The Week: National: Friday, 5th October 2025.
RTI activists face grave dangers in India, as highlighted by the murder of Satish Shetty, who exposed land scams and whose brother, Sandeep, continues a decade-long fight for justice
Sandeep Shetty was
checking his email when he heard the news that would change his life. It was
January 13, 2010, and he was at home in Talegaon Dabhade in Pune, Maharashtra.
His brother Satish had gone for his usual morning walk 15 minutes earlier. There
was a knock at the door. Then a young man from the neighbourhood burst through,
breathless. “Your brother... he’s been attacked,” he said.
Even as Sandeep sprinted
after the messenger, his mind clung to normalcy. A scuffle? A fistfight? “I
wasn’t expecting what I was about to see,” he said. The spot was around 500
metres from his house, on a main road that connected Talegaon Dabhade to National
Highway 4. There lay Satish, in a pool of blood. He had been attacked with
sharp weapons by masked men on a bike. The onlookers did not aid him and when
he was eventually taken to a hospital, he was pronounced dead on arrival.
In the last five years of his life, 2005-2010, Satish had exposed a string of land scams in Talegaon Dabhade, Lonavala and Pimpri-Chinchwad all prime real estate hubs in Maharashtra. But the very tool that fuelled his fight for transparency also sealed his fate he was the first RTI activist to be killed in India.
As the Right to Information Act, 2005, marks its 20th anniversary, the milestone is overshadowed by the stories of people like Satish who sacrificed their life in pursuit of accountability.
Sandeep often questioned
his brother inviting trouble through activism. But seeing his brother’s
mutilated body changed everything. Since then, Sandeep has been relentlessly
fighting for justice.
He first approached the
local police and then the CBI. Both failed to find the culprits. The CBI filed
closure reports twice, in 2014 and 2018, citing lack of evidence. But, Sandeep
kept the case alive by taking the battle to court from the trial court to the
Bombay High Court and finally the Supreme Court.
In 2023, the Supreme Court
asked the Bombay High Court to revisit Sandeep’s plea for an impartial probe.
Even now, 15 years after the death of his brother, Sandeep is continuing the
fight. He has sacrificed his time, career and resources.
“The killers of my brother may never be convicted,” Sandeep told THE WEEK. “But I won’t give them a free pass. As long as I have the strength and resources, I won’t give up.”
Satish got into social activism in the early 1990s. On November 24, 2009, a month and a half before his death, he filed for protection for the first time. He spelt out the threats he faced, particularly from the people behind a controversial infrastructure firm and explained why they wanted to eliminate him. But, Sandeep alleges that the investigating agencies did not go in that direction, and some arrests were made only as an eyewash.
Even before Satish’s murder, transparency activists in India faced threats and assaults. But his brutal killing marked a turning point, exposing the growing dangers faced by those using the RTI to expose corruption and systemic rot. As per the Hall of Shame web page maintained by the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative (CHRI), a Delhi-based non-profit tracking attacks on RTI users, at least 107 activists have been killed so far for seeking information through RTI. And, at least seven have been driven to suicide.
Venkatesh Nayak, director,
CHRI, told THE WEEK that there was originally a page on Wikipedia, documenting
media reports of attacks on RTI activists. “But, we saw that many of the links
were going dead stories were archived, URLs changed or the content was removed
altogether,” he said. “We realised that if this continued, there would be no
reasonably permanent record of the heavy price these concerned citizens paid.”
The Hall of Shame, he added, is to keep alive the memories of the martyrs of
India’s transparency movement.
“We have been compiling
online links to stories and working to preserve this crucial documentation,” he
said. The Hall of Shame has state-wise data on activists who have been killed,
assaulted, harassed/threatened or pushed to committing suicide.
The first attack on an RTI
user that has been documented by the CHRI was in April 2006, just months after
the RTI Act was implemented. Since then, not a single year has passed without
attacks on RTI users. The violence escalated following the first recorded
murder, that of Satish. In 2010, 49 attacks were reported. That number rose to
85 in 2011.
Nayak said that before setting up the website, his team had tried to understand how the criminal justice system had responded to these attacks. They found that a majority of these cases were not followed up. “That is when we realised we had to take action,” he said.
