The Army personnel assault at the Meerut toll plaza occurred on 17 August 2025 at the Bhuni Toll Plaza on the Meerut–Karnal
India’s drive to expand its national highways has created what was intended as seamless connectivity for commuters. But along this network of progress, a darker phenomenon has taken shape the so-called toll tax mafia a blend of corrupt practices, intimidation, and systemic abuses that plague some toll plazas across the country.
Motorists, civil rights activists, and legal experts say the problem is not limited to isolated disputes over charges. In several regions, toll collection has been marred by overcharging, misuse of FASTag systems, intimidation of commuters who question fees, and in some cases outright violence. Critics argue that a lack of transparent oversight and accountability has allowed these practices to proliferate.
The National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) has occasionally taken punitive measures including debarment of errant toll collection agencies and financial penalties but enforcement remains uneven across states.
A Flashpoint in Barabanki
A stark example of the tensions unfolded on January 16, 2026, at the Bara Haidergarh toll plaza near Lucknow. A routine dispute over FASTag payment reportedly escalated into violence when a lawyer, Ratnesh Shukla, was allegedly assaulted by toll plaza staff during an altercation over toll charges.
The incident triggered a large-scale response: hundreds of lawyers descended on the toll site, clashed with toll employees, damaged infrastructure including boom barriers and halted toll operations for hours. The demonstrators accused the staff of excessive force and demanded accountability, reflecting broader public frustration with alleged misuse of authority at toll points.
Local police responded by arresting the toll manager and several employees, while negotiations between authorities and protest leaders continued late into the night.
Pattern of Abuse and Public Reaction
While this may appear as an isolated confrontation, it fits a larger pattern of disputes at toll plazas that have garnered public attention:
In December 2025, four employees at the Haliyapur toll plaza on the Purvanchal Expressway were removed from service and booked for allegedly using CCTV footage to blackmail and extort a newly wed couple an incident that exposed stark misuse of surveillance infrastructure.
Motorists and local action groups have protested toll booths they claim violate regulatory distance norms or operate without clear authorization, leading to vandalism and legal actions in states like Kerala.
Such events highlight how disputes over toll fees whether rooted in corruption, mismanagement, or operational bottlenecks can quickly escalate into flashpoints, affecting public safety and traffic flow.
Government and Public Response
Authorities argue that digitization through FASTag, increased audits, and penalties against erring contractors are steps toward reform. However, civic groups say these measures are reactive rather than preventive. There is a growing call for greater transparency in toll concession agreements, third-party monitoring of toll operations, and stronger grievance mechanisms accessible to commuters.
For millions of motorists, the daily commute on India’s highways should represent the promise of infrastructure improving lives not a battleground of mistrust and exploitation. Whether recent incidents prompt lasting reform remains to be seen.
