On 28 April 2018, when the hamlet of Leisang in Manipur lit up, India declared the electrification of every inhabited village complete. Within three years, the Saubhagya scheme had carried connections to over 2.8 crore households — the largest and fastest expansion of electricity access in human history. As the tricolour rises this Independence Day, that achievement deserves unambiguous celebration. No previous generation of Indians could take the light switch for granted; this one increasingly can.
But the question we ask of our power sector must now mature. The question of the last decade was: does the village have a wire? The question of this decade is harder: does that wire carry dependable, affordable power at the hour the village needs it — for the flour mill, the cold chain, the solar pump, the tailoring unit, the mobile tower, and the classroom's smart board? Connection is a threshold; reliability is a relationship. And the honest answer, which the government's own reform architecture acknowledges, is that the relationship is still being built.
The Wire Is Not The Watt
Rural power availability has improved dramatically — from around twelve hours a day in 2015 to nearly twenty-two hours now, by the Ministry of Power's own tracking. That is a genuine transformation. Yet averages conceal the tail: the feeder that trips at dusk, the voltage that sags below what a motor can tolerate, and the transformer that waits weeks for repair. For a household, this is an inconvenience. For a rural enterprise, it is a business model destroyed. Electricity that cannot be scheduled cannot be invested against.
Part of the problem is the tyranny of distance. Conventional grid logic generates power at distant pitheads and river valleys and hauls it across hundreds of kilometres of transmission and distribution infrastructure, shedding technical losses and accumulating fragility along the way. The last village is, by definition, at the end of the longest, weakest feeder. The insight of the decentralised renewable energy (DRE) moment is elegantly simple: generate where you consume. The sun falls on every rooftop; the cattle shed produces feedstock every morning; the mountain stream runs through the village itself. Distributed generation turns the geography that made rural electrification hard into the very resource that makes rural energy security possible.
India's DRE Stack
The Government of India has, quietly and systematically, assembled the most ambitious decentralised energy stack in the developing world. PM-Surya Ghar: Muft Bijli Yojana, launched in February 2024 with an outlay of ₹75,021 crore, aims to put solar on one crore rooftops with up to 300 units of free electricity a month; installations have already crossed the million mark, converting consumers into prosumers at a pace no country of comparable income has attempted. PM-KUSUM is solarising agriculture — standalone pumps and feeder-level solarisation that give the farmer daytime power and a harvest of the sun. The GOBARdhan initiative and the SATAT scheme are building a biogas economy: cattle dung and crop residue converted into compressed biogas and organic fertiliser, so that the village dairy becomes an energy producer and the stubble that once burned into Delhi's winter air becomes revenue. Framework of the Ministry of New and Renewable Energy for DRE livelihood applications — solar dryers, silk-reeling machines, cold storages, charkhas — explicitly links watts to work. And behind it all stands a national milestone: India crossed fifty per cent of installed capacity from non-fossil sources in 2025, five years ahead of its Paris commitment.
The biogas economics deserve particular attention, because they are the least glamorous and the most bankable. A village of three hundred cattle produces enough dung to run a community digester whose outputs — cooking gas, power, and nutrient-rich slurry — replace three imported commodities at once: LPG, grid electricity and chemical fertiliser. Unlike solar, biogas is dispatchable around the clock; unlike diesel, its fuel walks home every evening. When SATAT offtake guarantees give a compressed biogas plant an assured buyer, the village balance sheet changes character: waste becomes working capital, and the dairy cooperative becomes an energy company. Few interventions align Atmanirbhar Bharat, farmer income, decarbonisation and net zero goals so neatly.
This is not romantic small-is-beautiful nostalgia. It is hard-headed systems engineering: the recognition that a terawatt-scale transition needs both the gigawatt park and the kilowatt rooftop, both the national grid and the village microgrid, each doing what it does best.
What The World Teaches
The global evidence is emphatic. Bangladesh built the world's largest off-grid solar programme, taking solar home systems to over four million households years before its grid could reach them — and then gracefully integrated them as wires arrived. Kenya's pay-as-you-go solar revolution, led by enterprises like M-KOPA, leapfrogged the grid entirely for millions, proving that mobile money and modular panels can outrun copper. Nepal's community-owned micro-hydro plants — thousands of them, managed by village committees in terrain much like our Himalayan states — demonstrate that ownership is the best maintenance contract ever written. Germany's Energiewende was powered not by utilities alone but by citizen energy cooperatives that own a substantial share of its renewable capacity, embedding public legitimacy into the transition. And South Australia has turned tens of thousands of rooftops and home batteries into virtual power plants that stabilise the grid rather than strain it. The lesson across continents: decentralisation is not the alternative to the grid; it is the grid's completion.
Seven States, One Lesson
India's own laboratories tell the same story. I saw it first in Jammu & Kashmir, where I served as Managing Director of the State Power Development Corporation and later as Energy Secretary. J&K is hydro-rich but winter-poor: run-of-river generation dips precisely when heating demand peaks, and long Himalayan transmission lines cross avalanche and landslide zones. Valleys like Gurez spent every winter cut off, running on diesel. Solar-battery microgrids are now giving such valleys their first dependable winter supply — and the deeper lesson from J&K's power sector is that megawatts on paper are not power in the socket. Reliability comes from structural reform — metering, tariff rationalisation, distributed resources — locked into regulation, not from capacity announcements.
