Punjab University LIVE: Farm leaders reach campus, protest escalates as students hold Punjab govt

The sprawling green campus of Punjab University in Chandigarh, long known as one of the region’s premier institutions of higher learning, has in recent days become the focal point of intense student unrest. What began as a protest by students unhappy with administrative changes has transformed into a broader confrontation involving farmer leaders, political figures, and a university system locked in uncertainty.

The trouble took shape when the Centre issued a notification on 28 October 2025 that significantly altered the governance structures of Panjab University – reducing the strength of the Senate from 91 to 31 members, eliminating elections for the executive Syndicate and diluting graduate-constituency representation. Student groups interpreted the move as a direct assault on institutional autonomy, democratic tradition, and Punjab’s representation in its own legacy university.

Understandably, the response was swift. Student organisations such as the Students For Society (SFS) and others mobilised under the umbrella of the “Panjab University Bachao Morcha” (Save PU Front) to demand the immediate announcement of election dates for the full Senate, as well as the withdrawal of the controversial affidavit requiring first-year students to pledge they would not protest without prior permission. The students argued that academic institutions cannot be reduced to administrative fiefdoms, especially in a university that draws students from across Punjab and northern India.

As the protest deepened, farmers, already alert to any perceived erosion of Punjab’s rights, saw in the student agitation a cause that intersected with their own. On Monday, 10 November 2025, farmer-leaders associated with the Samyukt Kisan Morcha (SKM) and other unions joined the students, marching through the border points between Mohali and Chandigarh, breaking police barricades at Phase 6 and reaching the university campus. Their presence added both weight and complexity to the protest: it was no longer just a student affair but a wider assertion of Punjab’s rights and autonomy.

By midday, the mood on campus had turned charged. Heavy security presence was visible: buses and barricades blocked key roads, especially the Chandigarh-Mohali-Zirakpur route. Vehicles queued for kilometres. Gate No. 1 of the university, normally used by students and staff, saw protesters surging through after dismantling barricades—even as senior police officials were reportedly forced off the campus by the demonstrators. Students shouted slogans such as “Go back Chandigarh Police,” “Restore the Senate, restore democracy,” and “Punjab’s voice must be heard.” Police responded with lathi-charges to regain control.

One of the key student figures, vice-president of the PU Campus Students’ Council (PUCSC) Ashmeet Singh, asserted that the protest would continue until the government declared a date for the Senate polls. “We came prepared for a peaceful demonstration,” he said, “but when our democratic voice is suppressed, we will not back down.” Meanwhile, student leader Abhishek Dagar added that the protest had morphed into a broader accountability demand: “It’s not just the university, it is the Punjab government, the Centre – both must be held answerable.”

Farmer leader Balbir Singh Rajewal, marching alongside students, framed the campus agitation as part of a larger struggle: “This is not a political drama. It is about democratic rights. Young people and farmers cannot be asked to sign away their right to dissent.” He urged solidarity between student and farmer voices, arguing that both represent sections of society whose participation is being stifled.

The university administration, caught in the crossfire, declared a two-day holiday on 10–11 November in view of the unrest. Vice-Chancellor Professor Renu Vig stated that the university had initiated the process for the Senate elections as per the Ministry of Education’s 7 November notification, but student leaders contended that the announcement was too vague and lacked timelines.

Traffic disruptions grew to become a parallel crisis. At the Chandigarh-Mohali border near Phase 6, trucks and buses blocked the road; commuters—including parents and students—found their journeys delayed or halted altogether. On the Zirakpur highway, vehicles were stuck in long queues after police began checking IDs and rerouting traffic away from the main protest corridors. Even outside the campus gates, protesters organised food langars to sustain the sit-in, symbolising a long-haul protest rather than a one-day flash mobilisation.

Inside the campus, protesters moved from the Vice-Chancellor’s office to Gate No. 1 after feeling the administration had ignored their earlier demands. They accused the security apparatus of blocking “outsiders” such as political and farmer leaders from entering; the police meanwhile asserted that only persons with valid IDs and official business would be allowed. The standoff triggered further anger, as students said it amounted to shutting the gates on representation.

The entrance of prominent farmer-leaders into the campus is notable. Alongside Rajewal, figures like Kaka Singh Kotra, M. S. Rai, and representatives of the Kisan Mazdoor Sangharsh Committee joined the demonstration. Their unity with students sent a strong signal: the lines between academic dissent, regional autonomy, farmer agitation, and institutional governance are blurring rapidly.

One confrontation focused on an MP, Malwinder Singh Kang, whom some protesters confronted, holding him partially accountable for the delay in the election schedule despite being a local representative. This underscores how the protest has now taken on political heft, extending beyond mere campus grievances.

On 7 November, in response to mounting pressure, the Centre withdrew the October notification that had altered the Senate. But student leaders were unimpressed – they insisted that rollback alone was not enough; an official schedule for elections must be notified, and until then the protest would persist. One student leader noted: “We will not stand down until concrete dates are given. A mere retreat on paper doesn’t address the core. We must have full elections for all 91 seats.”

That very demand — the election schedule for all 91 Senate seats — has become the heartbeat of the protest. The students argue that reducing representation undermines Punjab’s voice in the university and rejects the institution’s legacy of democratic participation. They also criticise that the changes were done without consultation with students, faculty, or alumni. Political leaders from across the spectrum—Congress, AAP, and SAD (P)—have visited the site and expressed solidarity.