In 2018, the CHRI commissioned a three-month investigative study into the murders of RTI users from Maharashtra and how the criminal justice system had responded. The study was done by senior journalist Vinita Deshmukh, who has exposed several irregularities including those related to the post-retirement home of a former president and crime reporter Prasannakumar Keskar.
Maharashtra has
consistently topped the list in terms of volume of RTI requests. It also has
the dubious distinction of reporting the highest number of attacks on activists
using RTI. At the time of the Deshmukh-Keskar study, at least 16 murders in
Maharashtra had been linked to RTI activism, of which the duo examined 13.
“One major insight was
that RTI users came from all strata, and irrespective of their backgrounds the
threat was constant,” said Deshmukh. She said she did most of the desk work for
the study while Keskar undertook field trips. They observed that none of the
killed activists were seeking information relating to national security or
trade secrets of a private firm or anything for a personal need. Mostly, they
sought information that would make local public authorities accountable.
When THE WEEK met Keskar at his house ‘Gyan Deep (Light of Knowledge)’ in Dhayari Gaon, Pune, he was recovering from surgery necessitated by a major road accident. Despite his condition, he agreed to speak, emphasising the importance of honouring the legacy of those who gave their lives for transparency and the power of the people. “Corruption functions as an ecosystem,” he said. “Those accused by RTI activists were not isolated figures, but part of a larger network. By [posing questions] about this system, the activist became its enemy. And, the activist is a lone crusader more often than not.”
Keskar noted that in all of the 13 cases studies by him and Deshmukh, investigating agencies diverted attention and shifted narratives. “The motive for murder is never linked to the victims’ efforts to uncover truth,” he said. “Instead, many cases were attributed to domestic disputes rather than RTI-related activity. The police come up with theories and release them to the media, which is rarely in a position to demand evidence. For instance, if an investigative officer suggests that the victim might have blackmailed someone, the media reports it and just like that, the narrative shifts.”
The portrayal of RTI activists as blackmailers, which also happens during trials, leads to media trials that traumatise the families of slain activists. “From what I have seen, most families show little inclination to seek justice,” said Keskar. “Many I spoke to were marginalised and economically disadvantaged; their struggle for survival was much more pressing. Additionally, many were illiterate and there was a complete lack of support system. The pursuit of justice can drag on for years. There are obstacles at every stage.”
Some families allowed
Keskar to visit, but were hesitant to open up. Others refused to meet him.
Keskar recounts his attempt to speak to the kin of Abrar Ahmad Jamil Ansari, a
shopkeeper from Bhiwandi, Maharashtra. Ansari exposed large-scale irregularities
in the Bhiwandi-Nizampur Municipal Corporation’s building permission
department. He was killed on December 17, 2013. Keskar located Ansari’s family
in a dimly lit building in the crowded Barf Galli—a lane dominated by a
community of goat slaughterers. “They refused to meet,” he said. “No one opened
the door at first. Later, a woman told us to leave. I called his brother; he
said: ‘It is over for us. We do not want to meet anybody. We do not want anyone
coming and asking about Ansari. Please leave us.’”
Keskar said that there have been instances of him being stalked. Once, while he was making inquiries at the residence of a slain activist, a couple of men came and clicked photographs. During his return journey, when he halted at a dhaba at a considerable distance from the place, a group of young men questioned him about the purpose of his travel; they had his photos. There was also an incident where his car was chased by a group. “My driver got scared and quit after that incident,” said Keskar.
He added that the families of the murdered RTI activists often dispose of the documents their loved ones had gathered as a way to cope with trauma. He cites the case of Datta Patil from Ichalkaranji, a power loom town in Kolhapur. Patil exposed irregularities in scheduled caste cooperative power loom societies and land-grabbing before he was murdered on May 22, 2010. “His brother felt that constantly discussing the case and keeping [Patil’s] documents at home was affecting Patil’s wife and children and got rid of the documents,” said Keskar. Similarly, Raju Ubale, son of the activist Ramdas Bapuji Ubale-Gadegaonkar, who was found dead under mysterious circumstances in Naya Monda, Nanded, in August 2010, gathered all the documents his father had left behind and burned them. But, Raju later realised the importance of his father’s work and turned to social activism.
