Inside Haryana DGP’s Daily Public Redress Hearing: A Beacon of Hope
Some assignments are routine. Others linger long after you leave the room. My recent visit to Panchkula to witness the Haryana director general of police OP Singh’s daily public redress session belonged firmly to the latter.
Every afternoon, Singh sits before a packed hall where survivors of crime, elderly parents abandoned by their children, young men alleging false implication, and families awaiting closure after fatal accidents gather from across Haryana. Many travel overnight, arriving exhausted but hopeful, because this session is their last resort.
To those present, Singh was more than the state’s top police officer. Several referred to him as a saviour, a protector, even an angel. “He is the only one who lets us speak,” said Savitri Devi, 79, from Narnaul, her hands trembling as she cried. “This is the only place where we are not told to go back.”
The hall carried layers of grief but also an unmistakable dignity that comes with being heard. On a large screen, commissioners and superintendents of police appeared live as each case was taken up. There was no insulation from accountability. Singh questioned officers firmly, listened carefully to complainants, and reminded officials that authority brings obligation. Uniforms, he stressed, do not permit disregard.
What stood out was that Singh continues to conduct the session even when unwell. “People travel from far distances with hope,” he said quietly. “I cannot disappoint them.”
In one moment that defined the day, a 28-year-old man broke down, pale and shaking. He said he had no money for treatment and was being harassed by his in-laws. Singh immediately called a doctor, arranged medical care and medicines, and directed staff to monitor the man until he recovered.
Throughout the session, tea, snacks, and meals were quietly served. Many attendees had not eaten since morning. No one was allowed to leave hungry.
Two people came only to express gratitude. “You saved my family when no one else listened,” a man told Singh. A woman said, “You restored my faith in the police. I came only to tell you that you changed my life.”
More than 55 cases were taken up that day. Some were reopened, some resolved on the spot, and others assigned strict deadlines. Not one person was turned away unheard.
As I watched, I found myself wondering, is this what policing could be? A space where power bends toward compassion? Where the uniform becomes a bridge, not a barrier?
“Real policing,” Singh said at one point, “begins when people trust us more than they fear us.” He told complainants, “If your issue is not resolved, come back to me within fifteen days.” It was not a warning but a promise. On screen, several officials shifted uneasily.
As the session ended, the weight of suffering remained heavy, but so did the quiet hope that comes from witnessing leadership grounded in accountability and compassion.
Some stories fracture you. Some restore you. This session did both.
