The Punjab government came to power riding on a wave of hope, selling dreams of reform, honesty, and a people-centric administration. Among the loudest promises was the establishment of 16 new medical colleges, a commitment that was projected as a historic step to strengthen Punjab’s collapsing healthcare system. Years later, the ground reality tells a very different story. Neither have these medical colleges materialised, nor is there any transparent roadmap shared with the public. For a state where patients are forced to travel long distances or depend on private hospitals, the non-delivery of such a crucial promise feels less like a delay and more like a betrayal.
Another major assurance was health insurance coverage for people for ten years, marketed aggressively as a safety net for the poor and middle class. On paper, the scheme looked impressive; on the ground, patients continue to complain about denied claims, limited empanelled hospitals, and confusing conditions hidden in fine print. The “inside story,” as narrated by affected families, is that the card often works more as a political advertisement than as real medical protection. Serious treatments still push families into debt, exposing the gap between government publicity and lived reality.
While common Punjabis struggle with unemployment, rising prices, and shrinking public services, the state’s debt continues to balloon. Instead of reducing financial burden, the government has taken fresh loans worth thousands of crores, pushing Punjab deeper into a debt trap. Critics argue that loans are being used not for long-term development or job creation, but to fund short-term populist schemes and aggressive self-promotion. Punjab today resembles a household running on credit cards—borrowing to survive, while future generations are left to pay the bill.
Adding to public anger are serious allegations raised by opposition leaders against Chief Minister Bhagwant Mann. Claims have surfaced that the CM allegedly purchased around 2,800 acres of land in Australia, along with accusations of taking commissions during government vehicle purchases and other deals. These are grave charges that demand clarity. Yet, what has unsettled people the most is not just the allegations, but the complete silence from the Chief Minister. In a democracy, silence from the top executive only fuels suspicion. If the government truly believes in transparency, why avoid a clear, public response?
The contrast is striking: on one side, ordinary Punjabis are asked to tighten their belts; on the other, leaders are accused of enjoying luxurious lifestyles. The government that once claimed it would end VIP culture now appears disconnected from the daily struggles of farmers, youth, patients, and small traders. Hospitals lack staff, government schools struggle for resources, and industries promised investment see little action—yet glossy advertisements continue to flood media platforms.
Punjab does not need more slogans or emotional speeches. It needs answers, accountability, and action. Where are the 16 medical colleges? Why is the health insurance failing patients? How exactly are loans being spent, and who will repay them? And most importantly, why is the Chief Minister silent on allegations that strike at the very core of his “clean politics” image?
History has shown that governments may control narratives for a while, but truth eventually finds its voice. The people of Punjab are watching, questioning, and remembering. In the end, no amount of publicity can hide broken promises, mounting debt, and unanswered questions.