After Satish Shetty’s
murder, there was a realisation among RTI activists, especially those in Pune,
that lone crusades were dangerous. “After Satish Shetty was murdered, senior
social activist Vijay Kumbhar launched a website,” said Deshmukh. “The aim was
to encourage people accessing sensitive information, especially related to the
land mafia or cooperative societies, to upload it so that it became widely
known. This way, if multiple people [sought] the same information, the risk to
an individual would reduce. The initiative continued for some time, but
eventually stopped.”
Kumbhar has made several such efforts to strengthen the community of transparency seekers. “In 2007, I organised a seminar for transparency activists from across India in Pune, bringing together 132 participants from 27 states,” he told THE WEEK. He spearheaded the creation of an RTI library in Pune and runs an RTI katta (discussion) on Sundays, where people from different neighbourhoods gather, ask questions, voice opinions and discuss issues related to RTI. Kumbhar insists that RTI activists are not a distinct group. They come from all sort of backgrounds. He also said that today one could find significant RTI activity in rural belts. He credits the late journalist Prakash Kardale for making Pune a stronghold of RTI activism and pioneering several unique transparency initiatives. In fact, Kumbhar’s discussions with Kardale led to him being the first person in India to utilise the nuances in Section 4 of the RTI Act to get access to documents in public offices.
Section 4 emphasises proactive disclosure by public authorities to reduce the need for individual RTI applications. Notably, this includes inspection at public offices. “After thorough deliberation, we approached the Pune Municipal Corporation (PMC) about transferable development rights, a significant matter in Pune involving development rights granted in exchange for land,” said Kumbhar. “Our objective was not to expose any wrongdoing, but to demonstrate the right to inspect public records.”
Significantly, the PMC was the first public body in the country to introduce a walk-in system allowing citizens to visit any civic department 3pm to 5pm on Mondays to see public documents. For more than a decade, this Monday visit to the PMC has been a routine for Vivek Velankar, who transitioned from corporate employment to being an RTI educator. Velankar said that even before the RTI Act, there was a notification that allowed the inspection of documents in the PMC by the public.
Nevertheless, Deshmukh calls Section 4 the crux of the act, while pointing out that 20 years since the law came into existence, this provision is not effectively used. “Under Section 6, you have to wait 30 days for a response,” she said. “For the first appellate authority, you wait another 45 days. If that does not work, by the time you escalate to the information commissioner, the information may become irrelevant.” That is why, she said, they train people to use Section 4. “You can go to any public office during [the specified] hours and demand access,” she said.
Deshmukh utilised Section 4 to investigate a research centre near Pune that was established by a controversial American chemical manufacturer. The company had advertised its Pune facility as an R&D centre and promised to enhance the social environment and employ around 600 scientists. But, Deshmukh got documents from the Maharashtra Pollution Control Board (MPCB) showing the company had received permission to set up a manufacturing unit. A list of 60-70 chemicals meant for ‘research’ had more than 20 hazardous substances. Deshmukh found that regulations were bent to grant the company land and permissions.
During the course of her investigation, she went to government offices with a copy of Section 4 and had to explain its provisions to officials. At the Maharashtra Industrial Development Corporation, she found the officials cooperative, while at the MPCB and the Mantralaya environment secretariat, she had to educate them about the law.
“It is ridiculous; they are still learning,” said Velankar, who has trained thousands of government officials on RTI. “When will they be in a deliverable situation?”
Former central information commissioner Shailesh Gandhi noted in RTI: Authentic Interpretation of the Statute that Indian law is rated among the best in the world as far as provisions go, but in terms of implementation and actual transparency the country lags far behind. A recent report by the citizens’ group Satark Nagrik Sangathan highlights that, as of June 30, 2024, around 4.06 lakh appeals and complaints were pending across 29 information commissions. Moreover, as of October 10, 2024, four commissions Goa, Jharkhand, Tripura and Telangana were defunct because of the absence of commissioners. Five other commissions had no chief, exacerbating delays.
