The stories of Corruption, Fear, and Quiet Corridors Haunt in Tripura,Who is responsible??

Poonam Sharma
It begins, as many political stories do in Tripura, not at a press conference but at a tea stall. “Tell me honestly,” a middle-aged BJP worker asks quietly, stirring his cup. “Is corruption not an issue anymore? Or are we just not allowed to talk about it?”

No microphones. No slogans. Just a question that refuses to go away.

Across Agartala and beyond, a similar unease is surfacing—in hushed conversations, half-finished sentences, and careful pauses before names are spoken. The Congress may be shouting about a “10–30 per cent commission raj,” but the more troubling story is unfolding inside the ruling party itself. It is a story of silence, distance, and a growing sense that the government and the organisation are no longer speaking the same language.

Congress Charges 

It is been observed corruption has become institutionalised under Chief Minister Dr Manik Saha. According to opposition leaders, government contracts, postings, and routine administrative work now come with an unofficial price tag. They repeat the figure—10 per cent, sometimes 30—not as a statistic, but as a symbol.
What has surprised many observers is not the allegation itself—Indian politics has never been short of those—but the BJP’s response. Or rather, its absence.
Senior BJP leaders have dismissed the claims, but without counter-data, without aggressive rebuttal, without the moral confidence the party once prided itself on. “Earlier, the BJP would hit back hard,” says a local political analyst. “Now it seems to avoid the conversation altogether.”
In politics, silence is rarely neutral. It is interpreted—fairly or unfairly—as discomfort.

“This Doesn’t Feel Like Our Party Anymore”

Inside BJP offices, the language has changed. Words like samarpan (commitment) and sangathan (organisation) are giving way to quieter expressions: “adjustment,” “risk,” “don’t get involved.”
A senior party worker from West Tripura puts it plainly:
“We didn’t build this party to be afraid of our own government.”
Many such workers trace the disconnect to the leadership style of Chief Minister Manik Saha. His supporters describe him as calm, educated, and administrative. His critics—often from within the party—use different words: distant, insulated, bureaucratic.

The issue, they argue, is not personal competence but political culture.

Dr Saha is not from an RSS background, and while the BJP has never officially required that lineage, in Tripura it matters emotionally. The BJP’s rise here was powered by years of RSS-backed groundwork, sacrifice, and ideological bonding. Workers didn’t just campaign—they belonged.
“He may be a good administrator,” says a senior sympathiser, lowering his voice, “but BJP–RSS culture is about constant engagement. About listening. That connect feels missing.”

Sudip Roy Barman’s Signal—and What It Revealed

When senior leader Sudip Roy Barman recently made remarks and also had not even once but twice had in Sarcasm began questioning whether the government had done enough to reassure the public, many saw it as a rare crack in the wall of silence.
He did not name the Chief Minister. He did not allege corruption directly.He sang a self composed song even to one’s surprise no one from BJP in the house opposed or objected to his alleged sarcasm.But politics often lies in what is not said. Within hours, party WhatsApp groups were buzzing. Was Barman speaking only for himself—or for many who cannot speak openly? One BJP MLA, speaking off record, admits:
“There is frustration. But people are scared to say it publicly. No one wants to be seen as ‘anti-party’.”
Fear as a Political Tool—or a Political Failure? Perhaps the most disturbing perception circulating is that of fear.Journalists quietly point out that a significant number of people visiting courts and police stations are BJP workers themselves. Whether this reflects genuine legal scrutiny or selective pressure is difficult to verify. But perception again plays its role.
A small businessman in Agartala refuses to go on record. “Please don’t quote me,” he says. “Even talking feels risky.”
Media houses, too, appear restrained. Senior reporters privately acknowledge pressure—sometimes direct, sometimes implied. The result is an information vacuum, where rumours grow unchecked and distrust deepens.
“Tripura media has seen pressure before,” says a veteran journalist. “But this level of silence is new.”

The Shadow of Biplab Deb

Adding to the tension is the perceived sidelining of former Chief Minister Biplab Deb. Once the face of BJP’s Tripura experiment, Deb now appears marginal to the state’s power structure.Biplab Deb may have believed that bringing Dr Manik Saha to the forefront would ensure continuity and loyalty. Instead, the political script appears to have flipped. Today, it is Deb who seems increasingly sidelined, while Manik Saha has consolidated his own authority—marking a quiet but decisive shift in Tripura’s BJP power structure that has become shaky now.
Party insiders allege reduced security, limited consultation, and symbolic distancing. “If a former CM can be treated like this,” says one MLA, “what message does it send to the rest of us?”
To many workers, Deb’s treatment feels less like a routine transition and more like a warning.

Not Revolt—Withdrawal

Importantly, what Tripura is witnessing is not open rebellion. There are no mass resignations, no dramatic defections.
Instead, there is withdrawal. Booth-level workers attend fewer meetings. Senior activists avoid taking responsibility. The emotional investment that once powered the BJP’s rise is quietly fading.
A veteran worker sums it up with unsettling clarity:
“Opposition parties don’t destroy you. Indifference does.”

The Question Delhi Must Answer

The central leadership of the BJP now faces a question that cannot be managed through silence or symbolism.
Is the Manik Saha government strengthening governance in Tripura—or weakening the party that governs it?
Corruption allegations can be investigated, denied, or disproved. Administrative styles can be corrected. But organisational alienation is harder to fix, especially when fear replaces trust.
Tripura is not West Bengal. The comparison may still feel premature. But history rarely announces itself loudly. It whispers first—in tea stalls, in corridors, in unanswered questions. And the loudest question in Tripura today is this: Is anyone listening?