In the heart of Vadodara, a city grappling with an escalating water crisis, the Vadodara Municipal Corporation (VMC) convened its general meeting on April 17, 2025. The air was heavy with solemnity as the council mourned the loss of Manoj Kumar, a cinematic legend and a patriot whose films like Kranti, Upkar, and Purab Aur Paschim stirred the soul of a nation. Known as “Bharat Kumar” for his unwavering dedication to themes of nationalism and social reform, Manoj Kumar’s passing was a moment to pause and reflect. Yet, the decision by Mayor Pinky Soni to end the meeting prematurely after passing an obituary resolution sparked a poignant question: was this truly the homage Manoj Kumar would have wanted?
Manoj Kumar was no ordinary filmmaker. His lens captured the struggles of the common man, the sacrifices of soldiers, and the unyielding spirit of a nation striving for progress. His stories were not mere entertainment but clarion calls to action—urging citizens to rise above personal grief and work for the collective good. In Vadodara, where water scarcity has left neighborhoods parched and tempers frayed, the urgency of civic responsibility could not be more pressing. The general meeting of the VMC was not just a bureaucratic formality; it was a platform to address the city’s lifeline, to deliberate on solutions, and to ensure that the taps of Vadodara would not run dry.
To end the meeting under the pretext of mourning Manoj Kumar’s demise, as Mayor Pinky Soni chose to do, was a decision that seemed to misalign with the very ethos Kumar championed. His films were a testament to resilience, to carrying on in the face of adversity. In Upkar, he portrayed a farmer who toiled for his nation despite personal loss; in Kranti, he embodied the spirit of rebellion against injustice. If Manoj Kumar were to witness Vadodara’s plight today, he would likely have urged the VMC to press on, to keep the meeting alive, and to tackle the water crisis head-on. For him, patriotism was not just in grand gestures but in the quiet, steadfast commitment to duty.
The irony is stark. A man who ignited the flame of patriotism through his art would not have wanted his death to halt the wheels of governance. The real homage to Manoj Kumar would have been to keep the general meeting on, to let the voices of Vadodara’s councillors echo through the chamber, debating, planning, and resolving the crisis that threatens the city’s well-being. By adjourning the meeting, the VMC inadvertently dimmed the very spirit of service that Kumar’s films sought to inspire.
Vadodara’s water crisis is not a distant problem—it is a daily reality for thousands of residents. Families queue for hours at water tankers, industries face disruptions, and the city’s most vulnerable bear the brunt of scarcity. The general meeting was an opportunity to strategize, to allocate resources, and to reassure citizens that their leaders were not turning away from the challenge. Instead, the premature closure sent a message of pause at a time when action was paramount.
Manoj Kumar’s legacy is not confined to the silver screen; it lives in the ideals he stood for—selflessness, perseverance, and an unyielding love for the nation. His films taught us that true patriotism is not in mourning alone but in rising to meet the needs of the people. Vadodara, a city he might have depicted in one of his stirring narratives, deserved a meeting that mirrored his resolve. The councillors, seated in the VMC chamber, had a chance to honor him not just with words but with deeds—by staying, deliberating, and acting.
As the city navigates its challenges, let Manoj Kumar’s spirit guide its leaders. The truest tribute to him would be to reconvene with purpose, to address the water crisis with the same fervor he brought to his craft, and to ensure that the flame of duty he ignited burns bright in Vadodara’s hour of need. For in the end, the greatest homage to a patriot is not in pausing for grief but in carrying forward the work he held dear—the work of a nation, and its people, moving ever forward.
