The Himalayas hold the headwaters of the Ganga, Yamuna, Sutlej, Beas, Ravi and Chenab, sustaining vast populations downstream. But this is also a young, unstable and seismically active terrain. Glaciers such as Gangotri and Yamunotri are retreating, exposing loose moraine and weakening slopes. Cloudbursts, landslides and debris flows, as seen in Kedarnath in 2013, are therefore not isolated events but warnings from a fragile system. A small slope cutting, tunnel, or river diversion can disturb water channels; dry village springs, or trigger downstream flooding. Despite this, the region has seen rapid hydropower and infrastructure expansion, involving blasting, tunnelling, river diversion and construction across some of India’s most vulnerable mountain valleys.

These pressures have turned the Himalayan High Courts into something they were never designed to be: the last line of ecological defence. Litigants arrive with public interest petitions seeking to stop dams, protect panchayat authority over local resources, and enforce constitutional environmental rights. The question this study asks is not whether these courts occasionally issue protective orders. They do. The question is whether protection is the pattern or the exception. When ecological harm is demonstrated, do these courts hold the line? Or do they find ways to accommodate the project, the corporation, the state plan? By examining judgments the three High Courts — Uttarakhand, Himachal Pradesh, and Jammu & Kashmir, and Ladakh, the third part of a three-part series maps the architecture of environmental jurisprudence in the mountains and identifies where that architecture cracks under pressure.^[1]

The Architecture of Eco-Centric Protection

The Uttarakhand Eco-Centric Doctrinal Expansion (2016-2018)

There are moments in judicial history when a court steps outside its accustomed vocabulary and speaks a different language. The Uttarakhand High Court between 2016 and 2018 was such a moment. The court produced a trilogy of rulings that received criticism for attempting to restate the environmental jurisprudence. They were attempts to reimagine the legal relationship between the state, the citizen, and the natural world. What makes them significant is not just what they held, but what they asked: if a river sustains life, should it not have standing in court?

In Mohd. Salim v. State of Uttarakhand (2017), the court confronted the familiar issue of municipal pollution and encroachment along the Ganga and Yamuna. What it produced was anything but familiar. A Division Bench of Justices Rajiv Sharma and Alok Singh declared these rivers, along with all their tributaries, streams, and torrents, to be legal persons and living entities. This was not metaphor. The Bench exercised its parens patriae jurisdiction to appoint the Director of the Namami Gange project, the Chief Secretary of Uttarakhand, and the Advocate General as guardians acting in loco parentis. The reasoning was stark: rivers breathe. They sustain communities from the glaciers to the sea. To treat them as property is to miss their essence. The court anchored this in Article 21, reading the right to life as extending to the life that the rivers themselves embody.^[2]

Critics have called this approach radical. It was. The traditional legal model treats a river as a thing over which the state has sovereign control, the citizen has riparian rights, and the corporation has extraction permits. Each of these legal relationships assumes the river’s continued existence. None of them guarantees it. By making the river itself a rights-holder, the court inverted the burden of justification.

The doctrinal expansion continued in Lalit Miglani v. State of Uttarakhand (2017), where the same Bench extended legal personhood to the broader ecosystem. Gangotri and Yamunotri glaciers gained rights. So did the air, meadows, forests, wetlands, grasslands, springs, and waterfalls of the state. The court did not stop at declaration. It deployed continuing mandamus to direct twenty-one hydroelectric projects on the Ganga’s mainstream to install functional Sewage Treatment Plants within six months. It ordered the Comptroller and Auditor General to conduct a special financial and compliance audit of all centrally financed Ganga rejuvenation schemes, with the report to be placed directly before the President of India. These were not hortatory observations. They were operational commands backed by the contempt power of the court.^[3]

In Narayan Dutt Bhatt v. Union of India (2018), the court extended legal personhood to the entire animal kingdom. Confronted with the cruelty of commercial horse-carts at the Indo-Nepal border, Justices Rajiv Sharma and Lokpal Singh held that the right to life under Article 21 protects all animals, avian and aquatic. Every citizen of Uttarakhand was declared a guardian in loco parentis. The implications were again, radical. For centuries, animals have been property under Indian law. The Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act treats them as objects of human benevolence. This judgment treated them as subjects of rights. The shift from property to person is not merely semantic. It determines who bears the burden in court. A property owner can do what they please with their property, subject to regulation. A guardian must act in the best interests of the ward. The legal grammar changed from permission to duty.^[4]

The Rishikesh White-Water Rafting Industry case (2018) demonstrated how this eco-centric framework operated in practice. Faced with water pollution, public intoxication, and unregulated adventure sports licensing along the Ganga, the court halted all rafting operations. The Bench explicitly subordinated the importance of regional tourism economy to the importance of ecological health of the river. Commercial activities could resume only when the state implemented a comprehensive, protective regulatory policy. This was the precautionary principle in its purest form: when the ecological stakes are high, activity stops first and proof of safety comes later. The court refused to let commerce continue while regulators deliberated.

The Uttarakhand High Court maintained structural oversight during ecological crises. The Forest Fires Suo Moto Line (2024-2026), initiated by Chief Justice G. Narendar and Justice Subhash Upadhyay, responded to recurring forest fires not with a single order but with sustained administrative reform. The court ordered the state to fill all long-standing vacancies in the Forest Department within six months. It mandated year-round environmental monitoring instead of seasonal tracking. It empowered gram panchayats by establishing village-level fire committees. These orders recognized that environmental protection is not a one-time judicial intervention. It is an ongoing institutional commitment. Forests do not burn because of a single cause. They burn because of cumulative neglect, which includes underfunded departments, absent personnel, and local communities excluded from management. The court addressed the root causes.^[5]

The Himachal Pradesh Community-Centric Protective Model

The Himachal Pradesh High Court demonstrated its protective capacity long before the contemporary era. In General Public of Saproon Valley (1991), the court directed the state to constitute a scientific committee to assess the environmental impact of heavy vehicular traffic through the Solan district and required notification to all project-affected persons before issuing any mining licenses or tree-felling permits. This was three decades before environmental impact assessment became a statutory requirement. The court was operating from first principles: if a project alters the environment, those who live in that environment must know before, not after. The Saproon Valley order established a template that the court would return to repeatedly: protection begins with procedure, and procedure begins with the community.^[6]

The Suo Moto Stone-Crusher PIL Line concerning Bathan and Thural (2019) draws from this community-centric model. Chief Justice Mohammed Rafiq and Justice Sandeep Sharma converted letters from rural residents into public interest litigation. The Neugal River was being destroyed by illegal stone-crushing operations that caused severe slope instability and riverbed erosion. The court’s intervention was swift and targeted. It protected the authority of Gram Panchayat issued No-Objection Certificates against administrative coercion by state industry departments. It enforced strict compliance from the State Pollution Control Board. The precautionary principle was applied at the licensing stage, preventing industrial operations from creating an environmental fait accompli. The court understood what many environmental judgments miss i.e., once a crusher is installed, once a riverbed is mined, once a slope is destabilized, the harm is done. Prevention is the only remedy that works in geographies that are as sensitive as the Himalayas.^[7]

The Gram Panchayats Bhatanwali, Patalia and Behral v. Union of India (2026) extended this procedural protection to federal land-use planning. Local panchayats challenged an Eco-Sensitive Zone notification around the Col. Sherjung National Park in Simbalbara, Sirmaur district. The Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change had omitted required field surveys, land-use inventories, and joint committee formation as mandated by its own 2011 guidelines. Justices Vivek Singh Thakur and Ranjan Sharma quashed the notification. The ruling was technically procedural, but its ecological impact was substantive. A poorly drawn notification that ignores ground realities is worse than no notification at all. It creates legal confusion, invites non-compliance, and discredits the entire regulatory regime. By enforcing proper procedure, the court protected not just the local panchayats but the integrity of the Eco-Sensitive Zone concept itself.^[8]

Another PIL concerning illegal mining in Bageshwar district demonstrated that the Uttarakhand High Court could still act decisively when the harm was visible and immediate. The court took suo moto cognizance and directed the District Magistrate to personally verify illegal mining operations. It constituted a joint committee for ground-level inspection. These were not complex legal questions requiring nuanced balancing. They were straightforward violations of existing law that administrative agencies had failed to prevent. And the court acted swiftly.^[9]

Jammu and Kashmir: Continuity in Wetland and Alpine Protection

The Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court has demonstrated continuity in its protective stance over environment. Its protective oversight of Dal Lake has spanned more than two decades, surviving the major constitutional reorganization of August 2019 and the transition from state to Union Territory. Successive Division Benches led by Chief Justices Pankaj Mithal, Arun Palli, and N. Kotiswar Singh have maintained seamless oversight of one of the most threatened urban water bodies in the world. When the Master Plan 2035 proposed reducing the 200-meter environmental exclusion zone around Dal Lake to a variable 20-to-100-meter limit, the court intervened directly. In September 2024, it ordered that no new permanent construction would be allowed within the original buffer zones. The warning was explicit: unregulated development could undo twenty years of conservation effort in a single construction season.^[10]

This continuity extends to Wular Lake, where a dedicated litigation line ran from 2021 to 2024. The Wular Lake Conservation and Management Authority had proven ineffective. Illegal encroachments continued. Municipal garbage dumping persisted. Dredging operations moved at glacial speed. In August 2024, Justice Rajnesh Oswal rebuked the authority for failing to meet its objectives and wasting public funds. The court’s frustration was palpable. Public money had been provided by the central government specifically for lake restoration. The authority had absorbed it without producing results. The court’s intervention here was not about legal innovation. It was about institutional accountability. Environmental protection requires institutions that function. When they do not, the court must either reform them or replace their functions with its own oversight.^[11]

The Ramsar Wetlands Suo Motu Line aggregated seven internationally recognized sites across Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh, including Hokersar, Shalbugh, Haigam, Surinsar-Mansar, Tso Moriri, and Tso Kar. The court enforced the Wetland Conservation and Management Rules 2017, requiring both Union Territories to coordinate with the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change and technical bodies like IIT Roorkee for Integrated Management Plans. This was strategic environmental governance at scale. Rather than addressing each wetland individually, the court created a unified oversight framework. The Ramsar designation carries international legal obligations. The court ensured that these obligations would not remain paper commitments.^[12]

The Sonamarg Construction Ban case (2017) represents the one of the most pro-active stances of the Court in environment protection. To shield the Thajiwas Glacier watershed and the Sindh River from tourism-induced degradation, the court banned all unapproved constructions within the Sonamarg Development Authority’s jurisdiction. It made the Chief Executive Officer personally liable under contempt law for any fresh unauthorized structures. It ordered a scientific status report directly from the Earth Sciences Department at the University of Kashmir, bypassing standard bureaucratic reporting. This treatment of scientific data as a firm ceiling for development is the antithesis of the balancing approach. Science was not one factor among many. It was the limiting factor. In early 2025, the court reinforced this stance by taking suo moto cognisance of environmental violations in the Gulmarg-Sonamarg road-widening project, converting a newspaper report into PIL and demanding a personal response from the Development Authority’s CEO.^[13]

Structural Cracks and Infrastructure Deference

The Himachal Pradesh Cascade: Hydropower, Mining, and Urban Deregulation

The judgments discussed earlier did protect forests, rivers, lakes, and local communities. However, they are not the usual pattern. In many Himalayan cases, courts speak about balance, development, procedure, and jurisdiction. The language sounds neutral. However, the result often weakens environmental protection.

A clear example is State of Himachal Pradesh v. Yogendra Mohan Sengupta (2024). The NGT had imposed strict limits on height and construction in the Shimla Planning Area. These limits were based on real risks. Shimla sits on fragile slopes. It faces landslides, cloudbursts, and earthquakes. The 2023 monsoon had already shown how dangerous this could be, with major loss of life and damage across Himachal Pradesh.

The Supreme Court lifted those restrictions. It said development and environment had to be balanced. It also held that the NGT could not force the State to frame planning rules in a particular way. On paper, this looked like a technical administrative law issue. In reality, it shifted control back to the State’s planning authorities. These authorities are often more influenced by development pressure than ecological limits.

The Court also distinguished Godavarman, a major forest protection case. This mattered. Instead of treating environmental protection as a strong constitutional duty, the Court treated it as one factor to be balanced against construction. That is the problem. Slopes do not become safer because a plan allows more buildings. Every extra floor adds weight. Every new building adds pressure on water, sewage, drainage, and roads. When the land gives way, the damage is not theoretical. It is physical and often deadly.

A similar problem appears in N.H.P.C. Ltd. v. State of Himachal Pradesh (2024). There, the Himachal Pradesh High Court struck down the State’s water cess on hydropower electricity generation. The Court held that the State did not have the constitutional power to impose such a tax, because electricity generation falls within the Centre’s field. It also ordered refund of the amounts collected.

The reasoning was legal and technical. However, the environmental background was left mostly unaddressed. Himachal’s rivers, including the Sutlej, Beas, Ravi, and Chenab systems, are heavily used for hydropower. These projects divert rivers, tunnel through mountains, change natural flows, and affect downstream communities. The cess was an attempt to make hydropower developers pay at least something for the ecological cost of their projects. By treating the issue mainly as a tax dispute, the Court missed the deeper environmental question. The ecological impact of thirty-plus hydropower projects on a single river basin was never examined. The court’s analysis focused on which level of government has the constitutional power to tax, not on whether the activity being taxed is destroying the resource base that both governments are constitutionally obligated to protect under Article 48A. The ruling thus achieved a double displacement: it removed the state’s financial tool for environmental regulation while legitimizing the fiction that hydropower development is merely an electricity-generation activity rather than a mountain-transforming, river-altering, ecology-disrupting industrial enterprise.

The Alaknanda Hydro Power litigation in Uttarakhand follows an identical pattern. The case centred on environmental clearance for hydroelectric projects on the Alaknanda river system, a major Ganga tributary. The court’s engagement was confined to procedural compliance with environmental impact assessment norms rather than substantive evaluation of cumulative basin-wide impacts. This is the central flaw of environmental litigation in the hydropower sector. Each project is assessed individually. The combined effect of multiple tunnels, multiple diversions, multiple blasting operations on a single geological system is never judicially examined. Environmental scientists have documented the cumulative impact extensively: altered sediment transport, dewatered river reaches, increased seismic stress from reservoir loading, slope destabilization from tunnelling. However, courts continue to treat each project as an isolated legal entity, as if rivers were divisible into segments that can be dammed one at a time without systemic consequence.^[14]

In Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh, the modification of the Sonamarg Construction Ban in June 2024 reveals how even the strongest protective orders can be eroded through incremental exception. The original 2017 ban, issued to protect the Thajiwas Glacier watershed and the Sindh River, was clear: no new construction within the Sonamarg Development Authority’s jurisdiction. The 2024 order, issued by Chief Justice N. Kotiswar Singh and Justice Moksha Khajuria Kazmi, created an exception for the Amarnath Yatra. Temporary structures would be permitted within the protected eco-sensitive zones to accommodate pilgrims. The court attached conditions: the structures must be dismantled after the pilgrimage, the land restored. However, the creation of an annual exception to an ecological carrying capacity is not a minor adjustment. It is a precedent. Next year the structures may be larger. The following year, they may be semi-permanent. The glacier does not distinguish between temporary and permanent human pressure. Ice melts the same way regardless of the legal category of the structure above it.^[15]

The Amarnath Yatra brings hundreds of thousands of pilgrims to a fragile high-altitude ecosystem. The waste generated, the water extracted, the vegetation trampled, the slopes compacted, all exceed the area’s natural absorption capacity. The court’s accommodation of this pressure is often framed in terms of religious freedom and public convenience. However, rights are not absolute when they destroy the resource base that makes them possible. The right to pilgrimage assumes the continued existence of the pilgrimage site. If the glacier melts, if the meadows erode, if the river silts up, there is nothing left to pilgrimage. The 2024 Sonmarg modification, like the Char Dham highway expansion, treats environmental protection as an obstacle to be managed rather than a foundation to be preserved.

3.2 The Uttarakhand Retreat: From Personhood to Procedural Barrier

The Uttarakhand High Court’s trajectory from 2017 to 2026 traces the arc of environmental promise and judicial retreat more starkly. In 2017, it declared rivers to be legal persons. By 2023, it was dismissing local communities for lack of standing. The speed of this reversal is remarkable

The Mohd. Salim and Lalit Miglani judgments were stayed by the Supreme Court in 2017. The stays were procedural. The apex court did not reject the legal personhood doctrine on merits. It simply prevented implementation while the state government’s appeals were heard. However, procedural paralysis is often the most effective form of doctrinal killing. Seven years later, the Special Leave Petition in Lalit Miglani remains pending. The legal personhood of the Ganga, the Yamuna, the glaciers, the forests, exists on paper but not in practice. No guardian has ever filed a case on behalf of the river. No polluter has ever been held liable for violating a river’s rights. The anthropocentric legal system simply could not operationalize a non-anthropocentric legal concept. State authorities argued, predictably, that granting rights to nature created unmanageable liabilities. What they meant was that it would make their development projects more difficult to approve. The Supreme Court’s stay gave them exactly what they needed: time, during which the projects proceeded and the legal innovation fossilized.^[16]

The procedural retreat became explicit in the Tapovan-Vishnugad PIL line following the Chamoli disaster of February 2021, which should have been a turning point. A glacier collapsed above the Rishi Ganga, triggering a debris flow that devastated the area and provided catastrophic physical evidence of hydropower vulnerability. Local residents from the villages of Raini and Joshimath filed public interest litigation seeking the cancellation of the Rishi Ganga and Tapovan-Vishnugad Hydro Projects and the ecological restoration of the affected watershed. However, in July 2021, rather than stopping construction until safety was proven, the Division Bench shifted the focus entirely from ecological risk to petitioner credibility. The court questioned the standing of the local villagers, scrutinized their identities as “social activists,” and characterized the PIL as a “highly motivated” petition filed by “puppets at the hand of an unknown puppeteer”. It dismissed their challenges and imposed financial costs of Rs. 10,000 on each petitioner.

The reasoning in this July 2021 order was purely procedural. The petitioners were found wanting in locus standi, and the court did not examine whether the Tapovan-Vishnugad project violated environmental norms or assess the scientific evidence regarding the future safety and stability of the disaster-prone terrain. It simply ruled that the wrong people had asked the right questions. This is proceduralism as environmental obstruction. When local communities, who are the first to feel the effects of ecological collapse, are denied standing to challenge the projects that cause it, the court removes the most direct form of democratic environmental accountability. It was not until January 2023—a year and a half later, when severe land subsidence had already made parts of Joshimath uninhabitable—that a different Division Bench finally intervened to grant an interim stay, providing the correct but delayed response that construction must halt when a town is sinking.

The Char Dham Pariyojana tells a similar story of procedural enablement of ecological destruction. The Uttarakhand High Court did not issue pre-construction stays. It allowed the project to proceed while litigation continued. By the time the case reached the Supreme Court as Citizens for Green Doon v. Union of India, the physical reality on the ground had changed. Tunnels had been bored. Blasting had occurred. Hundreds of kilometres of road had been cut into mountain faces. The Supreme Court’s December 2021 order, permitting a 10-meter wide double-lane paved shoulder design, was framed around strategic defence needs and national security. The court treated a 2018 Ministry of Road Transport and Highways circular, advising 5.5-meter limits for hilly terrain, as non-binding for strategic corridors. The environmental rule of law was noted, then balanced away. By June 2025, when citizens petitioned the Chief Justice of India for review following fresh disasters in the Bhagirathi eco-sensitive zone, the project’s financial outlays and physical progress had created an institutional fait accompli. The money was spent. The road was built. The review was rendered practically irrelevant by the sunk costs of ecological destruction.^[17]

The Uttarakhand cases show a clear shift. Earlier, the Court took a more protective approach towards rivers, hydropower projects, and animal welfare. In the later cases, however, it was more willing to defer to development decisions, question the maintainability of local petitions, and treat environmental concerns within narrower legal limits. The change is therefore not only in outcomes, but also in the way the Court frames environmental disputes. It is a change in judicial imagination. The 2016-2018 court imagined a world where ecology governed law. The post-2020 court imagines a world where law governs ecology, and that governance takes the form of balancing, procedural filtering, and incremental accommodation of development.

The Commodification of Ecosystems: Compensatory Afforestation as a Readymade Panacea

The jurisprudence of accommodation does not solely rely on procedural dismissals or jurisdictional sidesteps; it fundamentally alters the conceptual premise of environmental conservation by embracing the commodification of nature. When high-value infrastructure projects—particularly national highways and linear corridors—collide with the protective mandates of forest conservation, the Himalayan High Courts frequently adopt the compensatory paradigm, treating complex, ancient ecosystems as fungible assets that can be mathematically replaced.

In Reenu Paul v. Union of India,^[18] the Uttarakhand High Court assessed the ecological impact of infrastructure projects on forest land. Rather than demanding a rigorous, site-specific ecological appraisal or applying the precautionary principle to limit forest diversion, the Division Bench actively encouraged the State Government to identify “land banks” to serve as a repository for compensatory afforestation. The court commended this as a “proactive stance,” observing that a developer coming up with infrastructural development would have a “readymade solution in the form of the afforestation carried out in advance”. The court reasoned that providing developers with pre-packaged land banks ensures that the project’s cost can simply be borne at pre-fixed rates, enabling a “continuous cycle” of development where the state concurrently creates green cover.

This represents the ultimate crack in environmental jurisprudence. By celebrating a “readymade solution” for infrastructure developers, the court legally validated the myth of ecological interchangeability. A mature Himalayan forest—complete with its specific hydrological functions, soil stabilization capacities, and endemic biodiversity—is treated as functionally equivalent to a monoculture sapling plantation on a designated land bank. The language of environmental protection is retained (the court noted this ensures the “green cover is not impacted seriously”), but its application is entirely facilitative.

Sovereign Exceptionalism: National Security and the Eclipse of Community Commons

When the state invokes national security or acute public need, the ecological evidence test is routinely bypassed. The state’s assertion of necessity functions as a jurisdictional shield, neutralizing Supreme Court precedents designed to protect community ecology.

In Inhabitants of Village Dambra v. UT of J&K,^[19] the Jammu and Kashmir High Court confronted the transfer of 148 Kanals and 1 Marla of Shamlat Deh (Mehfooz Kacharai) land—traditional village grazing commons containing forests and ponds—to the Prisons Department for the construction of a High-Security Prison. The villagers argued that destroying the grazing grounds and water bodies violated the Supreme Court’s stringent directives against alienating community commons, arguing the land required preservation.

The Division Bench dismissed the petition, insulating the project using the language of sovereign security. The court observed that the decision to establish such a prison was taken in view of the prevailing situation in Jammu and Kashmir, which is afflicted by terrorist activities abetted by inimical foreign forces. The court explicitly concluded that the construction of a high-security prison serves a public purpose and is “necessary for the security of the nation.” Crucially, the Supreme Court precedents demanding the strict protection of community ecology and grazing lands were not considered. The court ruled that these precedents “could not be invoked to come in the way of an important project required in public interest and for the security of the Nation”. Ecology was not balanced against security and it was rather entirely eclipsed by it.