Maharashtra, which has the largest backlog (more than 1.08 lakh), also offers a case of information being withheld even from an IPS officer. Between 2020 and 2022, IPS officer Bhagyashree Navtake probed a Rs1,200-crore scam involving a credit society that was allegedly linked to top political figures. Her probe led to the recovery of more than Rs250 crore. Navtake now faces forgery and conspiracy charges initially registered by the Maharashtra Police and later transferred to the CBI. Since November 2022, she has filed more than 50 RTI applications that have been repeatedly denied. Interestingly, allegations arose that 81 RTI requests filed by Sunil Devakinandan Zawar, an accused in the credit society case, were promptly granted including requests for documents otherwise exempt under Section 8 of the RTI Act.
“RTI is a demand to share democratic power, and has given us the right to question and get answers from the government and its various formations,” said Aruna Roy, who was the key leader of the right to information movement. “The right to question and get answers is a constitutional right and it is feared by the people who wield power unethically. It is to be expected that they would leave no stone unturned to reduce the efficacy of the act.” Roy criticised the “efforts of successive regimes to weaken the law”. She calls the provisions dealing with personal data protection in the Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023, as the most “heinous” effort to further weaken the RTI Act.
Meanwhile, those like Deshmukh point out that civil society must come together to protect whistleblowers. “The first thing a whistleblower must understand is that government support is unlikely,” she said. “The Whistleblower Protection Act exists, but it also has been weakened. Take Satish Shetty’s case he filed a police complaint requesting protection. The police dismissed it. This leaves citizens helpless, forced to fend for themselves. It is, therefore, up to society to step in. RTI activists must unite and support those who expose critical information.”
But Sandeep Shetty knows all too well how quickly that support fades. Interest from transparency activists and the media in his brother’s case waned after the CBI filed its first closure report in 2014. For the past decade, it has been a lone-wolf journey for him just as it was for his brother.
RTI activists face grave dangers in India, as highlighted by the murder of Satish Shetty, who exposed land scams and whose brother, Sandeep, continues a decade-long fight for justice
In the last five years of his life, 2005-2010, Satish had exposed a string of land scams in Talegaon Dabhade, Lonavala and Pimpri-Chinchwad all prime real estate hubs in Maharashtra. But the very tool that fuelled his fight for transparency also sealed his fate he was the first RTI activist to be killed in India.
As the Right to Information Act, 2005, marks its 20th anniversary, the milestone is overshadowed by the stories of people like Satish who sacrificed their life in pursuit of accountability.
 |
| Enduring fight: Sandeep Shetty next to a photo of his elder brother Satish, an activist who was killed in 2010 in Pune’s Talegaon Dabhade | Amey Mansabdar |
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| Crime reporter Prasannakumar Keskar at his home in Pune | Amey Mansabdar |
“The killers of my brother may never be convicted,” Sandeep told THE WEEK. “But I won’t give them a free pass. As long as I have the strength and resources, I won’t give up.”
Satish got into social activism in the early 1990s. On November 24, 2009, a month and a half before his death, he filed for protection for the first time. He spelt out the threats he faced, particularly from the people behind a controversial infrastructure firm and explained why they wanted to eliminate him. But, Sandeep alleges that the investigating agencies did not go in that direction, and some arrests were made only as an eyewash.
Even before Satish’s murder, transparency activists in India faced threats and assaults. But his brutal killing marked a turning point, exposing the growing dangers faced by those using the RTI to expose corruption and systemic rot. As per the Hall of Shame web page maintained by the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative (CHRI), a Delhi-based non-profit tracking attacks on RTI users, at least 107 activists have been killed so far for seeking information through RTI. And, at least seven have been driven to suicide.
.jpeg) |
| Armed with the law: Senior journalist Vinita Deshmukh used Section 4 of the RTI Act to find irregularities in an American chemical manufacturer’s research centre near Pune - Amey Mansabdar |
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| Driving change: Activist Vijay Kumbhar has made several efforts to strengthen the community of transparency seekers, from organising a seminar to spearheading the creation of an RTI library. |
Nayak said that before setting up the website, his team had tried to understand how the criminal justice system had responded to these attacks. They found that a majority of these cases were not followed up. “That is when we realised we had to take action,” he said.
