That was Anil da—firm, clear, and unsparing in his political clarity. He never sought the spotlight. He chose, instead, the long, hard road of process-building, capacity-strengthening, and nurturing leadership from the grassroots. He passed away on 14th April 2025 after long battle with cancer, and though he would have resisted any personal homage, it is impossible not to speak of the man who shaped so many of us and the political spaces we inhabit.

For many of us, the loss is personal. I was fortunate to meet him at the PEACE gathering marking its 30 years, just a few weeks ago. We had planned a breakfast meeting, but I left Delhi before it could happen. Now, it never will. Over the years, since I moved out of Delhi in early 2020, whenever I visited the city, I would make time to meet him. He was always generous—with his time, his home, and his deep, reflective insight into political processes, not only with me but with everyone. During the pandemic, when I began writing about resistance movements across the world, he was often the first to respond—encouraging me, commenting thoughtfully, and nudging me to keep going. He did this with so many of us, encouraging the younger generation and always available in PEACE library in a corner holding addas conspiring initiatives and welcoming people.

A Life Dedicated to Collective Struggle

Anil Chaudhary was a lifelong organiser, dissenter and political educator whose activism spanned over four decades starting with his early days of student activism in JNU. He remained a lifelong dissenter, got expelled from CPIM, left Centre for Science and Environment (CSE), PRIA, some of the big established structures in 80s. But remained a steadfast member of the broader Left, critically engaging with several processes, bringing thought to action and was an epitome of unconditional support and solidarity to innumerable initiatives – big or small, local or national. An independent left outside of political Party factionalism was a dream and always a part of his ideological frame, somethings which guided his associations with many autonomous processes. To name a few, Coalition of Nuclear Disarmament and Peace, Aman Ekta Manch, Delhi Solidarity Group, Sangharsh, the People’s Council for Shrinking Democratic Spaces (PCSDS), Jan Adhikar Andolan, Nation for Farmers, Bhumi Adhikar Andolan, and so many other processes and movements, the list is too long to be counted. He was instrumental in creating a space which became the harbinger for so many campaigns around toxic waste, nuclear waste, UID, neo-liberal attack on education, rights defenders and so on were launched over the years. He remained committed to the ethics of solidarity, self-reflection, and critical engagement, which he would often refer as sawaliya sanskriti. He disagreed politically—often, sharply—but never disengaged and that’s the reason that when needed he became part of so many processes where Left parties played a crucial role. His belief that differences are not divisions was rooted in a deep democratic sensibility.

In 1995, he founded the Popular Education and Action Centre (PEACE)—not as just another NGO, but as a capacity-building organisation committed to popular education. PEACE was built on the belief that education could be a transformative tool—especially for the oppressed and marginalised. It sought to enable people to critically examine the structures affecting their lives, and to engage with the world in ways that disrupted the status quo. In that, he found the Marxist framework and used Marx, Lenin and Mao to his own interpretation of South Asian reality.

PEACE became known for advancing the philosophy of Sawaliya Sanskriti—the culture of questioning. Anil da strongly believed that questioning, especially by the marginalised, is a radical political act. It is through questioning that we begin to peel away the “constructed realities” that hide injustice, as Paulo Freire taught us, and begin to build political consciousness rooted in lived experience.

Participants in PEACE’s training programmes came from field-based social action groups across India—organising on land, forest, water, displacement, and social rights. The pedagogy focused on creating safe, supportive, democratic spaces where learners could engage in dialogue, return to their communities to apply what they’d learned, and come back with reflections. The learning was cyclical, political, and rooted in the movements participants belonged to. In the words of PEACE, “Those who own the issue must own the struggle. Those who own the struggle must lead it.” That principle guided Anil da’s life and work.

Importantly, PEACE did not engage in direct community action. Instead, it saw itself as a supporter of social movements, offering tools, reflection, and training. Anil da insisted that organisations should never replace or co-opt people’s struggles. “The issue belongs to the people. So must the leadership,” he would often say.

His pedagogy was steeped in the Freirean idea of critical consciousness—that social change begins with people becoming aware of the hidden structures of power that shape their lives. And for Anil da, power was not abstract. It lived in relationships: between citizen and state, between the landless and landowner, between men and women, between adults and children, even between human beings and nature. He believed that when individuals begin to ask critical questions about these relationships, they begin to reclaim their agency.

A Political Thinker and Movement Builder

Anil da’s understanding of Indian civil society was deeply historical and nuanced. He often spoke about the shift from community-based voluntary efforts in the post-Independence years to the increasingly professionalised, bureaucratised, and externally funded NGO sector 90s onwards. He worried that this shift was disconnecting civil society from grassroots movements and democratic politics. He was wary of external influences, including large donors, and remained deeply critical of organisations that lost sight of their political purpose in the pursuit of funding or recognition. He was perhaps one of the best analysts around on the transformation of feudalism in the context of South Asia and how 90s shaped India in a much perverse way for which he never shied away from attacking Congress. Pre or post 2014, he never missed an opportunity to attack the fundamentals of the Congress politics in Indian history, which to him was not only represented by the dual mix of Nehruvian and Gandhian frameworks, but also had abandoned the framework of welfare, social democracy and equality which paved the way for the communal and neo-liberal politics of BJP.

His brief association Voluntary Action Network India (VANI) in the 1990s was aimed at articulating a collective identity for India’s voluntary sector, from which he moved on once differences developed, leading to founding of PEACE. He also played an important role in INSAF (Indian Social Action Forum), which brought together over 750 organisations across the country on issues of displacement, environmental justice, and civil liberties. Later, he was among the key figures behind the Coalition for Nuclear Disarmament and Peace (CNDP), which emerged after India’s Pokhran nuclear tests in 1998 or formation of Aman Ekta Manch after 2002 riots.

In recent years when several NGOs and civil organisations faced scrutiny or several critical voices lost their FCRA—he stood his ground. He defended several CSOs with which he was associated as transparent, legally sound, and rooted in the Constitutional values. What troubled him was not just the attack on NGOs, but the shrinking of democratic space and the erosion of critical public discourse. He was never to backdown from any challenge and continued to come up with campaigns and extended support to processes, be it the People’s Council for Shrinking Democratic Spaces (PCSDS) or Committee Against Assault on Journalists (CAAJ).

A Legacy of Thoughtfulness and Trust

Anil da’s strength lay in how he engaged—with movements, with people, with ideas. He had the rare ability to be both deeply political and profoundly kind. He could critique you and support you in the same breath. He made time for everyone, whether you were a young intern just finding your way or a seasoned activist navigating difficult terrain.

He also left behind a political culture—of mutual respect, long-term commitment, and thoughtful disagreement. He reminded us that organisations must serve people, not the other way around. That we are here to strengthen movements, not build careers. That leadership is about trust, not authority.

In recent years, when his ability to travel was limited, he remained a constant presence in our lives through forwarded essays, long emails, and thought-provoking messages. These were not just information dumps; they were ways of continuing the political dialogue, of nudging us to reflect more deeply, act more thoughtfully, and remain grounded.

It is hard to say goodbye to someone who was so much a part of our collective journey. He would have refused a grand farewell. But this much must be said: he mentored us, challenged us, supported us, and changed us. In ways big and small, he helped shape the Indian civil society landscape—not from the stage, but from behind the scenes.

For Anil da, process was always more important than recognition. And yet, in choosing the process, he left behind something far more lasting than fame: he left behind a political culture that continues to thrive in collectives, organisations, and individuals across the country.

Rest in power, comrade. You will be deeply missed.

But your ideas, your questions, and your example will continue to guide us.