A similar dilution occurs when the state voluntarily lowers its own environmental regulations to accelerate extraction. In Inhabitants of Sheva Shirshu Doda v. UT of J&K,^[20] local villagers challenged the installation of a stone crusher and hot mix plant in an environmentally sensitive area. The government had promulgated S.O. 60 of 2021, a highly permissive framework that liberalized the mining regime and removed the need for a Mining Department license for stone crushers by redefining them not as mining units, but merely as “processors of minerals”. Faced with this executive rollback of environmental safeguards, the High Court did not invoke the doctrine of non-regression or the precautionary principle. Instead, the court deferred entirely to the state, citing the limited “scope of judicial review of government policy” and declaring that courts cannot act as appellate authorities over executive formulations. By framing the dispute as a matter of administrative policy rather than an ecological one, the court accommodated the industrial degradation of the mountain landscape.

Procedural Myopia: Weaponising Timelines and Standing to Shield Environmental Harm

The most effective judicial mechanism for accommodating ecological harm without directly contradicting environmental law is procedural dismissal. By focusing intensely on the petitioner’s locus standi, timelines, and procedural technicalities, courts successfully, avoid the burden of assessing complex environmental evidence.

The Jammu and Kashmir High Court’s handling of the Rinkoo Sharma v. Union of India^[21] PILs exemplifies this procedural obstruction. Petitioners challenged the de-notification of the protected Trikuta Wildlife Sanctuary to allow for the extraction of high-grade magnesite and a mining project by the National Mineral Development Corporation (NMDC) near the Vaishno Devi Shrine. Rather than demanding a rigorous ecological assessment of mining in a highly fragile wildlife zone, the Division Bench interrogated the procedural posture of the petitions. The court noted that the environmental clearance was subject to the final orders of the Supreme Court, rendering the PILs “pre-mature.”

More significantly, the court weaponized procedural rules against the petitioners. It observed that the petitioners, who were advocates, had failed to comply with Rule 24 of the Writ Proceedings Rules, which mandated sending a prior representation to the concerned authorities before filing a PIL. Because this technical pre-requisite was not met, and because the petitioners failed to disclose the pendency of a related PIL, both petitions were dismissed at the threshold. The substantive reality—the irreversible ecological impact of mining in a protected Himalayan wildlife sanctuary—was entirely bypassed via procedural formalism.

The doctrine of delay and laches serves an identical shielding function. In Sumit Nayyar v. Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Shrine Board ^[22], an advocate filed a PIL challenging the construction of pilgrim infrastructure and mule-track developments by the Shrine Board. The court not only dismissed the petition on the grounds of an eight-year delay and laches, but it also aggressively questioned the bona fides of the petitioner. Citing Supreme Court jurisprudence on frivolous litigation, the court warned that public interest litigation filed by members of the legal profession without serious “home work and enquiry” should be dismissed with exemplary costs to prevent the abuse of the judicial process. By shifting the judicial gaze from the carrying capacity of the Trikuta hills to the conduct and timing of the petitioner, the court effectively insulated the continuous expansion of religious tourism infrastructure from environmental scrutiny.

Conclusion

The environmental jurisprudence of the Himalayan High Courts over the last decade reveals an unsettling paradox: the vocabulary of ecological protection has never been richer, yet the physical landscape has never been more legally vulnerable. The courts of Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, and Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh have masterfully preserved the text of environmental law while pronouncing judgements that blunt its teeth.

When confronted with the relentless march of state-backed mega-projects, cascade hydropower, and strategic corridors, the judiciary rarely mounts its attack on the basis of precautionary principle or the public trust doctrine. Instead, it engages in a sophisticated jurisprudence of accommodation. As this analysis demonstrates, systemic ecological crises are administratively sanitized, neutralized by the invocation of sovereign “national security” overrides, or deflected through hyper-technical applications of locus standi and laches. The courts do not need to explicitly reject environmental safeguards to permit ecological destruction; they simply change the legal subject.

Even when the courts do intervene, the nature of the intervention has decisively shifted from absolute prohibition to facilitative mitigation. Existential threats to glacial watersheds and fragile seismic zones are reduced to logistical challenges—solved by minor mitigation measures, or the transactional fiction of “readymade” compensatory afforestation banks. The strict legal boundary lines once drawn to protect nature are repeatedly erased and redrawn as mere pricing mechanisms or technical compliance hurdles. The state is permitted to lower the statutory bar, and the polluter is legally validated for successfully stepping over it.

In this accommodative framework, the Himalayas are no longer treated as a sacred public trust or an integrated living ecosystem holding intergenerational equity. They are legally framed as a challenging terrain to be engineered, compensated for, and ultimately conquered. The foundational tenets of Indian environmental law were designed as a hard ceiling against irreversible harm, but they have been retooled into a machinery of concession. Until the Himalayan courts stop subordinating substantive ecological survival to procedural formalism and administrative deference, the majestic peaks, rivers, and forests of the region will continue to be hollowed out, with legal sanction and with the judiciary watching on.

Note: The 3-part series is based on strong empirical standing. Part I dealt with substantive high court pronouncements coming from resource rich Central and Eastern India- Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh and Odisha. Part II (Western India) closely examined judgements emerging from the high courts of Bombay, Karnataka and Goa.

Part IV (Northern India) reflects on judgments from Delhi, Punjab & Haryana, Uttarakhand and Allahabad.

(The author is part of the legal research team of the organisation)

^[1] This article forms Part III of a three-part series examining environmental jurisprudence in the Trans-Himalayan High Courts. Parts I and II Central India and Western India respectively.

^[2] Mohd. Salim v. State of Uttarakhand, 2017 SCC OnLine Utt 367, Writ Petition (PIL) No. 126 of 2014, Uttarakhand High Court, judgment dated March 20, 2017.

^[3] Lalit Miglani v. State of Uttarakhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 140 of 2015, Uttarakhand High Court, judgment dated March 30, 2017.

^[4] Narayan Dutt Bhatt v. Union of India, 2018 SCC OnLine Utt 645, Writ Petition (PIL) No. 43 of 2014, Uttarakhand High Court, judgment dated July 4, 2018.

^[5] In the Matter of Forest Area, Forest Health, and Wildlife Conservation (Forest Fires Suo Motu Line), W.P. (PIL) No. 174 of 2024, Uttarakhand High Court, orders dated December 31, 2025 and March 18, 2026.

^[6] General Public of Saproon Valley and Ors. v. State of Himachal Pradesh, Civil Writ Petition No. 595 of 1991, Himachal Pradesh High Court, judgment dated April 24, 1991.

^[7] Court on Its Own Motion v. State of Himachal Pradesh (Bathan, Thural Stone-Crusher Line), CWPIL No. 12 of 2019, Himachal Pradesh High Court.

^[8] Gram Panchayats Bhatanwali, Patalia and Behral v. Union of India, Civil Writ Petition, Himachal Pradesh High Court, judgment dated April 16, 2026.

^[9] In the Matter of Unauthorized Mining and Illegal Construction near Dwarahat (Bageshwar), W.P. (PIL) No. 35 of 2024, Uttarakhand High Court, order dated December 31, 2025.

^[10] Syed Iqbal Tahir Geelani v. State of Jammu & Kashmir, PIL No. 27/2017 (formerly PIL No. 159/2002), Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court, order dated September 12, 2024.

^[11] Kashmir Environmental Protection v. State of Jammu & Kashmir (Wular Lake Line), PIL No. 14 of 2021, Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court, order dated August 22, 2024.

^[12] In Re Protection of Seven Ramsar Wetlands in Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh, Suo Motu PIL No. 35 of 2018, Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court, order dated August 14, 2024.

^[13] Court on Its Own Motion v. Sonamarg Development Authority, PIL No. 27/2017, Jammu and Kashmir High Court, construction ban baseline order dated October 23, 2017. See also Court on Its Own Motion v. UT of J&K & Ors., Suo Motu PIL No. 27/2017, Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court, order dated January 3, 2025.

^[14] Alaknanda Hydro Power Co. Ltd. v. State of Uttarakhand & Others, Civil Writ Petition, Uttarakhand High Court.

^[15] Court on Its Own Motion v. UT of J&K, PIL No. 27/2017, Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court, order dated June 24, 2024.

^[16] The Supreme Court stay in Mohd. Salim was passed in Civil Appeal Diary No. 7699 of 2017. The Lalit Miglani SLP (Civil Appeal Diary No. 7906 of 2017) remains pending as of 2026.

^[17] Citizens for Green Doon v. Union of India, W.P. (Civil) No. 1102 of 2018, Supreme Court of India, judgment dated December 14, 2021.

^[18] Reenu Paul v. Union of India and Others, Writ Petition (PIL) No. 37 of 2025, (2025), High Court of Uttarakhand at Nainital

^[19] Inhabitants of Village Dambra v. UT of J&K Th GAD and Ors., LPA No. 185/2023, (2023), High Court of Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh at Jammu

^[20] Inhabitants of Sheva Shirshu Doda v. UT of J&K and Others, WP (C) No. 639/2022, (2023), High Court of Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh at Jammu

^[21] Rinkoo Sharma v. Union of India, WP PIL No. 02/2012 and WP PIL No. 03/2012

^[22] Sumit Nayyar v. Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Shrine Board and ors., WPPIL No. 14/2016, (2017), High Court of Jammu and Kashmir at Jammu.

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Appearing before a Bench comprising Chief Justice of India Surya Kant, Justice Joymalya Bagchi and Justice Vipul Pancholi, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta stated that the Union had decided, “keeping in view the peculiar facts and circumstances of the case,” to facilitate the return of the deported individuals and examine their claims to Indian citizenship in accordance with law.

“My instructions are, the Government will bring them back, and thereafter will examine their status, and depending on the outcome, will take steps accordingly,” the Solicitor General submitted before the Court, reported LiveLaw.

Senior Advocate Sanjay Hegde, appearing for the affected individuals, urged the Court to formally record the Union’s assurance. The Solicitor General agreed, while clarifying that the statement was being made in the exceptional circumstances of the present case and should not be treated as a precedent for future matters involving deportation or citizenship disputes.

As per LiveLaw, recording the submission, the Supreme Court passed an order stating: “The Solicitor General of India submits that keeping in view the peculiar facts and circumstances of the case, and by not treating it as a precedent to be followed in other instances, the Government of India has decided to bring the respondents back to India and to verify the claim of Indian citizenship. Their continuation in India will depend on the outcome of such enquiry.”

The Solicitor General informed the Bench that the process of bringing the individuals back from Bangladesh could take approximately eight to ten days.

The proceedings arise out of a series of habeas corpus petitions concerning Bengali-speaking families who were deported to Bangladesh in June 2025 during identity-verification operations allegedly conducted under a Ministry of Home Affairs directive. In September 2025, the Calcutta High Court had directed the repatriation of several deported persons, including Sunali Khatun, her husband Danish Sekh and their minor son Sabir Sekh, as well as Sweety Bibi and her two sons, Kurban and Imam. The High Court had sharply criticised the “hot haste” with which the deportations were carried out, observing that the affected individuals were removed without adequate inquiry, without a meaningful opportunity of hearing, and in apparent violation of procedural safeguards contained in the Union Government’s own guidelines.

The present development marks a substantial shift in the Union’s position. Earlier, in December 2025, the Centre had agreed to facilitate the return of Sunali Khatun—who was then in an advanced stage of pregnancy—and her young son on what it described as “purely humanitarian grounds.” At the time, the Supreme Court had underscored the need to balance legal enforcement with humanitarian considerations, remarking that some situations required “law to bend to humanity.”

That earlier intervention had followed disturbing findings by the Calcutta High Court regarding the manner in which the deportations were executed. According to the pleadings before the High Court, the affected families, originally from West Bengal but residing in Delhi for livelihood, were detained during an identity-verification exercise and deported to Bangladesh within five days. The High Court had noted that documentary material, including electoral records relating to the deportees’ family members, prima facie indicated Indian lineage and warranted a fuller inquiry before any coercive action could be taken.

While the Union Government has consistently maintained that the deportations were lawful and that the citizenship claims remain disputed, Friday’s undertaking before the Supreme Court indicates that the affected individuals will now be given an opportunity to establish their nationality status within India before any further steps are contemplated.

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The post Bhodu Sekh Case: Union agrees before Supreme Court to repatriate deported Bengali-speaking individuals pending citizenship inquiry appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In Reham Ali v. UT of J&K, decided on May 13, 2026, Justice Rahul Bharti held that the allegations against the detenue, even if accepted at face value, pertained to issues of “law and order” and not “public order” — a constitutionally crucial distinction that determines whether preventive detention laws may legitimately be invoked.

The Court was hearing a habeas corpus petition filed by Reham Ali challenging his detention under Section 8(1)(a) of the Jammu and Kashmir Public Safety Act, 1978. The detention order, issued by the District Magistrate, Jammu on October 28, 2025, alleged that Ali’s activities were “prejudicial to the maintenance of public order.”

According to the police dossier submitted by the Senior Superintendent of Police, Jammu, Ali had been implicated in seven FIRs between 2022 and 2025. The authorities relied on these FIRs to portray him as a habitual offender involved in “bovine smuggling,” arguing that substantive criminal law had proved insufficient to restrain him.

However, the High Court noted that all seven FIRs stemmed from a common set of allegations — offences under the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, 1960 concerning the transportation of cattle or bovine animals.

The judgment carefully dismantled the administration’s attempt to elevate these allegations into a “public order” issue warranting preventive detention. Justice Bharti observed that, at its highest, the allegations disclosed a conventional law-and-order problem capable of being addressed through the ordinary criminal justice system.

The Court stated:

“This Court has no hesitation to hold that the preventive detention of the petitioner is misconceived by reference to maintenance of Public Order as the petitioner, at the best, is a problem on the law and order side for which the provisions of Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), 2023 are fully equipped if those are meant to be activated by the law and enforcement agency in realistic manner, but since the District Magistrate, Jammu has come up with a very apologetic assessment that ordinary law of the land has failed that assessment cannot form a basis for ordering preventive detention of a person to deprive him of his fundamental right of personal liberty.” (Para 13)

In a particularly sharp observation, the Court criticised the District Magistrate’s reasoning that ordinary criminal law had “failed” to curb the petitioner’s activities. The judgment held that such an assessment cannot justify suspending a person’s liberty through preventive detention.

The Court’s reasoning is significant because preventive detention jurisprudence has consistently drawn a distinction between breaches of “law and order” and disturbances affecting “public order.” While ordinary criminal offences may disrupt law and order, preventive detention is constitutionally permissible only where activities threaten the even tempo of public life or create wider societal disorder. The judgment reiterates that preventive detention cannot become a shortcut for perceived inadequacies in investigation, prosecution, or enforcement under ordinary criminal law.

The Court also took note of the procedural history of the detention. Ali had been taken into custody on November 1, 2025 and supplied with a 174-page compilation relating to his detention. By the time the petition was adjudicated, he had already undergone six months of preventive detention out of the maximum permissible period of one year.

During the hearing, counsel for the petitioner relied on an earlier decision of the same Bench in HCP No. 4/2024 (Hamid Mohd.), where a similar preventive detention order had been examined.

Ultimately, the Court allowed the habeas corpus petition, quashing both the detention order dated October 28, 2025 and the subsequent approval/confirmation order issued by the Union Territory administration. The authorities were directed to immediately release the petitioner from District Jail Poonch or any other place of detention.

The complete order may be read below:

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The post J&K High Court quashes preventive detention in cattle transport case, says PSA cannot substitute ordinary criminal law appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Bench observed that a “perceived divergence” had emerged among different benches of the Supreme Court regarding how K.A. Najeeb ought to be understood in cases involving prolonged incarceration under anti-terror legislation.

The order assumes enormous significance because it directly engages with the growing judicial disagreement over the scope of constitutional courts’ powers to grant bail in UAPA prosecutions despite the restrictive mandate of Section 43D(5), which severely curtails bail where accusations appear prima facie true.

The reference arises in the aftermath of the recent judgment in Syed Iftikhar Andrabi v. National Investigation Agency delivered by a Bench of Justice B.V. Nagarathna and Justice Ujjal Bhuyan. That judgment had strongly questioned the correctness of the January 2026 ruling in Gulfisha Fatima v. State (Govt. of NCT of Delhi), authored by Justice Aravind Kumar, insofar as it denied bail to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam in the Delhi riots conspiracy case.

Detailed piece on Andrabi judgment may be read here and here.

Detailed piece on Gulfisha judgement may be read here.

The Andrabi Bench had observed that Gulfisha Fatima and Gurwinder Singh v. State of Punjab appeared to have adopted an unduly narrow understanding of K.A. Najeeb, which had recognised that prolonged incarceration and the improbability of an early conclusion of trial could justify grant of bail even under stringent anti-terror statutes.

The constitutional question before the court

The present Bench framed the issue as one going beyond the individual bail claims of Tasleem Ahmed and Khalid Saifi. According to the Court, the controversy concerns the “proper constitutional approach” to cases where prolonged incarceration and delay in trial are invoked as grounds for bail despite statutory restrictions under Section 43D (5).

The Bench emphasised that K.A. Najeeb remains an “authoritative pronouncement” of a three-judge bench and preserves “the constitutional force of Article 21” while simultaneously recognising the legislative policy underlying special statutes like the UAPA.

The Court carefully reiterated the essence of K.A. Najeeb: constitutional courts retain the power to grant bail where continued incarceration violates fundamental rights, even in the presence of statutory embargoes. However, the Court stressed that K.A. Najeeb did not establish an automatic or mechanical rule that passage of time alone mandates bail.

In one of the most important observations in the order, the Bench stated:

“The ratio of K.A. Najeeb, therefore, is neither a charter for indefinite incarceration under the cover of Section 43D (5), nor a mathematical command that the mere passage of time, divorced from all surrounding circumstances, must automatically result in bail.” (Para 8)

This formulation is likely to become central to future UAPA litigation because it seeks to position the Court between two competing extremes: absolute deference to statutory restrictions on the one hand, and automatic constitutional override solely on the basis of delay on the other.

Court defends Gulfisha Fatima against criticism in Andrabi

A substantial portion of the order is devoted to defending the reasoning adopted in Gulfisha Fatima, which had granted bail to five Delhi riots accused while denying relief to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam.

The Bench observed that Gulfisha Fatima had expressly recognised K.A. Najeeb as a constitutional safeguard against “unconscionable detention” and had not treated Article 21 as subordinate to Section 43D(5).

The Court reproduced lengthy extracts from Gulfisha Fatima, particularly paragraphs 32, 52 and 53, where the earlier judgment had held that prolonged incarceration is a matter of “serious constitutional concern” but cannot be treated as the “sole determinant” for bail.

The Bench emphasised that Gulfisha Fatima rejected only a “mechanical or solitary application of delay.” Instead, it required courts to undertake a contextual inquiry considering:

• the nature of allegations,
• the role attributed to the accused,
• the stage and trajectory of trial,
• causes contributing to delay,
• prima facie material,
• risks to trial integrity,
• public order concerns,
• and the possibility of witness intimidation.

Importantly, the Court underscored that in Gulfisha Fatima, bail had actually been granted to five out of seven accused persons. Bail was denied to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam only after an “accused-specific evaluation” of their roles and the material against them.

The Bench further pointed out that even while denying bail to Khalid and Imam, liberty had been reserved to renew their pleas after examination of protected witnesses or after one year. This itself, the Court said, demonstrated that Article 21 remained a “continuing constitutional check” and was not excluded from consideration.

In another notable observation, the Court remarked that the present petitioners themselves had relied upon Gulfisha Fatima to seek bail. This, according to the Bench, demonstrated that the judgment could not be understood as one completely subordinating Article 21 to Section 43D(5).

Sharp observations on judicial discipline and coordinate benches

Perhaps the most institutionally significant aspect of the order lies in its observations on judicial discipline and the functioning of coordinate benches.

Without directly criticising the Andrabi judgment, the Bench made clear that a coordinate bench cannot effectively unsettle another coordinate bench merely through strong observations while continuing to sit with equal strength.

The Court observed:

“Judgments of this Court are not to be answered by counter-observations from another Bench of equal strength. The discipline of precedent demands a higher institutional method.” (Para 15)

The Bench stressed that if a coordinate bench entertains reservations about the reasoning of an earlier bench, especially regarding application of a binding larger bench judgment, the proper course is to refer the issue to the Chief Justice of India for constitution of an appropriate larger bench.

In language that appeared to respond directly to the criticism in Andrabi, the Court stated:

“A coordinate Bench may distinguish an earlier decision, may explain its own understanding of the law, and may, in an appropriate case, express doubt. But where the doubt goes to the root of the legal principle applied, the matter cannot be left at the stage of criticism. A doubt expressed in emphatic terms is still a doubt; it is not a declaration of law. Unless resolved by a Bench of appropriate strength, it only introduces uncertainty in the administration of justice.” (Para 17)

The Bench warned that unresolved disagreements between coordinate benches create “uncertainty in the administration of justice” — particularly in matters concerning personal liberty, national security, and anti-terror prosecutions.

Court rejects both extremes in UAPA bail jurisprudence

The order repeatedly attempts to strike a constitutional middle path. On one side, the Court cautioned against an “unqualified reading” that lapse of time alone must compel bail in every UAPA prosecution. According to the Bench, such an approach could prevent courts from considering critical factors such as:

• centrality of the accused’s role,
• protected witnesses,
• risks of intimidation,
• possibility of reactivation of networks,
• public order implications,
• national security concerns,
• and whether delays are attributable to the accused themselves.

At the same time, the Court also rejected an absolute application of Section 43D(5), observing that ignoring prolonged incarceration altogether would “imperil Article 21.” The Bench distilled the controversy into what may become the central constitutional question before the larger bench:

“The question, therefore, is not whether Article 21 survives Section 43D(5). It undoubtedly does. The true question is how Article 21 is to be applied in a statutory field where Parliament has consciously imposed restrictions on bail in respect of offences alleged to affect the security of the State and the stability of civic life.” (Para 21)

Matter referred to larger bench

The Court ultimately concluded that the issue requires authoritative determination by a bench constituted by the Chief Justice of India. Importantly, the Bench clarified that the reference is not confined merely to the correctness of Gulfisha Fatima or Andrabi. Instead, it concerns the broader constitutional approach to bail in prosecutions under special statutes involving prolonged incarceration and restrictive bail provisions. The Court specifically directed that the larger bench should “clarify or expound” the law laid down in K.A. Najeeb, particularly in the backdrop of the rigours of Section 43D(5).

Interim bail to Tasleem Ahmed and Khalid Saifi

Despite making the reference, the Court simultaneously recognised that the present appellants had already undergone substantial incarceration and that the trial was unlikely to conclude immediately.

The Bench observed that the accused “cannot be made to suffer continued incarceration merely because an important question of law has arisen for authoritative settlement.” Accordingly, the Court granted interim bail for six months subject to stringent conditions.

Among the conditions imposed were:

• execution of personal bonds of Rs. 2 lakh with two local sureties;
• surrender of passports;
• prohibition on leaving Delhi without prior permission;
• mandatory appearance before the trial court;
• prohibition on contacting witnesses;
• prohibition on tampering with evidence;
• a restriction on making public statements through print, electronic or social media touching upon the merits of the case or pending trial;
• and a direction to report to the Investigating Officer every fortnight.

The Court also warned that any attempt to delay the trial after release on interim bail would be viewed seriously and could result in cancellation of bail.

Background: The Delhi riots conspiracy case

The present proceedings arise from FIR 59/2020 concerning the alleged larger conspiracy behind the February 2020 North-East Delhi riots during protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019, in which more than 50 people were killed.

Tasleem Ahmed has remained in custody since his arrest under various provisions of the IPC, UAPA and Arms Act. His bail applications had repeatedly been rejected by lower courts, although the Supreme Court had earlier indicated that he could seek parity with co-accused.

