Editor,
In a world that often glorifies success stories shaped by wealth and influence, the silent struggles of honest public servants are seldom spoken of. My father, once a deputy director in the Department of Secondary Education in Arunachal Pradesh and later a principal, is one such silent warrior. Now nearly 70, he works as a restaurant manager – not out of passion, but out of necessity. After a lifetime of educating children and serving the public with integrity, he now labours to support his family post-retirement. Not by choice, but because of a system that failed him.
He was falsely accused on corruption charges – allegations orchestrated by powerful political and wealthy forces who saw his uprightness as an obstacle. He spent years defending his honour in courtrooms instead of classrooms. Even after retirement, instead of enjoying the peace he earned, he attended hearings and faced public shame, all for something he never did.
Eventually, he was found innocent. But by then, the damage was already done.
This is not just a story of one man. There are countless others who suffer the same fate – officers who choose honesty over convenience, truth over compromise, and are repaid with mental trauma, financial burdens, and loss of dignity. These are individuals who were once looked up to by students, family members, and their communities – pillars of morality reduced to whispers of ‘what went wrong?'”
The question I ask today is this: Who takes responsibility when an innocent officer is dragged through years of false accusations? Does the government have any mechanism for compensation? Is there any apology from the institutions that failed to protect their own? Is the court process – though fair in the end – not guilty of delay that equates to injustice?
What about the emotional and psychological toll on the officer and their families? Who answers for the time lost, the humiliation endured, and the financial strain borne by the innocent?
We must ask ourselves whether we, as a society, are complicit in this silence. When those who serve us with dignity are humiliated and discarded, what message are we sending to the next generation of public servants?
My prayer is simple: may no senior officer – no honest individual – ever have to go through what my father did. But prayers are not enough. We need policies. We need accountability. And above all, we need a system that values integrity not just in words, but in action.
It’s time the state and central government initiated reforms that provide psychological, financial, and legal support to those falsely accused. It’s time for the judiciary to fast-track such cases involving retired or aging officers. And it’s time for us all to raise our voice for the sake of those who sacrificed their lives in service, only to be abandoned when they needed us the most.
Because if the system cannot protect the honest, then what hope is left?
Tasa