The Tweet That Trembled a Government
On March 31, a delicate but powerful image made its rounds on social media. Styled in the tender hues of a Studio Ghibli animation, it depicted bulldozers facing off against a deer and a peacock both staring back, confused, perhaps heartbroken. Behind them stood the Kancha Gachibowli forest, one of Hyderabad’s last green lungs.
In the soft brushstrokes of a Ghibli-style image, a forest stands tall, rich in life — deer peeking from the trees, a peacock poised in fear, and a wall of yellow bulldozers creeping in like a bad dream.
It wasn’t just art.
It was a metaphor. A warning. A truth.
When senior IAS officer Smita Sabharwal — dubbed “The People’s Officer” for her clean, empathetic governance reshared the image, she didn’t write a political commentary. She didn’t raise a slogan. She didn’t issue a press statement.
She simply retweeted:
She was mourning.
She was mourning the murder of a forest in Kancha Gachibowli — a 400-acre green belt in Hyderabad of which 100 acres was torn down in hours, displacing wildlife, shredding ecological balance, and shocking the conscience of anyone who still remembers how a tree smells after it rains.
And for that — for that one post — the state came knocking.
She was served a police notice under Section 179 of BNSS, a newly introduced law meant to protect public servants. But now? It was being used to threaten one.
What Is the Crime — Having a Conscience?
Smita Sabharwal wasn’t the only one who mourned the deforestation of 100+ acres of land at Kancha Gachibowli, adjacent to the University of Hyderabad. The Supreme Court of India itself slammed the Telangana government, calling the clearing “haphazard,” illegal, and a shocking assault on biodiversity. The Justices demanded immediate restoration of the land and warned officials of jail time for failing to follow environmental procedures.
So why was an officer served a police notice for echoing what the highest court in the land had reaffirmed?
Was it because she’s not a citizen anymore?
Because civil servants aren’t allowed to care?
Because even silence — if it sympathizes with public anger — is now punishable?
Section 179: The Law or the Lash?
Under BNSS Section 179, police can summon any witness with knowledge of an “incident.” That’s the technicality being used here. But make no mistake: this wasn’t about gathering facts.
This was about sending a message.
It was a warning to every government officer who might think of stepping even slightly out of line — that loyalty to the ruling government now matters more than loyalty to the public interest.
Today, it’s a retweet.
Tomorrow, it could be a WhatsApp forward.
What next? A private conversation? A raised eyebrow?
Can Bureaucrats Be Democratic?
This case raises uncomfortable — but urgent — questions:
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Do IAS officers lose their constitutional rights the day they take office?
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Is it misconduct to express empathy with a public cause — especially when that cause is environmental protection and legality?
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Is an officer’s silence the only acceptable posture now?
India’s All India Services (Conduct) Rules discourage officers from publicly criticizing government policy. But Sabharwal didn’t criticize. She reshared an image. One that had already been seen by millions. One that captured public sentiment and, in hindsight, truth.
Under the Indian Constitution, Article 19(1)(a) grants all citizens the right to free expression. The Supreme Court has, time and again, ruled that even government employees do not surrender their fundamental rights. The state can impose reasonable restrictions — but is this “reasonable”?
When the Supreme Court says forests were destroyed illegally, and an officer simply shares that grief — can that be misconduct? Or is it moral courage?
Are IAS Officers Human Beings or Government Robots?
Here lies the burning question:
Do civil servants have the right to feel?
To think?
To speak?
Or does taking the oath of service strip them of their conscience?
Are they only meant to obey, even when orders tear down trees, displace animals, or damage the very Constitution they swore to uphold?
When you tell an IAS officer they cannot have opinions, you are not enforcing discipline — you are enforcing fear.
And fear is not governance.
Fear is control.
Fear is the opposite of democracy.
A Forest Was Destroyed. But So Was a Voice.
Let’s not forget what this is really about.
100 Acres of a forest was bulldozed — not for public housing, not for a hospital — but to build an IT park.
The Supreme Court intervened because due process was ignored.
Wildlife was displaced. Ancient trees were felled over a weekend.
In that context, what Smita Sabharwal did was not rebellion — it was responsibility.
She aligned herself not with politics, but with the environment. Not with opposition, but with the law. And for that, she was summoned.
Is This Still a Democracy?
If officers can’t question destruction, If artists can’t express emotion, If citizens can’t share grief, If students can’t raise slogans…
A democracy dies slowly, not with a loud coup, but with a thousand quiet notices.
It dies when we allow laws to be used not for justice, but for vendetta.
It dies when the very people we expect to protect the Constitution are punished for upholding its values.
What is left of democracy, really?
It is easy to cut down a tree.
It is harder to grow one.
It is easy to issue a notice.
It is harder to own your mistake.
And it is very easy to punish an officer.
But it is hard — so very hard — to explain to your children why a city once called “green” now suffocates under its own ambition.
And so, we must ask:
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If an IAS officer cannot express concern about illegal deforestation, who can?
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If they are punished for feeling, won’t they stop feeling?
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And if all our bureaucrats are trained to be mute, who will speak for the voiceless?
Today, it’s Smita Sabharwal.
Tomorrow, it could be someone else.
The day after, it might be you.
The Last Word
In that Ghibli image, the deer and peacock stand firm. They do not run.
In real life, they had no choice. Their home was gone.
Smita Sabharwal’s repost may have been small. But it carried something powerful — a spark.
And maybe, just maybe, that spark will light a fire.
Not to destroy. But to awaken.
To remind us all:
That governments don’t own the truth.
That forests are not real estate.
And that those who serve the people, must never be punished for standing by them.
