From Liquorgate to lost opportunities

After a long time, the government has found itself on the defensive over an issue that has caused genuine political embarrassment. The discharge of AAP leaders—most prominently Arvind Kejriwal and Manish Sisodia—along with others named in the Delhi liquor policy case filed nearly three years ago, has handed the Opposition a powerful political weapon.

For the Aam Aadmi Party in particular, and the wider Opposition bloc in general, this development reinforces their long-standing allegation that central investigative agencies such as the Central Bureau of Investigation and the Enforcement Directorate have been misused as instruments of political intimidation. They will also claim—predictably—that even constitutional bodies like the Election Commission have come under undue pressure, turning governance increasingly authoritarian.

The BJP, for its part, finds itself in a tight corner. Its counter-argument rests largely on procedural assurances: that the investigative agencies will approach higher courts, that permissions to file charges were earlier granted by trial courts, and that crucial evidence may have been destroyed—such as the alleged wiping of old mobile phones. These explanations may satisfy the party’s core supporters, but they do little to counter the broader perception of institutional overreach.

Politically, the damage is real. Even if the case is revived at a higher judicial level. Unsurprisingly, the Opposition is expected to weave this episode into its campaign narratives in forthcoming elections in West Bengal and Tamil Nadu.

While this issue may not dramatically alter vote shares or cut deeply into the BJP’s core support base, it will certainly be used to create noise, dominate headlines, and keep the government perpetually on the defensive.

The matter is also likely to figure prominently when Parliament reconvenes in the first week of March, ensuring another round of political slugfests. And therein lies the deeper tragedy of India’s political discourse.

While parties remain locked in an endless cycle of tu- tu main-main, genuine people-centric issues—particularly those with transformative economic potential—remain buried. Neither the government nor the Opposition shows any serious interest in amplifying real success stories emerging from rural India, where entrepreneurs and scientists are integrating technology with traditional resources to unlock entirely new value chains.

One such resource—often dismissed or reduced to political symbolism—is cow dung. It may sound unusual, even uncomfortable, to discuss cow dung in an op-ed that begins with high politics. But the economic facts are compelling. Contrary to popular perception, cow dung is not waste.

It is what some researchers now call “green gold”, with the potential to significantly strengthen India’s rural economy and make the Make in India slogan tangibly real. It is possible, quite literally, to earn up to ₹80,000 from just one kilogram of cow dung.

This is not a rhetorical flourish. According to Dr Satyaprakash Varma, who holds a PhD from IIT Bombay and another doctorate from the United States, cow dung contains two highly valuable components: cellulose and lignin. These are part of the lignocellulosic biomass that remains undigested in cattle.

Scientific studies show that lignin content in cow dung typically ranges between 11% and 17% of total solids. Along with cellulose and hemicellulose, this makes cow dung an excellent raw material for producing bio-based industrial inputs.

Dr Varma explains the process through a simple analogy. Just as milk can be converted into multiple products through fermentation, cow dung too can be broken down through scientific separation of cellulose and lignin to generate a range of high-value by-products.

From one kilogram of cow dung, approximately 8 to 10 grams of alpha nano cellulose can be extracted. Depending on purity and processing quality, the market value of this nano cellulose ranges from ₹800 to ₹8,000 per gram. That translates into a potential earning of ₹8,000 to ₹80,000 from a single kilogram of dung—numbers that should make any policymaker sit up.

Lignin, meanwhile, is widely used as a binding agent in the wood and furniture industry and currently sells at around ₹45 per kilogram. Another derivative of nano cellulose can be converted into a specialised powder capable of transforming desert sand—such as that in Barmer—into cultivable soil by acting as a nutrient carrier.

The story does not end there. According to Dr Atul Gupta of Rajasthan, Indian cow dung—particularly from indigenous breeds—has significant export potential. Working with nearly four lakh farmers, Dr Gupta and his team conducted experiments over three years on near-barren land in Kuwait.

Even after attempting Israeli agricultural technologies, desired results were elusive. It was only after using bacteria extracted from desi cow dung, supplied in dry form, that the land became cultivable within three years.

This breakthrough led to an initial export order of 192 metric tonnes of dried cow-dung bacteria. However, the journey was far from smooth. Packaging challenges and the absence of a dedicated HS (Harmonized System) code for cow-dung-based exports posed serious hurdles.

Despite this, over the last five years, Dr Gupta reports having received cumulative orders of nearly 1,000 metric tonnes, largely fulfilled through small goshalas.

His criticism of government policy is blunt and telling. Instead of stopping at slogans equating the cow with motherhood, he argues, the government should help goshalas register under the MSME framework. Such registration would enable access to bank credit, export licences, and structured research funding—turning goshalas into hubs of rural enterprise rather than symbols of ideological posturing.

Consider the scale. Each cow, on average, produces around 10 kilograms of dung per day. With roughly one crore cows in many states, this translates into a daily potential of 10 crore kilograms of dung per state.

Rajasthan alone has nearly two crore cows, producing about 40 crore kilograms of dung daily. The state has 3.76 lakh acres of agricultural land, of which around 65% is cultivated. If even half of the daily dung output were processed into organic fertilisers and goshalas were paid ₹5 per kilogram, it could generate revenues of ₹20 crore per day while dramatically improving soil health.

So why is this potential not being exploited? Why do chemical fertilisers like urea and DAP enjoy subsidies of up to 70%, while natural fertilisers receive little or no policy support? Why is there no national programme to scientifically procure dung, extract cellulose and lignin, and simultaneously manufacture organic fertilisers using beneficial bacteria? Why do most goshalas lack even basic training in scientific dung storage?

If governments—irrespective of party—move beyond vote-bank politics and facilitate medium-scale cooperatives for dung and urine collection, train rural youth in value-added processing, and integrate these efforts with agricultural extension services, at least 50% of Indian farming could gradually transition to organic methods.

That would not just rejuvenate soils and improve farmer incomes; it would create jobs, reduce import dependence on fertilisers, and finally give economic substance to the rhetoric of Make in India.

The real question is whether the political ecosystem is willing to look beyond courtroom drama and headline management—and focus on opportunities that lie quite literally beneath its feet.

(The author is former Chief Editor of The Hans India)