In 2018, the CHRI commissioned a three-month investigative study into the murders of RTI users from Maharashtra and how the criminal justice system had responded. The study was done by senior journalist Vinita Deshmukh, who has exposed several irregularities including those related to the post-retirement home of a former president and crime reporter Prasannakumar Keskar.
.jpeg) |
| Document deep-dive: RTI activist and educator Vivek Velankar inspecting documents at Pune Municipal Corporation. The inspection is a routine for him, every Monday between 3pm and 5pm. |
When THE WEEK met Keskar at his house ‘Gyan Deep (Light of Knowledge)’ in Dhayari Gaon, Pune, he was recovering from surgery necessitated by a major road accident. Despite his condition, he agreed to speak, emphasising the importance of honouring the legacy of those who gave their lives for transparency and the power of the people. “Corruption functions as an ecosystem,” he said. “Those accused by RTI activists were not isolated figures, but part of a larger network. By [posing questions] about this system, the activist became its enemy. And, the activist is a lone crusader more often than not.”
Keskar noted that in all of the 13 cases studies by him and Deshmukh, investigating agencies diverted attention and shifted narratives. “The motive for murder is never linked to the victims’ efforts to uncover truth,” he said. “Instead, many cases were attributed to domestic disputes rather than RTI-related activity. The police come up with theories and release them to the media, which is rarely in a position to demand evidence. For instance, if an investigative officer suggests that the victim might have blackmailed someone, the media reports it and just like that, the narrative shifts.”
The portrayal of RTI activists as blackmailers, which also happens during trials, leads to media trials that traumatise the families of slain activists. “From what I have seen, most families show little inclination to seek justice,” said Keskar. “Many I spoke to were marginalised and economically disadvantaged; their struggle for survival was much more pressing. Additionally, many were illiterate and there was a complete lack of support system. The pursuit of justice can drag on for years. There are obstacles at every stage.”
Keskar said that there have been instances of him being stalked. Once, while he was making inquiries at the residence of a slain activist, a couple of men came and clicked photographs. During his return journey, when he halted at a dhaba at a considerable distance from the place, a group of young men questioned him about the purpose of his travel; they had his photos. There was also an incident where his car was chased by a group. “My driver got scared and quit after that incident,” said Keskar.
He added that the families of the murdered RTI activists often dispose of the documents their loved ones had gathered as a way to cope with trauma. He cites the case of Datta Patil from Ichalkaranji, a power loom town in Kolhapur. Patil exposed irregularities in scheduled caste cooperative power loom societies and land-grabbing before he was murdered on May 22, 2010. “His brother felt that constantly discussing the case and keeping [Patil’s] documents at home was affecting Patil’s wife and children and got rid of the documents,” said Keskar. Similarly, Raju Ubale, son of the activist Ramdas Bapuji Ubale-Gadegaonkar, who was found dead under mysterious circumstances in Naya Monda, Nanded, in August 2010, gathered all the documents his father had left behind and burned them. But, Raju later realised the importance of his father’s work and turned to social activism.
Kumbhar has made several such efforts to strengthen the community of transparency seekers. “In 2007, I organised a seminar for transparency activists from across India in Pune, bringing together 132 participants from 27 states,” he told THE WEEK. He spearheaded the creation of an RTI library in Pune and runs an RTI katta (discussion) on Sundays, where people from different neighbourhoods gather, ask questions, voice opinions and discuss issues related to RTI. Kumbhar insists that RTI activists are not a distinct group. They come from all sort of backgrounds. He also said that today one could find significant RTI activity in rural belts. He credits the late journalist Prakash Kardale for making Pune a stronghold of RTI activism and pioneering several unique transparency initiatives. In fact, Kumbhar’s discussions with Kardale led to him being the first person in India to utilise the nuances in Section 4 of the RTI Act to get access to documents in public offices.
Section 4 emphasises proactive disclosure by public authorities to reduce the need for individual RTI applications. Notably, this includes inspection at public offices. “After thorough deliberation, we approached the Pune Municipal Corporation (PMC) about transferable development rights, a significant matter in Pune involving development rights granted in exchange for land,” said Kumbhar. “Our objective was not to expose any wrongdoing, but to demonstrate the right to inspect public records.”