Madhuresh Kumar is a former National Convener of National Alliance of People’s Movements (NAPM India)

Courtesy: CounterCurrents

The post He Chose the Process, Not the Spotlight: Remembering Anil Chaudhary (5th June 1951 – 14th April 2025) appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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The recent applications were filed in response to the ongoing misuse of anti-conversion laws by several states. The petition was heard by a bench comprising Chief Justice of India (CJI) Sanjiv Khanna and Justice Sanjay Kumar.

Within weeks of the ordinance being first enforced in Uttar Pradesh in 2020 and then being passed as a law (2021) incidents of assault, violence and intimidation against adult couples, especially those belonging to marginalised sections were reported, and these in the past four years plus, have only intensified.  Set in its path the Uttar Pradesh government however, further amended the law last year in 2024, amending sections to further enhance punitive measures, both monetary and penal for those that the state considers “offenders.” CJP’s present applications incorporate these developments.

Senior Advocate CU Singh, representing CJP, argued that the anti-conversion laws were being “weaponised” to target specific communities and interfaith couples, stressing that the laws were being misused repeatedly. Singh requested the bench to issue a notice on the application for interim relief to prevent further misuse of these laws, which he claimed were infringing upon individual freedoms, including the right to marry across faiths. He also urged that the most damaging sections be stayed until the final hearing of the matter.

In response, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta countered, stating that there were no instances of misuse to support the claims made by CJP. At this point, CJI Khanna instructed Attorney General R. Venkataramani to review the various petitions and instances being highlighted, and inform the Court which applications the Union government may not oppose, while also filing responses where objections existed. The Court directed that non-applicants submit their responses to the applications, even in the absence of a formal notice being issued. The matter has now been scheduled to be heard again on a non-miscellaneous day, ensuring that proceedings would move forward expeditiously.

The hearing that took place on April 16 formed part of a larger challenge to the constitutionality of anti-conversion laws, with CJP asserting that such laws violate individuals’ freedom of choice and the right to choose their religion. Additionally, Jamiat Ulama-i-Hind has also filed a transfer petition to have 21 cases pending in six High Courts consolidated before the Supreme Court. In Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh, High Courts have granted partial stays to some sections. These interim orders have also been challenged by these state governments before the Supreme Court.

Details of the IA filed by CJP

The interim application (IA) filed by Citizens for Justice and Peace in the Supreme Court is aimed at emphasising how the practice of the law –over the past four years and more –has resulted in widespread mis-use, to further enhance the original argument on constitutionality of the statutes. The IA contains a detailed table of reported instances of mis-use and attacks on fundamental freedons of life and choice especially from Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Madhya Pradesh. The application specifically addresses the pattern of abuse of these laws to target women, couples and also to harass minorities, including Christians and Muslims, under the pretext of ‘regulating religious conversions.’

The CJP has contended that these anti-conversion laws, although allegedly framed to prevent forced conversions, are being weaponised by far right organizations and state authorities to falsely accuse individuals, create a climate of fear, and discriminate against minorities. One of the key concerns highlighted in the IA is the pattern of abuse by far right groups, who use these laws to initiate false complaints and pressure law enforcement to act against individuals or communities, often without any credible evidence. In several instances, these complaints are lodged by third parties with vested interests, such as organisations or individuals aligned with right-wing political agendas, rather than the individuals or families affected by the alleged conversions.

The application further argues that the laws do not provide adequate safeguards against misuse, with one of the major concerns being the tendency of state authorities to act on complaints without conducting any preliminary inquiry or verification. This has led to arbitrary arrests, detentions, and the imposition of social and legal stigma on the accused, particularly from minority communities. The CJP has urged that the Court issue detailed guidelines mandating a pre-FIR inquiry by competent authorities to prevent the misuse of these laws. The organisation has emphasised that such safeguards are necessary to ensure that the laws are not used for political or social persecution, which is the current trend in certain states.

CJP has also raised the concern that these laws violate fundamental rights, including the right to freedom of religion and the right to live with dignity. The application has cited multiple instances where individuals, particularly from marginalized communities, have been wrongfully accused under these laws, leading to their harassment, societal alienation, and even criminal charges based on unfounded allegations. This is particularly evident in Uttar Pradesh, where the law has been used extensively to target Muslim communities, despite there being no evidence of forced conversions.

A significant concern raised in the IA pertains to the 2024 amendment to the Uttar Pradesh Prohibition of Unlawful Conversion of Religion Act. This amendment removed a key safeguard that had previously limited the filing of complaints to the person whose conversion was allegedly coerced or their immediate family. Following the amendment, any individual—including politically motivated third parties or members of Hindutva groups—can now lodge a complaint, regardless of their relationship to the concerned parties. CJP has argued that this has legitimised and expanded the role of communal vigilantes, allowing them to misuse the law to harass consenting adults in interfaith relationships, often with the support or inaction of law enforcement agencies. Additionally, stringent punishments have also been introduced through the said amendment.

In light of these abuses, the CJP has requested urgent judicial intervention from the Supreme Court. Specifically, the IA seeks interim relief in the form of directions to the authorities to ensure that no FIR is registered under the anti-conversion laws without a thorough investigation and a genuine, evidence-based complaint. It has also urged the Court to consider issuing interim guidelines that would prevent the automatic registration of cases and would impose a more rigorous procedural requirement before such charges can be brought.

The application stresses that these anti-conversion laws, instead of protecting individual rights, have become tools for furthering divisive and discriminatory agendas, violating the constitutional guarantees of equality and religious freedom. By seeking these safeguards and judicial oversight, CJP hopes to curb the misuse of these laws and ensure that they are not used to further religious persecution or target specific communities under the guise of religious freedom.

Brief background of the petition

In February 2021 notice had been issued to Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Madhya Pradesh and Himachal Pradesh. Then in 2023, the Supreme Court had issued notice to five states—Chhattisgarh, Gujarat, Haryana, Jharkhand, and Karnataka—following a renewed challenge to their anti-conversion laws. This petition, filed by Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), was a continuation of their previous challenge to similar laws in Uttar Pradesh, Himachal Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Uttarakhand. 

The CJP writ petition, amended in 2023, challenged the constitutionality of anti-conversion laws passed by these states, arguing that these laws violate fundamental rights, particularly the freedom of individuals to marry and convert based on their personal choices. This renewed challenge followed CJP’s initial petition in 2020, which led to the issuance of notices by the Supreme Court. The Court had granted CJP permission to amend its original writ petition to include newer anti-conversion laws enacted in additional states. The petition contends that the laws have been weaponised to harass and intimidate interfaith couples, often under the guise of combating “Love Jihad.” According to CJP, the laws not only infringe on personal freedoms but also legitimize discriminatory and unconstitutional practices that target minorities, especially women, and exacerbate communal tensions.

This table, computed for the CJP’s 2020 petition and presented to the Court, computes the most egregious sections of the law in some of these states:

Central to CJP’s arguments has been the assertion that the anti-conversion laws create an atmosphere of suspicion around interfaith marriages, subjecting them to legal and social scrutiny. These laws equate conversion for marriage with coercion, fraud, or force, thus casting a shadow over consensual, interfaith unions. The petition had highlighted several troubling provisions, including mandatory prior and post-conversion reporting requirements, vague and overbroad definitions of “inducement” or “allurement,” and a reversed burden of proof, which forces individuals to prove that their conversion and marriage were not coercive. CJP has argued that such provisions violate key constitutional rights, including the right to privacy, autonomy, and the freedom of conscience under Articles 14, 21, and 25.