A key demand emerges: the university must treat its student body as citizens with rights, not objects of administrative decrees. Students claim the management’s insistence on a “no protest” affidavit (which freshers had to sign, promising no protest without prior permission) was yet another attempt to stifle dissent. Debate had earlier erupted when rolls of toilet paper printed with the affidavit text were distributed in hostel washrooms as a satirical protest.

Sources within the university say the administration is walking a tightrope: on one hand they are dealing with security, obstruction to academic schedules, and reputational risk; on the other, they must contend with the policy and legal implications of student grievances and now the added presence of farmers and political leaders on campus. In internal communications, university officials have asked departments to suspend exam notifications and other academic processes until the situation stabilises.

From the law-enforcement side, the Chandigarh Police assembled over 2,000 personnel with multiple checkpoints and buses used to impede entry of protesters from Mohali and other areas. The escalation has forced the district administration to monitor not only campus operations but also surrounding traffic, commuter flows, transport of essential services, and public safety—especially around the PGIMER hospital area, which saw access disruption.

Amid the fray, the question arises: what exactly do students want, and why is this matter resonating so widely? The answer lies in overlapping grievances: the student body feels marginalised, sidelined from decision-making; the broader stakeholder community believes the university is part of Punjab’s public good, and any dilution of its governance is tantamount to dilution of Punjab’s identity. Farmer unions, historically vigilant about regional rights, see in this fight the same pattern of central or external decisions undermining local control.

Economics and regional politics also hide behind the scenes. Chandigarh, as a union territory and shared capital of Punjab and Haryana, sits at the crux of inter-state disputes. University governance thus becomes a microcosm of larger tensions. When students demand accountability, they are tapping into wider public sentiment about decentralisation, federalism, and institutional autonomy.

As the afternoon progressed, the cadence of agitation shifted from disruption to planning for a long haul. Students and farmers likened the setting up of tents outside campus gates to the 2020–21 farmer protests at Delhi borders. “We are here to stay, until the schedule is announced,” one student declared. Food, water, electricity, and sleeping mats were organised, with volunteers keeping vigil. The presence of Nihang groups in the protest further galvanised the spirit, mixing cultural-historical symbolism with the modern protest milieu.

From the Punjab government side, ministers visited the site, sought discussions with student leaders, and urged calm. The Agriculture Minister of Punjab, Gurmeet Singh Khudian, was among the visitors. But student responses were lukewarm—they emphasised that symbolic visits are not enough unless definitive action is taken and transparent timelines are declared. Opposition leaders also declared their support, framing the issue as one of defending public institutions rather than partisan politics. Some analysts suggest that the agitation might gain electoral traction given its resonance with youth and farmers—two key vote-segments in Punjab.

It is clear that this protest is not simply about one university’s governance; it is about deeper questions: Who controls the university? Whose voices matter? What is the line between academic freedom and administrative order? And in the context of Punjab, what does it mean when state institutions are perceived to be weakened or overridden?

One senior student quoted in the live updates said: “We broke the gate, yes. But that is the only way to get heard. Within walls we are invisible. Outside here, we make noise that echoes.” The symbolic act of breaching Gate No. 1 at the campus of Panjab University underlines that sentiment.

For now, the university remains in partial shutdown, with many classes suspended and administrative functions curtailed. University officials are reportedly weighing whether to file legal action against student organisers, whether to declare a longer holiday, and how to resume academic calendars without further disruption.

But perhaps the most important signal from this protest is that students and farmers both feel that institutional decisions are being taken over their heads. And when institutions represent public investments, public heritage, and public identity, such decisions cannot be insulated from popular voice.

Looking ahead, the questions to watch include: Will the Senate election schedule be announced? Will the Punjab government step in to mediate with both students and the Centre? Will the presence of farmers shift the agenda from strictly academic to more political or regional? And will the protests remain peaceful, or will further escalation prompt harder law-and-order responses?

In days to come, the university’s dormitories and audit logs may also become part of the narrative—if students sustain the sit-in, what about delays in exams, degrees, and research programmes? Meanwhile, public opinion is already turning sympathetic: images of young students and men and women in agricultural overalls standing together at the campus gate, defying barricades, travel disruption, and police cordons, all paint a powerful picture of unity across causes.

In the broader scheme, this moment may mark a turning point for the way campus governance is handled in the region. The vibrancy of student politics, previously overshadowed by administrative apathy, has been rekindled. Farmer activism, still potent after the major national protests of 2020–21, is showing its ability to pivot into other domains. And the university, with its historical legacy, is being forced to confront a reckoning about its future identity.

For the students, this campaign is existential: they demand that their university remain a democratic space, not a managerial enclave. For the farmers, it is strategic: it is a signal that the same powers they have challenged in agricultural policy are now being challenged in educational policy. For the administration and government, it is a stern reminder that postponing key decisions can provoke much larger disruptions.

In the quiet hours just before dawn on the university lawns, tents were pitched, torches lit, slogans whispered. In classrooms and administrative blocks, staff wondered if the rest of the semester would proceed as planned. Families, commuters, and local businesses faced traffic jams, detours, and uncertainty. The city of Chandigarh found its calm disrupted by youthful voices demanding more than just registration or exams—they demanded participation, rights, and visibility.

In this live moment, at Panjab University, on 10 November 2025, the campus has become more than a school: it is a site of democratic assertion. Whether the next chapter ends in resolution or escalation will depend on how quickly and sincerely the authorities respond—not just with notifications, but with genuine engagement. Until then, the sit-in continues, the students stay put, and the farmers stand guard. The gates are not just locked quietly—they are being challenged, loud and clear. The Punjab government’s accountability is no longer rhetoric—it’s being demanded, publicly, inside a beloved university.

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