Nagaland offers a governance jewel: under the NEPeD initiative, village councils empowered by Article 371(A) own and operate pico-hydro "hydrogers" on their own streams — indigenous institutions running indigenous energy. Uttar Pradesh shows the scale frontier: home to the largest Saubhagya cohort of nearly eighty lakh households, it has also incubated commercial minigrid pioneers like OMC Power, whose plants anchor telecom towers and retail power to surrounding villages, while its compressed biogas plants convert the cattle wealth of the Gangetic belt into fuel and fertiliser. If decentralised energy can be made to work administratively in Uttar Pradesh, it can work anywhere in the developing world. Odisha demonstrates resilience: Tata Power's renewable microgrids in remote hamlets restore supply within hours after cyclones that leave conventional feeders down for weeks, and the Green Climate Fund-backed solar micro-irrigation project in Rayagada and Gajapati is turning tribal farms climate-resilient. Tamil Nadu, India's original wind pioneer with over eleven gigawatts spinning from Muppandal to the Palghat gap, proves that renewables are not boutique — and its solar-wind seasonal complementarity is a textbook for hybrid system design. Goa, the smallest canvas, can become India's first fully solar-roofed state; at the Mission LiFE Centre of IIT Goa we plan to focus on panchayats to pair rooftop solar with behavioural change, because hardware without habits is half a transition. And Gujarat has delivered the emblem: Modhera, India's first round-the-clock solar-powered village, where a solar array and battery storage serve the same community that hosts the Sun Temple — an eleventh-century civilisational metaphor made twenty-first-century infrastructure. Gujarat also leads PM-Surya Ghar installations by a distance, showing that when state distribution companies lean in, citizens follow.
When Incentives Bite Back
Candour, though, must travel alongside celebration. There is a story policy economists never tire of telling. The colonial administration in Delhi, worried about snakebites, announced a reward for every dead cobra handed in. Residents responded rationally: they began rearing cobras at home to harvest the reward. When the authorities caught on and withdrew the payment, the now-worthless serpents were simply let loose, and the city ended up with more cobras than it started with. Whenever a sincere incentive multiplies the very problem it was designed to eliminate, the ghost of that bounty is at work. India's energy transition is not immune, and the sensible time to diagnose the ailment is now, while it is still at the margins.
Our renewable build-out has understandably been scored in megawatts commissioned. But a megawatt is only as valuable as the system's ability to move and absorb it. Where corridors, system strength, inertia, grid-forming electronics and flexible assets — storage batteries, pumped hydro reservoirs — trail behind the panels and turbines, the arithmetic quietly inverts. Green electrons are spilt for want of wires, voltage and frequency begin to wander, congestion charges mount, and, in the cruellest twist, coal units are pressed harder into service to hold the system steady. An instrument built to speed decarbonisation starts inflating costs and shrinking the usable share of clean power. Vietnam furnishes the textbook case: an open-ended feed-in tariff conjured some sixteen gigawatts of solar in barely two years; its network could not keep up, and the resulting curtailment left both financiers and citizens disenchanted.
A quieter variant lurks in regulation itself. Requiring battery projects to restart a collapsed grid — black-start duty — serves an unimpeachable goal: resilience. Yet if the rulebook stays silent on who pays for the extra equipment, the charge that must sit idle in reserve, the periodic testing and the operating restrictions, developers will read the silence accurately and take their capital elsewhere — starving the grid of the very storage it is crying out for. A duty imposed without a rupee attached is a tax in uniform, and taxing an infant technology is precisely how cobras get bred.
The encouraging news is that the government understands this. The National Electricity Plan commits over nine lakh crore rupees to transmission expansion; viability gap funding for battery storage and the 2023 pumped storage guidelines are building the flexibility the renewable fleet requires. The principle now needs institutionalising: measure policy success by system reliability, affordability and sustainability — not by installed capacity or compliance certificates alone. Good policy aligns incentives with outcomes rather than simply prescribing obligations.
The Last Village As The First
Gandhiji asked us to recall the face of the poorest man in the last village and ask whether our next step would help him. For seventy years, energy policy answered with a wire from somewhere far away. The decentralised energy moment lets us answer differently: with a panel on his roof, a digester behind his cattle shed, a battery in his panchayat ghar, and a grid that buys his surplus instead of merely tolerating his demand. Mission LiFE calls this the making of Pro-Planet People; economics calls it the prosumer; the Constitution calls it self-governance. They have the same idea of wearing different clothes.
Energy independence will not be declared the day the last coal plant retires. It will arrive village by village, rooftop by rooftop, when dependable power becomes as unremarkable in Gurez and Gajapati as it is in Gurugram. The state has built the stack; the states are proving the models; the citizen is joining as investor and owner. The last village is no longer the end of the line. It is where the new grid begins.
About the Author: Sundeep Nayak, a former IAS officer, is Professor of Practice and Chair, Mission LiFE Centre, IIT Goa. He has served two stints as Managing Director, J&K State Power Development Corporation, and as Power Secretary, Jammu & Kashmir State. Views expressed are personal.
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