Debate intensifies over Chandigarh’s constitutional status as Punjab unites in opposition | File Photo
The NDA government at the Centre seems to have bitten off more than it could chew when word spread about its proposal to alter the constitutional status of Chandigarh. Its subsequent clarification—that it has no plans to bring a Bill in the next session of Parliament to place Chandigarh under Article 240—only confirms that the government has recognised the political and emotional fire it had unwittingly lit.
Perhaps, the government was merely testing the waters when the Rajya Sabha bulletin mentioned the Constitution (131st Amendment) Bill, 2025, which would have enabled the President to appoint a separate Lieutenant Governor for the Union Territory.
What it clearly did not anticipate was the unprecedented unity with which Punjab erupted in opposition. The entire spectrum of political forces—the Aam Aadmi Party, Congress, Shiromani Akali Dal and even the Punjab unit of the BJP—spoke in one voice against what they perceived as an assault on Punjab’s historical and emotional claim over its capital.
Their fears were not unfounded. Had Chandigarh been brought under Article 240, it would have slipped into the mould of other Union Territories like Daman and Diu, directly controlled by the Centre through an appointed administrator.
For a state long aggrieved by broken promises, this was yet another reminder of commitments made and subsequently flouted. Chandigarh is not just another Union Territory; it is a creation born of Punjab’s own upheavals. When undivided Punjab lost Lahore to Pakistan, Amritsar—too close to the border—was deemed unsuitable as the capital.
A new city, meticulously planned and symbolically central, was built and inaugurated in 1953. When Haryana was carved out on linguistic lines in 1966, Chandigarh became a joint capital on a 60:40 basis.
Haryana was to be compensated in due course, yet no central government has since shown the political courage to settle the matter conclusively. Meanwhile, both states built their own satellite cities—Mohali and Panchkula—without relinquishing their claims.
Punjab’s anguish is not new. The unfulfilled promise of Chandigarh figured among the grievances that later fed tensions and militancy in the 1980s and 1990s. Commitments made in 1970, reaffirmed in the Rajiv–Longowal Accord and even ratified by Parliament, remain unimplemented.
The steady dilution of Punjab’s stake—whether in personnel appointments, university governance or administrative control—has only deepened distrust. Given this fraught history, the Centre cannot afford adventurism. Its assurance that no bill will be introduced without consulting all stakeholders is a step in the right direction.
Chandigarh’s future cannot be reshaped through stealth or unilateralism. It demands patient dialogue, constitutional clarity and, above all, sensitivity to the deep emotional investment of the people of Punjab. Only then can a lasting and honourable settlement be found for a city that has come to symbolise both aspiration and anguish.