Roots of the Aravali in the shadow of the ancient Aravali hills in Haryana’s Mahendergarh district, Ramu Kaka tilled his four-acre patch of earth for over 50 years. His hands, calloused like the rugged boulders around him, had coaxed millets, mustard, and bajra from the stubborn soil. “This land is my mother,” he’d say, his voice cracking like dry earth in summer. His wife, Suman, tended the goats, and their son, Ravi, dreamed of studying in the city but stayed to help after his father’s health began failing.Life was tough but rhythmic monsoons brought hope, winters yielded golden harvests sold in nearby Rewari markets. Ramu Kaka’s stories of the hills’ spirits kept the family bonded, even as debts mounted from erratic rains.Then came the new policy in 2021: the Haryana Aravali Plantation Policy. Framed to combat deforestation and mining, it declared swathes of the Aravali “no-development zones.” Farming on slopes steeper than 25% was restricted, labeled as “illegal encroachment” on forest land. Notices arrived like thunderbolts Ramu’s fields, inherited from his father, fell under the red zone. “Plant trees instead,” the officials said curtly. “Save the hills from erosion.”Case Study: The Real Plight in Mahendergarh (Inspired by 2022 Reports) In Mahendergarh and Nuh districts, over 5,000 farmers like those in villages such as Khudana and Nangal Sirohi faced eviction drives under the policy and the Forest Conservation Act amendments. A 2022 study by the Haryana State Legal Services Authority documented how 1,200+ families lost access to 2,000 hectares of ancestral farmland. Mining bans, meant to preserve biodiversity, halted supplemental income from stone quarrying, pushing 70% of affected households into debt. Protests in 2023 led to temporary stays, but uncertainty lingers crop yields dropped 40% due to restricted irrigation and fear of bulldozers. One farmer, quoted in a Times of India report, lost his home; suicides rose by 15% in the belt per NCRB data (2022).Back home, Ramu Kaka watched his bajra wither untended. Suman sold her gold bangles for seeds, but the soil rebelled without his care. Ravi tried city jobs, but urban grind broke him he returned jobless, eyes hollow.One monsoon eve, as bulldozers rumbled near, Ramu Kaka collapsed clutching soil. “Don’t uproot me like this,” he whispered to Ravi. In the hospital, under flickering lights, he shared his last story: “Hills and men grow together, beta. Policies forget hearts.”Ramu Kaka passed at dawn. Ravi planted a sapling on the forbidden field, blending father’s legacy with policy’s demand. But as he gazed at the hills, tears mixed with rain he wondered if roots could truly survive when severed.Suman whispered, “He lives in the earth.” Yet the hills stood silent, scarred by progress’s blade.
In the quiet town of White City, where neem trees whispered secrets to the wind, lived Peace, a soft-spoken electronics engineer with a heart too vast for one love an antisocial atheist who never believed in believing. He first met the sisters at school Chaos, the elder, with her raven hair and eyes like stormy seas, and Nightmare, the younger, a very religious, divine, warm-hearted girl whose laughter danced like sunlight on ripples. Chaos was 21, poised and enigmatic; Nightmare, 19, vibrant and free-spirited.They were inseparable, daughters of the town’s strict councilor, bound by blood and unyielding family expectations.
Peace fell for them both, not in fragments, but wholly. With Chaos, it was late-night talks under starlit skies, debating life’s philosophies as he tinkered with circuit boards, dreaming of gadgets that could connect distant hearts. She stirred his soul with her quiet intensity, but one day Peace felt it deeply Chaos saw Bright, her school’s friend, as more than a friend, definitely not as a brother like her mother had told him she called him. Whispers confirmed her heart lingered on Bright. Nightmare ignited his days with playful adventures picnics by the river, her hand slipping into his as they chased fireflies, her warm-hearted faith shining through prayers shared in the twilight. Her love felt pure, fierce, mirroring his own, yet clashing with his godless resolve.
Yet society loomed like a shadow. The town revered tradition; loving two sisters was scandal, a fracture to family honor. Their father would disown them, the community would shun Peace as the outsider who’d poisoned purity. And deeper still, Peace’s own doubts gnawed: Chaos’s lingering glances toward Bright confirmed she loved another truly. Nightmare adored him, but her words one evening cut deep”Choose me, Peace, or let us both go. Love isn’t a share; it’s a vow.” He saw it then: they wanted him to pick the little sister, Nightmare, as if it were a kind deal, sparing Chaos’s secret affection. But there was no deal in love only truth, and his atheism could never bridge her divine world. He couldn’t split his heart or force theirs.
So, one crisp autumn dawn, Peace left. A note for each: If I want to do something big, I have to make some big decisions. I hope this will make someone understand. This is neither an enmity nor a revenge.I will always be committed to someone, but I cannot live with them because someone cannot do this with me. I’m antisocial, an atheist and it’s not a easier way. I never betrayed with family. But I never want to explain too.He vanished to the city, wiring circuits for tech giants while his own connections frayed.
