Something is missing.
We all feel it — in the systems we vote for, in the services we receive, and in the quiet spaces where justice should have been loud. We live under a structure that promises equality, liberty, and fraternity. Yet, what we experience is delay, decay, and doubt. Schools without teachers. Hospitals without beds. Media without trust. Justice without pace. Governance without ground.
This book is not written in rage. It is written in recognition — of an absence we’ve all sensed, but never quite named. That absence has a shape. It’s not a revolution we need. It’s a missing pillar — an architecture of governance that completes the promise democracy made but never fully delivered.
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Democracy as delivered
Democracy, as we inherited it, is a noble house — built on three classical pillars:
1. Legislature – the makers of law
2. Executive – the implementers of policy
3. Judiciary – the interpreters of justice
Over time, a fourth pillar emerged: Media — once a watchdog, now a wild card. But even before media began crumbling under spectacle and partisanship, this structure was never economically complete. It was political in design but economically hollow.
In practice, economic power stayed centralised. Resources flowed upward, needs trickled downward. Participation ended at the ballot box. Representation became performance. Welfare turned into bureaucratic paperwork. The public was visible only as a voter or a protestor — not as a planner, not as a participant.
In the twenty-first century, we live in a world that is nominally democratic but structurally fragile. Our politics is governed by data. Our economies are shaped by the logic of scarcity. And our lives are increasingly mediated through digital systems that rarely reflect the deeper concerns of being human. The modern democratic state, while conceptually powerful, often falters in practice. It offers us the right to vote, but not always the ability to live with dignity. The Knowledge Economy, hailed as our global future, is still rooted in ancient anxieties — hunger, fear, violence, exclusion. Even as we build smart cities and digital infrastructures, we remain haunted by the primal threats of survival.
From caves to colonies, from jungles to metropolises, our journey as a species has been driven by the desire to outgrow danger. Yet, in this age of satellites and social media, danger persists — in conflict zones and climate crises, in collapsing bridges and overcrowded hospitals, in polarised societies and lonely screens. Perhaps it is time to accept that the misery of life has always been the price of our romantic yearning for more. And yet, that same yearning is also the spark of insights, imaginations and ideas.
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The Idea of Public Pālikā
Public Pālikā emerges from this moment — not as a utopian escape, but as a grounded, yet progressive proposal. It is rooted in the philosophical work of Sukant Kumar, where ‘Lifeconomics’ offers a fundamental rethinking of what economic governance should prioritise. In Lifeconomics, human desires are categorised into three interrelated triads:
• Essential
• Existential
• Eternal
These triads map not only the economy of needs, but also the architecture of human purpose.
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1. The Essential Triad: Food, Sex, Danger
The Essential Triad governs the engine of commerce. It begins with Food, the most basic need — the cornerstone of all market activity. No economy can function without ensuring nourishment. It moves to Sex, which, beyond reproduction, is the source of pleasure, bonding, and identity — fuelling industries of entertainment, luxury, and desire. And it concludes with Danger — the existential threat that gives rise to governments, militaries, insurance schemes, and surveillance.
Sukant provocatively argues that even if humanity abandons war, we will still require armies — not to fight one another, but to defend ourselves against natural disasters, greed, and unpredictability. Public Pālikā insists that market forces must remain confined within the Essential Triad. This is the domain of commerce — and while important, it must be governed, not unleashed.
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2. The Existential Triad: Body, Mind, Consciousness
Here lies the domain of the tertiary economy — education, healthcare, culture. The Body is the consumer of food and the subject of medicine. The Mind is the arena of learning, creativity, trauma, and reflection. And Consciousness is the integrative awareness of self and world.
Sukant’s critique here is sharp: these existential domains should not be commercialised. Education and health, being essential for the continuity of dignified life, must be liberated from profit-driven systems. He argues that when these sectors are privatised, the economy shifts from enabling life to monetising misery. Public Pālikā therefore advocates for a community-driven tertiary market, where the responsibility of education and health is shared locally and funded by public revenue — especially income tax.
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3. The Eternal Triad: Life, Truth, God
The final triad belongs not to the market or the state, but to the spirit. The pursuit of Life, the quest for Truth, and the longing for God are eternal — not because they resist time, but because they transcend utility.
These are the domains of art, religion, literature, and mysticism — best left to the freedom of personal inquiry. No constitution needs to guarantee your right to imagine. No regime can suppress your will to dream. Eternity begins when no one controls your questions.