Moreover, CJP has contended that these laws disproportionately target interfaith couples, effectively deterring individuals from exercising their right to choose their partner and religion freely. The petition asserted that the laws, while ostensibly neutral, disproportionately affect certain religious communities and undermine the secular ethos enshrined in the Constitution. By criminalising conversions linked to marriage, the laws place unnecessary hurdles in the way of interfaith unions, undermining both personal freedoms and the very fabric of constitutional equality. As the matter progresses, the Court’s eventual decision could have significant implications for the legal treatment of religious conversions and interfaith marriages in India, potentially reshaping the boundaries of personal freedom and religious choice.

Detailed reports may be read here and here.

Related:

SC issues notice to 5 states in CJP’s renewed challenge to anti-conversion laws

CJP plea against anti-conversion laws: SC seeks to know status of cases challenging ‘anti conversion’ laws in HCs

CJP, other rights groups challenge Maharashtra Govt GR setting up a Committee to “monitor inter-faith marriages”

The post “Anti-conversion laws being weaponised”: CJP urges SC to curb misuse of anti-conversion statutes by states appeared first on SabrangIndia.

He rode camels because they were available

He ate dates because they grew around him

He used Arabic because it was his mother tongue

He covered his head because the sun demanded it.

He used miswak because toothbrushes hadn’t been invented.

He used kohl (surma) because it was a protection against desert sun and sand.

The desert terrain was hot, rough, and full of dust, dirt, and animal waste. He wore his lower garments above the ankles for hygiene, mobility, and durability, not as a divine dress code.

These were tools of his time, not eternal truths

But somehow today, we turn them into markers of piety as if Islam is a costume, not a conscience. Following the Prophet’s Arabian culture is NOT Sunnah.

No my dear Muslim friends. No.

A Muslim in a white thawb is seen as more religious than one in dhoti or any traditional dress

A woman in black abaya is called modest, but one in a saree or jeans with dignity is questioned

A child who learns Arabic alphabets is praised — even if he doesn’t understand them, but a child who reads Quran in Hindi is advised to learn how to read in Arabic.

What are we preserving – faith or performance?

We live in India. Not in tribal Quraysh.Not in the sands of Najd.

But in a country of poetry, diversity, art, and ancient spirituality. We live among Sikhs who believe in service, Hindus who light lamps for love, Jains who preach nonviolence, and Buddhists who renounce hatred.

And instead of growing with that beauty – we fear becoming “less Muslim” or  if we smile during Holi, or greet a neighbour on Diwali, or say – merry Christmas, or light a diya in remembrance, or visit a Gurdwara to pay respect.

Why is your Islam so weak it breaks with kindness?

The Prophet taught mercy, truth, and wisdom.Not brand loyalty to the Arabian Peninsula.

If Islam was meant to be Arab-only, it would’ve stayed there. But it travelled. It adapted.

It bloomed in Persia, Africa, Indonesia, and yes even India.

So why are we now trying to reverse it into cultural regression, when the message was meant to transcend culture?

You can be deeply Muslim and proudly Indian.

You can pray in Arabic and speak in Tamil, Hindi, English, Sanskrit. You can use Chandan, Jasmine, not Oudh necessarily

You can fast in Ramadan and share sweets on Diwali.

You can follow the Sunnah and wear a saree.

You can love the Quran and still find peace in Kabir’s dohas, in Rahim’s couplets, in Amir Khusrau’s verses

You follow Muhammad and still love Guru Nanak. You can listen to Hadith and still listen to Ramayana or read Guru Granth Sahib.

This isn’t syncretism. This is the soul of Indian Islam – a soul that once healed, harmonized, and humbled. Islam doesn’t demand imitation. It demands intention.

You have made culture your qibla, not truth. The Prophet didn’t teach us to erase our identity

He taught us to elevate it with integrity, not imitation.

So yes – you can be deeply Muslim and unapologetically Indian. You are still stronger because you allow your faith to coexist with diversity – the beauty of our country!!

Posted by Munaz Anjum on his Facebook

(https://www.facebook.com/share/p/18f76Liet1/)

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Recording the Centre’s assurance, the Supreme Court noted the following:

• No appointments of non-Muslims to the Waqf Boards or the Central Waqf Council will be made under the amended law until further orders.
• No steps will be taken to de-notify or disturb properties recognised as waqf—whether by user, by court declarations, or prior to the amendment.
• The matter is to be listed for further hearing on May 5, 2025. The union government has a week to file its reply, with rejoinders due within five days thereafter.
• The matter will now be heard under the title: “In Re: Waqf Amendment Act”, marking it as one of constitutional importance.

This order came in a batch of petitions challenging the constitutional validity of the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 on grounds that it violates the rights of the Muslim community and undermines the legal framework governing religious endowments.

Court expresses constitutional doubts over the Act

The three-judge Bench led by Chief Justice Sanjiv Khanna, with Justices Sanjay Kumar and KV Viswanathan, heard detailed arguments over two days, on April 16 and April 17, before recording the Union’s undertakings. The Court’s oral observations reflected deep concern over the potential impact of the amended provisions.

Among the first issues raised was the deletion of “waqf by user”, a legal principle long used to recognise religious endowments based on public use over time. CJI Khanna, during the hearing on April 16, observed that many prominent dargahs, graveyards, and mosques gained waqf status through community usage rather than written instruments. “You are erasing centuries of history,” he cautioned, noting the risk that thousands of such properties could be wiped off waqf registers.

Equally troubling to the Court was the amendment allowing non-Muslims to be appointed to the Waqf Boards and the Central Waqf Council. CJI Khanna pointedly asked the Solicitor General: “Would you allow a non-Hindu on a Temple Trust?”—emphasising that Article 26 of the Constitution grants religious denominations the right to manage their own institutions.

The Court also took issue with provisions enabling district Collectors to initiate de-notification of waqf properties, calling it “very dangerous.” CJI Khanna questioned whether executive officials could be empowered to override judicial orders or undermine waqf declarations made by statutory bodies or courts.

Union backtracks under pressure, assures status quo

Faced with sharp judicial scrutiny, on April 17, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta gave repeated assurances that the government would not take any action under the amended Act that could adversely affect the waqf community until the Court decides on interim reliefs. He undertook that:

• No non-Muslim members would be appointed to any Waqf Board or the Central Waqf Council.
• The government would not de-notify waqf lands, including those identified through user or court proceedings.
• Any decision regarding future implementation would be deferred pending further orders of the Court.

Accepting these undertakings, the Court chose not to formally stay the legislation—respecting the presumption of constitutionality—but recorded the Union’s commitments in its judicial order. The matter will be next heard on May 5, 2025, and the Court directed the union government to file its counter-affidavit within a week. State governments who have also intervened will also place their stand on affidavit within the same days. Following that, all petitioners have been asked to file the rejoinder to the government within a subsequent five days.

Petitions raise fundamental challenges to the amendment

The petitions—filed by Members of Parliament (including from the Congress, AIMIM, DMK, RJD, CPI, IUML, and Samajwadi Party), religious bodies (All India Muslim Personal Law Board, Jamiat Ulema-i-Hind), and civil society groups (such as the Association for Protection of Civil Rights)—raise serious constitutional concerns.

They argue that the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025:

• Violates Article 26, by interfering in the management of religious institutions by permitting non-Muslims on waqf boards.
• Undermines Article 25 and 29, by curbing the rights of Muslims to preserve and manage their religious and cultural endowments.
• Breaches Article 14, by arbitrarily empowering administrative authorities to strip properties of their waqf status.

Among the most contentious provisions are:

• Deletion of “waqf by user”, potentially erasing the status of properties long treated as waqf by local communities.
• Administrative de-notification powers, allowing Collectors to initiate proceedings even where courts have declared properties as waqf.
• A new threshold for creation of waqf, limiting it to Muslims with five years’ standing.
• Reduced representation of women on Waqf Boards.
• Exclusion of waqf properties within scheduled areas and under ASI protection.

