2025.07.24 (Vrindavan Today News): A troubling paradox unfolds at the entry of Vrindavan. The city has now become a place where even its own residents must fight to return home. What should be a smooth return for locals has turned into a daily ordeal of confrontation and humiliation – ironically, at the hands of those assigned to protect and serve.
Despite clear directives from the District Magistrate (DM) and Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) instructing that local vehicles must not be stopped at entry points, Vrindavan’s police force appears to be operating under an alternate reality. Security barricades that were initially meant to streamline movement and manage the overwhelming influx of tourists have now morphed into checkpoints of arbitrary authority.
Local residents frequently find themselves being treated as outsiders by duty officers stationed at various entry barricades. The stories echo one another with striking consistency—residents being stopped, interrogated, and even turned away with curt dismissals, despite offering valid explanations or identification.
A particularly revealing incident involved Purushottam Sharma, a resident of Jungle Katti. Attempting to return home for an urgent matter, he was stopped at a barricade and subjected to a harsh verbal exchange with a sub-inspector. Shri Sharma repeatedly, and politely, explained that he was a resident needing to get home quickly. However, the officer refused to listen, dismissing his pleas with an iron-willed obstinacy that left Sharma humiliated and helpless. “It was as if I was a criminal trying to sneak into a city I’ve lived in all my life,” he later told us.
Such incidents are no longer isolated. Reports of similar behavior have become commonplace, with citizens questioning the rationale behind a policing system that targets the very people it is meant to protect. What adds to the frustration is the glaring contradiction: while local vehicles are denied access, a slew of vehicles from other districts—even other states—can be seen freely entering the city, contributing significantly to traffic congestion and civic disarray.
The unanswered question lingers: How do these out-of-district vehicles gain unchallenged entry when residents face constant obstruction? Who is granting them passage? The silence from authorities on this matter speaks volumes.
This troubling situation is more than just an inconvenience—it reflects a deeper erosion of civil trust. When law enforcement fails to uphold even the basic dignity of its citizens, and when administrative orders are disregarded with impunity, the rule of law begins to hollow out.
Vrindavan’s residents are not asking for privilege—they are asking for parity. If pilgrims and visitors are welcomed in the spirit of devotion, why must the city’s own people face such undue hostility? The city’s identity lies not only in its temples and sacred landmarks, but also in its people, those who sustain it, serve it, and preserve its essence every day.
As the issue gains public attention, the question remains: Will the higher authorities step in to restore order, or will the sanctity of Vrindavan be compromised further by unchecked arrogance and administrative neglect?
Until then, the battle for rightful access continues—not for privilege, but for basic human dignity in the very land that celebrates divine love and compassion.
