Since its enactment in 2005, India’s Right to Information (RTI) Act has been one of the few laws that truly let citizens pry into the workings of government, demand accountability, and expose corruption. Yet, recent events suggest that the very machinery built for openness is inching toward dysfunction.
Recently in Odisha, the State Information Commission took an extraordinary step: it barred Chittaranjan Sethy, 51, a farmer from Mateipur panchayat in Puri district, from filing any new RTI applications for an entire year. His “offence”? Filing 61 requests seeking detailed information on local income, expenditure, and development works. Although he received responses and opportunities to inspect documents, the Commission described his persistence as “repetitive” and an “abuse of the RTI process”.
The commissioner noted that Sethy had been filing more than five applications on average each month, using his Below Poverty Line (BPL) card, and frequently requesting month-wise and year-wise data.
The order didn’t stop at Sethy. It set new rules for everyone in the state: a cap of 12 RTI applications per year, mandatory affidavits disclosing how many RTIs one has filed annually, and instructions to reject “burdensome” queries. For Sethy, who lives alone, studied only till grade 6, and survives on his BPL card, the Commission went a step further, directing the Collector to verify the eligibility for his card.
Under the RTI Act, applicants with a valid BPL card are exempted from paying the Rs 10 application fee, which is why officials often seem to scrutinise its use. But in Sethy’s case, he says, even this basic entitlement is now being questioned.
The case comes at a time when the RTI Act—once hailed as India’s strongest tool for grassroots accountability—appears increasingly fragile. According to the ADR/Satark Nagrik Sangathan report (2023–24), Information Commissions nationwide face massive backlogs and vacancies, with over 4 lakh appeals and complaints pending. Alarmingly, seven commissions were defunct at times during the year, and four remain inactive, worsening the delays.
The Supreme Court itself has warned that the RTI Act is becoming a “dead‐letter law” as key bodies remain under-staffed or non-functional.
Against this backdrop, Sethy’s story reads less like an isolated case and more like a symptom of systemic decay: citizens still ask questions, but institutions seem to be responding with bottlenecks, penalties, and bans.
Here are edited excerpts from Decode’s conversation with Chittaranjan Sethy, who spoke about why he filed those RTIs, what the ban means to him, and why he won’t stop asking questions.
What was your RTI about and why did you decide to pursue this?
For many years, I have been concerned about corruption in my village. Back in 2016–17, I learned that a Kotha Ghar (community centre) was supposed to be built in our panchayat, with one lakh rupees sanctioned that year. I came to know about it because there were discussions about it in our panchayat. In fact, the same amount was released for two more consecutive years, but in reality, nothing was constructed or even started.
This raised a simple but urgent question in my mind: if funds are being provided, where is the money going? I wanted to find out whether officials were misusing the funds meant for us villagers. That is why I approached different offices repeatedly, but the answers I received were never clear. Filing an RTI seemed like the only way to get the facts in black and white. For me, it was never about causing trouble, it was about protecting what rightfully belongs to the people of my village. Even if I am mistaken, let the government’s own records show it.
How did you come to know about the RTI Act? When did you first file an RTI? What was the process like for you?
Although I had been asking for these records from the offices since 2016–17, I only learnt about the Right to Information Act in 2022. I came across it through social media and realised that it could give me a legal way to demand accountability. But it was not easy. I have studied only till class six and I cannot read or write in English. To file the applications properly, I took the help of other RTI activists who guided me and my nephew who used ChatGPT to frame the RTI questions in English.
It was a learning process for me—I had to depend on others for the language, but the determination to know the truth was mine. Unfortunately, when my case reached the commission, the commissioner accused me of bluffing, saying I already knew English and was lying that I can communicate only in Odia, which was very disheartening. The truth is, I struggle with it, and that is why I needed help.
What kind of responses did you receive from the authorities, and how did the commission eventually act on your case?
Over the past few years, I filed applications with the panchayat, the panchayat samiti, the zila parishad, and later the district collector, asking for details about the community centre funds. Each time, I expected clear answers, but the responses were either incomplete or unsatisfactory. So I went on filling appeals. Instead of holding the offices accountable, the commission seemed to feel I was troubling them with repetitive applications.
I was called to the Commission office, where I was told I would get information from the panchayat samiti. But even then, I never got the full picture. Instead, the commission decided to ban me from filing RTIs for one year, saying I was abusing the process. To add to that, they even ordered the verification of my BPL card, as though I am misusing it. This was very painful because I don’t even have money for a cycle. Whatever little I earn from farming, I have spent on expenses of filing RTIs.
Have you faced any pushback or intimidation locally because of your RTI work?
Yes, there has been pressure. Teachers once came outside my house and warned me to stop filing RTIs, as I had asked for information about the degrees and qualifications of government teachers. Such warnings were intimidating but I believe that RTI is a very important tool. It is not only my right, but a way to serve common people by letting them know how money meant for their welfare is being used. I only seek transparency and never intend to harass anyone. If the people in power deny information, how else can I seek accountability?
Why do you think RTI is important, and what do you see as your next step?
After I received some training on how to use RTI, I felt I finally had a way to fight corruption in my village. I don’t know much about government rules or procedures, I am not highly educated, but is it a crime to simply ask for information? Till today, I have not received a full or satisfactory reply to my questions. Instead, they are punishing me by banning me, which feels very unfair.
Still, I believe RTI is important because without it, someone like me would have no way to challenge those in power. On paper, projects are shown as being initiated, funds are released, but in the village people see nothing. RTI is the only tool that forces the authorities to at least respond. That is why I will not stop. My next step is to appeal this order in the High Court because it is unjust to punish me with a ban when I was only exercising my right—a right for which the authorities themselves failed to give proper answers.