Senior advocates Kapil Sibal, CU Singh, and others, who appeared for the petitioners, had pressed for interim relief during the hearings and urged the Court to recognise the immediate threat posed by the law. They described the amendments as a “systematic attempt to dismantle waqf protections” and called it a State-led effort to dispossess the Muslim community of its religious and charitable properties.

The Court, while refraining from granting a stay, had sent a clear signal through its oral remarks and structured case management that it sees the matter as a constitutional test of legislative overreach into religious freedoms.

What lies Ahead

The next hearing in the week of May 5, 2025 will be crucial, as the Court will consider whether the undertakings given by the union are sufficient, or if formal interim orders are warranted. It is also expected to delve deeper into the core constitutional questions: Can the State interfere with the internal management of religious endowments? Does deleting “waqf by user” constitute historical erasure? Can administrative officers override judicial declarations?

In a political and legal climate increasingly hostile to minority rights, the Court’s intervention has come as a relief for many. However, this is only the beginning of a prolonged battle to safeguard minority rights in India.

Related:

“Urdu Is Not Alien”: Supreme Court reclaims the language’s place in the Indian Constitutional fabric

SC to UoI on Waqf Amendment: ‘Are you willing to allow Muslims on Hindu endowment boards?’

When Courts Fail Survivors: How patriarchy shapes justice in sexual offence against women cases

The post Waqf Amendment Act 2025: SC grants some time to Centre on condition no non-Muslims appointed to Board, Council & no change in any Waqf status appeared first on SabrangIndia.

While paying lip service to Ambedkar, RSS Chief Mohan Bhagwat equated him to RSS Founder K.B. Hedgewar, “Both dedicated their lives to social progress and held a common aspiration for nation’s growth”. Now what is common between Ambedkar’s dream of social equality, democratic, federalism, abolition of caste and RSS founder’s vision of a Hindu nation, based on the ancient holy books upholding caste system and patriarchy? These are polar opposites. But as paying tribute to Babasaheb has become mandatory for all for electoral compulsions, Bhagwat has to stretch things to pull Babasaheb in the ambit of list of their icons.

Not to be left behind, Narendra Modi, the Prime Minister of India went on to criticise the Indian National Congress “Congress has become the destroyer of Constitutions. Dr Ambedkar wanted to bring in equality… Babasaheb wanted every poor, every backward to be able to live with dignity and with their heads held high, to have dreams and complete them…Congress has always treated SCs, STs, and OBCs as second-class citizens.”

In a way Narendra Modi is distorting the facts. It is true that Ambedkar was critical of Congress and Gandhi at various occasions; still it was Congress and Gandhi with whom he interacted maximally to achieve his goal of social equality in particular. Gandhi is much criticized for betraying the cause of Dalits. ‘Poona Pact’ has come under severe criticism, but all said and done this was the most practical step towards affirmative action for Dalits. Gandhi was so touched by Ambedkar’s positions that he understood the ills of caste in a deeper way and made eradication of untouchability as his major mission for the next two years. Going from village to village, ensuring that Dalits are permitted entry into the temples and are able to draw water from the village wells. This also became the mission for many Congress workers.

This is the time when BJP ideology founders were singing praises for the values of the caste system and arguing that it is this system which has given stability to Hindu society! Ambedkars yeoman service to the nation was recognized by the national leaders and they were keen that Ambedkar should be part of the Constituent Assembly, In her biography ‘BABASAHEB: My Life with Dr. Ambedkar’, Savita Ambedkar quotes correspondence between Dr. Rajendra Prasad, President of Constituent Assembly, Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru, the Prime Minister-elect, Sardar Patel, the Home Minister, G. Mavalankar, Speaker and BG Kher, the CM of Bombay state to stress how all the top Congress leaders were extremely keen to have her husband elected to the Constituent Assembly unopposed. For instance Patel wrote to Mavalankar on July 5, 1947: ‘Dr Ambedkar’s nomination has been sent to PM. I hope there would be no contest and he would be returned unopposed so that he could come here on the 14th.’ “

Congress ensured that Babasaheb won the seat for Constituent Assembly and made its Chairman. The participation and Contribution of Babasaheb, well supported by Congress, yielded the fruit in the form of the Indian Constitution. On the contrary Organiser, the mouthpiece of RSS, the father organization of BJP, came out heavily saying that this Constitution has nothing Indian about it. The ideological mentor cum fellow traveller of RSS, Savakar was against it saying the “Manusmriti is the Constitution for India.”

Same way Ambedkar handled the responsibility of drafting the Hindu Code Bill, with Nehru standing behind him. The Code was opposed by some elements within but mainly by the ideologues of Hindu Nationalism, who went on to burn the effigy of Ambedkar on 12 December 1949. While RSS-BJP are upholding the Brahmanical version of Hinduism Babasaheb had already declared that I was born a Hindu but I will not die a Hindu.

Similarly as RSS was talking of Hindu Rashtra, Babasaheb in revised edition of the book on Pakistan, opposed it on the ground that this may pave the way for Hindu Raj which will be the biggest tragedy for us. BJP’s Hindu nationalist ideology is deeply opposed to Babasaheb’s dream of Annihilation of caste and has been deeply opposed by Modi’s ideology. Modi’s parent organization RSS has floated Samajik Samrasta Manch, which talks about harmony among caste rather than its annihilation.

Currently some ideologues are arguing that since annihilation is not easy, so let us resort to strengthening sub caste identities to get them more privileges! This will be a disaster for the values of our Fraternity, the core principle of Indian Constitution. RSS is also trying to wean sections of Dalits by co-option and social engineering. RSS organizations are also inventing icons of sub communities among Dalits and giving them values of patriarchy, and caste hierarchy along with Anti Muslim slant.

One could see the response of BJP to implementation of Mandal Commission, which was a major step towards social justice. In response, BJP did not oppose it for electoral calculations but instead intensified their Ram Temple campaign. The way BJP is floating the identity issues and derailing the path of social justice is highly despicable. At the same time through various manoeuvres it has also succeeded in turning a section of deprived youth as its foot soldiers who dance in front of mosques with naked swords.

On the top of that it is Rahul Gandhi of Congress who brought to fore the implementation of the Constitution as the major path for social and economic justice. Putting the blame on the plight of Dalits/OBC and neglect of Babasaheb by Congress is like putting the truth on its head! At the same time it is putting the blame of one’s own doings on others.

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author’s personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of Sabrangindia.

The post Standing Truth on its Head: Ambedkar and BJP agenda appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The entire political class is silent.

The ruling party has not attempted to hide what easily could be called its genocidal actions in Bastar. Union home minister Amit Shah proclaims it loud and clear. But no opposition leader raises a voice. On the political stage, otherwise, Shah is cornered on a number of things he does. Except this. There is no delegation to meet the President, no hurried press conference, no demand for a white paper, or an investigation. The opposition seems to act as though it has not heard anything, not seen anything, not noticed anything.

Are we seeing the tragic and evil consensus of India’s political class? Are we witness to the outer limits of the democratic idea of India, even in the best version as proposed by the most progressive forces in India’s parliament? Rahul Gandhi, Mahua Mitra, Shashi Tharoor, Asaduddin Owaisi…they have all been silent.

Some of them might be privately attempting to wash their guilt by avidly following the news of the killings, but it is as though they are following a secret medieval covenant not to say anything in public. True to form, the media doles news of the killings as though these are reports of a natural calamity, like death due to lightning or a thunderstorm. What is there to discuss or deliberate? Nothing at all.

Various political parties represent or claim to represent the different social sections, castes, tribes, regions and religious communities that comprise India. Even Adivasi representatives sit in the parliament. They are all silent. In effect, the parliament is sanctioning vigilante action.