Public Pālikā does not claim to structure the Eternal Triad. Instead, it protects the space for its pursuit by ensuring that the Essential and Existential triads are not corrupted by inequality or exclusion.
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A New Democratic Design
What distinguishes Public Pālikā is not just its proposal for fiscal reform or economic decentralisation. It offers a reorientation of democratic intent. Instead of managing systems for their own sake, it calls us to ask:
• Who benefits from our institutions?
• Are our resources aligned with the actual needs of our people?
• Can governance be built not just on separation of powers, but on separation of intents?
The answer lies in redefining democracy as more than the sum of its elections. It must become an ecosystem that honours all three dimensions of life. Public Pālikā is a structural proposal to prioritise life over profit, dignity over data, and participation over performance.
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Toward a Personalised Democracy
This is why Public Pālikā proposes a Personalised Democracy — one that begins with the last person in line, but ultimately serves everyone. In a digital era, where every transaction is traceable and every need can be mapped, there is no excuse for bureaucratic indifference. We can build systems that are locally accountable, ethically designed, and publicly owned.
Imagine a world where your income tax supports the school next door, where your hospital is not a corporate chain but a community asset, where your neighbourhood submits its own budget and watches it being executed in real time. This is not fantasy. In a knowledge economy, it is entirely feasible — if only the political intent aligns with the public good.
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The Call for Economic Decentralisation
Let’s be honest: Corruption is not a flaw in the system. It is a feature of how centralised systems cope with local chaos. Money travels through too many hands before reaching a school, a streetlamp, or a hospital bed.
Public Pālikā suggests we reverse the flow. Instead of tax revenues being absorbed at the top and allocated downward, we follow what Sukant calls the Rainfall Model — revenues fall locally, pool locally, and only the surplus flows upward like vapour to form the national cloud.
To make this possible, Public Pālikā proposes a three-tier economic governance structure aligned with our federal polity:
• Constituency Pālikā: Localised, demand-driven planning
• Rajya Pālikā: State-level economic harmonisation
• Bharat Pālikā: National-level coordination and reserves
Elected officials, citizen associations, and digital participation co-exist in this model — designed to listen to the last person first.
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Separation of Intent: A New Constitutional Logic
Where classical democracy is built on separation of powers, Public Pālikā adds a new layer — separation of intent.
• The legislature makes policy.
• The executive executes it.
• The judiciary ensures justice.
• But who prioritises human needs economically?
• Who ensures our income tax supports our neighbourhood school?
Public Pālikā fills this role. It separates economic entitlement from political favour. It replaces paternalistic governance with collective economic agency.
In the age of data, blockchain, and real-time audits, this is not just desirable — it’s doable.
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Protecting the Eternal
Perhaps most radically, Public Pālikā limits itself.
It does not pretend to manage your dreams or patrol your thoughts. The Eternal Triad — Life, Truth, God — remains outside its jurisdiction. That domain belongs to artists, seekers, scientists, poets, believers, and rebels. No system can plan your imagination. Public Pālikā ensures only that the conditions for your personal freedom and shared prosperity are protected.
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Why Now?
Because the republic is fraying. Because elections cannot heal hunger. Because GDP does not equal dignity. Because we are building highways faster than classrooms. Because we know how to tweet, but not how to talk. Because the poorest fund the richest through hidden subsidies. Because democracy without economic architecture is a chair with three legs.
And most importantly — Because we are ready.
We are not offering answers. We are framing better questions. What if governance could listen? What if taxes could stay close to home? What if democracy could be personalised — without becoming fragmented?
What if the fourth pillar is not media, but us?
The Journey Ahead
Public Pālikā is not an answer. It is an inquiry — a framework, a question, and a call. In the pages that follow, we will explore:
• What went wrong with the democratic dream
• What new principles we can offer in its place
• How we might transition from theory to implementation
• And why the time is now, and the responsibility is ours
Welcome to a Democratic Dream.
Let’s begin. A theory without a context is a sculpture in the dark. But before we rebuild, we must remind ourselves: Why democracy? What makes it worth rescuing? Why must we reform it, not replace it? To answer these concerns let’s trace the evolution of democracy as socio-political practice historically.
Chapter 1, therefore, steps away from the ideal and into the real — into the erosion of democracy itself.