India will witness the presentation of yet another Union budget today. The question before the nation is not merely about numbers, fiscal deficits, or growth projections. It is a far more fundamental question: who is this economy meant for? Is it designed to serve the many who toil in fields, factories, classrooms, and construction sites? Or is it structured to consolidate wealth in the hands of a privileged few who already command disproportionate power over resources and policy?
Over the last decade, India has witnessed a paradoxical trajectory. On the one hand, we are told that the economy is robust, that India is among the fastest-growing major economies in the world, and that global investors see promise in its markets. On the other hand, millions of young Indians wander in search of work, families struggle to cope with stagnant incomes, and inequality has reached levels unseen since colonial times. The coexistence of spectacular wealth at the top and pervasive precarity at the bottom is no longer an anomaly; it has become the defining feature of our economic landscape.
A budget in such times cannot afford to be technocratic or cosmetic: it must follow a moral framework. It must speak to the lived realities of citizens rather than the abstract optimism of spreadsheets. India needs a budget that places inclusive economic growth at its core, not one filtered through the narrow prism of wealth accumulation by a handful of crony capitalists.
The gravest challenges before us today are joblessness and widening income inequality. These are not peripheral concerns; they strike at the heart of social stability and democratic legitimacy. India’s demographic advantage — often celebrated as a ‘youth dividend’ — is fast turning into a demographic liability. Large sections of educated and semi-educated youth find themselves unemployable not because they lack aspiration but because the economy is not generating sufficient dignified work. The informal sector, which employs the majority of Indians, remains fragile, under-supported, and periodically disrupted by policy shocks. Small and medium enterprises, the true engines of employment, struggle for credit, market access, and regulatory protection.
Yet these structural concerns rarely dominate the public discourse. Instead, economic distress is often masked by spectacles of nationalism, religious polarisation, and manufactured anxieties. Public attention is diverted from bread-and-butter issues to emotive narratives that fragment society. While identities are inflamed, livelihoods quietly erode. This is not accidental as polarisation functions as a convenient smokescreen behind which economic concentration proceeds unhindered. The result is an economy increasingly skewed towards monopolies and oligopolies. Consequently, a handful of corporate houses command enormous influence over infrastructure, energy, ports, mining, and telecommunications. Wealth accumulates rapidly at the top, while wages stagnate below. According to multiple global reports, India now ranks among the most unequal societies in the world. The richest one per cent controls a staggering share of the national wealth, while the bottom half struggles for basic security. This trajectory is not merely unjust but it is constitutionally suspect.
The framers of our Constitution did not imagine India as a republic where prosperity would trickle down from a tiny elite. Article 39 of the Directive Principles of State Policy lays down a profound ethical framework for economic governance. It directs the State to ensure that —
i. The ownership and control of material resources of the community are so distributed as to subserve the common good.
ii. The operation of the economic system does not result in the concentration of wealth and means of production to the common detriment.
These are not ornamental ideals meant for ceremonial citation. They are a moral compass for policy. They remind us that economic arrangements are not neutral; they shape power relations in society. When wealth concentrates excessively, democracy itself is imperilled. Political equality becomes hollow when economic inequality becomes extreme. A budget faithful to Article 39 would look fundamentally different from what we have grown accustomed to. It would begin by acknowledging that growth without employment is a hollow triumph. It would prioritise labour-intensive sectors such as agriculture, textiles, food processing, construction, and care services. It would invest massively in public works such as rural infrastructure, urban housing, climate-resilient projects that generate jobs while building national assets.
Such a budget would treat education and healthcare not as expenditure burdens but as foundational investments. A society cannot compete in the global economy with underfunded schools and overstretched hospitals. Public education empowers the poor; public healthcare prevents poverty from becoming a death sentence. Yet these sectors have seen persistent under-allocation, pushing citizens into expensive private alternatives and deepening inequality.
A constitutionally-grounded budget would also revive the micro, small and medium enterprise ecosystem. MSMEs employ far more people than large corporations, yet they remain starved of affordable credit and policy attention. Instead of showering incentives on already dominant conglomerates, the State must democratise opportunity through credit guarantees, simplified compliance, technological support, and assured procurement.
Tax policy, too, must reflect constitutional intent — something we have conspicuously lacked in recent times. Progressive taxation is not a punishment for success; it is an that those who benefit most from public infrastructure, institutional stability, and functioning markets must contribute proportionately to sustaining them. Rational wealth taxes, inheritance taxes, and windfall levies can fund public goods without undermining productive enterprise. What truly weakens an economy is not redistribution but stagnation born of exclusion when vast sections are denied opportunity, purchasing power, and dignity. Growth that accumulates at the top while leaving the base hollow is neither durable nor democratic. At its core, the budget must reimagine growth as a social process, not merely a financial one. Growth must be measured not only in GDP percentages but also in the expansion of human capabilities — nutrition, literacy, mobility, security, and dignity. An economy that grows while leaving millions behind is not developing; it is merely accumulating.
We must acknowledge that the republic cannot survive on islands of affluence surrounded by oceans of despair. History teaches us that extreme inequality corrodes social trust, fuels resentment, and ultimately destabilises political order. Democracies fracture when citizens feel that the system is rigged against them. It is in this context that we must have reaffirmation that India’s constitutional vision offers an alternative path; one that harmonises growth with justice, markets with morality, efficiency with empathy. A budget aligned with this vision would not fear redistribution, nor would it romanticise poverty. It would recognise that genuine prosperity is collective.
This is not a call for ideological dogma, but for constitutional fidelity. The Directive Principles may not be legally enforceable, but they are politically binding in spirit. They articulate what kind of nation we aspired to become: one where economic power serves the common good, not the other way around. In times of global uncertainty marked by technological disruption, climate crises, and geopolitical instability, India needs social cohesion more than ever. Such cohesion cannot be manufactured through slogans; it must be earned through fairness. It arises when citizens feel seen, valued, and protected by the institutions that govern them.
A budget that restores faith in the idea that the State stands with the many, not merely with the mighty, can become an instrument of democratic renewal. It can tell a young graduate that his/her future matters. It can reassure a farmer and an
agricultural worker that they are
not invisible. It can affirm to a gig worker that dignity is not a privilege, but a right. In doing so, it does
not merely allocate resources, it rebuilds trust between the Republic and its people.
The choice before us is unambiguous. We can continue down a path where growth is celebrated even as inequality hardens into destiny. Or we can reclaim the constitutional promise of an economy that belongs to all. A republic worthy of its Constitution must choose the latter.
Manoj Kumar Jha is member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha), Rashtriya Janata Dal