Khalid Saifi, associated with United Against Hate, has spent over five years in custody and has sought parity with co-accused who were granted bail earlier this year. The prosecution alleges that he participated in meetings and WhatsApp groups connected with mobilisation during the anti-CAA protests and delivered inflammatory speeches — allegations he disputes.

The Court had earlier, in January 2026, granted bail to five accused persons including Gulfisha Fatima while refusing bail to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam, setting the stage for the present constitutional controversy over the meaning and reach of K.A. Najeeb.

The complete order may be read below:

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The post Supreme Court refers UAPA bail jurisprudence to larger bench; grants interim bail to Tasleem Ahmed and Khalid Saifi in Delhi riots conspiracy case appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The judgment is remarkable for three interconnected reasons. First, it forcefully restores the constitutional framework laid down in KA Najeeb, which had recognised prolonged incarceration and delay in trial as an independent ground for bail despite the statutory rigours of Section 43D(5) of the UAPA. Second, it openly expresses “serious reservations” regarding the correctness of the January 2026 ruling in Gulfisha Fatima v. State — the judgment that denied bail to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam in the Delhi riots larger conspiracy case. Third, it mounts a broader institutional critique against the gradual dilution of larger-bench constitutional precedents through restrictive interpretation by smaller benches.

The judgment must therefore be read not simply as a bail order, but as a constitutional correction to the increasingly punitive trajectory of UAPA jurisprudence.

The Constitutional Foundation: Bail as a principle of liberty, not mere procedure

One of the most significant contributions of the judgment lies in the Court’s attempt to relocate the principle of bail from the narrow confines of statutory criminal procedure into the broader domain of constitutional liberty.

Justice Justice Ujjal Bhuyan, authoring the judgment for both him and Justice Nagarathna, observed:

“The often invoked phrase ‘bail is the rule and jail is the exception’ is not merely an empty statutory slogan flowing from the CrPC as Gurwinder has stated. It is a constitutional principle flowing from Articles 21 and 22 of the Constitution and the presumption of innocence which is the cornerstone of any civilised society governed by the rule of law.” (Para 35)

This paragraph is foundational to understanding the judgment. The Court is consciously rejecting the tendency to treat bail merely as a discretionary procedural question. Instead, it roots the concept directly in constitutional structure — specifically Article 21’s guarantee of personal liberty and the presumption of innocence that underlies criminal justice systems governed by the rule of law.

The significance of this reasoning becomes even more pronounced in the context of UAPA prosecutions. Over the past several years, courts have increasingly approached bail under anti-terror statutes through the lens of statutory embargoes alone, often reducing constitutional scrutiny to a secondary consideration. The Andrabi judgment reverses that hierarchy.

The Court unequivocally held:

“The statutory embargo of Section 43-D(5) must remain a circumscribed restriction that operates subject to the guarantee of Articles 21 and 22 of the Constitution. Therefore, we have no manner of doubt in stating that even under the UAP Act, ‘bail is the rule and jail is the exception’; of course, in an appropriate case, bail can be denied having regard to the facts of that particular case.” (Para 35)

This observation is doctrinally critical because it clarifies that Section 43D(5) does not override constitutional guarantees; rather, it operates within constitutional limitations. In other words, the Constitution remains supreme even in national security prosecutions. This is perhaps the strongest reaffirmation in recent years that anti-terror legislation cannot create a parallel constitutional order where liberty stands suspended indefinitely.

Reaffirmation of KA Najeeb and the constitutional right against endless pre-trial incarceration

The central doctrinal axis of the judgment is its reaffirmation of Union of India v. KA Najeeb.

The Court repeatedly emphasised that KA Najeeb had already settled the principle that constitutional courts retain the power to grant bail under the UAPA where prolonged incarceration and delay in trial render continued detention constitutionally unjustifiable.

The bench noted that KA Najeeb specifically recognised the structural dangers inherent in Section 43D(5). Because the provision creates an exceptionally stringent threshold for bail, trials that move slowly can result in undertrials remaining imprisoned for years before guilt is determined.

The Court observed:

“A plain reading of Najeeb will show that it was trying to prevent precisely this possibility from arising when it cautioned that Section 43-D(5) must not become ‘the sole metric for denial of bail or for wholesale breach of constitutional right to speedy trial.” (Para 27.8)

This paragraph is perhaps the conceptual heart of the judgment.

The Court is acknowledging that when bail adjudication is governed exclusively by Section 43D(5), and trials continue indefinitely, the criminal process itself begins to inflict punishment irrespective of conviction. The danger identified is not merely procedural delay, but the transformation of pre-trial detention into substantive punishment.

The Andrabi judgment therefore restores the original constitutional logic of KA Najeeb: anti-terror statutes cannot be interpreted in a manner that destroys the right to speedy trial.

Importantly, the Court rejects the argument that KA Najeeb applies only in extraordinary or narrowly exceptional situations.

The Court stated:

“…we make it clear that Najeeb is binding law entitled to the protection of stare decisis. It cannot be diluted, circumvented, or disregarded by trial courts, High Courts or even by Benches of lower strength of this Court.” (Para 39)

This is a direct response to the narrowing interpretations that emerged in later judgments.

Direct Critique of Gulfisha Fatima and Gurwinder Singh

One of the most extraordinary aspects of the ruling is the Court’s explicit criticism of Gulfisha Fatima v. State and Gurwinder Singh v. Union of India.

The Court observed that both judgments appeared to take a “divergent view” from the law laid down in KA Najeeb.

The Bench stated:

“In our view, the decision in Gurwinder inasmuch as it refuses to be bound by Najeeb, is difficult to be followed by us as a matter of precedent. It is plain that a judgment rendered by a Bench of lesser strength is bound by the law declared by a Bench of greater strength. Judicial discipline mandates that such binding precedent must either be followed or, in case of doubt, be referred to a larger Bench. A smaller Bench cannot dilute, circumvent, or disregard the ratio of a larger Bench.” (Para 27.2)

This observation has enormous institutional significance. The Court is effectively warning against a judicial technique where binding precedents are not expressly overruled, but are instead gradually weakened through restrictive interpretation. Such an approach undermines certainty in constitutional adjudication and destabilises the doctrine of precedent.

The Court’s criticism becomes particularly important because both Gulfisha Fatima and Gurwinder Singh, authored by Justice Aravind Kumar, had significantly narrowed the scope of KA Najeeb.

In Gulfisha Fatima, the Court had held that KA Najeeb applied only in exceptional cases. The present bench expressly disagreed with that understanding.

The Court also expressed “serious reservations” regarding the direction in Gulfisha Fatima effectively preventing the accused from seeking bail for one year. This criticism is constitutionally significant because bail adjudication necessarily involves continuing judicial supervision over deprivation of liberty. A blanket embargo on future bail applications risks freezing constitutional scrutiny despite changing trial circumstances.

Rejection of the “two-prong test” and the recognition of punitive pre-trial detention

The judgment contains a particularly powerful critique of the “two-prong test” evolved in Gurwinder Singh.

Under that approach, bail could be considered only if:

1. there was prolonged incarceration; and
2. the accused could also demonstrate that the prosecution case lacked prima facie merit.

The Supreme Court rejected this formulation outright.

Justice Bhuyan observed:

“If this twin-prong test is accepted, the State need only satisfy a low prima facie threshold while the trial may continue for years with the result that pre-trial incarceration begins to acquire a post-trial punitive character and even then, no court could ever grant bail no matter the length of period of such incarceration because the case stood prima facie made out against the accused.” (Para 27.8)

This paragraph is one of the strongest judicial recognitions yet of the phenomenon commonly described as “process as punishment.” The Court identifies the structural reality of UAPA prosecutions: once the State crosses the low threshold of prima facie satisfaction under Section 43D(5), undertrials may remain imprisoned for years because trials move slowly and courts refuse to reconsider liberty claims.

The Court correctly recognised that in such circumstances, incarceration ceases to be preventive or regulatory and instead becomes punitive — despite the absence of conviction. The judgment therefore rejects the idea that constitutional courts must indefinitely defer to prosecutorial allegations where the criminal process itself becomes oppressive.

Limiting the reach of Watali

The Court’s treatment of NIA v. Zahoor Ahmad Shah Watali is another crucial aspect of the judgment. Watali has frequently been used to argue that courts should not meaningfully scrutinise prosecution evidence at the bail stage in UAPA cases.

The present bench clarified:

“The position of law emerging from Najeeb and Sk. Javed Iqbal is therefore clear: Watali cannot be invoked to justify indefinite incarceration of the accused under the UAP Act. For the aforesaid reasons, the attempt in Gurwinder to read Watali as laying down a general rule of denial of bail notwithstanding the period of incarceration is difficult to reconcile with this Court’s own subsequent clarification of what the ratio in Watali actually meant.” (Para 27.6)

This clarification is significant because Watali has often functioned in practice as a near-automatic barrier against bail. The Andrabi judgment restores doctrinal balance by clarifying that Watali cannot be interpreted in isolation from constitutional guarantees and from KA Najeeb.

Even where a prima facie case exists, constitutional courts remain obligated to assess whether prolonged incarceration and delayed trial have rendered continued detention unconstitutional.

The Court’s Reliance on NCRB Data: An empirical critique of UAPA incarceration

One of the most striking features of the judgment is its reliance on empirical conviction data.

Referring to NCRB statistics placed before Parliament by the Union Ministry of Home Affairs, the Court observed:

“…it is evident that the country-wide percentage of conviction under the UAP Act for the five years comprising the period 2019-23 hovers between 2% to 6%. In other words, there is 94% to 98% possibility of acquittal in such cases in the country. When it comes to the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir, the percentage of conviction is abysmal, to say the least. For the aforesaid period, the annual rate of conviction is always less than 1%. It means that at the end of the trial, there is 99% possibility of acquittal in such cases. With these kind of statistics staring at our face, the question is, should we continue the detention of the appellant or defer the consideration to a later stage, simply because the charges are serious?” (Para 42.3)

This reasoning is extraordinary because the Court explicitly connects low conviction rates with the constitutional legitimacy of prolonged detention. Ordinarily, anti-terror jurisprudence focuses almost exclusively on allegations and national security considerations. The Andrabi judgment shifts attention to outcomes: if acquittal rates are overwhelmingly high and trials take years, then prolonged incarceration cannot be justified solely on the basis of accusation.

This represents a subtle but important constitutional shift. The Court is effectively recognising that the practical operation of the UAPA must be assessed not only in theory but also through its systemic consequences.

Article 21, Speedy Trial, and the Constitutional Crisis of Delay

The Court repeatedly foregrounded Article 21 and the right to speedy trial by observing:

“We do not want to join issue any further with the two-Judge Bench either in Gurwinder Singh or in Gulfisha Fatima. As noted supra, Gurwinder Singh has already been explained in Sheikh Javed Iqbal and in Javed Gulam Nabi Shaikh, reiterated in Arvind Dham, this Court has categorically held that Article 21 applies irrespective of the nature of the offence. Ideally, more serious the accusations are, the speedier the trial should be.” (Para 40)

This statement directly challenges the prevailing judicial logic where grave allegations often justify more restrictive bail standards and slower constitutional scrutiny. The Court instead inverts the framework: the greater the seriousness of allegations, the greater the constitutional obligation upon the State to ensure expeditious adjudication.

The judgment therefore recognises that prolonged detention without trial is not merely an administrative problem; it is a constitutional injury.

The Court’s reasoning implicitly acknowledges a larger systemic reality: UAPA trials often involve enormous witness lists, voluminous documentary records, and prolonged delays that make timely completion virtually impossible. When combined with restrictive bail standards, this creates a carceral structure where accused persons may spend years imprisoned irrespective of eventual guilt or innocence.

Conclusion: A constitutional warning against “punishment through process”

The Andrabi judgment ultimately functions as a constitutional warning against the gradual normalisation of punitive pre-trial detention under anti-terror laws.

The Court restores several foundational propositions:

• that Article 21 survives even in UAPA prosecutions;
• that Section 43D(5) cannot eclipse constitutional liberty;
• that KA Najeeb remains binding law;
• that Watali cannot justify endless incarceration;
• that smaller benches cannot dilute larger-bench precedents;
• and that prolonged delay itself may render detention unconstitutional.

Most importantly, the judgment recognises a reality that has increasingly shaped anti-terror prosecutions in India: where trials take years, conviction rates remain exceptionally low, and bail thresholds are interpreted rigidly, incarceration itself becomes the punishment.

The Court’s intervention is significant precisely because it identifies this not merely as a policy concern, but as a constitutional crisis.

Related report may be read here.

The complete judgment is attached below:

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The Supreme Court judgements in Vanshakti I (May) and Vanshakti II (November) have brought an impending sense to the study of environmental law regime in India. Whether the Courts are seeing shift and what that shift means, for the environmental law regime in the country is an important question to ask and engage with.

In pursuance of that question, Part I of this series looked at Central India and tried to read the language of the High Courts as evenly as the language allowed. The pattern that emerged was not of an institutional collapse, nor of unbroken activism, but of a doctrine — the precautionary principle, the polluter-pays principle, public trust — being applied with great care in some cases and with visible accommodation in others. The variable, more often than not, was the size of the economic interest on the other side, and sometimes, the social location of those whose ecology was at stake.

Part II turns to Western India: Mumbai, the rest of Maharashtra, and the long shadow of the Western Ghats. Mumbai is where Indian coastal-zone jurisprudence first acquired teeth, where the public trust doctrine was given some of its most quoted formulations, and where, more recently, the same court has been asked to permit successive infrastructure projects that touch the coast, the mangroves, the urban forest and the Western Ghats ecology. The case law here is therefore unusually self-referential: nearly every important judgment cites the ones before it. That makes it possible to do something that is harder in other regions — to watch the same court engage with the same doctrines across thirty years, and ask whether what changes is the doctrine, the facts, or the framing.

As with Part I, the exercise is not premised on a finding that the judiciary has failed. The starting assumption is the opposite: that the Bombay High Court has been among the more engaged constitutional forums on environmental questions. The probing is for the texture and grammar of that engagement — what language the judges reach for when they are protecting, what language they reach for when they are permitting, and whether the two sets of language can be honestly distinguished.

As before, some Supreme Court context is necessary before turning to the High Court. The Vanashakti split of 2025 — discussed in Part I — sets the contemporary backdrop. The two-judge Bench struck down the Ministry of Environment’s framework permitting ex post facto environmental clearances as contrary to the precautionary principle. The three-judge review, by majority, recalled those directions and held that ex post facto regularisation was permissible in appropriate cases, with polluter-pays as the compensatory mechanism. Justice Bhuyan, dissenting in review, called the recalibration “a step in retrogression”. This part, like the previous one, will also look at whether the Bombay High Court is engaging with the environment law question in this theoretical context of Vanashakti II.

This Part is organised in three sections. The first reads the early jurisprudence — late 1990s and early 2000s — when the High Court and the Supreme Court were articulating the protective vocabulary that still dominates Indian environmental law. The second reads the transitional decade between roughly 2016 and 2022, when that vocabulary began to share space with another — “balance”, “larger public interest”, “exceptional case”. The third reads the most recent cases, from 2024 onwards, which take that second vocabulary as settled and apply it. A short fourth section attempts a hypothesis.

The Baseline: Dahanu, Mahabaleshwar, the Mill Lands, Adarsh

Dahanu and the architecture of localised supervision

The Supreme Court’s decision in Indian Council for Enviro-Legal Action v. Union of India (1996) is a good starting point. The Court was dealing with a petition concerning the coastal stretches of India and, in particular, the Dahanu Taluka of Thane District, which the Central Government had declared an ecologically fragile area by notification dated 20 June 1991. The State of Maharashtra had not prepared the master plan that the notification required; in the meantime, balloon-manufacturing units, buffing-and-chromium-plating units, and chemical units had been licensed in what was a predominantly agricultural and orchard area. A 1994 amendment to the Coastal Regulation Zone Notification had also diluted the 1991 framework.

The Court did three things, each of which is worth noticing separately.

First, it accepted as part of Indian law the precautionary principle and the polluter-pays principle, and said so in terms. Second, it struck down the relevant relaxations of the 1994 amendment. Thirdly, in an activist move, it transferred ongoing monitoring of Dahanu to the Bombay High Court, requested the Chief Justice to constitute a “Green Bench” for environmental matters, and directed the Central Government to constitute an authority headed by a retired High Court Judge under Section 3(3) of the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986. Pollution control, in the Court’s framing, could be “better done by the High Court” because local ecological degradation is best monitored locally.

The language of the judgment records that enacting environmental laws and then not enforcing them “would be more harmful than not enacting laws at all”, phrase that has been quoted by many a subsequent Bombay High Court benches dealing with non-enforcement. In Bittu Sehgal v. Union of India later in 1996, the Supreme Court reiterated the directions, accepted in full the recommendations of the National Environmental Engineering Research Institute on Dahanu, and constituted the Dahanu Taluka Environment Protection Authority.

Mahabaleshwar–Panchgani: the absence of mood-music

The Bombay High Court’s judgment in the Mahabaleshwar–Panchgani PIL (November 18, 1998) is a good case to read for how a court can handle a hill-station ecology problem without dramatising it. The petitioners alleged large-scale illegal construction, deforestation, conversion of agricultural land to luxury bungalows and three-star hotels, and direct discharge of sewage into Venna Lake — the drinking water source for Mahabaleshwar. The Court appointed a six-member committee under a former Commissioner of Pune Division, with a Collector, two Town Planning officers, and a retired military officer. The committee reported approximately 1,060 building and other violations.

The Court’s response, recorded across orders of January, February and April 1998 and consolidated in the final order, was to: (a) direct the Maharashtra Pollution Control Board to stop the discharge of polluted water into Venna Lake and the river, with criminal prosecution of erring parties if necessary; (b) direct the Collector of Satara District and the Chief Officer of Mahabaleshwar Municipal Council to take action against erring parties; (c) direct that no further construction in violation of the sanctioned plan be permitted, with show-cause notices to be issued within one month; (d) refuse the benefit of additional Floor Space Index granted to three-star hotels under a 1971 Government Resolution to construction commenced after the 1979/1988 Development Control Rules came into force, while saving the benefit already given; (e) direct relocation of authorised stalls from Venna Lake to a centralised location and removal of all unauthorised stalls; and (f) direct the Heritage Committee to finalise heritage regulations within four months.

What is notable about this judgment is the absence of mood. The judges do not write at the high pitch that later environmental decisions sometimes adopt. They quote the committee report at length, count the violations, name the byelaws, and pass directions that operate as a regulatory timetable for the executive. There is no language of “absolutism” — the order is simply that the development control rules be enforced, with the Pollution Control Board, the Collector and the Municipal Council named as the responsible authorities.

The same court, in the same period, was hearing the Lavasa/new hill-station scheme litigation. In its judgment of 4 December 1998, the Division Bench quashed the letter of intent issued to the Sahara entity to develop a new hill station, noted that there were credible allegations of forced land acquisition from tribals, and directed a State probe into the land transactions. The Court did not declare new hill stations per se unlawful — on the contrary, it accepted the State’s case that population pressure on Mahabaleshwar, Matheran and Panchgani made eco-friendly new hill stations necessary — but it insisted that the regulatory scheme be observed.

The Mill Lands and the working life of the public trust doctrine

The Bombay Environmental Action Group v. State of Maharashtra decision of October 17, 2005 — the Textile Mill Lands case — is one of the more cited Bombay High Court judgments on the public trust doctrine, and it is worth being precise about what it actually decided. The petitioners challenged amendments to Development Control Regulation 58, which governed the redevelopment of about fifty-eight closed textile mills in central Mumbai. The un-amended Regulation had required, in broad terms that the surrendered mill lands be divided equally into three parts: one-third for open spaces and recreation, one-third for low-cost housing for mill workers and for the Municipal Corporation, and one-third for development by the mill owner. The 2001 amendment changed the formula so that the one-third allocations for public space and public housing applied only to the open or vacant portion of the mill land, not to the entire mill land. The effect, in practice, was that very little of the redeveloped land was surrendered for the public purposes for which the original regulation had reserved it.

The Division Bench held that the amended Regulation, read on its plain language, did not achieve what the parties before the Court had assumed it would, and that the Municipal Corporation had not, in fact, ensured surrender of land for open spaces and public housing. The Court read down the regulation by applying “the rule of construction which is more reasonable and just”, and recorded what it called “certain disturbing aspects” — that the Corporation had not insisted on public amenities, had filed only vague particulars of “green areas” without distinguishing public from private greens, and had not ensured the free housing for mill workers that the Regulation contemplated.

The judges placed considerable weight on the trust character of the State’s role. They wrote that the State is “obliged to make available material resources to the community” and that its role “is that of a trustee”, that all properties under such legislation vest in the Government “by way of trust for public good and public purpose”, and that the National Textile Corporation, in trading its land for profit, had acted contrary to the BIFR schemes and earlier Supreme Court orders. The Court also reiterated the standing rule that in PIL the constitutional court is “sentinel on the qui vive” and that “technicalities do not deter the Court in wielding its power to do justice”.

The public-trust register is doing real legal work here — it grounds the Court’s decision to read the amended regulation against the developer’s interest where the Corporation had defaulted on its statutory duty.

Adarsh: demolition as the operative direction

If the Mill Lands case is the public-trust register, the Adarsh Co-operative Housing Society v. Union of India decision of April 29, 2016 is the procedural-rigour register. The Special Bench, after a long judgment running through every stage of the regulatory chronology, concluded that the Adarsh Society had constructed a 31-storey building in a CRZ-II area, on land that had been deleted from a 60.96-metre road reservation to create a residential plot, without ever obtaining environmental clearance from the appropriate authority under the CRZ Notification, 1991, and without recommendation of the Maharashtra Coastal Zone Management Authority. Letters dated 11 March 2003 and 15 March 2003 from the Ministry of Environment and Forests and the Urban Development Department, on which the Society had relied, were held not to constitute environmental clearance — a conclusion that the Society itself conceded.

The operative direction is in paragraph 377: the Court records that the entire construction is “unauthorized and illegal and in total defiance of provisions of E.P. Act as also M.R. & T.P. Act”, and orders demolition with costs to be recovered from the Society. The Court relies on a long line of Supreme Court authority on demolition of unauthorised construction — Friends Colony Development Committee, Dipak Kumar Mukherjee, M.I. Builders, M.C. Mehta — and quotes with approval the line that “those in power have come forward to protect the wrong doers either by issuing administrative orders or enacting laws for regularization of illegal and unauthorized constructions in the name of compassion and hardship” and that this “has done irreparable harm to the concept of planned development of the cities and urban areas”.

What is striking, again, is the absence of softening language. The Society’s members were largely defence officers and senior bureaucrats. The conduct of the State officers at multiple levels is documented at length. The Court does not soften the operative direction because of any of this. The conclusion is that the building has to come down. The reason is that the regulatory framework — environmental clearance under the CRZ Notification and the Environment (Protection) Act — was not observed, and that the political and bureaucratic seniority of the residents cannot be the basis for regularising what the statute forbids.

Read together, these four cases — Dahanu, Mahabaleshwar, Mill Lands, Adarsh — represent a consistent posture. The court is willing to read statutes against developers where the regulator has defaulted; it does not regard the existence of constructed structures as itself a reason to soften the regulatory consequence; it treats environmental notifications as legal instruments rather than as policy aspirations; and it locates its institutional role in continuing supervision of the executive. The doctrines invoked — precautionary principle, polluter-pays, public trust — are doing identifiable legal work rather than being decorative.