What is the covenant which binds them all? What tells them that it is best to quietly focus on other things, and look the other way?

They seem to agree on a so-called structural necessity of the Bastar killings.

Given this scenario, we must step up and act in conscience. We should lobby and sensitise parliament and go on to appeal to the legislators to uphold a moral conscience and intervene to “save democracy”.

But this will only add to the pool of self-righteousness ailing the world. Instead let us recognise how things really stand. Let us read the writing on the wall. Just pause and take note. And learn about the consensus – the silent and rather lethal consensus – which sustains India’s democracy. We must try to learn about the much vaunted “constitutional morality” the republic serves platitudes about – the constitutional morality which the opposition always claims to struggle to save, uphold and defend.

Perhaps the first thing we get to learn is that the political class as a whole has a common enemy. This opposition to that enemy binds all the stakeholders of India’s democracy. They all fear an enemy. And they must unite to kill and finish off that enemy.

Amidst the fractious squabbling between the BJP and the opposition parties, national and regional, it might be difficult to perceive the internal coherence of the Indian political class and the establishment. So consider this: Manmohan Singh might have declared that Maoists are the greatest internal security threat, but it is Amit Shah who acts on it. So does Salwa Judum and Special Police Officers, the others.

This is an issue on which Shah and Chidambaram are on the same page. If there is one thing RSS and the Congress agree on, it would be this. Secularism and communalism appear as one.

The struggle towards the just that morally and politically legitimises the republic loses its efficacy. The moral fibre of the republic is at its weakest here. No wonder then that the Indian parliament recoils from ever having to come face to face with such deep moral blind spots where hypocrisy runs free.

The post Why Indian Democracy Feels No Shame About the Bastar Killings appeared first on SabrangIndia.

What made the act even more egregious was its violation of a binding Supreme Court ruling in Re: Directions in the matter of Demolition of Structures, which clearly held, and reaffirmed the already granted fundamental rights of the citizens, that state authorities cannot demolish homes merely because the residents are accused or convicted of crimes. In its affidavit, filed through Executive Engineer (Slums) Kamlesh Chavan, the NMC astonishingly claimed it was unaware of the Supreme Court’s directions — a justification that prompted not only judicial rebuke but also public outrage. This case lays bare the persistent dangers of “bulldozer justice”, the misuse of urban planning laws to punish the marginalised, and the systemic failure of state machinery to uphold fundamental rights, especially the right to shelter.

What follows is a breakdown of the sequence of events, the High Court’s intervention, and a critical analysis of the NMC’s defence, including its shocking reliance on bureaucratic ignorance in the face of constitutional obligations.

Background: Demolition in the shadow of violence

On March 21, 2025, Jehrunissa Shamim Khan, mother of Fahim Khan — the accused in a recent incident of communal violence in Nagpur — received a demolition notice from the Nagpur Municipal Corporation (NMC). The notice, issued under the Maharashtra Slum Areas (Improvement, Clearance and Redevelopment) Act, 1971, sought to raze her two-storey home in Sanjay Bagh Colony, Yashodhara Nagar.

On March 24, despite the matter being mentioned before the Bombay High Court earlier that day, NMC authorities carried out the demolition amidst heavy police presence and drone surveillance. The action was described by the civic body’s counsel as a fait accompli, suggesting that the operation had already been concluded by the time legal redress could be effectively sought.

A division bench of Justices Nitin Sambre and Vrushali Joshi, however, took serious note of the NMC’s conduct and stayed further demolition action. It observed that the municipal authorities had prima facie acted in violation of the Supreme Court’s ruling which had clearly held that the State cannot demolish a person’s house merely because they are accused or convicted in a crime. The bench also noted that another accused, Abdul Hafiz, had received a similar notice and his house too was partially demolished. The High Court’s order stayed all further action under the March 21 notices.

The Court made clear that it would evaluate the legality of both the notice and the demolition upon submission of affidavits from the Municipal Commissioner and Executive Engineer.

Detailed report may be read here.

The NMC’s Defence: Unawareness and apology

In compliance with the Court’s direction, the NMC filed an affidavit before the High Court on April 15, 2025, through Kamlesh Chavan, Executive Engineer (Slums). The affidavit opened with an unconditional apology for acting contrary to the Supreme Court’s judgment.

As per a report in the LiveLaw, Chavan stated that “At the outset, I am tendering an unconditional apology to this Court to have made this Court to observe that the authorities have acted against the petitioner’s unauthorised construction in contravention to the judgment of the Supreme Court.”

Additionally, the affidavit claimed that the NMC and its officers were unaware of the Supreme Court’s 2022 judgment as no circulars or guidelines had been issued by the Maharashtra government or the Town Planning Department to that effect. The deponent maintained that no such communication was issued under the Maharashtra Slum Areas Act or by any state department. As such, the demolition was carried out under the provisions of the existing statute, not in conscious disobedience of apex court orders.

The affidavit added that on March 21, police authorities had sought details of the properties of those accused in the violence and asked NMC to act against any unauthorised structures. Upon examining documents, the civic body allegedly found that Khan and others could not furnish sanctioned building plans, leading to the issuance of a demolition notice with a one-day deadline.

The NMC insisted that there was no “malafide intention” in the action taken and that the steps were purely statutory.

‘Ignorance of the Law is No Excuse’: A hollow defence

The NMC’s claim of ignorance is not only legally untenable — it is deeply troubling. The principle that ignorance of the law is no excuse (ignorantia juris non excusat) is foundational to any legal system. This rule applies even more strictly to state actors and public authorities, whose job it is to uphold and implement the law in letter and spirit.

The Supreme Court’s ruling in the 2022 Demolition of Structures case was not an obscure judgment. It was delivered in response to widespread concern over the use of demolition as extrajudicial punishment, particularly against accused persons from minority communities. The Court had also directed all Chief Secretaries of states and Union Territories to issue necessary circulars to local authorities, ensuring dissemination and compliance.

That the NMC never received or acted upon such instructions reflects a systemic failure of governance and communication. But it does not absolve individual officers of responsibility. Civic bodies are expected to stay updated on legal developments, especially those concerning fundamental rights. Pleading ignorance in the face of an explicit and binding Supreme Court ruling reflects negligence at best, and wilful disregard at worst.

Loss of shelter, erosion of dignity

Beyond the legal infractions lies a far more serious human rights issue — the loss of the right to shelter. Article 21 of the Indian Constitution protects the right to life and personal liberty, which courts have interpreted to include the right to live with dignity and the right to shelter. The demolition of Jehrunissa Khan’s home was not just an administrative act; it was an act of dispossession — a violent stripping away of security and dignity from a citizen.

To issue a demolition notice with a mere 24-hour response window, without independent verification or due process, is a mockery of natural justice. That the demolition was carried out even as the matter was mentioned before a constitutional court, makes it all the more egregious.

This is not a case of poor documentation or regulatory lapse. It is a stark example of punitive governance, where bulldozers are deployed not to clear encroachments, but to send a message — one that criminalises not just individuals but entire families and communities. Such state behaviour creates a chilling effect, particularly for vulnerable groups, and sets a dangerous precedent where legal procedure is replaced with brute force.

Conclusion: Accountability, not apologies

The NMC’s apology, while noted, is wholly inadequate. A mere expression of regret cannot compensate for the unlawful demolition of a home, especially when that act violated Supreme Court directives and was executed in defiance of the High Court’s consideration. Accountability must go beyond symbolic contrition. The officers responsible for authorising and executing the demolition — in disregard of judicial pronouncements — must face disciplinary proceedings, if not contempt action. The Maharashtra government, too, must be held to account for its failure to issue the mandatory circulars despite the Supreme Court’s clear directions in 2014. This lapse enabled civic authorities to act in a legal vacuum, undermining the rule of law and exposing vulnerable citizens to irreversible harm.

