Title: “Too Little, Too Late?”: A Closer Look at Punjab’s Nasha Mukti Yatra Campaign

On May 17, 2025, Punjab Chief Minister Bhagwant Singh Mann launched a high-profile anti-drug campaign titled “Nasha Mukti Yatra” (Drug-Free Campaign), under the banner “Yudh Nashe Virudh” (War Against Drugs). Prominent advertisements, hoardings, and full-page newspaper displays—including one in The Indian Express—declare the state government’s renewed commitment to eliminating drugs from every village and city in Punjab.

While this campaign signals a strong political will, it raises an uncomfortable yet necessary question: Why now? Why did the government wait for so many lives to be lost, so many families to be destroyed, and entire communities to fall into despair before taking action at this scale? Punjab’s drug crisis is not a recent phenomenon. For over a decade, the state has been in the grip of a rampant drug epidemic. Studies by institutions such as AIIMS and several independent surveys have shown disturbingly high levels of substance abuse, particularly among young men aged 16 to 35. Synthetic drugs, heroin, opium derivatives, and pharmaceutical opioids have become dangerously accessible. The border with Pakistan, known for being porous to smugglers, only added to the inflow of illegal substances.

Civil society activists, journalists, and NGOs have been raising alarms for years. Despite this, successive governments largely ignored or underestimated the depth of the problem. Meanwhile, thousands of lives were lost. Many parents buried their children, and countless more are still struggling to pull their loved ones out of the abyss of addiction. In this light, the timing of the “Nasha Mukti Yatra” makes it seem more like a political face-saving exercise than a sincere turning point.

In the campaign image, CM Bhagwant Mann directly accuses previous governments of working “hand-in-glove” with drug traffickers. While the blame game may earn applause from some corners, it does little for grieving families who want accountability from all those in power—past and present.

The Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) came to power in Punjab in early 2022 on a wave of anti-corruption and pro-development promises. Drug eradication was one of its core campaign issues. But more than three years into governance, what the people are seeing now are posters and speeches—not consistent, on-the-ground enforcement or transparent progress reporting. If the intent was genuine and urgent, why wasn’t this campaign launched in 2022? Why wait until the problem became a national shame?

Awareness is essential, but hoardings do not solve epidemics. The people of Punjab need action, not just slogans. The focus must now shift from public relations to policy reforms and implementation. A serious, sustained fight against drugs would include:

  • Intensive crackdown on drug cartels and traffickers, including corrupt officials and law enforcement officers who protect them.

  • Technological surveillance and intelligence operations at international borders, especially near Pakistan, to intercept smuggling networks.

  • De-addiction and rehabilitation centers in every district, staffed with trained psychologists, doctors, and social workers.

  • School and college-based awareness programs, focused on mental health, peer pressure, and addiction prevention.

  • Vocational training and job creation, especially in rural areas, to offer at-risk youth meaningful alternatives to drugs.

None of these solutions are new. Experts have proposed them for years. The question remains: Will this government implement them or limit itself to advertising campaigns?

The reaction from Punjab’s citizens has been mixed. While some view this as a hopeful initiative, others are deeply sceptical. For many, it’s a case of “too little, too late.” Social media users have posted photos of the hoardings alongside images of youths who died from drug overdoses, with captions like “Where was this yatra when my son needed help?”

A mother from Amritsar, who lost her 19-year-old son to a heroin overdose, said in a viral video: “We went to the police station. We begged for help. We named the dealer. No one listened. Now they talk of a yatra. What good is this to me now?”

Such sentiments highlight a painful truth: The battle against drugs cannot be fought through headlines. It must be fought on the ground, in every mohalla, every school, every police chowki, and every hospital.

The “Nasha Mukti Yatra” is, no doubt, a well-packaged campaign. It uses strong visuals, emotionally resonant language, and a clear call to action. But for the people of Punjab—especially those who have already lost everything—this campaign will only matter if it leads to measurable outcomes. Posters and promises must be followed by arrests, policy reforms, and healing programs.

The fight against drugs in Punjab is a long and difficult journey. If the government is truly serious, it must prove its intent not just with speeches but with sustained action. Only then will slogans like “Yudh Nashe Virudh” mean anything.

Until then, many will continue to ask: “Why did you wait until so many had to die?”

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