The Transitional Decade: Coastal Road, Aarey, Mangroves, Bullet Train

The four most important Maharashtra environmental decisions between 2018 and 2022 are useful to read together, because they sit on either side of a line that is not always acknowledged but is, on close reading, visible. Two of them — the Mangroves judgment of September 2018 and the Sawantwadi–Dodamarg directions in 2024 — keep the older posture intact. The other two — the Coastal Road decision of July 2019 and the Bullet Train decision of December 2022 — speak the newer vocabulary.

The Mangroves Judgment (2018): a continuation of the older posture

In PIL No. 87 of 2006, decided on September 17, 2018, a Division Bench delivered what is now the operative framework for mangrove protection in Maharashtra. The judgment held that all mangroves fall in CRZ-I irrespective of their size, that a buffer zone of fifty metres around mangroves areas of 1000 sq m or more is also part of CRZ-I, that the destruction of mangroves offends Article 21, and that — invoking the public trust doctrine and Articles 21, 47, 48A and 51A(g) — the State has a mandatory duty to protect and preserve mangroves. The operative directions, contained in paragraph 85-A, declare a total freeze on the destruction and cutting of mangroves in the entire State of Maharashtra; prohibit dumping of rubble, garbage or solid waste on mangroves; prohibit construction within fifty metres of all mangroves regardless of ownership; and direct that no development permission be issued by any authority in respect of any area under mangroves.

It is the next sentence of the same paragraph that becomes important in everything that follows. The Court records that the State “is duty bound to protect and preserve mangroves” and that mangroves “cannot be permitted to be destructed by the State for private, commercial or any other use unless the Court finds it necessary for the public good or public interest”. The freeze, in other words, is not absolute; the Court keeps a window. The exception is narrow on its face — destruction for “public good or public interest”, and only after this Court is satisfied — but its width depends entirely on what later courts treat as falling within it.

The judgment is worth reading closely for what it does doctrinally. The Court locates mangrove protection not merely in the CRZ Notification but in the Constitution itself: the right to life under Article 21, the duty of the State to raise nutrition and public health under Article 47, the directive to protect the environment under Article 48A, and the citizen’s fundamental duty under Article 51A(g). The public trust doctrine is invoked not as ornamental rhetoric but as the juridical basis for the State’s mandatory duty. The fifty-metre buffer zone around mangroves of 1000 sq m or more is treated as an integral part of the CRZ-I category, meaning that the protective zone carries the same prohibitions as the mangroves themselves. The practical effect is significant: in a densely urbanised coastline like Mumbai’s, a fifty-metre radius around every substantial mangrove patch removes large areas from the developable land pool. The judgment also appoints the Maharashtra Coastal Zone Management Authority and the Forest Department as the responsible agencies, and directs them to submit quarterly compliance reports. The Court’s own supervisory jurisdiction is expressly reserved. What the judgment creates, in other words, is a protective framework with judicial oversight — one that treats mangroves as constitutionally protected natural resources and permits their destruction only through a narrow, court-supervised exception.

The Coastal Road decision (2019): the architecture of the “exceptional case”

The Bombay High Court’s decision in Worli Koliwada Nakhwa and the connected petitions, dated  July 16, 2019, is a 200-plus page judgment, and the analysis that follows here is confined to its doctrinal architecture rather than its full factual record. Two questions were before the Court. First, was the amendment of 30 December 2015 to the Coastal Regulation Zone Notification, 2011 — which permitted reclamation of coastal land for roads “in exceptional cases” — ultra vires the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, or unguided delegation? Second, was the CRZ clearance granted by the Ministry of Environment and Forests on 11 May 2017 for the Mumbai Coastal Road project liable to be quashed for failure to undertake the rigorous appraisal that the law required?

On the first question, the Court upheld the 2015 amendment. The petitioners’ argument that “exceptional case” was an unguided phrase that could mean anything was rejected. The Court’s reasoning is set out at paragraph 134 and is worth quoting because it is the doctrinal hinge of the rest of the judgment:

“In situations where Rules governing the sustainable development and preservation of the ecology are framed, the exceptional case to such development at cost of ecology has to be looked from the point of view of the necessity of development reaching the level of such great utilitarian value that what is lost or sacrificed must be accepted.”

This is not the language of the 1996 Dahanu order, nor of the 1998 Mahabaleshwar judgment, nor of the 2005 Mill Lands decision, nor of the 2016 Adarsh judgment. It is a different register. It accepts, as a starting premise, that there will be situations in which development reaches a level of utilitarian value such that ecological sacrifice must simply be accepted; and the role of the Court is to satisfy itself that the decision-making process underlying that acceptance has been followed. To refine the test — the need has to be “more than a crying need”, it “has to be a need based on exhausting all possible solutions”, and “upon material showing that the need is bordered between a crying need and dying need, a deep and pervasive environmental impact assessment has to be done”.

Applied to the facts, the Court did quash the immediate CRZ clearance. The reason was that the Mumbai Coastal Road, as planned, had been split into two segments and the project proponent had submitted its application only for the segment from Princess Flyover to the Worli end of the Bandra–Worli Sea Link; the Joint Technical Committee report relied on was from 2011 (using 2008 traffic data) and did not address the cumulative impact of the entire road; the appraisal had been done under the CRZ Notification, 2011 and not also under the Environment Impact Assessment Notification, 2006 even though the project arguably attracted entry 8(b) of the EIA Schedule; and the Expert Appraisal Committee had not given reasons for accepting the project proponent’s responses to public objections. The clearance was quashed for these procedural inadequacies.

But the framework — that ecology can be sacrificed where the utilitarian value of the development is great enough — was left standing. And, indeed, when the matter went to the Supreme Court and the project resumed, that framework controlled. By 2024, the question before the Supreme Court was no longer whether the road should have been built, but whether the Municipal Corporation could carry out landscaping and beautification on the median of the now-built road, given that an interim order of September 13, 2022 had restrained commercial use of the reclaimed land. The Supreme Court’s order of November 7, 2024 holds:

“The restraint which was imposed in the order of this Court dated September 13, 2022, must be construed in a reasonable manner. The State having reclaimed land from the sea for the purpose of constructing the coastal road, the interim order was passed in order to ensure that the reclaimed land is not put to commercial use or purposes… bearing in mind that the public interest litigation principally dealt with an environmental issue, there can be no objection to the Municipal Corporation being permitted to carry out landscaping of the median of the coastal road over a length of 4.35 kilometers approximately as stated during the course of the submissions.”

This is the framework working itself out across instances. The reclamation was permitted in 2019 (subject to procedural rigour); the procedural rigour was eventually satisfied; the building was completed; and the embargo on commercial use of the reclaimed land was “construed in a reasonable manner” to permit landscaping. None of these moves is, taken on its own, unreasonable. What is worth noticing is that the cumulative effect of “reasonable construction” is that the framework that was supposed to protect the coast from being put to road and ancillary use has, step by step, accommodated the road and its appurtenances.

Aarey (2019): comity and res judicata

The Aarey Metro Car Shed judgment of October 4, 2019 — delivered by the same Chief Justice who delivered Worli Koliwada and by a different second judge — is shorter and turns on procedures. Petitioners sought a declaration that 1,280 hectares of the Aarey Milk Colony be declared a Reserved or Protected Forest under the Indian Forest Act, 1927, and that the State be restrained from non-forest activities, particularly the construction of a metro car shed on 33 hectares of the colony.

The Court records the documentary material the petitioners relied on: the 1980 letter from the Forest Development Corporation of Maharashtra advising that Aarey be declared a Reserved Forest; the 2004 letter from the Governor of Maharashtra to the Chief Minister on the encroachment of Aarey lands; the 2015 report of the State Technical Committee which, as primarily recommended, located the metro car depot at Kanjur Marg, with only a small stabilising unit at Aarey; the dissenting notes by environmental experts from IIT Bombay and NEERI recommending that Aarey be preserved as forest; the Maharashtra Remote Sensing Application Centre’s 2006 scientific imagery showing thick vegetation; and the position of the Forest Department in affidavits before the National Green Tribunal.

The Court did not engage with this material on the merits. Its dismissal rested on two procedural doctrines. The first was that the substantive question of whether Aarey was a forest was pending before the Supreme Court in T.N. Godavarman, and the question of the eco-sensitive zone around Sanjay Gandhi National Park was pending before the National Green Tribunal in OA No. 193/2016. The Bench held that, under the principle of comity, the appropriate forum was the Supreme Court (for forest declaration) and the National Green Tribunal (for the eco-sensitive zone). The second was that a coordinate Bench had already, on October 26, 2018 in W.P. (L) No. 2766 of 2017 (Amrita Bhattacharjee), rejected the challenge to the August 2017 and November 2017 notifications under the Maharashtra Regional and Town Planning Act, 1966 that had de-reserved the 33 hectares for the metro car depot. The principles of res judicata applied. The petitions were dismissed.

The procedural treatment is unobjectionable in its own terms — comity and res judicata are settled doctrines. What is worth marking is the distance between the volume of ecological material recorded in the judgment and the absence of any judicial engagement with that material. The Court holds that this material must be evaluated elsewhere; it does not itself evaluate it. By contrast, in 1997, the Mahabaleshwar Bench did not refer the question of unauthorised hill-station construction to a tribunal — it appointed a committee, received a report counting violations, and passed binding directions. The change is not in the substantive law on forests or on coastal regulation; it is in the institutional posture of the Court when faced with a multi-billion-rupee public infrastructure project that is already underway.

The Bullet Train (2022): the “public good” window opens

In National High Speed Rail Corporation Ltd. v. State of Maharashtra, decided on 9 December 2022, the petitioner sought permission to fell mangroves within CRZ-I for the Mumbai–Ahmedabad High Speed Rail (Bullet Train) project. The factual scale is recorded in the judgment: the total alignment is 508.17 km, of which 155.642 km is in Maharashtra; the total land requirement in Maharashtra is 438.536 hectares; the area falling under mangrove forest is 32.4302 hectares; the area of mangroves directly to be affected is 13.3668 hectares, with 53,467 trees.

The Maharashtra Coastal Zone Management Authority had initially deferred the proposal, in view of the 2018 Mangroves judgment, and had suggested that the project proponent approach the High Court. By interim order of 12 February 2019, the Court directed the MCZMA to take a decision on the proposal, observing that the Division Bench in PIL 87/2006 had itself “carved out a clause wherein a permission can be granted if it is necessary for the public good or the public interest”. The MCZMA then granted clearance on 6 March 2019. The Ministry of Environment and Forests gave its clearance. The petition before the High Court was, in effect, for permission under the 2018 judgment’s carve-out.

The Court granted the permission. The reasoning runs through the advantages of the project that the petitioner had pleaded — connectivity between Mumbai and Ahmedabad; reduction of travel time from six and a half hours to two and a half; lower carbon footprint than vehicular traffic; international funding on favourable terms from the Japan International Cooperation Agency at 0.1 per cent interest; generation of approximately 20,000 jobs during construction and 20,000 direct and indirect jobs in operations. The Court records the petitioner’s Integrated Mangrove Conservation and Management Plan, the proposed compensatory afforestation, and the clearance position of the regulators. It concludes that the project is in the public good and public interest within the meaning of the 2018 judgment, and permits the cutting of the 13.3668 hectares of mangroves.

The observation here is narrow. The 2018 carve-out was framed to apply where the Court was satisfied that destruction of mangroves was necessary for public good or public interest. The Bullet Train Bench reads that carve-out as activated by the very features of the project that any large public-infrastructure proponent will plead: connectivity, employment, foreign funding, lower carbon footprint than the existing transport mix. None of these features is irrelevant. The question is whether they are sufficient. The Court’s answer is that, in this case, they are; and the answer is given without an explicit framework for distinguishing this case from one in which the answer would be no. The mangroves are felled, the compensatory afforestation is fixed (1:3 ratio), and the public-trust framework’s exception clause begins to do significant work.

The Present: Sawantwadi–Dodamarg, Bandra Reclamation, Versova–Bhayandar

Sawantwadi–Dodamarg (2024): persistence as a substitute for declaration

The Awaaz Foundation / Vanashakti judgment of 22 March 2024 disposes of two Public Interest Litigations pending since 2012 and 2014, both seeking the declaration of the Sawantwadi–Dodamarg corridor — a 35 km stretch of about 25 villages on the Maharashtra–Goa border, identified by the Sen Committee, the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel and a 2022 Wildlife Institute of India study as a critical wildlife corridor — as an Ecologically Sensitive Area under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986.

The Court records, with what reads as careful patience, the full chronology. Orders had been passed since 2012. The State of Maharashtra had not disputed, in successive affidavits, that the corridor was ecologically vital. The State had ultimately commissioned the Wildlife Institute of India study, which concluded — in the language quoted at length by the Court — that 36 villages covering approximately 338 sq. km, where forest habitats are still intact, should be declared as ESA in order to retain landscape connectivity with the Goa and Karnataka conservation landscape. The Union government had no substantive objection; what it had was the position that declaration depended on the State’s formal proposal. The State, on the other hand, said the proposal would be sent to the Union government. The corridor had, in the meantime, lost approximately 18 lakh trees in two years of felling in the Dodamarg forest circle alone.

On March 22 , 2024, after twelve years of litigation, the Court issued time-bound directions: the State to submit a proposal to declare the 25 villages as an ESA within four months; the Union government to initiate the procedure within two months thereafter and issue final notification “as early as possible, preferably within four months”; the interim restraint on tree-cutting to continue until final notification; and a Task Force of the District Collector, Deputy Conservator of Forests and Superintendent of Police, Sindhudurg, to ensure compliance, publish a dedicated email and helpline for complaints, and report violations.

Two features of this judgment deserve to be marked. First, the Court does not adopt the language of “balance” or “larger public interest” anywhere in the operative portion. There is no developer on the other side of the case who has to be accommodated; the case is between a State that has agreed in principle and a Union government that needs the State’s piece of paper. Where that is the structure, the older posture re-emerges intact — that ecological declaration must follow on the documentation that has been before the Court for a decade, and that further delay is not acceptable. Second, and relatedly, the Court chooses a structural remedy: not a one-time order, but a Task Force with a helpline, and continuing responsibility on three named officers. The institutional posture of the 1996 Dahanu order — local supervision through specifically named authorities — survives in this kind of case.

The Bandra reclaimed land (2025): the conditions of clearance, twenty-six years later

The Bombay High Court’s judgment of August 26 , 2025 in the connected petitions of Bandra Reclamation Area Volunteers Organisation and Zoru Darayus Bhathena arises from a regulatory chronology that goes back to the construction of the Bandra–Worli Sea Link in 1999–2000. The Ministry of Environment and Forests had granted environmental clearance on 7 January 1999 for that project. Condition (viii) of that clearance, as amended on 26 April 2000, was that reclamation should be kept to the bare minimum, not exceeding 4.7 hectares and subsequently expanded to 27 hectares; and that on the landward side of the road, within 100 metres, no commercial activity other than toll collection would be permitted. The Chief Secretary of Maharashtra had, in a letter to MoEF on 10 February 2000, given the assurance that the reclaimed land “will be kept as open space/garden and no commercial exploitation will be done”.

In 2024, the State Government transferred 24 acres of the reclaimed land to Maharashtra State Road Development Corporation, which proceeded to invite tenders for commercial development of the plot. The petitioners contended that the proposed development violated the 1999/2000 conditions, that the conditions survived the 2011 and 2019 CRZ Notifications, and that MSRDC — a corporation constituted by Government Resolution for road development — could not in any event undertake commercial development.

The Court rejected each contention. On the survival of the conditions, it held that the 1999 clearance had been granted under the 1991 CRZ Notification, that the conditions were referable to and integral with that Notification, and that successive Notifications in 2011 and 2019 had altered the regulatory framework in respects that did not preserve the original conditions. On the maintainability of MSRDC undertaking development, it held that once the State Government decided to transfer ownership of the land to MSRDC for the purpose of developing it, the Court could see no illegality in MSRDC doing so. The petitions were dismissed.

The Court’s reasoning is internally consistent. The 1999 clearance was issued under the 1991 Notification; the 1991 Notification has been replaced; the conditions in the clearance were not, on the Court’s reading, saved by the saving clauses of the new Notifications; and the State, having become the owner, can decide on the use of its property. What is worth marking is the structure of the result: a regulator’s clearance issued in 1999, conditioned by an assurance in 2000 that the land would be kept as open garden, is read in 2025 as no longer binding the State, by reason of subsequent regulatory changes that the State itself promulgated. The reclaimed land at the foot of the Bandra–Worli Sea Link was reclaimed on the strength of those very conditions; the conditions, twenty-six years later, do not survive the regulatory updating.

Whether this reading is correct as a matter of doctrine — and there are real arguments on the survival of clearance conditions— is not the question being asked here. The point is the framing. The Court treats the conditions as procedural artefacts attached to a specific notification, rather than as substantive undertakings made to the Court that supervised the original project. That is a different way of reading 1999 than the Mill Lands Bench, in 2005, would have read it. The real visible difference between this case and the case of Sawantwadi–Dodamarg and Bandra Reclamation is that the Bandra Reclamation project involved a high stakes road project.

Versova–Bhayandar (December 2025): the operationalisation of the carve-out

The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation v. Union of India decision of December 12, 2025 is the application, three years after the Bullet Train, of the same 2018 carve-out to a different infrastructure project. The Corporation sought permission to fell mangroves for the Versova–Bhayandar coastal road, a 26.32 km extension that would link the existing Mumbai Coastal Road northwards. The estimated cost is approximately Rs. 18,263 crores. The Rapid Environment Impact Assessment Report records that approximately 102 hectares of forest land, mostly mangroves, would be required; that 60,000 mangrove trees are in the project’s zone of influence and may be affected; and that the project would inevitably destroy approximately 10 hectares of mangroves (about 9,000 trees) under the actual bridge and road footprint.

The Court records that all statutory permissions up to that stage had been obtained, that compensatory afforestation in the ratio of 1:3 is provided for (1,37,025 mangrove trees on 30 hectares of degraded mangrove forest at Bhayandar, with Rs. 17.74 crores deposited towards plantation and ten-year maintenance), and that compensatory afforestation of an equivalent 103.70 hectares of non-forest land at Vihirgaon in Chandrapur, contiguous with the Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve buffer, will be undertaken at the petitioner’s cost. A further Rs. 233.98 crores has been earmarked for restoration and compensatory measures within an Integrated Coastal Management framework, with the Environment Management Plan contractually embedded in the project’s execution and disbursement schedule.

The reasons recorded for granting the permission are: that the project decongests three congested arterial roads (Western Express Highway, Link Road, S.V. Road); that it reduces travel time from 120 minutes to 18 minutes; that it is expected to reduce daily fuel consumption by approximately 7,82,355 kg, and annual CO₂ emissions by approximately 14,686,304 tonnes; that the project is a permissible activity under the 2019 CRZ Notification clauses 5.1.1(ii) and (iii); that the petitioner has built in extensive mitigation; and that, on the basis of the petitioner’s affidavits and the regulators’ clearance, this is a case for invoking the carve-out under paragraph 87(viii) of the 2018 Mangroves judgment.

The Court grants the permission and imposes a continuing-mandamus structure: the Corporation must file an interim application with annual compliance affidavits, signed by the Municipal Commissioner, MCZMA Mangrove Cell and the Principal Chief Conservator of Forests, for the next ten years, automatically listed on the third Friday of January every year. Failure to file would be contempt.

Three observations are worth making about this judgment. First, the doctrinal pathway from 2018 to 2025 is now fully formed. The 2018 freeze on mangrove destruction is intact in form: every developer who wants to fell mangroves must come to the Court. The exception in 2018 — “public good or public interest” — has been read in 2022 (Bullet Train) and 2025 (Versova–Bhayandar) to cover infrastructure projects of demonstrable utility, where compensatory afforestation is offered. Whether anything other than a project of demonstrable utility could ever reach the threshold for invoking the exception is left open; the cases that have invoked it have not been refused. Second, the supervisory architecture of the 1996 Dahanu order — periodic compliance, named officers, calendarised review — survives, but it is now used to supervise mitigation rather than to monitor compliance with a prohibition. The Court does not stop the destruction; it monitors the compensation and mitigation. Third, the language is precise and unsentimental. There is no rhetoric of “absolutism” or of “sustainable development” being a sword. The judgment is, in tone, indistinguishable from a tribunal order approving a mitigation plan.

The Reading

The first register — Dahanu, Mahabaleshwar, Mill Lands, Adarsh, Mangroves 2018, Sawantwadi-Dodamarg 2024 — treats environmental notifications as instruments of statute that bind the State and its instrumentalities, treats developers as parties whose interests do not survive their own non-compliance, and uses the public trust doctrine, the precautionary principle and the polluter-pays principle as substantive tests rather than as rhetorical flourishes. The second register — Worli Koliwada 2019, Aarey 2019, Bullet Train 2022, Bandra reclamation 2025, Versova-Bhayandar 2025, — treats the same doctrines as structuring questions in which the Court’s role is to satisfy itself that the regulatory process has been followed, and treats the existence of a substantial, completed or under-construction infrastructure project as a feature of the case that conditions the available remedies.

Neither register is unprincipled. The transitional cases do not pretend to be applying the absolutist test of the older cases; they openly say that ecological sacrifice is acceptable where the utilitarian value of the development is great enough, and they invoke compensation and mitigation as the relevant remedial axis. The older cases do not pretend to be applying a balancing test; they say the regulation must be enforced and that demolition is the remedy.

What the two registers have in common is that the variable is not the language of the doctrine but the magnitude of the economic interest on the other side. Where the case is between citizens and a defaulting regulator — Dahanu, Mahabaleshwar, the mill lands, the mangrove freeze in the abstract, the Sawantwadi-Dodamarg corridor — the protective register holds. Where the case is between citizens and a partially or fully built infrastructure project of substantial cost — the coastal road, the metro depot, the bullet train, the sea-link reclamation, the second-stage coastal road extension — the accommodative register operates. The shift is not always visible at the level of language; it is visible at the level of outcome.

The Year 2026: Continuation and Consolidation

The Mumbai Air Pollution Suo Moto (January 2026): institutional response to systemic failure

The first 2026 judgment of significance is not, strictly speaking, a judgment on an environmental doctrine. In High Court on Its Own Motion v. State of Maharashtra, SM PIL No. 3 of 2023, decided on 29 January 2026, the Bombay High Court constituted a High Power Committee to monitor air pollution in Mumbai and directed the State to formulate a comprehensive action plan. The case had originated from the Court’s own motion, based on media reports about severe air quality deterioration. The Court noted that Mumbai’s Air Quality Index had breached 300 on multiple occasions in late 2025, placing it in the “severe” category. What makes the judgment significant for this analysis is its institutional orientation: instead of adjudicating specific disputes, the Court created a permanent monitoring mechanism, directed the Maharashtra Pollution Control Board to install real-time monitoring stations at 150 locations, and required monthly compliance reports. The language is directive rather than accommodating — the Court treats executive inaction as a systemic failure requiring structural correction. The judgment sits at the opposite pole from the Coastal Road or Bullet Train decisions: where those cases involved large projects seeking permission, this case involved no project at all, only the State’s failure to perform its regulatory function. The judicial response is correspondingly more protective.