This case should not be treated as an isolated aberration. It is a symptom of a larger, dangerous trend — where executive bodies bypass due process and enforce punishment outside the boundaries of law. Such practices threaten to hollow out constitutional protections, erode public trust in institutions, and institutionalise “bulldozer justice” as a state response to dissent and disorder. If courts do not intervene with clarity and firmness, these actions will set precedents that normalise illegality.

The right to shelter is not a favour bestowed by the state. It is a fundamental human right recognised under Article 21 of the Constitution. When that right is violated by state agencies acting with impunity, restitution must include not only accountability, but meaningful and adequate compensation. The destruction of a home cannot be undone — but justice demands that the state provide reparations for the physical, emotional, and psychological toll inflicted on affected citizens. Anything less would amount to tacit approval of executive lawlessness.

The path forward must not merely seek legal correctness — it must reassert the constitutional promise that no person will be deprived of life or liberty except by procedure established by law. That promise was shattered in this case. It now falls upon the judiciary to restore it — not just in courtrooms, but tangibly, on the ground.

Related:

Supreme Court slams Prayagraj demolitions, awards Rs. 10 lakh compensation to each six victims for violation of due process

Demolition of Fahim Khan’s house: A political message disguised as law enforcement

Maharashtra Human Rights Commission probes Malvan demolitions after suo moto cognisance

Supreme Court reinforces due process in demolition cases, lays down stringent guidelines to prevent arbitrary demolitions

The post ‘We Didn’t Know the Law’: NMC apologises after illegally demolishing Jehrunissa Khan’s home in Nagpur appeared first on SabrangIndia.

But this was not just a case about signage or statutory interpretation. It was about what place Urdu—and by extension, linguistic and cultural minorities—continue to hold in the Indian republic. Authored by Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia, who presided over the bench of the Supreme Court along with Justice K. Vinod Chandran, the judgment blends legal clarity with cultural wisdom, and reads as much like a constitutional essay as a judicial opinion. It situates the question of language within the broader context of Indian history, identity, and fraternity—invoking not only statutory text but the spirit of the Constitution, the debates of the Constituent Assembly, and the lived realities of India’s multilingual people.

What emerges is not just a dismissal of an exclusionary petition, but a powerful defence of linguistic harmony, cultural coexistence, and the right of every Indian language—especially those spoken by minorities—to be seen, heard, and respected.

The judgment begins with a line from Mouloud Benzadi that sets the tone for what follows:

“When you learn a language, you don’t just learn to speak and write a new language. You also learn to be open-minded, liberal, tolerant, kind and considerate towards all mankind.”

Facts of the case

The petition was filed by Mrs Varshatai, a former member of the Municipal Council, who objected to the use of Urdu in any form, including on signage. Her argument was that the Maharashtra Local Authorities (Official Languages) Act, 2022, permitted only Marathi. The Municipal Council had earlier rejected her plea by a majority resolution dated February 14, 2020, noting that the use of Urdu had been longstanding—since 1956—and that a significant portion of the town’s population was Urdu-speaking.

The appellant then moved an application under Section 308 of the Maharashtra Municipal Councils Act, 1965, before the Collector, who allowed it, citing a government circular that mandated 100% use of Marathi in government proceedings. However, this was later set aside by the Divisional Commissioner, leading to a challenge before the Bombay High Court, which dismissed her petition. She then filed a Special Leave Petition (SLP) before the Supreme Court.

During the pendency of the case, the 2022 Act came into force. In an earlier round, the Supreme Court disposed of the SLP, stating that the High Court order may not stand in light of the new law but leaving it open to the aggrieved party to seek appropriate remedy. The matter was then heard afresh by a division bench of the High Court, whose ruling in favour of the Municipal Council was challenged once again—bringing the issue back before the Supreme Court.

The final decision, delivered on April 15, 2025, rejected the challenge and upheld the High Court’s ruling.

The legal position and the Court’s reasoning

The Supreme Court first dealt with a procedural infirmity in how the challenge to the Municipal Council’s resolution was brought about. The appellant had approached the Collector under Section 308 of the Maharashtra Municipal Councils Act, 1965, seeking suspension of the Council’s decision to retain Urdu on its signboard. However, a crucial amendment to Section 308 in 2018 had changed the law: after this amendment, the Collector can no longer act on complaints made by individuals or councillors, even if they were former members. The power to bring a resolution to the Collector’s attention rests solely with the Chief Officer of the Municipal Council.

The Court made this limitation clear:

“After the amendment… the Collector can exercise powers only when the Chief Officer of the Municipal Council brings it to the Collector’s notice… In this case, the application was admittedly not made by the Chief Officer… which should not have been entertained in the first place.” [Para 11]

In other words, the entire chain of proceedings initiated by the petitioner before the Collector was legally untenable from the outset, as she had no standing under the amended law to invoke the Collector’s jurisdiction. This aspect alone could have disposed of the case. However, given the persistence of the challenge and the deeper constitutional concerns it raised, the Court moved to examine the substance of the matter as well.

At the heart of the substantive issue was the interpretation of the Maharashtra Local Authorities (Official Languages) Act, 2022—a law that declares Marathi as the official language for all local government bodies in the state. The petitioner’s argument hinged on a narrow and rigid reading of this Act—that once Marathi was declared the official language, the use of any other language, including Urdu, became impermissible.

The Court decisively rejected this interpretation, emphasising that the Act mandates the use of Marathi for official communication, but does not prohibit the use of additional languages for supplementary or public-facing purposes, such as signboards. It quoted the High Court’s clear reading of the law:

“All that [the Act] does, is to ensure that the business and affairs of the Council, are to be conducted in Marathi language… it does not prohibit use of an additional language… the use of an additional language… would not indicate any violation of the provisions of the Act of 2022.” [Para 14]

The Supreme Court agreed with this view, observing:

“The High Court to our mind rightly concluded that the 2022 Act, on which the appellant placed significant reliance, does not prohibit the use of an additional language, which is Urdu in the present case, on the signboard of the Municipal Council building.” [Para 15]

This distinction—between mandating a language and prohibiting others—is constitutionally important. The 2022 Act ensures that Marathi is used, but does not insist that it be used exclusively. As such, Urdu can co-exist on a signboard without violating the law.

Further, the Court reframed the debate entirely by shifting attention from legality to constitutional purpose. Why use Urdu at all? The Court’s answer was simple but deeply rooted in the values of inclusivity and effective governance:

“The purpose here for the use of Urdu is merely communication. All the municipal council wanted to do was to make an effective communication.” [Para 19]

This clarity of purpose is crucial. The use of Urdu on the signboard was not a political gesture or an assertion of religious identity. It was a functional, inclusive, and locally appropriate decision, intended to reach and welcome a section of the population that reads Urdu. The Court highlighted that this was neither new nor radical—Urdu had been used on the Patur Municipal Council’s signage since 1956.

Finally, in what is arguably the most important paragraph in terms of grounding the decision in the lived realities of governance and citizenship, the Court stated:

“Coming to the present case, it must be stated that a Municipal Council is there to provide services to the local community of the area and cater to their immediate day-to-day needs. If people or a group of people, residing within the area covered by the Municipal Council are familiar with Urdu, then there should not be any objection if Urdu is used in addition to the official language i.e. Marathi, at least on the signboard of the Municipal Council. Language is a medium for exchange of ideas that brings people holding diverse views and beliefs closer and it should not become a cause of their division.” [Para 46]

This is where the Court moved beyond a narrow legal resolution and reminded the petitioner—and the country—that language, at its best, is a bridge, not a barrier. The Municipal Council exists to serve the community—not to assert a singular linguistic identity at the cost of alienating others. If part of the community reads Urdu, there is no reason—legal, moral, or constitutional—to exclude it from a signboard.

