Owning Knowledge, Owning Action – My Journey from Social Work to Law through RTI and COTPA

Owning Knowledge, Owning Action – My Journey from Social Work to Law through RTI and COTPA If I had to name one thing that Nada India Foundation and Suneel Sir have permanently etched into my heart, it would be this: Ownership of Knowledge.

This isn’t about collecting facts like stamps in an album. It’s about holding knowledge in your hands, understanding it deeply, making it a part of your thinking, and — most importantly — putting it into action. I first learned this lesson in my social work days, and I’ve carried it everywhere since — right into the heart of my legal journey.

From Social Work to the Law Books

During my undergraduate and postgraduate studies in social work, I worked on issues ranging from youth awareness to substance abuse prevention. Those days taught me that knowledge without application is like a library that’s never opened.

When I transitioned into law school, I didn’t leave my social work instincts behind. I chose law as a career because it was another arena where I could apply the same principle — learn, act, change. And the Right to Information (RTI) Act became one of my favorite tools to do exactly that.

Why RTI?

The RTI Act, for me, is like holding a flashlight in a dark room. It lets you see whether the laws we read about in textbooks are actually alive in the real world — or just lying dormant on paper.

Early in my legal training, I focused on the COTPA (Cigarettes and Other Tobacco Products Act). On paper, COTPA is crystal clear: no tobacco sales in certain zones, no smoking in public places, penalties for violations, awareness workshops… the works. But when I started digging deeper, I wanted to test one question: Is it really enforced?

From Books to Boardrooms to Courtrooms

I decided to put my knowledge to work. I filed RTI applications to multiple institutions:

· University of Allahabad – to check enforcement of tobacco-free campus rules.

· Allahabad High Court – to find out if any penalties or actions had been taken in court premises.

· Supreme Court of India – to examine if the highest court in the land was walking its own talk on being a tobacco-free zone.

The questions I asked were simple, almost childlike in their directness:

· How many penalties have been imposed in the last 5–6 years?

· How many complaints have been received?

· How many awareness workshops have been conducted?

· Who is the designated officer to take action if a violation occurs?

The Answers? Or the Lack of Them.

What I received was… educational. Not in the way I expected, but educational nonetheless.

Some replies came with the charm of archival digging — like a 1942 circular on tobacco prohibition. Others were steeped in bureaucratic elegance — “no complaints, no penalties, no workshops.” Essentially, an official declaration that everything was perfect… or perfectly ignored.

The RTI Act itself says: If information exists, it must be given. If it doesn’t exist, it means the department doesn’t have it. But when a department doesn’t have it, what does that say? It says the law on paper hasn’t made its way into action.

A Long Wait, A Hard Truth

In the case of Allahabad University, I waited over a year — 12 to 16 months — before reaching the Central Information Commission (CIC) in New Delhi. Even there, the result was the same: no information available.

In the Supreme Court case, the CIC heard my appeal and once again concluded: “All available information has been provided; the rest does not exist.”

This led to two landmark RTI cases in my name: · Aditya Pandey vs. Supreme Court of India · Aditya Pandey vs. Allahabad High Court

Both ended with the same irony — the absence of records meant the absence of action.

The Reality vs. The Paper

Walking through district court premises in UP, it’s easy to find ₹2 tobacco packets, supari stalls, and gutka pouches within arm’s reach. This is the visible reality. The invisible reality is in the record rooms — where the official story says “zero violations, zero penalties, zero problem.”

The gap between law in theory and law in action is wider than most people think.

What This Taught Me

If I had only read about COTPA in a book, I might have assumed it was working fine. But through RTI, I learned that the existence of a law does not guarantee its enforcement. I learned how departments respond, how information is stored (or lost), and how the system functions — not in theory, but in the field.

More importantly, I learned that owning knowledge isn’t about knowing everything. It’s about taking what you know and putting it to the test in the real world.

A Touch of Humor in the Serious Work In my blog (Social Aaloo), I often use humor to talk about these experiences. Like I wrote once:

“Justice delayed is justice denied — but in some offices, information retires before it’s delivered.”

Or:

“RTI is like a mirror — the government can look into it, but when things get uncomfortable, the glass fogs up.”

Because sometimes, the only way to make people notice the seriousness of an issue is to package it with a bit of satire.

The Nada India Connection

All of this — the questions, the persistence, the willingness to go from university records to the CIC in Delhi — traces back to that one principle I learned from Nada India Foundation: Ownership of Knowledge.

Nada India taught me that if you truly understand something, you have a responsibility to act on it. And action is what gives knowledge its real value.

So whether I am in a classroom, a courtroom, or in front of a CIC bench, I carry this principle with me. My RTI work is not just about getting information; it’s about testing systems, holding institutions accountable, and showing others how they can do the same.

Because at the end of the day, a law that exists only on paper is just ink. A law that’s implemented — that’s change. And change starts with someone deciding to own the knowledge and act.

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Aditya Pandey – Advocate & Heartfulness Trainer

Aditya Pandey is an advocate practicing in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, with a deep commitment to using law as a tool for transparency, accountability, and social change. His legal work spans from district courts to landmark RTI cases before the Central Information Commission, where he has challenged institutions like the Supreme Court of India and the Allahabad High Court on the enforcement of public health laws such as the Cigarettes and Other Tobacco Products Act (COTPA).

Alongside his legal career, Aditya serves as a Heartfulness Meditation Trainer, guiding individuals toward inner balance, clarity, and self-awareness. This spiritual discipline complements his professional life, allowing him to approach advocacy with patience, empathy, and ethical grounding.

His journey began in social work with the Nada India Foundation, where he learned the principle of ownership of knowledge — the idea that true understanding comes with the responsibility to act. Whether filing RTIs, arguing in court, or mentoring meditation practitioners, Aditya works to bridge the gap between knowing and doing, law and life, mind and heart.