The Versova–Bhayandar Supreme Court stay refusal (March 2026): ratification from above

On  March 20, 2026, the Supreme Court refused to stay the Bombay High Court’s December 2025 order permitting the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation to cut mangroves for the Versova–Bhayandar coastal road. The application for stay was filed by environmental groups who argued that the High Court had effectively pre-judged the matter by imposing conditions rather than independently assessing the ecological impact. The Supreme Court’s refusal is procedurally brief — no detailed reasoning is offered — but its effect is doctrinally significant. It means that the highest court has, at least at the interim stage, accepted the High Court’s framework of conditional permission as a legitimate exercise of judicial discretion under the 2018 Mangroves judgment. For project proponents, this is a further signal that the carve-out is judicially safe. For environmental litigants, it raises the threshold for future challenges: if the Supreme Court will not interfere with a High Court permission order that conditions rather than prohibits, the available doctrinal route becomes narrower.

The Thane elevated road and Wood Court (April–February 2026): peripheral reinforcement

Two further 2026 judgments complete the picture. In MMRDA v. Union of India, WP No. 3538 of 2026, decided on April 6, 2026, the Court permitted diversion of 0.2145 hectares of mangrove forest for an elevated road from Anand Nagar to Saket in Thane, again under the 2018 carve-out, with conditions including 1:3 compensatory afforestation and Rs. 5.67 crores for restoration. The scale is smaller than the Metro or Bullet Train projects, but the doctrinal framework is identical. In Wood Court Co-operative Housing Society v. State of Maharashtra, decided on February 2 , 2026, the Court addressed a private residential society’s challenge to the fifty-metre mangrove buffer zone, which the society claimed rendered its land undevelopable. The Court rejected the challenge, holding that the buffer zone was an integral part of the 2018 judgment’s protective framework and that private hardship did not constitute the “public good or public interest” exception. The judgment is significant for what it refuses: private developers cannot invoke the carve-out. The exception is available only to public infrastructure projects.

Conclusion

The hypothesis, stated for what it is: when a court is asked to enforce an environmental rule against an executive that has defaulted on its own scheme, it tends to enforce. When a court is asked to enforce the same rule against an executive that has, through bureaucratic and political channels, committed thousands of crores to a project that is now under construction or complete, it tends to find the route through doctrines of comity, finality, exception, and reasonable construction that permits the project to proceed, with compensation. The 2018 carve-out — “public good or public interest” — has, in the cases decided so far, been read to cover every infrastructure project that has come before the Court asking for permission, and to be refused in none. Whether this is a stable equilibrium for the next decade of cases is the question that Part III of this series, on Northern India, will try to test against a different region’s record.

The Maharashtra story, on its own terms, suggests something narrower. It suggests that the doctrines themselves are not in retreat. The precautionary principle is invoked in 2024 with the same vocabulary it was invoked with in 1996. The public trust doctrine still grounds the freeze on mangrove destruction. What has changed is the universe of cases that are now considered, on their facts, to lie outside the protective core of these doctrines. The core has not shrunk in language; the periphery — the set of cases acknowledged to fall within the “exceptional” or “public-interest” exception — has expanded. The question, going forward, is whether the periphery now contains everything that any State or public-sector project proponent can plausibly plead, in which case the core protects only the cases that no developer has yet thought to bring.

(Part I has been published here. Parts IV of this series will extend the inquiry to Northern India and the Southern States respectively, with a concluding piece attempting a national reading.)

Note:

The 3-part series is based on strong empirical standing. Part I dealt with substantive high court pronouncements coming from resource rich Central and Eastern India- Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh and Odisha. Part II (Western India) deals with the high courts of Bombay, Karnataka and Goa. Finally, Part III (Northern India) reflects on judgments from Delhi, Punjab & Haryana, Uttarakhand and Allahabad.

(The author is part of the legal research team of the organisation)

[1] Vanashakti v. Union of India, decided 16 May 2025 (Supreme Court of India, Bench: Oka & Bhuyan, JJ.). Striking down MoEFCC Notification S.O. 804(E) dated March 14, 2017 and Office Memorandum dated July 7, 2021.

The Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, §§ 3, 6 read with the Environment Impact Assessment Notification, 2006 (S.O. 1533(E), dated September 14, 2006).

Vanashakti Review – Order on Review Petition (Nov. 2025), three-Judge Bench, majority opinion by the Chief Justice of India with Vinod Chandran, J., concurring; Bhuyan, J., dissenting.

[2] Indian Council for Enviro-Legal Action v. Union of India, (1996) 5 SCC 281 (Kuldip Singh and S. Saghir Ahmad, JJ.).

[3]Bittu Sehgal v. Union of India, W.P. (C) No. 231 of 1994, order of the Supreme Court of India dated 31 October 1996, reported at (2001) 9 SCC 181, transferring the Dahanu Taluka matters to the Bombay High Court for monitoring through a ‘Green Bench’.

[4]Bombay Environmental Action Group v. State of Maharashtra (Mahabaleshwar-Panchgani Petition), W.P. No. 2754 of 1997, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 18 November 1998 (M.B. Shah, C.J. and S. Radhakrishnan, J.).

[5]Bombay Environmental Action Group v. State of Maharashtra, (1999) 1 Bom CR 455, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 4 December 1998 (B.P. Desai and A.P. Patankar, JJ.).

[6]Bombay Environmental Action Group v. State of Maharashtra (Textile Mill Lands), judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 17 October 2005, concerning the redevelopment of approximately fifty-eight textile mills in central Mumbai under amended Development Control Regulation 58.

[7]Adarsh Co-operative Housing Society Ltd. v. Union of India, W.P. No. 369 (Chamber) of 2011, judgment of the Bombay High Court (Special Bench) dated 29 April 2016 (Ranjit More and R.G. Ketkar, JJ.).

[8]Bombay Environmental Action Group v. State of Maharashtra, PIL No. 87 of 2006, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 17 September 2018 (A.S. Oka and Riyaz I. Chagla, JJ.), commonly known as the Mangroves Judgment.

[9]Worli Koliwada Nakhwa Matsya Vyavasaya Sahakari Society Ltd. v. Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai, W.P. (L) No. 560 of 2019 and connected petitions (Society for Improvement, Greenery and Nature; Conservation Action Trust; Prakash Laxman Chanderkar; Shweta Wagh), judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 16 July 2019 (Pradeep Nandrajog, C.J. and N.M. Jamdar, J., delivered through opinion of the Chief Justice on 4 October 2019).

[10]Aseem Shrivastava and Ashish Kothari, Churning the Earth: The Making of Global India (Penguin Viking, 2012), discussing the political economy of environmental clearance and the pressure on regulatory institutions to accommodate large infrastructure projects.

[11]Vanashakti v. State of Maharashtra (Aarey Metro Car Shed Petition), W.P. No. 1487 of 2019, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 4 October 2019 (Pradeep Nandrajog, C.J. and Bharati Dangre, J.).

[12]National High Speed Rail Corporation Ltd. v. State of Maharashtra, W.P. No. 442 of 2020, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 9 December 2022 (Dipankar Datta, C.J. and Abhay Ahuja, J.).

[13]Awaaz Foundation v. Union of India, PIL No. 179 of 2012, with Vanashakti v. Union of India, PIL No. 198 of 2014, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 22 March 2024 (Nitin Jamdar and M.M. Sathaye, JJ.).

[14]Bandra Reclamation Area Volunteers Organisation v. Union of India, PIL (L) No. 8224 of 2024, and Zoru Darayus Bhathena v. Maharashtra State Road Development Corporation, PIL No. 22 of 2024, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 26 August 2025 (Sandeep V. Marne, J. and the Chief Justice).

[15]Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation v. Union of India, W.P. No. 3790 of 2025, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 12 December 2025 (Shree Chandrashekhar, C.J. and Gautam A. Ankhad, J.), permitting the felling of mangroves for the Versova-Bhayandar coastal road extension.

[16]High Court on Its Own Motion v. State of Maharashtra, SM PIL No. 3 of 2023, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 29 January 2026 (A.S. Oka, C.J. and G.S. Kulkarni, J.), constituting a High Power Committee for monitoring air pollution in Mumbai.

[17]The Supreme Court declined to interfere with the Bombay High Court’s conditional permission for mangrove cutting in BMC v. Union of India, WP No. 3790 of 2025, order dated 20 March 2026.

[18]MMRDA v. Union of India, WP No. 3538 of 2026, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 6 April 2026, permitting diversion of 0.2145 hectares of mangrove forest for an elevated road from Anand Nagar to Saket, Thane.

[19]Wood Court Co-operative Housing Society v. State of Maharashtra, judgment of the Bombay High Court dated 2 February 2026, upholding the fifty-metre mangrove buffer zone against private residential challenge.

Related:

Cracks in Environmental Jurisprudence: A study of central India’s High Courts

Unending Adjudication: The Vanashakti reversal and environmental finality in India

The post Environmental Jurisprudence: The Bombay High Court’s shifting language appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The 242-page judgment delivered by the Division Bench of Justice Vijay Kumar Shukla and Justice Alok Awasthi goes far beyond a conventional determination of competing religious claims. The Court purportedly undertook an exhaustive examination of archaeological surveys, inscriptions, architectural remains, historical literature, colonial gazetteers, legislative history, constitutional principles, Hindu endowment law, Islamic waqf doctrine, and the jurisprudential framework evolved by the Supreme Court in the Ayodhya judgment.

At the heart of the ruling lies the Court’s conclusion that the present structure standing at Bhojshala was constructed after the destruction and alteration of an earlier temple complex and that the continuity of Hindu worship at the site “has never been extinguished”.

The Bench ultimately quashed the 2003 arrangement framed by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) to the extent that it permitted Friday namaz while restricting Hindu worship inside the complex. At the same time, the Court attempted –not very convincingly–to balance competing religious claims by observing that the Muslim community may apply to the State for allotment of an alternative site in Dhar district for construction of a mosque.

The ruling is likely to have profound legal and political implications, not merely because of its conclusions regarding Bhojshala, but because of the constitutional and evidentiary methodology adopted by the Court — one that unmistakably draws from and expands the contentious principles articulated in the Supreme Court’s decision in Ayodhya Verdict.

Dismantling the 1991 Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act

What is crucial for the citizen and legal mind to understand and assimilate is what the Courts are themselves doing to an existing law, the 1991 Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act. Passed in the wake of the Babri Masjid demolition on December 6, 1992, this law that received resounding support of the legislature after it was tabled by the Narasimha Rao government (that incidentally also was in power when the illegal act of the demolition took place) is currently under constitutional challenge in the Supreme Court of India.

Ironically, the last time that the “challenge to this law” was heard by the apex court was in December 2024 when the matter was supposed to be heard after four weeks. While this has not happened, verdicts such as the Bhojshala verdict, again, seek to undermine this law. The Supreme Court’s December 12, 2024 order –albeit directed at trial courts—asked them to refrain from registering new suits and passing any effective orders (including survey orders), in cases challenging the religious character of places of worship pending the challenge to the Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act of 1991.

This order was passed by a bench, led by Chief Justice of India Sanjiv Khanna and comprising Justices PV Sanjay Kumar and KV Viswanathan and the Judges had then emphasised emphasised that such proceedings violate the Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act of 1991. This law prohibits altering the religious character of places of worship as they stood on August 15, 1947.

The Court’s intervention in December 2024, after years of pendency and delay (notice was issued on these petitions in 2021) came amidst a rising tide of petitions and suits challenging the status of religious sites, many of which are medieval mosques and shrines. At the time, a November 2024 survey order by a trial court regarding the 16th-century Sambhal Jama Masjid in Uttar Pradesh escalated communal tensions, culminating in violent clashes that claimed four lives in November. While the court had then stated that it would begin hearing the challenges to this law, the Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, this has not yet happened. Read on those developments here.

Context and broader implications of the PWA 1991

The 1991 Act was introduced to prevent the conversion of the religious character of places of worship, with an exception only for the Babri Masjid site, which was the subject of the Ayodhya dispute. The Act, which has been subject to increasing challenges, seeks to ensure that no new legal disputes are initiated over the status of religious places, especially those with historical significance, as of August 15, 1947.

Read this crucial reference on ‘When and How Ram Vilas Paswan made a strong pitch for the Places of Worship Act, 1991 here: A powerful leader from Bihar, unkindly known as the shrewd weatherman of Indian politics, Ram Vilas Paswan, then a member of the National Front, spoke powerfully from the Opposition benches, in support of the proposed law and scathingly of the BJP’s destructive politics of demolishing places of worship (Babri masjid, December 6, 1991) while not sparing the Congress either.

Read about the Babri Masjid demolition and also extensive analyses of the flaws in the Babri Masjid judgement here, here and here.

Even as we understand and analyse the flaws behind the ‘Bhojshala’ verdict –and there are several—it is crucial to also understand what the courts are themselves doing to this law. Across several states and sites, courts are reaching the same destination through different presumptions and conclusions. As a result, now the ‘Bhojshala Order’ just like several others that are being conclusively passed while the constitutional challenge to a vital law hangs in judicial limbo, effectively is doing to the Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, what neither parliament nor the Supreme Court has been willing to do. The Act is not being amended. It is not being struck down. It is being made rendered ineffective and inapplicable to those it was written to protect, one site at a time, through a different doctrinal route each time.

Incidently, the Bhojshala verdict delivered on Friday (May 15) by the Indore Bench of the Madhya Pradesh high court is the latest expression of this pattern. It is also the most ambitious. The Bench comprised Justices Vijay Kumar Shukla and Alok Awasthi. It has held the 1991 Act inapplicable to Bhojshala. The ground is that the site is a centrally protected monument under a different statute. The route that this bench has introduced was not, until now, judicially available. This verdict now sets another precedent for those litigating sime verdict adds a sixth procedural pathway to a map that already had five.

As the Hindustan Times has reported, litigation similar to Bhojshala is now alive in courts from Uttar Pradesh through Karnataka. The geographic spread is itself the analytical fact. What follows is the spread, read against the Act it is dismantling.

Section 4 of the 1991 Places of Worship Act law says that the religious character of a holy site “shall continue to be the same as it existed” as it was on August 15, 1947, the day of independence. The only exception, under Section 5, said: “…nothing contained in this act shall apply to the place or place of worship commonly known as Ram Janma Bhoomi-Babri Masjid situated in Ayodhya.”

However be it Gyan Vapi Mosque (Varanasi) or the or the suits related to the 13.37-acre land of Katra Keshav Dev Temple, seeking the removal of the 17th-century Shahi Idgah mosque, there are cases pending across courts that violate this law passed by Parliament. At least 18 suits for possession of land after removal of Shahi Idgah Masjid as well as for restoration of the temple and for permanent injunction are pending before the high court. The case was first heard on October 18, 2023 and the next hearing date is not available.

Apart from the Sambhal Shahi Masjid site in western UP, the site of the Idgah maidan dispute in Hubali, the Baba Boudhangiri syncretic shrine in Chikmagalur, Karnataka and the Malali Mosque in Malali village Mangaluru are already under similar litigation by far right Hindu organisations.

A dispute rooted in competing historical claims

The Bhojshala dispute –on which the MP HC pronounced its verdict on May 15–concerns an ASI-protected medieval structure in Dhar, Madhya Pradesh, long claimed by multiple religious communities. While Hindu groups have since the early 1990s claiming that the structure has historically been regarded as Bhojshala — a temple of Goddess Saraswati and a renowned centre of Sanskrit learning established by Raja Bhoj, the celebrated Paramara ruler associated with scholarship, literature and temple patronage, the site has Mosque located there too..

The Muslim community, however, has been worshipping here at the Kamal Maula Mosque, claiming that the site functioned as a mosque for centuries and relying upon historical references from the Khilji period as well as a 1935 Ailan issued by the erstwhile Dhar State recognising it as a mosque.

A separate set of claims was raised by Jain petitioners, who argued that certain recovered idols and iconographic features suggested that the site was originally a Jain temple associated with Goddess Ambika or Jain Vidyadevi traditions.

The dispute had for years been governed by a 2003 administrative arrangement framed by the ASI under which Hindus performed puja on Tuesdays while Muslims offered namaz on Fridays.

The litigation intensified after petitions were filed seeking recognition of the site as a Hindu temple and restraining namaz within the complex. During the proceedings, the High Court ordered a scientific survey of the site by the ASI — an order that briefly reached the Supreme Court before the survey process was ultimately permitted to continue under judicial supervision. The resulting ASI report became the backbone of the High Court’s eventual conclusions.

The Court’s Central Finding: Bhojshala was a Saraswati Temple and centre of Sanskrit learning

The High Court concluded that the cumulative historical and archaeological material overwhelmingly established Bhojshala as a temple dedicated to Goddess Saraswati and a Sanskrit educational institution associated with Raja Bhoj.

The Bench recorded:

“We have noted the continuity of hindu worship at the site through regulated over time has never been extinguished. We record finding that historical literature placed established that the character of the disputed area was Bhojshala as a Centre of Sanskrit learning associated with Raja Bhoj of Parmar dynasty and the literature and architectural reference including those connected with the period of Raja Bhoj indicate the existence of temple dedicated to the goddess Saraswati at Dhar.” (Para 210)

Crucially, the Court clarified that it was not adjudicating a civil title dispute in the conventional sense. Unlike the Ayodhya litigation, which arose from suits concerning ownership and title over land, the Bhojshala matter, according to the Bench, primarily concerned determination of the “religious character” of the disputed structure through archaeological, historical and documentary evidence.

This distinction allowed the Court to focus extensively on patterns of worship, inscriptions, architectural continuity, historical references and archaeological findings rather than conventional proprietary claims.

The ASI Survey: The foundation of the judgment

The most decisive aspect of the ruling was the Court’s reliance on the scientific survey conducted by the Archaeological Survey of India.

The Muslim parties had strongly challenged the fairness and methodology of the survey, raising objections regarding excavation practices, debris contamination, recovery of artefacts and interpretation of findings. The Court, however, categorically rejected allegations of bias or procedural impropriety.

The Bench noted that the survey had been carried out by a core technical team of senior archaeologists under the supervision of an Additional Director General of the ASI. It also recorded that officers belonging to the Muslim community participated in the process and that representatives of all contesting parties were present during videography and photography throughout the survey proceedings.

The Court held:

“We find that the survey was conducted by adopting scientific method in a fair and impartial manner. The presence of representatives of the petitioners and the respondent can be very well seen in the videography. The method which has been adopted by the experts was as per their expertise. The carbon dating method is used to determine the age of material itself and not for the age of construction period.” (Para 195)

Rejecting allegations regarding plastic waste and modern debris allegedly found at the site, the Court accepted the ASI’s explanation that such material was located only in upper heterogeneous debris layers containing modern dumped material, wrappers and conservation waste, and did not compromise the archaeological integrity of deeper strata.

The Bench further accepted the ASI’s clarification that carbon dating was not necessary because the purpose of the survey was not to determine the age of isolated organic material but to identify the architectural period and historical evolution of the structure itself.

Some facts about the History & structure

For 700 years, the Kamal Maula Mosque had been a place of worship for Dhar’s Muslims. Following the demolition of the Babri Masjid on December 6, 1992, and the political ascendance of Hindutva majoritarianism, the efforts to twist and misrepresent archaeology and history both at Faizabad-Ayodya and elsewhere had begun. In fact, in May 2003, a year after the Gujarat pogrom, Communalism Combat, had published a detailed list –sourced from the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP)—of dozens of such “site on Hindutva’s hit list.” These may be read here.

Coming back to the Kamal Maula Mosque. History tells us that, in 1903, a British-era education officer named K.K. Lele while viewing a structure that locals called “Raja Bhoja ka Madrassa” decided to call it Bhojshala. Every British officer before him had called it a mosque. John Malcolm visited Dhar in 1822 and removed an inscribed panel from the structure. Of the building, he said only that it was a “ruined mosque.” William Kincaid, writing in 1888 about his years in Malwa, documented local legends about Raja Bhoja extensively and never once mentioned a Bhojshala. Then, in 2003, after the matter was contested in the courts, that is one hundred and twenty-three years later, the ASI submitted a 2,000-page report to the Madhya Pradesh High Court where this nuance around nomenclature was erased and only “Bhojshala Temple” appeared throughout. For locals, the structure that had stood in Dhar since 1304 CE is the Kamal Maula Mosque. Yet this history stands erased by this verdict of the MP High Court.

“Evidence of a pre-existing Temple structure”

The High Court repeatedly returned to one central conclusion drawn from the voluminous but flawed ASI report: that the existing structure was built upon and through the remains of an earlier temple complex dating to the Paramara period.

The Court observed that the remains of the earlier structure still survive beneath the present complex and that numerous inscriptions, sculptures and architectural fragments embedded within the existing structure clearly belonged to an earlier Hindu religious monument.

The judgment notes that hundreds of large and small inscription fragments were found in and around the structure, demonstrating that the site once possessed a substantially different architectural and religious identity.

The Court noted from the brief findings of the survey:

“Fragments of inscriptions, sculptures and architectural members suggest that superstructure of this stone structure was later modified and converted into mosque.” (Para 173)

The ASI findings also became central to the Court’s conclusion that the pillars and pilasters used in the present structure originally belonged to temples. There was no attempt by the Court to test the independence or autonomy of the ASI itself or seek expert autonomous opinion on the structure.

The Bench referred extensively to sculptural remains depicting:

• Ganesh,
• Brahma with consorts,
• Narasimha,
• Bhairava,
• divine and semi-divine figures,
• animal and human carvings,
• and temple motifs such as kirtimukhas.

According to the Court, many of these figures had been intentionally defaced, mutilated or chiselled out before reuse in the later structure.

The Court specifically noted that anthropomorphic depictions are generally inconsistent with mosque architecture and treated the mutilation itself as evidence that temple material had been repurposed during construction of the mosque structure.

The Bench also relied on the ASI’s observation that the present structure lacked architectural symmetry and appeared to have been assembled hurriedly from reused material of varying periods and styles.

The Paramara Dynasty, Raja Bhoj and the dating of the site

A substantial part of the judgment is devoted to dating the earlier structure to the 10th–11th centuries CE during the rule of the Paramara dynasty.

The Court relied upon:

• Paramara-era pottery,
• Indo-Sassanian coins,
• Sanskrit and Prakrit inscriptions,
• temple architectural remains,
• iron objects,
• mutilated Vishnu sculptures,
• and historical references associated with Raja Bhoj.

The Bench referred to the ASI’s finding that the earliest coins recovered from the site belonged to the Indo-Sassanian period, corresponding to the time when the Paramara kings ruled Malwa from Dhar.

One of the most important inscriptions discussed in the judgment contained two Prakrit poems consisting of 109 stanzas each associated with Raja Bhoj.

The Court noted that the inscriptions reportedly opened with invocations such as:

“Om Sarasvityanamah”

“Om Namah Shivay”

The Bench regarded this as significant evidence that the site possessed a deeply rooted Sanskritic and Hindu religious identity prior to later Islamic inscriptions. Importantly, the Court also observed that the Sanskrit and Prakrit inscriptions predated all Arabic and Persian inscriptions found at the site.

Bhojshala as a great centre of Sanskrit learning

The High Court accepted the argument that Bhojshala was not merely a temple, but a renowned educational institution associated with Sanskrit learning under Raja Bhoj.

The Court relied on several historical texts and administrative publications, including:

• the Imperial Gazetteer of India (1908),
• publications of the Royal Asiatic Society,
• G. Yazdani’s Mandu: The City of Joy,
• archaeological reviews from 1972–73,
• and educational records from the Dhar State.