Years blurred into solitude. Now, in a high-rise apartment overlooking neon chaos, Peace sat alone, a faded photo in hand. It was that moment he could never shake the day they crossed the old cobblestone road together. Traffic hummed; Chaos linked her arm through his left, Nightmare his right. They laughed as a gust tousled their hair, steps synced in perfect rhythm. “We’re unbreakable like this,” Nightmare had teased, her warm faith lighting the air. Chaos smiled, her eyes soft. For those fleeting seconds, the world was theirs no judgments, no choices, just three hearts beating as one.
Tears traced his cheeks. That walk was his greatest joy, a stolen eternity. He’d chosen freedom for them over his ache, believing they didn’t love him the same boundless way. Chaos with her Bright, Nightmare waiting for a whole heart. But in quiet nights, he whispered to the stars: I can remember when we walked together. And it was enough.
मैं याद कर सकता हूँ जब हम साथ-साथ चलते थे
व्हाइट सिटी के शांत कस्बे में, जहाँ नीम के पेड़ हवा को राज़ फुसफुसाते थे, पीस नाम का एक नरम स्वभाव वाला इलेक्ट्रॉनिक्स इंजीनियर रहता था एक ऐसा व्यक्ति जिसका दिल एक प्रेम के लिए बहुत विशाल था, एक असामाजिक नास्तिक जो कभी विश्वास करने में विश्वास नहीं करता था। उसने पहली बार स्कूल में बहनों से मुलाकात की बड़ी बहन कैओस, जिसके काले बाल थे और आँखें तूफानी समुद्रों जैसी, और छोटी बहन नाइटमेयर, एक बहुत धार्मिक, दैवीय, गर्मजोशी वाली लड़की जिसकी हँसी लहरों पर सूरज की किरणों की तरह नाचती थी। कैओस 21 साल की थी, गरिमामयी और रहस्यमयी; नाइटमेयर 19 की, जीवंत और स्वतंत्र आत्मा वाली। वे अटूट थीं, कस्बे के सख्त काउंसलर की बेटियाँ, खून के रिश्ते और अटल पारिवारिक अपेक्षाओं से बंधी हुईं।
पीस दोनों पर पूरी तरह फिदा हो गया, टुकड़ों में नहीं, बल्कि पूर्ण रूप से। कैओस के साथ यह तारों भरी रातों में गहन बातचीत थी, जीवन की दर्शन पर बहस करते हुए जब वह सर्किट बोर्डों के साथ छेड़छाड़ करता, दूर के दिलों को जोड़ने वाले गैजेट्स का सपना देखता। वह अपनी शांत तीव्रता से उसके आत्मा को झकझोरती थी, लेकिन एक दिन पीस को गहराई से महसूस हुआ कि कैओस अपने स्कूल के दोस्त ब्राइट को भाई जैसा नहीं मानती थी जैसा उसकी माँ ने उसे बताया था वह उसे दोस्त से कहीं ज्यादा देखती थी। फुसफुसाहटों ने पुष्टि की कि उसका दिल ब्राइट पर अटका था, नाइटमेयर ने उसके दिनों को अपनी शरारती साहसिक यात्राओं से रोशन किया नदी किनारे पिकनिक, उसका हाथ उसके हाथ में फिसलता हुआ जब वे जुगनुओं का पीछा करते, उसकी गर्मजोशी भरी आस्था शाम के धुंधलके में साझा प्रार्थनाओं से चमकती। उसका प्रेम शुद्ध लगता था, तीव्र, उसके अपने जैसा, फिर भी उसके नास्तिक संकल्प से टकराता हुआ।
