Wangchuk refuses to end fast despite growing health concerns
Veteran actors urged the government to hold talks with Wangchuk, saying India must not let one of its greatest minds suffer.
- Sonam Wangchuk is on a 17-day hunger strike, suffering muscle loss and “immense pain,” and has refused to end the fast.
- The Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) has been protesting at Jantar Mantar for 25 days over the alleged NEET paper leak and released a five-point examination reform charter.
- CJP leaders say they invited political figures across party lines, including JP Nadda and Rahul Gandhi, to show solidarity.
- Several leaders (Mamata Banerjee, Akhilesh Yadav, Uddhav Thackeray, Arvind Kejriwal) urged Wangchuk to end the fast and sought dialogue; Rahul Gandhi has not visited or commented.
- Wangchuk told Indian Express Hindi he expects leaders to come and said their absence would send a message.
A thin figure on a placid square can suddenly command the nation’s attention. For 17 days, activist Sonam Wangchuk has refused food, sacrificing his body to demand accountability over the alleged NEET paper leak. His family, friends and medical advisers warn that he is losing muscle mass and is “in immense pain,” yet he remains steadfast, insisting that dialogue and justice must follow. In the age of instant headlines, his fast is a slow, wrenching test of patience for the country and its political class.
The protest around him has taken on new shapes. The Cockroach Janta Party (CJP), a youthful group that has camped at Jantar Mantar for 25 days, has become the visible face of widespread student anger. They unveiled a five-point examination reform charter this week, articulating demands that speak to a generation fed up with stress, perceived corruption and opaque systems that decide futures with a single paper. Their claim that support is growing across party lines points to a rare moment when youthful civic energy is beginning to pull at established politics.
Leaders across the spectrum have responded—some with warmth, others with caution. Mamata Banerjee, Akhilesh Yadav, Uddhav Thackeray and Arvind Kejriwal personally reached out to Wangchuk or publicly urged him to end his fast, offering solidarity while asking the government to open talks. Their calls have a performative edge and a sincere one: public figures know that a deteriorating health crisis on the capital’s lawns is bad for the nation and worse for their consciences.
One conspicuous absence, however, has been Rahul Gandhi. The Congress leader, though often visible on issues of student welfare and democratic protest, has neither visited Jantar Mantar nor publicly commented on the CJP’s agitation. Wangchuk himself, speaking to Indian Express Hindi, accepted the silence with characteristic equanimity: he said that people have different timings and that even absence would send a message—one that, he warned, “won’t be good for any party.” His calm underscores how activism often absorbs the unpredictability of politics.
For the young protesters, the stakes are visceral. NEET is not an abstract policy line; it decides college seats, career hopes and family sacrifices. The five-point charter proposed by the CJP seeks structural reforms aimed at fairness and stress reduction. The movement’s organizers say they have reached out to leaders across parties, including BJP chief JP Nadda and other senior figures, inviting them to stand in solidarity. The openness to all parties suggests the CJP is trying to keep its moral platform above partisan capture.
Yet the scene at Jantar Mantar is also a study in modern protest theatre: social media amplifies slogans, viral videos humanise faces, and melodrama—like a hunger strike—forces institutions to react. For families who sent children to coaching centres and for students who face months of anxious waiting, the protest is both catharsis and plea. For politicians, it is a careful calculation between supporting public sentiment and not appearing to endorse extrajudicial pressure on examination authorities.
Wangchuk’s deteriorating health adds urgency. Hunger strikes have a long history in India’s political imagination; they force a choice between moral posture and administrative action. The government’s response in the coming days—whether to engage in meaningful talks, investigate the alleged leak transparently, or ignore the movement—will shape public trust for years to come. Meanwhile, on the lawns of the capital, young people keep watch, chanting for justice and for the kind of future that exams are supposed to guarantee.