By recognising this, the Court reclaimed the space of local governance as one that is responsive to local needs, identities, and realities, not one dictated by abstract notions of linguistic nationalism.

A powerful history lesson

Where this judgment truly shines is in its cultural, historical, and constitutional depth. The Court does not stop at interpreting a statutory provision or addressing procedural irregularities. It goes much further—into the idea of language as identity, as history, and as belonging. In doing so, it delivers a clear and courageous rebuke to the growing communalisation of Urdu and the false binaries that have been constructed around it.

The Court directly confronts the widespread tendency to associate Urdu with Islam, and to treat it as a foreign or sectarian language. It challenges this prejudice head-on by making a series of powerful and clarifying declarations. Perhaps the most quoted and impactful of them is this:

“Let our concepts be clear. Language is not religion. Language does not even represent religion. Language belongs to a community, to a region, to people; and not to a religion.” [Para 17]

This simple but profound line dismantles the politicised narrative that seeks to conflate Urdu with a religious identity. It restores to language its proper meaning—not as a marker of religious belonging, but as a tool of expression, identity, memory, and connection. Language, the Court reminds us, cannot be confined to a single group or cast as exclusive to one faith.

The Court deepens this point by offering a civilisational and cultural defence of Urdu, recognising it as a product of the ganga-jamuni tehzeeb—India’s long-standing tradition of cultural syncretism, particularly in the northern and central plains.

“Language is culture. Language is the yardstick to measure the civilizational march of a community and its people. So is the case of Urdu, which is the finest specimen of ganga-jamuni tahzeeb, or the Hindustani tahzeeb, which is the composite cultural ethos of the plains of northern and central India. But before language became a tool for learning, its earliest and primary purpose will always remain communication.” [Para 18]

By invoking this shared cultural history, the Court reclaims Urdu as Indian, not just linguistically but emotionally and historically. It reminds us that Urdu is not a cultural intruder—it is a civilisational creation, a language born out of coexistence, shared spaces, and mutual exchange. The judgment acknowledges that Urdu’s elegance, refinement, and poetic tradition are the legacies of this syncretic past, which the Constitution was meant to preserve, not erase.

The Court also situates this discussion in constitutional history, tracing how Hindi and Urdu were not seen as oppositional or incompatible during the freedom movement and in the early years of the republic. Instead, they were regarded as two forms of the same evolving language—Hindustani—that could serve as a common national medium. The Court draws on the work of Granville Austin, whose scholarship on the Constituent Assembly debates and post-independence linguistic compromise is widely regarded as authoritative.

Referring to the language debates before and after Partition, the Court notes:

“Partition killed Hindustani and endangered the position of English and the provincial languages in the Constitution.” [Para 34]

This line, taken from Austin, captures the tragic turning point at which a shared language—Hindustani, made up of both Hindi and Urdu—was discarded, and its components polarised. Urdu, in particular, bore the brunt of this rupture. The judgment acknowledges that post-Partition nationalism rejected Urdu not because of linguistic reasons but because of political and communal ones—a move that was neither just nor historically accurate.

The Court quotes Jawaharlal Nehru, who had been a staunch advocate of Hindustani as the people’s language—a bridge between Hindi and Urdu, and a language capable of uniting India’s many regions:

“Hindustani (Hindi or Urdu)… is bound to become the all-India medium of communication, not displacing the great provincial languages, but as a compulsory second language.” [Para 31]

This vision—of Hindustani as an inclusive, flexible, people’s language—was derailed by Partition, but the judgment shows that it remains constitutionally relevant even today. By citing Nehru, the Court not only restores this vision but places its ruling in a long constitutional arc that includes freedom movement ideals, the Constituent Assembly’s balancing act, and post-independence compromises.

The judgment also brings in Mahatma Gandhi, who warned against linguistic purism and the dangers of reducing language to a narrow, communal identity. Gandhi understood language as dynamic and inclusive, and his approach to Hindustani reflected this. The Court quotes him with quiet force:

“To confine oneself exclusively to Hindi or Urdu would be a crime against intelligence and the spirit of patriotism.” [Para 36]

Gandhi’s words underscore that linguistic plurality was never seen as a threat to national unity—it was the foundation of it. In quoting both Nehru and Gandhi, the Court implicitly argues that today’s efforts to banish Urdu from public spaces are not just unconstitutional—they are a betrayal of the nation-building vision of those who fought for India’s independence.

Together, these references and insights make this portion of the judgment a masterclass in cultural constitutionalism. It does not approach the question of language as a dry administrative matter, but as a living symbol of India’s diversity—something that must be protected not just by law, but by respect, memory, and a shared sense of belonging.

By restoring Urdu to its rightful place—as an Indian language, a people’s language, and a constitutional language—the Court reaffirms that inclusion, not exclusion, is the heart of our constitutional identity.

Debunking the myth that Urdu is alien

One of the most important contributions of this judgment is the way it confronts and dismantles the deep-rooted prejudice against the Urdu language—a prejudice that has been allowed to flourish in public discourse, often unchallenged. The Court recognises that the hostility towards Urdu is not grounded in linguistic fact, but in a political fiction, born out of Partition-era anxieties and perpetuated by majoritarian narratives.

In a critical passage, the Court squarely addresses and rebuts the idea that Urdu is somehow foreign or un-Indian:

“The prejudice against Urdu stems from the misconception that Urdu is alien to India… Urdu, like Marathi and Hindi, is an Indo-Aryan language. It is a language which was born in this land.” [Para 27]

This statement is not only accurate in terms of linguistic classification—Urdu, like Hindi and Marathi, evolved from Prakrit and Apabhramsha and belongs to the same Indo-Aryan family—but also essential in its rejection of the false notion that Urdu is inherently Islamic. The Court affirms what should be a basic and accepted truth: that Urdu is Indian in its origins, Indian in its development, and Indian in its usage.

It goes further to remind us that Urdu arose from real, lived interactions among people in India—particularly in the north and centre of the country—where different communities needed to communicate across linguistic and cultural lines. Over centuries, this led to the development of a sophisticated, inclusive, and adaptable language, enriched by multiple traditions and serving as a lingua franca in many regions. In fact, it was not born out of exclusivism, but out of coexistence.

The Court then makes a subtle but powerful observation about the everyday presence of Urdu, especially in the speech of people who may not even recognise its origins:

“Even today, the language used by the common people of the country is replete with words of the Urdu language, even if one is not aware of it.” [Para 37]

This insight challenges the idea that Urdu is used only by a particular religious or social group. On the contrary, the vocabulary of Urdu has become so woven into the fabric of everyday Hindi and Indian speech that it is impossible to separate the two without distorting both. From the language of friendship and affection to politics and cinema, Urdu has left a profound mark.

The Court also offers a striking example of how deeply entrenched Urdu is in the Indian legal system. It lists several key legal terms that are of Urdu origin and are still widely used in courts across the country—even in the Supreme Court, where the official language is English. The judgment notes:

“Urdu words have a heavy influence on Court parlance… Adalat, halafnama, peshi, vakalatnama, dasti…” [Para 38]

These are not minor or incidental terms. They are core procedural and functional terms used in both civil and criminal proceedings, known to every lawyer, judge, and litigant across India. ‘Adalat’ (court), ‘halafnama’ (affidavit), ‘peshi’ (appearance), ‘vakalatnama’ (power of attorney), and ‘dasti’ (by hand)—these are foundational building blocks of legal vocabulary.