Significantly, the PMC was the first public body in the country to introduce a walk-in system allowing citizens to visit any civic department 3pm to 5pm on Mondays to see public documents. For more than a decade, this Monday visit to the PMC has been a routine for Vivek Velankar, who transitioned from corporate employment to being an RTI educator. Velankar said that even before the RTI Act, there was a notification that allowed the inspection of documents in the PMC by the public.
Nevertheless, Deshmukh calls Section 4 the crux of the act, while pointing out that 20 years since the law came into existence, this provision is not effectively used. “Under Section 6, you have to wait 30 days for a response,” she said. “For the first appellate authority, you wait another 45 days. If that does not work, by the time you escalate to the information commissioner, the information may become irrelevant.” That is why, she said, they train people to use Section 4. “You can go to any public office during [the specified] hours and demand access,” she said.
Deshmukh utilised Section 4 to investigate a research centre near Pune that was established by a controversial American chemical manufacturer. The company had advertised its Pune facility as an R&D centre and promised to enhance the social environment and employ around 600 scientists. But, Deshmukh got documents from the Maharashtra Pollution Control Board (MPCB) showing the company had received permission to set up a manufacturing unit. A list of 60-70 chemicals meant for ‘research’ had more than 20 hazardous substances. Deshmukh found that regulations were bent to grant the company land and permissions.
During the course of her investigation, she went to government offices with a copy of Section 4 and had to explain its provisions to officials. At the Maharashtra Industrial Development Corporation, she found the officials cooperative, while at the MPCB and the Mantralaya environment secretariat, she had to educate them about the law.
“It is ridiculous; they are still learning,” said Velankar, who has trained thousands of government officials on RTI. “When will they be in a deliverable situation?”
Former central information commissioner Shailesh Gandhi noted in RTI: Authentic Interpretation of the Statute that Indian law is rated among the best in the world as far as provisions go, but in terms of implementation and actual transparency the country lags far behind. A recent report by the citizens’ group Satark Nagrik Sangathan highlights that, as of June 30, 2024, around 4.06 lakh appeals and complaints were pending across 29 information commissions. Moreover, as of October 10, 2024, four commissions Goa, Jharkhand, Tripura and Telangana were defunct because of the absence of commissioners. Five other commissions had no chief, exacerbating delays.
Maharashtra, which has the largest backlog (more than 1.08 lakh), also offers a case of information being withheld even from an IPS officer. Between 2020 and 2022, IPS officer Bhagyashree Navtake probed a Rs1,200-crore scam involving a credit society that was allegedly linked to top political figures. Her probe led to the recovery of more than Rs250 crore. Navtake now faces forgery and conspiracy charges initially registered by the Maharashtra Police and later transferred to the CBI. Since November 2022, she has filed more than 50 RTI applications that have been repeatedly denied. Interestingly, allegations arose that 81 RTI requests filed by Sunil Devakinandan Zawar, an accused in the credit society case, were promptly granted including requests for documents otherwise exempt under Section 8 of the RTI Act.
“RTI is a demand to share democratic power, and has given us the right to question and get answers from the government and its various formations,” said Aruna Roy, who was the key leader of the right to information movement. “The right to question and get answers is a constitutional right and it is feared by the people who wield power unethically. It is to be expected that they would leave no stone unturned to reduce the efficacy of the act.” Roy criticised the “efforts of successive regimes to weaken the law”. She calls the provisions dealing with personal data protection in the Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023, as the most “heinous” effort to further weaken the RTI Act.
Meanwhile, those like Deshmukh point out that civil society must come together to protect whistleblowers. “The first thing a whistleblower must understand is that government support is unlikely,” she said. “The Whistleblower Protection Act exists, but it also has been weakened. Take Satish Shetty’s case he filed a police complaint requesting protection. The police dismissed it. This leaves citizens helpless, forced to fend for themselves. It is, therefore, up to society to step in. RTI activists must unite and support those who expose critical information.”
But Sandeep Shetty knows all too well how quickly that support fades. Interest from transparency activists and the media in his brother’s case waned after the CBI filed its first closure report in 2014. For the past decade, it has been a lone-wolf journey for him just as it was for his brother.
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