फिर भी समाज एक छाया की तरह मँडराता था। कस्बा परंपराओं का भक्त था; दो बहनों से प्रेम घोटाला था, पारिवारिक सम्मान का भंग। उनके पिता उन्हें त्याग देंगे, समुदाय पीस को उस बाहरी के रूप में तिरस्कार करेगा जिसने पवित्रता को विषाक्त कर दिया। और गहराई में, पीस के अपने संदेह कुरेदते थे: कैओस की ब्राइट की ओर लंबी निगाहें पुष्टि करती थीं कि वह सचमुच किसी और से प्रेम करती थी। नाइटमेयर उसे पूजती थी, लेकिन एक शाम उसके शब्द गहरी चोट पहुँचाने वाले थे “मुझे चुनो, पीस, या हम दोनों को जाने दो। प्रेम बाँटने के लिए नहीं है; यह प्रतिज्ञा है।” तब उसे समझ आया: वे चाहती थीं कि वह छोटी बहन नाइटमेयर को चुन ले, मानो यह कोई दयालु सौदा हो, कैओस की गुप्त प्रीति को बचाते हुए। लेकिन प्रेम में कोई सौदा नहीं था, केवल सत्य, और उसका नास्तिकवाद कभी उसकी दैवीय दुनिया को जोड़ नहीं सकता था। वह अपना दिल नहीं बाँट सकता था या उनका जबरदस्ती नहीं कर सकता था।
इसलिए, एक ठंडी शरद ऋतु की भोर में, पीस चला गया। प्रत्येक के लिए एक नोट: अगर मैं कुछ बड़ा करना चाहता हूँ, तो मुझे कुछ बड़े फैसले लेने पड़ेंगे। मुझे आशा है कि इससे किसी को समझ आएगा। यह न तो शत्रुता है और न ही बदला। मैं हमेशा किसी के प्रति प्रतिबद्ध रहूँगा, लेकिन उनके साथ नहीं रह सकता क्योंकि कोई मेरे साथ ऐसा नहीं कर सकता। मैं असामाजिक हूँ, नास्तिक, और यह आसान रास्ता नहीं है। मैंने कभी परिवार के साथ विश्वासघात नहीं किया। लेकिन मैं ज्यादा सफाई भी नहीं देना चाहता।
वह शहर चला गया, जहाँ वह टेक दिग्गजों के लिए सर्किट वायर करता रहा जबकि उसके अपने संबंध धुंधले पड़ते गए।
वर्ष अकेलेपन में धुंधले हो गए। अब, एक ऊँची इमारत के अपार्टमेंट में, नीली-नीली चकाचौंध वाली अराजकता को निहारते हुए, पीस अकेला बैठा था, हाथ में एक फीकी तस्वीर लिए। वह वह पल था जिसे वह कभी झकझोर नहीं सका—वह दिन जब वे पुरानी कोबलस्टोन सड़क पर साथ पार कर रहे थे। ट्रैफिक गुनगुनाया; कैओस ने उसकी बाईं बाँह में अपनी बाँह डाल ली, नाइटमेयर ने दाहिनी। हवा के झोंके ने उनके बाल उलझा दिए तो वे हँसे, उनके कदम पूर्ण ताल में। “हम ऐसे ही अटूट हैं,” नाइटमेयर ने चिढ़ाते हुए कहा, उसकी गर्म आस्था हवा को रोशन करती हुई। कैओस मुस्कुराई, उसकी आँखें कोमल। उन क्षणिक सेकंडों के लिए, दुनिया उनकी थी कोई निर्णय नहीं, कोई चुनाव नहीं, केवल तीन दिल एक साथ धड़कते हुए।
आँसू उसके गालों पर लुढ़के। वह सैर उसकी सबसे बड़ी खुशी थी, एक चुराई गई अनंतता। उसने उनके लिए स्वतंत्रता चुनी थी अपने दर्द पर, यह मानते हुए कि वे उसे उतनी ही असीमित प्रीति से प्रेम नहीं करतीं। कैओस अपने ब्राइट के साथ, नाइटमेयर किसी पूर्ण दिल का इंतजार करती। लेकिन शांत रातों में, वह तारों से फुसफुसाता: मैं याद कर सकता हूँ जब हम साथ-साथ चलते थे। और यही काफी था।
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gidelife 