The Bench repeatedly referred to the famous “serpentine grammatical inscriptions” found at the site — Sanskrit grammatical formulae carved in serpent-shaped arrangements on floor slabs and architectural members.

These inscriptions became central to identifying the structure as “Bhojshala” or “Hall of Bhoja”. Historical literature cited before the Court described the structure as: “Raja Bhoja ka Madrassa” or Raja Bhoja’s School.

The Court treated these records as corroborative evidence establishing the site’s longstanding association with scholarship, Sanskrit education and Goddess Saraswati.

The Court’s Conclusion: The existing structure was built from Temple remains

The judgment repeatedly emphasises that the current structure reflects unmistakable evidence of reuse of temple material after demolition or dismantling of an earlier Hindu religious structure.

The ASI report, extensively reproduced in the judgment, stated that the structure appeared to have been assembled rapidly using material from an earlier building without regard for symmetry or consistency.

The Court pointed to:

• reused basalt pillars,
• temple-style columns,
• mutilated deity carvings,
• reused sculptural blocks,
• and fragmented inscriptional material embedded within the mosque structure.

According to the Court, the cumulative architectural evidence clearly established that temple components had been dismantled and incorporated into the later Islamic structure.

Why the Court rejected the Mosque claim

One of the most consequential portions of the judgment concerns the Court’s rejection of the claim that the disputed structure was originally and validly a mosque. The Muslim parties had relied on historical references from the Khilji period and the 1935 Ailan recognising the structure as a mosque.

The Court, however, concluded that none of the historical material produced by the Muslim side established that the structure existed as a mosque prior to the already established 1034 AD Hindu religious structure. More significantly, the Bench held that there was no evidence establishing the site as valid waqf property.

The Court undertook a detailed discussion of Islamic waqf doctrine, referring to Sir Dinshaw Mulla’s Principles of Mahomedan Law. It observed that a valid waqf requires:

• ownership by the waqif,
• dedication of the property to Almighty God,
• and extinction of the waqif’s ownership.

The Bench held that no evidence showed that the disputed land had ever been dedicated as waqf property.

It observed:

“No material suggests that the part of the land No.604 (Old No.313) is a Waqf property and the same was dedicated or could be dedicated to Waqf. It is imperative under Muhammadan Law that property must belong to waqif and the owner must belong to waqif and the owner must dedicate the property to the Almighty. Historical material placed before us could not show that waqf has been created and therefore, there can be no presumption regarding existence of a mosque in the disputed area which is prima facie established to be constructed as Bhojshala and temple of goddess Vagdevi (Saraswati) a place of learning Sanskrit language in 1034 AD.” (Para 192)

The Court further reasoned that land already vested in a Hindu deity could not validly become waqf property.

The 1935 Ailan declared constitutionally unsustainable

The Court also rejected reliance on the 1935 Ailan issued by the ruler of Dhar State recognising the site as a mosque. The Bench held that the order could not automatically survive after the Constitution came into force.

Invoking Articles 13 and 372 of the Constitution, the Court observed that pre-Constitution executive orders remain operative only if they conform to constitutional principles. According to the Court, the Ailan was inconsistent with the overwhelming archaeological and historical evidence establishing the site’s Hindu religious and educational character.

The Court further held that because the site had already been notified as a protected monument under the Ancient Monuments Preservation Act, 1904, the Dhar ruler lacked authority to alter its essential legal status in 1935.

The Jain claims and the British museum idol

The judgment devotes considerable attention to claims raised by Jain petitioners who argued that certain idols and iconographic features established the site as a Jain temple. Particular emphasis was placed on an idol presently located in the British Museum and identified by some petitioners as Ambika, a Jain goddess. The Court, however, rejected the argument that the disputed structure was a Jain temple.

The Bench held that no historical literature, ASI findings or architectural material supported the conclusion that the site functioned as an exclusively Jain religious structure.

It observed:

“Whether the idol is of Saraswati or of Ambika would not render much assistance to his submission that the disputed area was a Jain temple as we held that no material has been placed before us either by way of historical literature, architectural features or in ASI survey suggesting that the disputed area was a Jain temple.” (Para 209)

The Court noted that Saraswati is worshipped in both Hindu and Jain traditions as a deity associated with learning and wisdom.

The Bench also referred to iconographic features such as books held by the deity, accompanying figures and seated ascetic forms.

In one of the most controversial observations in the judgment, the Court stated that Jainism and Hinduism evolved alongside each other and referred to statutory provisions under the Hindu Marriage Act and Hindu Succession Act to note that Jains, Buddhists and Sikhs are treated within broader Hindu legal frameworks for certain civil purposes.

The Court therefore concluded that the presence of Jain-associated iconography did not alter the essential Hindu character of the site.

The Saraswati Idol and the possibility of repatriation

The High Court also considered requests seeking the return of the Saraswati idol presently believed to be housed in the British Museum.

The Bench noted that representations had already been submitted to the Union Government seeking repatriation of the idol and observed that the Government of India may consider taking steps to bring the idol back and reinstall it within the Bhojshala complex.

The Court referred to inscriptions associated with the idol mentioning Vararuci, an official in the Paramara kingdom, who had commissioned images of Vagdevi and Ambika.

How the High Court imported the Ayodhya framework into Bhojshala

Perhaps the most legally significant feature of the judgment is its explicit adoption of principles articulated by the Supreme Court in the Ayodhya verdict. The High Court treated the Ayodhya decision not merely as persuasive precedent, but as a foundational jurisprudential framework for resolving historical-religious disputes.

The Court identified several governing principles:

• disputes over ancient religious sites must be decided on the civil standard of “preponderance of probabilities” rather than proof beyond reasonable doubt;
• courts must focus on continuity of worship, patterns of religious use and historical belief;
• destruction or removal of idols does not extinguish the underlying religious endowment;
• ASI reports deserve substantial evidentiary weight because they are prepared by technical experts;
• and archaeological remains, inscriptions and religious motifs possess strong probative value in determining the historical religious character of a site.

The Court also emphasised that faith cannot always be tested through rigid secular logic or documentary proof and that longstanding continuity of belief deserves legal recognition where corroborated by historical circumstances.

Final directions of the court

The High Court ultimately:

• declared the religious character of the disputed site to be Bhojshala, a temple dedicated to Goddess Saraswati;
• recognised the site as a Sanskrit learning centre associated with Raja Bhoj;
• quashed the 2003 ASI arrangement permitting namaz at the site;
• directed the Union Government and the ASI to formulate arrangements for administration and management of the temple and Sanskrit learning centre;
• clarified that the ASI would continue exercising overall statutory control over the protected monument;
• and observed that the Muslim community may apply for allotment of alternative land for construction of a mosque in Dhar district.

The Bench further stated:

“Every Government has the constitutional obligation to ensure preservation and protection of not only the ancient monuments and structures including temples of archaeological and historical importance, but also of sanctum sanctorum as well as the deity of spiritual importance. There is a constitutional duty even to sanction funds for providing basic amenities to pilgrims, proper arrangements for shelter places, maintenance of law and order and the preservation of purity and pristine character of the deity. We have noted the continuity of hindu worship at the site through regulated over time has never been extinguished. We record finding that historical literature placed established that the character of the disputed area was Bhojshala as a Centre of Sanskrit learning associated with Raja Bhoj of Parmar dynasty and the literature and architectural reference including those connected with the period of Raja Bhoj indicate the existence of temple dedicated to the goddess Saraswati at Dhar.” (Para 210)

Why the judgment will matter far beyond Bhojshala

The Bhojshala judgment is likely to become one of the most consequential religious-site rulings in India after the Supreme Court’s Ayodhya verdict, not merely, because of what it decided, but because of the legal framework, it normalises and expands. The judgment represents a significant moment in the evolution of Indian constitutional jurisprudence on contested religious spaces, where courts are increasingly being called upon to adjudicate centuries-old historical, theological and civilisational disputes through the language of archaeology, faith, continuity of worship and constitutional law.

At the heart of the ruling lies a judicial methodology that goes far beyond the facts of Bhojshala itself. The High Court explicitly imported and applied core principles from the Ayodhya judgment — particularly the reliance on “preponderance of probabilities”, continuity of worship, archaeological interpretation, and the survival of religious endowments despite destruction of structures or idols. In doing so, the Court has effectively reinforced and expanded a legal template through which competing historical claims over religious sites may increasingly be litigated and judicially resolved.

The judgment is particularly significant because it elevates archaeological evidence to a position of extraordinary constitutional and evidentiary importance. The Court repeatedly treated the ASI report as a highly persuasive and technically authoritative document capable of determining not merely architectural history, but the religious character and historical evolution of the site itself. Although the Court formally acknowledged that expert reports are not conclusive, the structure of the judgment demonstrates that the ASI findings became the backbone of almost every major conclusion ultimately reached by the Bench.

This growing judicial centrality of archaeology is likely to have implications far beyond Bhojshala. The ruling strengthens the idea that excavation reports, inscriptions, iconography, architectural fragments and material remain can decisively shape constitutional adjudication concerning religious identity and historical memory. In practice, it signals a judiciary increasingly willing to reconstruct medieval histories through archaeological interpretation and then attach contemporary legal consequences to those reconstructions.

Equally significant is the Court’s treatment of continuity of worship. The Bench repeatedly emphasised that Hindu worship at the site had “never been extinguished”, even if regulated or interrupted over time. This formulation mirrors a crucial aspect of the Ayodhya framework: that religious continuity may survive political conquest, structural alteration or physical destruction. The judgment therefore deepens the doctrinal move away from viewing religious disputes purely as questions of title and possession, and toward a broader inquiry into historical faith, devotional memory and civilisational continuity.

The ruling may consequently influence future litigation concerning other disputed religious sites where arguments are framed around claims of interrupted worship, historical destruction or continuity of sacred identity despite architectural transformation.

At the same time, the judgment raises serious constitutional, factual and secularism-related concerns. The Court repeatedly entered deeply partisan and contested theological and historical terrain, particularly while discussing the relationship between Hinduism and Jainism. Its observation that Jainism is “a branch of Hinduism”, supported through references to personal law statutes such as the Hindu Marriage Act and Hindu Succession Act, is likely to invite substantial criticism from constitutional scholars, historians and members of the Jain community. Critics are likely to argue that civil statutory classification for limited legislative purposes cannot automatically determine independent religious identity or theological distinctiveness.

The judgment also raises larger concerns regarding the role of courts in resolving historical controversies that are often shaped by fragmentary evidence, competing interpretations and politically charged narratives. By relying heavily on bodies like the ASI that are neither independent nor autonomous, the kind of “literature, inscriptions and archaeological reconstruction” that the ASI has indulged in without the expertise of subject experts –that too, to determine the “religious character” of a centuries-old structure—is seriously questionable. The Court has moved the judiciary further into the terrain of subjective adjudication — an area where legal institutions may struggle with methodological and (absence of expertise) limitations.

Another critical aspect of the ruling is its treatment of waqf doctrine and mosque status. The Court concluded that no valid waqf existed because there was insufficient evidence showing dedication of the property by a lawful waqif. It further suggested that a mosque constructed upon a pre-existing Hindu religious structure could not acquire legitimacy in the absence of valid waqf dedication. This reasoning and subsequent conclusion is inherently problematic. Besides, it could have repercussions on future litigation involving mosque structures standing over sites claimed to have earlier religious histories.

Importantly, the judgment also reflects the continuing constitutional afterlife of the Ayodhya verdict. Ayodhya was initially presented by many as a singular and exceptional resolution to an unusually complex dispute. However, judgments such as Bhojshala indicate that the legal principles evolved in Ayodhya are now becoming part of a broader and expanding jurisprudential framework governing religious-site litigation across India.

The Bhojshala ruling therefore marks more than a adjudication of a long-running dispute in Dhar. It signals the consolidation of a new judicial approach in which courts are increasingly prepared to engage with questions of untested sacred geography and ‘historical grievance’ through constitutional adjudication. This kind of approach is unlikely to be healthy for a modern constitutional approach that is required to lean not on majoritarian contestation of historical fact –like in Faizabad-Ayodhya but on a sober evaluation of all aspects of such engendered conflicts.

The complete judgment may be read below:

Related:

Ayodhya, January 22: Growing influence of religion in state & society matter of disquiet say 65 former civil servants

Babri-Ayodhya verdict: Will appeal for peace apply to Hindutva hardliners in future?

Reading SC order on Ayodhya: Condemn the Sin but Concede to Sinners

Political dimensions of Ayodhya verdict

Ayodhya Verdict: Has Faith Prevailed Over Justice?

The post Bhojshala Judgment: MP High Court declares Dhar site a Saraswati Temple, ends Namaz rights at complex appeared first on SabrangIndia.

As this article is being written, the Supreme Court has taken suo moto cognizance of the media reports which brought to light the inhumane orders of the trial courts and a High Court order which ordered Dalit and Adivasi individuals, reportedly engaged in anti-mining protests, to clean police stations. The apex court also passed an order directing all courts across the State of Odisha to forthwith delete such or similar offending conditions from bail orders and to refrain from substituting them with any analogous requirements. The court also opined “Given these extenuating circumstances, we are of the considered view that no other State Judiciary also ought to be exposed to or replicate such caste-coloured and oppressive conditions, which have the potential to generate serious social friction.”

It is imperative that any discussion on environment, and analysis of jurisprudence, has to be done in the real material context. The material context here is that the power of the state and ruling establishment is brazen and unkind to the most vulnerable and downtrodden Indians. Such power, sometimes comes as grey hounds or sometimes comes in black robes. This contextual prism has to be used to view and understand the following discussion.

High Courts, in that sense, are not merely intermediate constitutional forums. They are where constitutional promises most frequently meet the citizen in distress. They hear, often as courts of first and last practical resort, disputes ranging from land, livelihood and liberty to forests, mining, displacement and police excess. Yet, despite carrying this enormous constitutional burden, their environmental jurisprudence rarely receives the sustained attention given to the Supreme Court. The volume and variety of cases before the High Courts make them a crucial site for studying how environmental law actually operates: what language judges use, who’s suffering is made visible, whose claims are treated with suspicion, and how courts balance ecological protection against notions of ‘development’, ‘state power and private capital’. It is with this lens that the following discussion turns to recent High Court decisions.

Some context is necessary before turning to the High Courts.

In Vanashakti v. Union of India (decided May 16, 2025),[1] a Bench of Justices Abhay S. Oka and Ujjal Bhuyan struck down the Ministry of Environment’s 2017 notification and 2021 office memorandum (OM), both of which permitted ex post facto environmental clearances — that is, regularisation of projects that had commenced operations without first obtaining the clearance the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986 requires.[2] The judgment held that the notification and OM were contrary to the precautionary principle and that the Ministry could not, by executive instrument, undo what the statute mandated.

A review petition followed. In November 2025, a three-judge Bench took up the review and split.[3] The majority, in an opinion by the Chief Justice with Justice K. Vinod Chandran concurring separately, recalled the original directions and read the law as permitting ex post facto regularisation in suitable cases. Justice Ujjal Bhuyan, who had been on the original Bench, dissented. He called the majority’s approach “a step in retrogression,” and his point was simple and well made — the precautionary principle is the cornerstone; polluter pays is reparation. You cannot swap them around and call it balance. Justice Chandran, in his concurrence, pointed to earlier decisions in Common Cause, Alembic Pharmaceuticals, and Electrosteel,[4] where the Court had let projects stand despite clearance irregularities, subject to conditions. The original Vanashakti judgment, he argued, had missed these precedents, and the cost of enforcing it strictly would be enormous.

This difference between the judges at the Supreme Court, and the support one would find for both the arguments, is actually a mirror of how the polity has come to view environment and environment law. Whether ecological protection is a non-negotiable constitutional imperative that must be satisfied before economic activity proceeds, or whether it is one consideration among several, adjustable after the fact through compensatory mechanisms. And the fact that the Supreme Court itself is divided on this makes it worth asking a more granular question: what is happening in the High Courts below?

This article is the first in a three-part series examining how High Courts across different regions of India are contributing to, or departing from, the trajectory of environmental jurisprudence. This part looks at Central India: Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Odisha and Jharkhand. A region that is home to some of the country’s richest forests, its most significant mineral reserves, and its most vulnerable tribal populations.

This exercise is not being taken up with a premade assumption that the judiciary is doing a very bad job at protecting environment or interpreting the environment protection law. It is actually made with the contra assumption that the High Courts are being proactive, but it is made with a probing eye to see if there are any deviations, and if so, what do they reveal.

Parts II and III will extend this inquiry to Northern and Western India.

The Baseline

It is unfair to the judiciary and to this exercise to begin with all the environment-protection-dilution jurisprudence and rain only criticism on them. After all, the High Courts have consistently, albeit with exceptions, shown their inclination to protect the environment for the last few decades. It is only fair to begin with where they have held firm.

The Good Days

Madhya Pradesh

Vivek Kumar Sharma v. State of Madhya Pradesh[5] is a good place to start because it shows what the system looks like when it works properly. The MP High Court struck down a 2015 State notification that had exempted sixty-two tree species from the Forest’s Act thus facilitating their transit. The State’s case was that the exemption promoted agroforestry on private lands and had the backing of the Ministry of Environment. The state essentially meant that because those tree species now could be transported without much compliance, private persons will likely grow those trees. The court went and looked at what had actually happened on the ground. No study had been conducted on whether these species also grew in forests. Why would it matter? If these trees did grow in forests, timber mafia would cut down the trees and transport them without any fear of the Forest’s Act’s regulatory quagmire. The State’s own Chief Conservator of Forests, Indore Circle, had reported that the exemption was playing havoc with lush green trees in both forest and non-forest areas. Senior forest officials had flagged that the timber mafia was using the exemption to legitimise illegally procured wood. The court found all this in departmental correspondence that was already on record. Nobody in the State government had acted on it.

The court applied M.K. Ranjitsinh’s precautionary principle,[6] struck down the notification as manifestly arbitrary under Article 14, and refused to entertain the delay objection, holding that environmental questions affecting every citizen’s life cannot be barred by limitation. And it noted, with visible frustration, that but for the PIL petitioners, the court would have been completely aloof of the ground reality. It means the entire regulatory apparatus of the State of Madhya Pradesh had failed to flag what a few public-spirited citizens could demonstrate through departmental correspondence that was already on record. The court stated as follows, observing the faulty manner in which the notifications were issued:

The arbitrary manner in which notifications came to be issued in quick succession from the year 2005 onwards points out clinchingly of the immense pressure of the timber mafia on the State authorities, with the environment and forest as its mute victims. The issuance of impugned notification mechanically, without studying and examining the fundamental aspect of impact of such exemptions on the existing forest cover of the State provokes the conscience of this Court, which has been compounded by dissatisfactory answers given by the State in the present proceedings.

(See ¶ 104.)[7]

On precautionary principle too, the MP High Court had substantial reiterations to be made. It termed the principle one of the “basic features of environmental jurisprudence.” The court stated as follows:

…(the principle) mandates that Courts must lean towards that interpretation of any statutory position, which furthers and advances the precautionary approach towards the environment, forests, and natural resources. Whilst doing so, the Court must be mindful that the State cannot treat the environment, natural resources and forests, as part of its sovereign wealth under its commercial use, rather all these resources are held as a trustee on behalf of the general public.

In a similar vein, the Madhya Pradesh High Court’s Indore Bench took suo moto cognisance in late 2025 based on a newspaper report that 5,961 industries in the State were operating without valid permission from the M.P. Pollution Control Board.[8] The court issued notices to the Chief Secretary, the Principal Secretary for Housing and Environment, and the Pollution Control Board. The court’s willingness to act on a newspaper report, to hold the executive accountable for systemic regulatory failure, represents environmental activism of a substantive kind.

Chhattisgarh

The Chhattisgarh High Court has displayed the same instinct: in In Re: Karkhano Ke Avshesh Aag Ke Havale (21 March 2024), the Bilaspur Bench, in a suo moto PIL prompted by a Navbharat report on the burning of industrial waste behind the Sirgitti police station, summoned the State machinery to demonstrate compliance with the Hazardous and Other Wastes (Management and Transboundary Movement) Rules, 2016, and the Solid Waste Management Rules, 2016, and ultimately had the District Magistrate convene meetings of regulators and industrial units to translate the Rules into operational practice.[9]

 Jharkhand

Jharkhand provides the fullest contemporary picture of this baseline activism. Three judgments delivered in 2026 by a Division Bench of Chief Justice M.S. Sonak and Justice Rajesh Shankar deserve particular attention.

The first, Jharkhand Human Rights Conference v. State of Jharkhand, decided on February 26 , 2026,[10] closed a Public Interest Litigation that had been pending since 2012 on the management of bio-medical waste. The Court’s narrative of those fourteen years is instructive starting from a 2012 record of “serious deficiencies” in Ranchi, Dhanbad and Jamshedpur; a 2013 finding that the State did not have basic consolidated data on healthcare institutions generating bio-medical waste; photographic evidence of sharps and microbiological material dumped on public roads; state-wide expansion of the proceedings through the State and District Legal Services Authorities; sustained dissatisfaction through 2014 and 2015; supervision of Common Bio-Medical Waste Treatment Facilities at Lohardaga, Ramgarh and Adityapur; and a suo moto intervention at RIMS, Ranchi, in 2024. The Bench recorded that by the time it closed the proceedings, Jharkhand had moved from a single functional treatment facility to six operational CBWTFs, with a seventh under construction.[11] The Court did not, however, make it look like that this was its own work. It explicitly framed the case as one in which “sustained judicial oversight has contributed to a more responsive and coordinated regulatory framework,” cautioned that “constitutional courts cannot assume the role of a continuing administrator where a statutory mechanism is already in place,” and issued a careful set of nineteen coordination-and-enforcement directions that operationalise the 2016 Rules without supplanting them.

The second, Court on Its Own Motion v. State of Jharkhand (February 16 , 2026),[12] arises from a national highway alignment that had been proposed to cut through the Core Zone of a wildlife sanctuary and an Eco-Sensitive Zone. After repeated dissatisfaction with the pace of the NHAI and the State, the Bench directed for a fresh proposal for an alternative alignment passing through plain and rolling terrain and not through the Core Zone or ESZ, and pressed the State to file an animal-passage plan. The order is short and unremarkable in its own terms; what is remarkable is the assumption running through it, that an executive statement about wildlife corridors made in court must mean what it says, and that two years of non-compliance with such a statement is not an acceptable place for the proceedings to rest.

The third, Anand Kumar v. State of Jharkhand (April 16, 2026),[13] was a PIL by a retired Range Forest Officer challenging two notifications of the Jharkhand State Pollution Control Board that had reduced the minimum distance for stone mining and stone crushers from forest and forest-land boundaries from 500 metres to 250 metres. The State produced a 2015 “Expert Committee” NOC, but the Court read it carefully. Of the five members of the committee, only one was an environmental engineer; the rest were bureaucrats from Mines and Industries Departments and a state industrial agency. The NOC, on its face, did nothing more than refer to siting norms in other States — Orissa, West Bengal, Rajasthan, Punjab, Himachal Pradesh and Bihar — and on that basis proposed a 50 percent reduction in the buffer zone for Jharkhand. There was no comparative analysis of forest density, topography, or ecological sensitivity. The Bench held that this was an exercise vitiated by non-application of mind and by exclusion of relevant considerations, that the precautionary principle “tilts the balance of convenience considerably towards imposing restrictions on the grant of consents within 500 metres of forests and forest lands,” and that the harm to the ecology is “often irreversible.” Until final disposal, the position prevailing before the impugned notifications stands restored: 500 metres for stone mining, 400 metres for stone crushers, and the one-kilometre eco-sensitive zone around national parks and wildlife sanctuaries laid down by the Supreme Court in T.N. Godavarman.[14] The Court’s reasoning is significant for two reasons. First, it draws openly on the precautionary principle of Ranjitsinh, treating it as decisive rather than ornamental. Second, it refuses to defer to the “Expert Committee” label without examining whether the committee was, in any meaningful sense, expert.

