanding an impartial probe and justice in the Puran Kumar case.

Across Haryana, Punjab, and Delhi, Dalit organisations have turned the case into a rallying cry for equality and representation within the higher bureaucracy. Among serving officers, a quiet unease has set in — an admission that invisible ceilings still dictate postings and promotions.

The state now stands at a moral crossroad: whether to protect reputations or confront rot.

The wife’s stand
After Chief Minister Saini visited the bereaved home, the FIR was finally lodged — but Amneet Kumar called it incomplete. She said the names of the state DGP Shatrujeet Kapoor and Rohtak SP Narender Bijarania were absent from the charge column.

She demanded both be suspended and arrested before she would consent to her husband’s post-mortem. “My daughters want justice for their father’s death,” she told reporters, her voice steady but breaking.

Following her stand, the Haryana Government transferred Rohtak SP Narender Bijarania. Action against the DGP remains under consideration.

Her insistence has shifted the narrative from mourning to accountability. In her words and courage, many see a continuation of her husband’s fight for dignity.

A system on trial
Beyond police files and political statements, the Puran Kumar case has become a test of institutional conscience. Can India’s law-enforcement system confront its internal prejudices? Can it ensure dignity for those who serve it?

The outcome will define more than one officer’s memory. It will reveal whether governance in Haryana — and indeed India — can look in the mirror without flinching.

If justice follows swiftly and transparently, Puran Kumar’s death may yet compel reform. If not, it will remain another case where truth was outnumbered by hierarchy.