CHHATTISGARH: In the Durg district, policing is changing. Instead of spreading fear, it now focuses on helping people and solving problems. This change is being led by SSP Vijay Agrawal, who is making the system more about listening, resolving disputes, and bringing relief.
The biggest changes are evident at the Bhilai Women’s Police Station. Once known mainly for protecting women, the station now does much more. Every Sunday, its halls are filled with conversation instead of urgency.
Couples meet with counsellors, and elderly parents wait with hope that someone will listen to them. This experiment, known informally as the “Durg Model”, is based on a simple idea: not every conflict needs to go to court. Some problems need time, patience, and someone neutral to help.
Agrawal started his work after noticing a pattern he could not ignore. More men were reporting emotional and financial problems in their marriages. There were also more calls from elderly people who felt abandoned or neglected by their children.
These were not crimes in the usual sense, but family problems that were often too sensitive or complicated for the courts. Instead of sending these to court, the police set up two special counselling benches. One bench, comprising officers Amita Kumar, Ashok Joshi, and Basant Kumar, deals with marital disputes involving men.
Here, counsellors help with problems that are often hidden, such as miscommunication, financial issues, or emotional distance. By late 2025, about 140 cases had come in. Around 50 ended in mutual agreement, and only 18 needed legal action. The rest are still in counselling, where finding a solution is seen as a process, not a single event.
The second bench—featuring officers Anjana Srivastava, Shahana Qureshi, and Rakesh Joshi—deals with a quieter problem: neglecting parents. For many elderly Indians, going to the police about their own children feels shameful, so they often suffer in silence.
The Durg initiative changes this. Children are called in, conversations are guided, and responsibility is seen as both a legal and moral duty. Out of 35 cases, 18 families have been reunited. These results do not come quickly. Sessions can last for hours. Counsellors work through years of resentment, slowly uncovering anger and misunderstanding.
The goal is not for one side to win, but to find balance, which officials call “natural justice.” Agrawal’s view is clear: why should vulnerable groups, like elderly parents or men facing problems at home, be ignored until things get worse? He believes the police should step in sooner, before conflicts turn into violence or permanent separation.
In these sessions, the shift is profound. Pramod Kumar, a marketing professional who sought help, describes it as the first time his concerns were acknowledged without prejudice. The process, he says, restored not just dialogue at home, but a sense of dignity.
Elderly citizens feel the same way. Nishith Thakur, who is 70, says, “It’s a delight to see many senior citizens, mostly parents, now better equipped to manage their daily lives and continue to engage in activities that bring them joy and fulfillment, even returning to good family life.” The intervention did more than solve disputes; it helped rebuild confidence.
The model works because of its structure. Counselling is led by trained facilitators, retired officials, and legal experts. Families are seen as partners in finding solutions, not opponents. If reconciliation is not possible, the system does not stop.
Instead, it helps people move toward formal legal options. Critics mention wider social issues, such as concerns about gender imbalance in the law. Amit Gupta, one of the campaigners for the men’s cause in Central India, says,
“Societal imbalance has worsened over the years, with men being marginalised despite their responsibilities increasing manifold. Gender discrimination is more apparent on the legal front, where their genuine issues and rights are often ignored, whether within the family or at the workplace.”