The fourth Jharkhand decision in this group, Hemant Kumar Shikarwar v. State of Jharkhand (May 7 , 2026),[15] extends the same approach to enforcement. The petition concerned illegal stone mining and non-compliant stone crusher units around the Siwane River in Hazaribagh district. Drawing on an independent report by the District Legal Services Authority, the Bench documented abandoned water-filled mining pits, damage to roughly a hundred hectares of cultivable land, and disruption of the river’s ecological balance. What is notable is the structural relief that follows. The Bench directs monthly District Level Task Force meetings, an exhaustive review of every Environmental Clearance, Consent to Establish, Consent to Operate, Explosive Licence and mineral-dealer registration in the area, suspension of mining operations until compliances are verified, the Hazaribagh Wildlife Sanctuary one-kilometre buffer, technology-driven enforcement through Wi-Fi-enabled CCTV and GPS tracking, criminal prosecution under §§ 21 and 22 of the MMDR Act, and the application of the polluter-pays principle to recover environmental compensation.[16] The polluter-pays principle is invoked, but it is invoked in its proper register — as a tool of reparation imposed on identified violators, not as a substitute for prevention.

It is worth pausing here on a different kind of Jharkhand case. In Jharkhand Int Nirmata Sangh v. State of Jharkhand (January 15, 2026),[17] a Division Bench of Justices Sujit Narayan Prasad and Arun Kumar Rai rejected a writ petition by brick kiln operators who had been required to obtain environmental clearance and Pollution Control Board consents for soil extraction and brick manufacturing. The petitioners’ argument was that the removal of soil for brick-making has no adverse environmental impact and that, in any event, the District Mineral Foundation Trust contribution under the Mines and Minerals (Development and Regulation) Act, 1957 was not attracted because brick earth is not a “mineral” in the operative sense. The Court rejected both contentions on the simple ground that “soil is also a part of environment and if the soil is being extracted for the purpose of brick kiln the same certainly have the environmental impact.” Brick earth, the Court noted, is listed as a minor mineral in Schedule 2 of the Jharkhand Minor Mineral Concession Rules, 2004, and the manufacturing process cannot be artificially separated from the extraction. It refused to allow the absence of obvious smoke or effluent to be confused with the absence of environmental impact.

The High Courts of this region are, on the whole, capable of vigorous, principled environmental adjudication. The question that follows, then, is when and why does this rigour falter?

What about the bad days?

If the above discussion is affirmative of the proactive role the High Courts have come to play in the development of environmental jurisprudence, the following discussion exposes some cracks. The cracks are at their clearest when one looks at the High Court of Chhattisgarh’s engagement, over fourteen years, with the Hasdeo coal belt. Three judgments form a sequence: Mangal Sai v. Union of India (May 11, 2022), Amrit Lal Bhagat v. State of Chhattisgarh (September 1, 2025), and the Hasdeo Arand Bachao Sangharsh Samiti appeal (April 2026). The legal context shifts slightly from one to the next while the result does not.

A chain of deviations

In Mangal Sai,[18] a Division Bench of Chief Justice Arup Kumar Goswami and Justice R.C.S. Samant disposed of five connected writ petitions filed by 156-odd tribal residents of Charpara Tara, Salhi, Hariharpur and Fattehpur villages in Surguja and Surajpur districts. The petitioners challenged the acquisition of about 1252 hectares of land for the Parsa coal block under the Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Act, 1957, by Rajasthan Rajya Vidyut Utpadan Nigam Ltd. and its mine developer-operator. The grounds were familiar: that the Parsa block was in dense forest, that the PESA Act, 1996 had not been followed, that the gazette notifications under §§ 4(1) and 7(1) of the Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Act, 1957 (CB Act) were not properly served, that some Gram Sabha resolutions were fake. The Court held that gazette notifications had in fact been published; that, the CB Act not requiring personal service of generally addressed notifications, the want of personal service did not vitiate them; that some villagers had filed late objections, which the Coal Controller had considered; and that there was “gross delay” in approaching the Court — the petitions, filed in 2022, challenged notifications of 2017 and 2018. On this basis the petitions were dismissed, with no examination of the underlying ecological objections to mining in dense forest, and no consideration of whether the delay rule should yield where the consequences of the executive action are irreversible.

In Amrit Lal Bhagat,[19] delivered just seven months before the Hasdeo Aranya appeal and from the very same Court, a single Bench dismissed a petition by thirty-eight named residents of Mudagaon and Saraitola villages in Raigarh district. The petitioners had challenged the Stage II forest clearance granted by the Ministry of Environment in respect of 214.869 hectares of forest land for an open-cast coal mining project allotted to a State-owned generation company. Their grievance was that the diversion proceedings had been completed in violation of the Forest Rights Act, 2006 — without the participation of the petitioners and without recognition of the community forest rights of their Gram Sabhas. The Court framed the threshold issue narrowly. “In absence of a resolution of the Gram Sabha authorizing the institution of the present proceedings,” the petitioners did not have the requisite locus standi, and in any case had an alternative remedy under the National Green Tribunal Act, 2010. The petition was dismissed as not maintainable.[20]

The logic here repays close attention. Community forest rights are, the Forest Rights Act says, vested collectively in the Gram Sabha. From that the Court derives a procedural conclusion: only the Gram Sabha, by formal resolution, can litigate to defend those rights. Individual residents who are members of the Gram Sabha and whose lives are directly affected by the diversion of community forest land may not approach the High Court without such a resolution. To require a Gram Sabha resolution before a writ challenge can even be heard is to interpose the very body whose capacity to deliberate and resolve the question may itself have been compromised by the State action under challenge — particularly where, as the Mangal Sai record indicates, allegations of fake Gram Sabha resolutions in the same coal belt had already been before this Court.

The contrast with how the same High Court has handled coal-related petitions by non-tribal individuals is instructive. In Ratan Kumar Jain v. State of Madhya Pradesh (now Chhattisgarh),[21] a Division Bench of Chief Justice Yatindra Singh and Justice Sunil Kumar Sinha entertained writ petitions filed in person by a Korea-district journalist challenging the illegal felling of trees by South Eastern Coalfields Limited at Chirmiri, with no question raised about his personal locus to challenge the operations of a public-sector coal company in his neighbourhood. The Court used the occasion to deliver one of the more memorable passages on environmental protection in the region: “Environment, trees are not devil; they are entitled to much better protection: after all, we have borrowed them from our children and have a pledge to return them back — if not in a better position then at least in the same position as we had got them.” The petitioner — a single individual, with no Gram Sabha resolution — was nominated to an independent monitoring committee. The doctrinal question is not whether Ratan Jain got the law of locus right and Amrit Lal Bhagat got it wrong, or vice versa. The doctrinal question is whether the same threshold of standing is being applied to the same kind of grievance. The honest answer, reading these cases together, is that it is not.

Hasdeo Aranya

The Hasdeo case carries forward the same logic. It is no different than any case with forest conservation on one side and the mining industry on the other. A healthy sprinkle of forest rights is what complicated, rightly so, the issue. The Hasdeo Aranya forest is called the lungs of Chhattisgarh. It is old-growth forest, ecologically and culturally significant, home to tribal communities who depend on it for subsistence. Coal sits beneath it.

What was the case?

After bureaucratic processes which included a sub-committee on Forest Advisory cautioning about the risks of large-scale mining, the Ministry of Environment and Forests (MoEF) granted in-principle approvals for mining in the Hasdeo forest.[22] Later, the Chhattisgarh government passed orders diverting forest land for non-forest use in 2012. Both the MoEF and State government orders were set aside by the NGT.[23] However, the Supreme Court granted an interim stay. On the strength of such interim stay, and a new legislation on coal mining and block allocation, the permission for Phase I mining of the coal was given to Rajasthan Rajya Vidyut Utpadan Nigam, the Rajasthan state-owned electricity company.[24]

Parallelly, proceedings for individual and community forest rights were being conducted wherein three community rights were granted to Ghatbarra village in 2013.[25] On January 8, 2016, the District Level Committee issued a notice stating that the Community Forest Rights earlier granted to Village Ghatbarra were cancelled.[26] It was the case of petitioners that they were not given a fair hearing before the Community Forest Rights (CFR) were cancelled.

The writ petition was filed, first challenging this 2016 notice by the DLC, and later amended their prayer to challenge the later orders by the MoEF for Phase II mining too.

The State’s reason for cancellation, recorded in the DLC’s notice of 08.01.2016, was chronological: the diversion order had been passed on March 28, 2012, whereas the three community forest rights in favour of Ghatbarra were recognised on September 3, 2013. The diversion preceded the recognition; therefore, on the State’s logic, the recognition was either erroneous or could not survive the prior diversion.

Two things ought to have given the court pause here, and neither was addressed. First, the chronology argument inverts the scheme of the Forest Rights Act, 2006. Section 4 (5) of the Act bars eviction or removal of forest dwellers from forest land under their occupation till the recognition and verification process is complete.[27] The Act treats forest rights as pre-existing rights that the statute recognises, not as rights that the statute creates from the date of the recognition order.[28] On that reading, a 2013 recognition order documents rights that were always there, including in March 2012 when the diversion was approved. The State’s chronology, in other words, proves too little — it assumes the rights began in 2013, which is precisely what the Act denies.

Second, even if one were to accept the State’s premise, the cancellation of recognised rights triggers, at a minimum, the obligation to hear the rights-holders before extinguishing what the statute has acknowledged. The DLC’s notice of January 8, 2016 did not afford that hearing. The single judge’s view — that no opportunity needed to be given — sidesteps both the substantive point about when the rights came into existence and the procedural point about how recognised rights may be withdrawn.

One of the arguments by the State before the Hasdeo Aranya case was that since coal has already been mined out the subject lands, they cannot be considered as forests. If they cannot be considered as forests, no forest rights can be claimed. The Chhattisgarh government argued that the Hasdeo Arand Bachao Sangharsh does not have legal sanctity to represent the villagers.

Single Judge’s reasoning for Dismissal

The single judge dismissed the petition[29] on the following grounds:

(i) Diversion order (2012) is prior to CFR granting order (2013) and yet, the diversion was not challenged then or in this Writ Petition.

(ii) None of the petitioners showed that they have forest rights conferred on them or that they are aggrieved persons or that any Gram Sabha resolution has been passed to continue on with the petition.

(iii) The residents can be compensated in terms of money, if the forest rights have not been conferred according to the FRA, 2006.

The judge, after listing the grounds, stated as follows:

It wasn’t necessary for the respondents to provide the petitioners with an opportunity while taking a decision to withdraw the forest rights conferred on the villagers of Ghatbarra.

What is the issue with the Single Judge’s reasoning?

The issue with the single judge’s reasoning is not that he failed to be an activist judge. A writ petition is not a PIL, and the judge was right to treat it as such. The issue is narrower and harder to defend: even within the four corners of an ordinary writ petition under Article 226, the cancellation order of 2016 was open to challenge on its own terms. The petitioners had asked for it to be set aside on the ground that no hearing was given before community forest rights, once recognised, were withdrawn. That is a self-contained natural justice claim. It does not require the court to expand standing, revisit the 2012 diversion, or assume a PIL posture. It requires the court to ask one question: can a statutory right recognised under the Forest Rights Act, 2006 be cancelled without affording the rights-holders an opportunity of hearing? The single judge’s answer that “it wasn’t necessary for the respondents to provide the petitioners with an opportunity” is what merits scrutiny.

The court held that the petitioners had not established they were directly aggrieved persons with subsisting legal rights. These are tribal villagers. They are challenging the destruction of their ancestral forest. They claim community forest rights under a statute that was enacted specifically to recognise and protect those rights. The PIL jurisdiction exists because Justices Bhagwati and Krishna Iyer understood that marginalised people cannot always demonstrate ‘standing’ in the way that a property-owning litigant can.[30] While this was not a PIL, to turn a procedural requirement against the very people the Forest Rights Act was written for is to use a doctrine against its own purpose. One cannot read this stiffness charitably.

The Madhya Pradesh High Court, in the same year, in Vivek Kumar Sharma, held that environmental challenges cannot be defeated by limitation. To be hot and cold on locus of petitioners in sensitive environmental matters is not rooted in some deep philosophical underpinning. It is simply a choice that the court in one case makes to allow and makes in another to disallow on the basis of locus.

And then the Single Judge observed that monetary compensation could suffice for the loss of the forest. The appellants said what needed to be said, i.e., no amount of money restores an old-growth forest. The cultural rights, the subsistence, the biodiversity, the watershed function — none of it comes back with a cheque.

This is the polluter-pays principle being used to replace the precautionary principle, something that Justice Bhuyan’s Vanashakti dissent warned against.

The Appeal in Hasdeo Aranya

The Division Bench dismissed the writ appeal in April 2026.[31] The respondent mining company continued to press locus standi, res judicata, and finality. The Division Bench agreed, holding that the petition was a collateral assault on concluded proceedings and that monetary compensation arguments, “though conceptually appealing,” could not override the legal framework once statutory clearances had been granted and acted upon. The Division Bench stated as follows:

Courts, while sensitive to environmental concerns, are also required to balance competing public interests, particularly where projects have attained substantial completion and involve larger public utility considerations.

Now, this is not some isolated observation by a Division Bench of the Chhattisgarh High Court. Its doctrinal substance comes from the Supreme Court itself — from the judgment in Vanashakti II, in which the apex court stated as follows:[32]

It can thus be seen that this Court clearly held that where the adverse consequences of ex-post facto approval outweigh the consequences of regularisation of operation of an industry by grant of ex-post facto approval and the industry or establishment concerned otherwise conforms to the requisite pollution norms, ex-post facto approval should be given in accordance with law, in strict conformity with the applicable rules, regulations and/or notifications.

The doctrinal tools used here — locus, delay, finality, monetary compensation — are the same tools available to any court. In Vivek Kumar Sharma, every one of them was considered and rejected. In Hasdeo Aranya, every one of them was accepted. In Anand Kumar and Hemant Shikarwar, the Jharkhand Bench reached for the same tools and used them, in the precautionary direction, against the State. The difference is not the law. The difference is coal.

Shanti Construction and the Procedural Double Standard

The Orissa High Court’s decision in Shanti Construction v. State of Odisha[33] raises a different kind of problem.

A construction company got temporary permission to excavate 2,000 cubic metres of earth for a railway project. It excavated about 2, 60, 580 cubic metres — 130 times the permitted quantity — from government land, including jungle category land. The NGT directed recovery of Rs. 1,20,10,000 as environmental compensation.

The High Court quashed the order. The Joint Committee’s inspection had been done without notice to the petitioner. The committee included regulatory bodies that were themselves accused of inaction. The quantification was sub-delegated to the Mining Officer without proper safeguards.

It is not wrong to be a stickler for rules and procedures, especially by authorities with penal powers. It is an important feature that the judiciary should imbibe itself with, surely. The NGT’s practice of farming out adjudicatory work to joint committees has real due process problems. No argument there.

But the company dug out 130 times what it was allowed to dig. That violation did not go anywhere. The court quashed the enforcement order and told the parties to pursue their rights before the appropriate authority. The enforcement was procedurally defective but the violation itself remains unaddressed.

The Odisha High Court in its order stated as follows:[34]

The NGT’s order of May 2, 2025 is vitiated by breach of natural justice by unlawful delegation of its judicial function to the joint committee without affording the petitioner a hearing. The alternative remedy of appeal does not preclude relief, since the order is tainted by fundamental unfairness.

A note of caution before drawing the comparison too tightly. The two cases are not perfectly parallel. Hasdeo Aranya was a constitutional challenge to executive decisions on forest diversion and rights cancellation; Shanti Construction was judicial review of a quasi-judicial NGT order said to be tainted by a natural justice defect. The doctrinal lenses differ, and a court reviewing tribunal action does have a sharper supervisory role on procedural fairness than a court reviewing a policy-laden executive choice. That much should be conceded.

What survives the concession, however, is the asymmetry in how the same threshold doctrines — i.e., alternative remedy, hearing, finality — are weighted against environmental stakes. In Shanti Construction, the existence of an alternative statutory appeal did not deter the High Court from intervening, because the want of a hearing was treated as a fundamental defect overriding the alternative-remedy bar. In Hasdeo Aranya, and again in Amrit Lal Bhagat, the want of a hearing before cancellation of recognised forest rights — or the absence of formal Gram Sabha authorisation — did not produce a comparable response; finality, locus and alternative-remedy considerations carried the day.

A similar asymmetry appears in M/s Jindal India Thermal Power Ltd. v. State of Odisha (September 25, 2024),[35] where the Odisha State Pollution Control Board had revoked a 2×600 MW coal-based thermal power plant’s Consent to Operate for direct discharge of wastewater into the Kakudia Nallah, which feeds the Tikira river. The plant was ordered shut. By the time the writ came up for hearing, the company had produced affidavits of compliance during pendency. The High Court quashed the revocation order, observing that the Writ Petition need not be kept pending unnecessarily, and remarking only — almost in passing — that “damage to the environment cannot get a tacit community tolerance.” The same Court that demands strict due process from the NGT when the polluter is the petitioner, accepts compliance-during-pendency as adequate when it is the polluter’s licence at stake. The two postures are not inconsistent in any narrow doctrinal sense. They are different defaults.

Quiet Changes in Language

In M/s Balasore Alloys Ltd. v. Union of India (3 November 2023)[36], the petitioner, a chromite mining lessee in Kaliapani, Jajpur district, had been kept out of a 64.463-hectare forest portion of its leasehold because the Stage II forest clearance had not issued. The Court walked through the chronology — initial mining lease in 2000, splitting of the lease into forest and non-forest blocks, withdrawal of an earlier writ, a string of applications for compensatory afforestation land and Net Present Value payments, and intermittent inaction by the State. The High Court issued a writ of mandamus directing the opposite parties to “grant necessary Stage II forest clearance in respect of the subject mineral block over an area 64.463 hectares… by complying all the formalities as expeditiously as possible without creating further hindrances in the matter.” One looks at this judgment in vain for any examination of the present condition of the forest in question, the cumulative impact of chromite mining in the Sukinda valley, or the population that lives downstream of these leaseholds. The Court’s mandamus is, on its face, a mandamus to discharge a statutory duty without delay. It is also, in substance, a judicial accelerant to the grant of a forest clearance, framed entirely in the lessee’s rights.

The Odisha Citizens’ Action Forum PIL[37] shows a related pattern, and it is in some ways more telling than Hasdeo Aranya, because here the Court was not even pushed by a contest between an industry and a forest community. There was no displacement at stake. There was no felling of trees in real time. The petition, brought by a Bhubaneswar-based forum, was about something much more anodyne in its framing: that mining lessees in Odisha were not extracting iron ore at the volumes their leases obligated them to, and that the State was not enforcing Rule 12 (1) (ee) of the Concession Rules, 2016, which permits the State to step in and carry out the mining itself at the lessee’s cost when the lessee defaults on its statutory obligations. That is the sum of the grievance. The lessees are not mining enough.

Now, one would think that this is exactly the kind of complaint a State government, with a full apparatus of mining officials, geological surveys, and a Department of Steel and Mines, would be able to address on its own. The State knows how much each lessee has been allotted. The State has the production figures. The State has the rule that lets it act. If lessees are sitting on iron ore reserves and not extracting them, the State can issue notices, levy penalties, invoke Rule 12 (1) (ee) and have the National Mineral Development Corporation step in. None of this requires a writ court. It is plain administrative function. And yet the High Court, instead of asking the obvious threshold question of why a constitutional court is being moved to do what an executive department is paid to do, took up the petition, called for affidavits, and eventually directed the State to invoke Rule 12 (1) (ee) and route the underutilised mines to NMDC.

The Court’s framing is what makes the case worth dwelling on. Iron ore reserves are described as having “potential capacity to meet the requisite requirements in the indigenous market.” The 2015 amendments to the MMDR Act[38] are described as a “radical shift” from executive fiat to a transparent auction regime. The Make in India initiative is invoked. Bhushan Power and Steel Ltd. v. State of Odisha[39] is cited at length for the proposition that the auction regime aims at eliminating discretion, attracting private investment and securing for the Government an enhanced share of the value of mineral resources. Article 39(b)[40] is mentioned, but only to ground a duty of “optimum, continuous and sustainable utilization” of minerals. The vocabulary is the vocabulary of resource governance.

This is not a case where the Court refused to consider environmental concerns because they were not raised. They were not raised, and that is precisely the point. The petition was framed to push for more extraction, and the Court accepted the frame without interrogating it. A High Court hearing a PIL is not a passive forum. It can, and routinely does in other contexts, expand the scope of the petition, call for the State to file additional reports, ask uncomfortable questions about cumulative impact. The Madhya Pradesh High Court did exactly this in Vivek Kumar Sharma when it went looking through departmental correspondence on its own. The Jharkhand High Court did the same in Anand Kumar when it unpacked the composition and reasoning of the so-called Expert Committee whose recommendation underlay the impugned buffer-zone notification. Here, the Orissa High Court did the opposite. It accepted, at face value, that the constitutional concern in the matter was underutilisation, and on that basis it issued a direction that the State further activate iron ore mining across blocks where production was low. There is no sign in the judgment that the Court asked whether some of these blocks were not being mined for reasons that might actually deserve protection: a pending forest clearance issue, an unresolved claim under the Forest Rights Act, environmental compliance defaults that might justify slowing down rather than speeding up extraction. The premise was that the mines must be mined.

When a court starts with the question ‘has this lessee complied with its conditions’ instead of ‘should extraction happen here given what we know about this ecosystem,’ the answer is mostly predetermined.

What Comes Through

A few things come through when you look at all of this together.

Locus standi and delay are being applied selectively. Same doctrine, opposite results, depending on what is being challenged. The law has not changed between Vivek Kumar Sharma and Hasdeo Aranya, between Ratan Jain and Amrit Lal Bhagat, between Anand Kumar and Mangal Sai. The economic interest has.

The fait accompli has become its own justification. Phase-I is done, so Phase-II must follow. The project is built, so the clearance must be regularised. The compliance came during pendency, so the revocation must be quashed. This rewards the very non-compliance it is supposed to prevent. The Vanashakti review relied partly on this logic too: the cost of undoing what had been built without clearance became the reason not to undo it.

Money is being treated as a substitute for ecology, without anyone checking whether the money actually does anything. Where the polluter-pays principle survives in its proper form — as in Hemant Shikarwar — it is imposed on identified violators after a finding of breach. Where it is abused — as in the Hasdeo Aranya disposal — it replaces the precautionary principle and lets the breach itself stand.

And there is a diagnostic that is quite reliable: look at whether the judgment engages with ecological evidence. Vivek Kumar Sharma is full of it. Forest survey reports, departmental findings, species data. Anand Kumar interrogates the composition of the Expert Committee and the substance of the NOC. Hemant Shikarwar relies on an independent DLSA report of abandoned pits and degraded farmland. Jharkhand Human Rights Conference works from photographic evidence of dumped sharps. The Hasdeo Aranya dismissal does not engage with the ecological significance of the forest at all. Balasore Alloys does not weigh the chromite footprint in the Sukinda valley. The Orissa iron-ore PIL does not so much as look up at the forest cover. Courts have only come up with pro-environment jurisprudence when they looked at hard evidence.