This point is underscored further in the next line:

“Even though the official language of the Supreme Court… is English, yet many Urdu words continue to be used in this Court till date.” [Para 38]

In making this observation, the Court underlines an important irony: Urdu is being spoken, written, and relied upon at the highest levels of India’s judiciary, even as efforts continue in some quarters to stigmatise it. This lived reality gives lie to the claim that Urdu is somehow alien or inappropriate for official or legal use.

Together, these points form a comprehensive and compelling rebuttal of the misconceptions surrounding Urdu. The Court not only reaffirms that Urdu is as Indian as any other regional language, but also that it remains active, visible, and essential—not just culturally, but administratively and judicially.

Language as a bridge—not a weapon

In one of the segments of the judgment, the Court engages deeply with linguistic scholarship to challenge the idea that Hindi and Urdu are separate languages. This part of the judgment goes beyond the immediate question of signage and moves into the realm of intellectual history and sociolinguistics, showing how the binary between Hindi and Urdu was not a natural evolution but a consciously created political divide.

To support this, the Court draws on the works of prominent scholars such as Gyan Chand Jain, Amrit Rai, Ram Vilas Sharma, and Abdul Haq—all of whom have extensively studied the origins, development, and mutual influence of Hindi and Urdu.

“It is absolutely clear that Urdu and Hindi are not two separate languages… Even though Urdu literature and Hindi literature are two different and independent literatures, Urdu and Hindi are not two different languages.” [Para 41]

“Hindi-Urdu are not two separate languages; they are basically one and the same… There are no two other languages in the world whose pronouns and verbs are one hundred per cent the same.” [Para 42]

This is an emphatic and almost scientifically framed observation—what unites Hindi and Urdu is not merely poetic sentiment but the structural bedrock of language. The judgment notes that while their scripts differ (Devanagari for Hindi, Perso-Arabic for Urdu), and while each has drawn vocabulary from different classical sources (Sanskrit for Hindi, Persian and Arabic for Urdu), their spoken forms remain nearly indistinguishable in everyday use across north India.

In referencing Amrit Rai’s influential work, the Court aligns itself with the understanding that Hindi and Urdu emerged from the same linguistic root—Hindavi or Hindustani—and that the divide between them was sharpened over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, not by natural evolution but by colonial language policies and post-Partition communal politics. Amrit Rai’s thesis, A House Divided, showed how political forces came to assign communal identities to languages that had once coexisted fluidly.

The judgment does not stop at historical analysis—it goes further to expose the consequences of this artificially constructed divide. By making language a marker of religious identity, a shared cultural and linguistic inheritance was fractured. Urdu came to be falsely viewed as “Muslim”, and Hindi as “Hindu”—a split that ignored centuries of shared grammar, mutual influence, and bilingual expression in the public sphere.

These scholarly citations give the judgment a rare academic depth. It is unusual—though deeply welcome—for the judiciary to cite literary historians and linguists so prominently. And yet, in doing so, the Court performs a vital task: it returns the conversation about language to the terrain of fact, scholarship, and nuance, rather than leaving it to be defined by prejudice and politicised emotion.

And then, poetry

The judgment ends with a poetic flourish, quoting Iqbal Ashhar’s nazm where Urdu speaks for itself:

““urdu hai mirā naam maiñ ‘Khusrav’ kī pahelī

kyuuñ mujh ko banāte ho ta.assub kā nishāna

maiñ ne to kabhī ḳhud ko musalmāñ nahīñ maanā

dekhā thā kabhī maiñ ne bhī ḳhushiyoñ kā zamāna

apne hī vatan meñ huuñ magar aaj akelī

urdu hai mirā naam maiñ ‘Khusrav’ kī pahelī” [Para 48]

“Urdu is my name, I am the riddle of ‘Khusrav’

Do not hold me for your prejudices

I never considered myself a Muslim

I too have seen happier times

I feel like an outsider in my homeland today

Urdu is my name, I am the riddle of ‘Khusrav’”

The Court then reflects:

“Let us make friends with Urdu and every language. If Urdu was to speak for herself, she would say…” [Para 48]

A verse that speaks of belonging, alienation, and identity—reminding the reader that Urdu, like any other Indian language, asks not for supremacy, but for space to exist.

Why this judgment is important

This is more than a legal ruling—it is a profound affirmation of India’s constitutional soul. It reasserts that the Constitution protects not only freedom of religion, but freedom of language, identity, and culture. India’s commitment to pluralism is not merely symbolic—it is embedded in its constitutional text and historical experience. This judgment operationalises that commitment with clarity and courage.

It is important because:

• It clarifies the law, confirming that there is no legal bar on using additional languages like Urdu on public signboards under the 2022 Act.
• It safeguards linguistic and cultural rights, especially of minority communities, and affirms that state recognition does not require the exclusion of others.
• It dispels the myth that Urdu is alien, asserting its deep roots in India’s linguistic heritage and constitutional imagination.
• It confronts majoritarian narratives, refusing to allow language to be communalised or weaponised.

This judgment stands out for its clarity, depth, and conviction. It does not merely interpret a statute or settle a procedural flaw—it reaffirms foundational constitutional values. By recognising the legitimacy of linguistic diversity and rejecting efforts to erase or marginalise a language rooted in India’s soil, the Court has underscored that governance must serve all, not just the dominant voice. In doing so, it reminds us that the Constitution protects not just rights in the abstract, but the dignity of communities, cultures, and the many languages in which India speaks.

The complete judgment may be read here.

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Uttarakhand HC orders unsealing of Madrassa, SC steps in to hear Jamiat’s petition against Dhami govt’s crackdown against Madrassa

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Senior Advocate Navroz Seervai, appearing for Kamra, argued that none of the offences mentioned in the FIR were made out and asserted that the criminal justice process was being weaponised to harass and intimidate the comedian for his political satire. The FIR, he submitted, was registered merely 70 minutes after the complaint was lodged—without a preliminary inquiry as mandated under Section 173 (3) of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita, 2023 (BNSS), and thus amounted to a procedural violation.

The bench took note of the submissions and concluded arguments on the matter. The Court reserved its order but made it clear that Kamra shall not be arrested in the meantime. This interim relief came in the backdrop of the prosecution’s concession that the summons issued to Kamra was under Section 35(3) of the BNSS, which explicitly provides that arrest is not required in such cases. “In that background, the question of arresting the petitioner does not arise,” the Court noted, as per LiveLaw.

Kamra’s plea also drew attention to the police’s insistence on his physical presence for questioning in Mumbai, despite credible death threats against him. The comedian, who resides in Villupuram, Tamil Nadu, had initially approached the Madras High Court for anticipatory bail, which was granted till April 17. He later moved the Bombay High Court seeking to quash the FIR entirely. His petition further alleged that over 500 threats had been received via email and messages following his performance of a parody song during his recent stand-up act titled “Naya Bharat”, which reportedly included the term “gaddar” in reference to Eknath Shinde’s political defection from Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena to the BJP-led alliance.

The FIR was registered under Sections 353 (1) (b), 353 (2), and 356 (2) of the BNSS, which pertain to speech that allegedly incites or disrupts public order. Kamra, however, maintained that his comments were well within the bounds of artistic and political expression protected by Article 19 (1) (a) of the Constitution. He contended that the case against him was a misuse of state machinery to suppress dissent and artistic freedom.

The Court’s interim relief underscores a critical adjudication on free speech, misuse of criminal law, and procedural safeguards intersect. The outcome of the case is likely to set an important precedent on the extent to which political satire can be legally challenged in contemporary India.

Related:

Comedian Kunal Kamra faces state-sponsored intimidation over satirical remarks on Deputy CM Eknath Shinde

SC: Recent judgment in the Imran Pratapgarhi case, what are police powers under section 173 (3) BNS?

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