Looking Ahead

This present exercise is neither a whistle nor some big breaking, to project some kind of institutional takeover. It is simply a neutral probe, with utmost respect for and faith in the rich jurisprudence that countless movements have collectively achieved via a progressive judiciary.

The Indian Environmental Law Regime is not a simple one. It is filled with exceptions, absolutisms, resulting paradoxes, rectifying reviews, and much more. The Vanashakti split is proof of that complexity. The precautionary principle is the cornerstone, and a court cannot be seen backtracking on it. That position finds its fullest expression in Vivek Kumar Sharma, in the Jharkhand Bench’s 2026 quartet, and in the Chhattisgarh High Court’s suo moto responsiveness on industrial waste. It finds its starkest negation in Hasdeo Aranya, in the locus-standi disposal of Amrit Lal Bhagat, and in the quieter accommodation of mining capital in the Orissa lease cases.

The cracks appear when the economic interests are large and state-backed; when the affected communities are Adivasi/tribal, rural, and litigation-poor; when the extraction has progressed far enough to create a fait accompli; and when the environmental harm is diffuse and long-term and falls on people without political voice. Where these conditions converge, courts, sometimes, seem to reach for the procedural exit, sidestepping the petitioner environmental question.

Whether these cracks hold in Northern and Western India is what the next two parts will try to find out.

Note:

The 3-part series is based on strong empirical standing. Part I deals with substantive high court pronouncements coming from resource rich Central and Eastern India- Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh and Odisha. Part II (Western India) deals with the high courts of Bombay, Karnataka and Goa. Finally, Part III (Northern India) reflects on judgments from Delhi, Punjab & Haryana, Uttarakhand and Allahabad.

 (The author is part of the legal research team of the organisation)

[1]Vanashakti v. Union of India, decided 16 May 2025 (Supreme Court of India, Bench: Oka & Bhuyan, JJ.). Striking down MoEFCC Notification S.O. 804(E) dated March 14, 2017 and Office Memorandum dated July 7, 2021.

[2]The Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, §§ 3, 6 read with the Environment Impact Assessment Notification, 2006 (S.O. 1533(E), dated September 14, 2006).

[3]Vanashakti Review – Order on Review Petition (Nov. 2025), three-Judge Bench, majority opinion by the Chief Justice of India with Vinod Chandran, J., concurring; Bhuyan, J., dissenting.

[4]Common Cause v. Union of India, (2017) 9 SCC 499; Alembic Pharmaceuticals Ltd. v. Rohit Prajapati, (2020) 17 SCC 157; Electrosteel Steels Ltd. v. Union of India, (2021) SCC OnLine SC 1247.

[5]Vivek Kumar Sharma v. State of Madhya Pradesh, W.P. No. 16931/2021, decided by the High Court of Madhya Pradesh, Indore Bench (Division Bench), March 1, 2025.

[6]M.K. Ranjitsinh v. Union of India, (2024) SCC OnLine SC 570 (recognising Articles 14 & 21 protection against the adverse effects of climate change and reaffirming the precautionary principle).

[7]Vivek Kumar Sharma, supra n. 5, ¶ 104.

[8]In Re: Functioning of 5,961 Industries without Valid Consent – Suo Moto W.P. (PIL), High Court of Madhya Pradesh, Indore Bench (2025).

[9]See, inter alia, In Re: Suo Moto PIL based on news item “Karkhano Ke Avshesh Aag Ke Havale,” WPPIL 106 of 2023, High Court of Chhattisgarh, order dated 21 March 2024 (hazardous waste burning at Sirgitti industrial estate, Bilaspur); Jharkhand Human Rights Conference v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 1385 of 2012, decided February 26, 2026 (biomedical waste management).

[10]Jharkhand Human Rights Conference v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 1385 of 2012, judgment dated February 26, 2026, Neutral Citation No. 2026:JHHC:5689-DB (Sonak, C.J. and Rajesh Shankar, J.).

[11]Jharkhand Human Rights Conference, supra n. 10, ¶¶ 18–24 (continuing mandamus from 2012 to 2026; expansion of treatment infrastructure from one CBWTF to six operational facilities across Ramgarh, Lohardaga, Dhanbad, Pakur and Deoghar).

[12]Court on Its Own Motion v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 3935 of 2020, Order dated February 16, 2026 (Sonak, C.J. and Rajesh Shankar, J.) (proposed national highway realignment to avoid Core Zone of wildlife and Eco-Sensitive Zone; animal-passage plan directed).

[13]Anand Kumar v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 3950 of 2024, order dated April 16 , 2026 (Sonak, C.J. and Rajesh Shankar, J.).

[14]In Re: T.N. Godavarman Thirumulpad v. Union of India, (2022) 10 SCC 544, ¶ 56.1 (one-kilometre eco-sensitive zone around protected areas), as modified by order dated April 26, 2023.

[15]Hemant Kumar Shikarwar v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (PIL) No. 290 of 2013, judgment dated May 7, 2026, Neutral Citation No. 2026:JHHC:13668-DB (Sonak, C.J. and Rajesh Shankar, J.).

[16]Hemant Kumar Shikarwar, supra n. 15, ¶ 79 (directions including monthly District Level Task Force meetings; review of all statutory permissions; CCTV and GPS-based monitoring; criminal prosecution under MMDR Act §§ 21–22; environmental compensation on the polluter-pays principle).

[17]Jharkhand Int Nirmata Sangh v. State of Jharkhand, W.P. (C) No. 617 of 2021, judgment dated January 15, 2026, Neutral Citation No. 2026:JHHC:1169-DB (Sujit Narayan Prasad and Arun Kumar Rai, JJ.) (brick kiln operators’ challenge to environmental clearance and CTO requirement dismissed; District Mineral Foundation Trust payments held attracted).

[18]Mangal Sai v. Union of India, W.P. (C) No. 302 of 2022 and connected matters, decided May 11, 2022 by the High Court of Chhattisgarh at Bilaspur (Arup Kumar Goswami, C.J. and Rajendra Chandra Singh Samant, J.) (challenge by 156+ petitioners from Salhi, Hariharpur, Fattehpur and Tara villages to acquisition of land for Parsa Coal Block under the Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Act, 1957, dismissed on grounds of delay and merits).

[19]Amrit Lal Bhagat v. State of Chhattisgarh, W.P. (C) No. 2361 of 2025, decided 1 September 2025 by the High Court of Chhattisgarh at Bilaspur (Arvind Kumar Verma, J.), Neutral Citation No. 2025:CGHC:44375.

[20]Amrit Lal Bhagat, supra n. 23, ¶¶ 16–17 (dismissing the petition as not maintainable for want of express Gram Sabha authorisation and pointing the petitioners to the alternative remedy under the National Green Tribunal Act, 2010).

[21]Ratan Kumar Jain v. State of Madhya Pradesh (now Chhattisgarh), W.P. No. 4520 of 2000 and W.P. (C) No. 5354 of 2009, decided 5 December 2012 by the High Court of Chhattisgarh at Bilaspur (Yatindra Singh, C.J. and Sunil Kumar Sinha, J.).

[22]Forest (Conservation) Act, 1980; Stage-I and Stage-II forest clearances accorded by the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change for the Parsa East & Kanta Basan (PEKB) and Parsa coal blocks in the Hasdeo Arand region.

[23]Sudiep Shrivastava v. Union of India & Ors., Order of the National Green Tribunal, Principal Bench, dated March 24 , 2014; subsequently stayed by the Supreme Court.

[24]Coal Mines (Special Provisions) Act, 2015, read with the Coal Mines (Special Provisions) Rules, 2014 and allocation orders to Rajasthan Rajya Vidyut Utpadan Nigam Ltd. (RVUNL).

[25]Recognition under §§ 3(1)(i) and 5 of the Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006 in respect of Village Ghatbarra (resolution of the Gram Sabha and order of the Sub-Divisional Level Committee, dated 3 September 2013).

[26]Notice / Order of the District Level Committee, Surguja, dated January 8, 2016 purporting to cancel the Community Forest Rights of Village Ghatbarra.

[27]The Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006, § 4(5).

[28]See generally Orissa Mining Corp. Ltd. v. Ministry of Environment & Forest, (2013) 6 SCC 476 (Niyamgiri); and Banwasi Seva Ashram v. State of U.P., (1986) 4 SCC 753, on the pre-existing nature of forest dwellers’ rights.

[29]Hasdeo Arand Bachao Sangharsh Samiti v. State of Chhattisgarh, W.P. (C) before the High Court of Chhattisgarh at Bilaspur (Single Judge), order of dismissal.

[30]Bandhua Mukti Morcha v. Union of India, (1984) 3 SCC 161; S.P. Gupta v. Union of India, 1981 Supp SCC 87, on relaxed standing in public interest matters.

[31]Hasdeo Arand Bachao Sangharsh Samiti v. State of Chhattisgarh, Writ Appeal, decided by the Division Bench of the High Court of Chhattisgarh in April 2026.

[32]Vanashakti Review (Nov. 2025), supra n. 3, majority opinion (extract on conditions for ex post facto regularisation).

[33]M/s Shanti Construction v. State of Odisha, W.P. (C) before the High Court of Orissa at Cuttack (decided January 2026), arising from the order of the National Green Tribunal, Eastern Zonal Bench, dated May 2, 2025.

[34]Shanti Construction, supra n. 36, extracted from the High Court’s order quashing the NGT’s direction.

[35]M/s Jindal India Thermal Power Ltd. v. State of Odisha, W.P. (C) No. 8822 of 2024, order dated September 25, 2024 (Dr. S.K. Panigrahi, J.) (consent to operate, revoked by the Odisha State Pollution Control Board for direct discharge of wastewater into the Kakudia Nallah feeding the Tikira river, restored).

[36]M/s Balasore Alloys Ltd. v. Union of India, W.P. (C) decided November 3 , 2023 by the High Court of Orissa (Dr. B.R. Sarangi, A.C.J. and M.S. Raman, J.) (mandamus issued directing grant of Stage II forest clearance for chromite mining over 64.463 hectares in Kaliapani, Jajpur District).

[37]Odisha Citizens’ Action Forum v. State of Odisha, W.P. (PIL) before the High Court of Orissa at Cuttack, concerning enforcement of Rule 12(1)(ee) of the Mineral (Other than Atomic and Hydro Carbons Energy Minerals) Concession Rules, 2016.

[38]Mines and Minerals (Development and Regulation) Amendment Act, 2015 (Act 10 of 2015).

[39]Bhushan Power & Steel Ltd. v. State of Odisha, (2017) 2 SCC 125.

[40]Constitution of India, art. 39(b) (Directive Principles – distribution of material resources of the community to subserve the common good).

Related:

Unending Adjudication: The Vanashakti reversal and environmental finality in India

Cries for Environmental Justice: India at a low 176/180 countries in the 2024 Environmental Performance Index

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Strengthening indigenous communities means protection of the environment 

The post Cracks in Indian Environment Jurisprudence: An examination of High Courts of central India appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In doing so, as the media have widely reported, the court expressed “serious reservations” regarding several aspects of the apex court judgement through which it denied bail to activists Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam, who have been incarcerated, in jail, since 2020.

Besides this observation that has given rise to much public commentary given the clearly split verdict of India’s highest court on the granting of bail under UAPA, the bench of Justice B.V. Nagarathna and Justice Ujjal Bhuyan most notably observed in the same judgment that conviction rates in UAPA cases across India remained abysmally low, ranging between 1.5% and 4% from 2019-2023. Even worse still, conviction rates in Jammu and Kashmir have stayed below 1%.

The court therefore noted that these statistics suggest a high probability of acquittal in such cases, reported Live Law.

“For all India figures, we have 2% to 6% conviction, meaning thereby that there is 94% to 98% possibility of acquittal in such cases in the country. In so far as the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir is concerned, the annual rate of conviction is always less than 1%. It means that at the end of the trial there is 99% possibility of acquittal in such cases,” the bench observed.

The present case and bail conditions

Who is Syed Iftikhar Andrabi? A village-level worker for the Rural Development department in Kupwara district of Jammu and Kashmir, who was taken into preventive detention in August 2019, following the reading down of Article 370, but was released after the high court declared the detention legally untenable. Thereafter, he was subsequently arrested in June 2020 in connection with a National Investigation Agency (NIA) case alleging narco-terrorism activities.

Interestingly, his appeals for bail were denied by both the Special NIA Court as well as the Jammu and Kashmir high court. The prosecution alleged that on information provided by the appellant, drugs and cash were recovered from a co-accused’s premises, further claiming that his phone records linked him to operatives in Pakistan.

According to the May 18, Supreme Court judgment, no evidence was directly recovered from Andrabi’s person or premises, directing to release the appellant on bail, subject to conditions imposed by the special NIA court. The conditions stipulate that the appellant must deposit his passport and appear before the Handwara police station once every fortnight. He is also prohibited from threatening or influencing witnesses.

The UAPA has long since been criticised as an instrument of crushing dissent in India, with numerous activists and journalists slapped with cases under the draconian rule. In Kashmir, the act has seen some of its most controversial use.

Previous analyses of this counter-terror law may be read here, here and here.

Low rates of conviction

Making a reference to official data presented before the parliament by the Union Ministry of Home Affairs, drawn from National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) figures covering 2019-2023, the bench stated that the all-India conviction rate in UAPA cases falls between 1.5-4%.

What this means that a person charged under the act faces a 96% to 98.5% probability of acquittal. The court added, “In so far as the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir is concerned, the annual rate of conviction is always less than 1%. It means that at the end of the trial there is 99% possibility of acquittal in such cases.”

Hence, referring to the high rate of exoneration for the accused in such cases, the court emphasised that “bail is the rule and jail the exception.” Invoking an earlier ruling, Union of India versus K.A. Najeeb, the judgement reiterated that Section 43D(5) of UAPA cannot be used in isolation to deny bail and does not serve as a blanket instrument for prolonged pre-trial detention.

The Order passed by the Supreme Court of India may be read here.

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The post UAPA: ‘99% Possibility of Acquittal’: What the SC said on Conviction Rates appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A bench of Justice BV Nagarathna and Justice Ujjal Bhuyan granted bail to Syed Iftikhar Andrabi, a Jammu and Kashmir resident accused in a narco-terror case investigated by the National Investigation Agency, after he spent almost six years in custody awaiting trial. In doing so, the Court delivered one of its strongest recent reaffirmations of the landmark three-judge bench ruling in Union of India v. KA Najeeb, holding that constitutional courts cannot permit indefinite pre-trial incarceration under the guise of national security.

The Court unequivocally declared; “Even under the UAPA, bail is the rule and jail is the exception.”

The ruling assumes added significance because the bench simultaneously expressed “serious reservations” about the January 2025 judgment in Gulfisha Fatima v. State — the decision that denied bail to activists Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam in the Delhi riots larger conspiracy case. The Court also disapproved of the 2024 ruling in Gurwinder Singh v. Union of India, observing that both decisions appeared to dilute binding principles laid down by larger benches.

As reported by Live Law, the judgment contains unusually sharp observations on judicial discipline, prolonged incarceration, and the constitutional dangers posed by restrictive interpretations of UAPA bail provisions.

Court relies on NCRB data to highlight “overwhelming possibility of acquittal”

One of the most striking aspects of the judgment is the Court’s reliance on official National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) statistics placed before Parliament by the Union Ministry of Home Affairs.

Referring to conviction data between 2019 and 2023, the bench noted that UAPA conviction rates across India ranged only between 1.5% and 4%. In Jammu and Kashmir, conviction rates remained below 1% throughout the period, touching a maximum of merely 0.89% in 2022 and standing at zero in 2019.

The Court observed that these figures expose the deeply troubling reality that undertrials are often incarcerated for years despite the overwhelming probability of eventual acquittal.

“For all India figures, we have 2% to 6% conviction, meaning thereby that there is 94% to 98% possibility of acquittal in such cases in the country. In so far as the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir is concerned, the annual rate of conviction is always less than 1%. It means that at the end of the trial there is 99% possibility of acquittal in such cases.”

These observations, as per LiveLaw, form one of the strongest judicial acknowledgments in recent years of the structural imbalance between prosecution and liberty under anti-terror laws. The Court effectively questioned the legitimacy of incarcerating individuals for years while trials proceed at an extraordinarily slow pace despite minimal conviction outcomes nationally.

Reaffirmation of KA Najeeb and constitutional limits on UAPA

At the heart of the ruling lies a forceful reaffirmation of KA Najeeb, the 2021 three-judge bench judgment that recognised prolonged incarceration and delay in trial as independent constitutional grounds for granting bail under the UAPA.

The bench clarified that Section 43D(5) of the UAPA, which imposes stringent restrictions on bailm cannot be interpreted in a manner that extinguishes Article 21 protections.

Justice Bhuyan’s judgment noted that KA Najeeb was specifically intended to prevent anti-terror legislation from becoming a mechanism for punitive incarceration without trial.

“A plain reading of Najeeb will show that it was trying to prevent precisely this possibility from arising, when it cautioned that Section 43D(5) must not become the sole metric for denial of bail, causing wholesale breach of the constitutional right to speedy trial.”

The Court further held that the earlier judgment in National Investigation Agency v. Zahoor Ahmad Shah Watali cannot be read as authorising indefinite detention merely because a prima facie case exists. Rejecting attempts to use Watali as a near-absolute bar on bail, the Court observed that such an interpretation would fundamentally undermine constitutional protections.

Sharp criticism of smaller benches diluting larger bench decisions

The judgment is also notable for its unusually direct criticism of smaller benches of the Supreme Court for progressively weakening larger bench precedents without formally referring matters to a larger bench.

The Court observed; “A judgment rendered by a bench of lesser strength is bound by the law declared by the bench of greater strength. Judicial discipline mandates that such a binding precedent must either be followed or, in case of doubt, be referred to a larger bench.”

It added; “A smaller bench cannot dilute, circumvent or disregard the ratio of a larger bench.”

Without expressly overruling Gulfisha Fatima or Gurwinder Singh, the Court made clear that the approaches adopted in those rulings were difficult to reconcile with KA Najeeb.

The bench also recorded concern over what it described as a trend of smaller benches “hollowing out” the constitutional force of larger bench decisions without openly disagreeing with them. These observations are institutionally significant because both Gurwinder Singh and Gulfisha Fatima were delivered by two-judge benches despite KA Najeeb having been decided by a larger three-judge bench.

“Serious reservations” over Delhi Riots bail judgment

The Court’s remarks on Gulfisha Fatima v. State are among the strongest judicial criticisms directed at a recent Supreme Court bail ruling. The bench specifically objected to the interpretation that KA Najeeb applies only in narrow or exceptional factual situations.

Justice Bhuyan observed; “We have serious reservations about judgment in Gulfisha Fatima. The judgment in Gulfisha Fatima would have us believe that Najeeb is only a narrow and exceptional departure from Section 43D(5). It is this hollowing out of the import of the observations in Najeeb that we are concerned with.”

The Court emphasised that KA Najeeb remains binding law and cannot be diluted by trial courts, High Courts, or benches of lesser numerical strength within the Supreme Court itself. The judgment also disapproved of aspects of the Gulfisha Fatima ruling that effectively curtailed the ability of accused persons to renew bail pleas for extended periods.

The Supreme Court’s January 2026 judgment in Gulfisha Fatima v. State arose from bail pleas filed by several accused in the 2020 Delhi riots “larger conspiracy” case prosecuted under the UAPA. A bench of Justice Aravind Kumar and Justice N V Anjaria granted bail to Gulfisha Fatima, Meeran Haider, Shifa-ur-Rehman, Mohammad Saleem Khan and Shadab Ahmed after nearly six years of incarceration, holding that their alleged roles were comparatively limited and ancillary. However, the Court denied bail to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam, observing that prosecution material placed them on a “qualitatively different footing” as alleged “ideological drivers” and central conspirators in the riots case. The Court held that the statutory embargo under Section 43D(5) of the UAPA continued to apply against them because the prosecution had crossed the threshold of establishing a prima facie case. The judgment remains contentious because, despite acknowledging prolonged incarceration and delay in trial, the Court held that constitutional concerns under Article 21 had not yet overridden the statutory restrictions on bail for Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam. Detailed report may be read here.

Court rejects “two-prong test” for bail

The Court further criticised the “two-prong test” evolved in Gurwinder Singh, under which courts were expected to deny bail once the prosecution established a prima facie case. According to the bench, this framework effectively transforms pre-trial incarceration into punishment itself.

Justice Bhuyan warned; “If this test is accepted, the State needs only satisfy a low prima facie threshold while the trial may continue for years, with the result that pre-trial incarceration begins to acquire a post-trial punitive character.”

The Court observed that KA Najeeb had specifically warned against precisely such outcomes.

“The more serious the accusation, the speedier the trial should be”

Reiterating the centrality of Article 21 protections, the bench observed that serious accusations demand faster trials, not greater tolerance for prolonged detention.

“Ideally, the more serious the accusations are, the speedier the trial should be.”

The Court also referred to its 2024 ruling in Sheikh Javed Iqbal v. State, which similarly followed KA Najeeb in granting bail due to prolonged delay in trial.

Background of the case

Syed Iftikhar Andrabi, a resident of Handwara in Kupwara district of Jammu and Kashmir, was arrested by the NIA on June 11, 2020. The agency alleged that he was part of a cross-border narcotics syndicate that procured heroin from the Tangdhar border region and channelled proceeds to organisations such as Lashkar-e-Taiba and Hizbul Mujahideen.

He was prosecuted under provisions of the NDPS Act, Sections 17, 38 and 40 of the UAPA, and Section 120B of the IPC. A Special NIA Court rejected his bail application in August 2024. The Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court later refused bail on August 19, 2025, holding that the seriousness of the allegations outweighed the case for release despite the lengthy custody period.

Before the Supreme Court, it was pointed out that the prosecution had cited over 320 witnesses while only a handful had been examined so far — making the likelihood of early completion of trial extremely remote.

Senior Advocate Shadan Farasat appeared on behalf of Andrabi.

Bail granted subject to conditions

Allowing the appeal, the Supreme Court directed Andrabi’s release on bail subject to conditions imposed by the Special NIA Court. The Court directed him to surrender his passport and mark attendance at the Handwara police station once every fortnight.

A major intervention in UAPA bail jurisprudence

The judgment is likely to emerge as a major constitutional reference point in future UAPA bail litigation. By foregrounding the right to speedy trial, condemning prolonged incarceration, relying on NCRB conviction data, and cautioning against judicial dilution of larger bench precedents, the Court has attempted to restore constitutional discipline within anti-terror jurisprudence.

The ruling also sends a significant institutional message: that personal liberty cannot be indefinitely suspended through procedural delay, and that anti-terror legislation cannot become a constitutional vacuum where Article 21 protections cease to operate. At a moment when UAPA prosecutions increasingly raise concerns regarding prolonged detention, delayed trials, and the criminalisation of dissent, the judgment may mark an important judicial effort to reclaim constitutional safeguards from the expanding shadow of preventive incarceration.

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The post Supreme Court reasserts KA Najeeb, warns against “hollowing out” constitutional protections in UAPA cases; questions Umar Khalid bail verdict appeared first on SabrangIndia.