The affidavit filed by the Union Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) on July 31, 2026 in Rajubala Das v. Union of India marks an important intervention in that debate. Filed pursuant to the Supreme Court’s order dated March 21, 2025, the affidavit seeks to explain the legal and administrative framework governing deportation where the nationality of a declared foreigner remains unknown or unverified. In doing so, the Union makes one of its clearest judicial admissions to date: deportation cannot even be initiated unless the individual’s nationality has first been verified by the receiving State, appropriate travel documents have been obtained, and the receiving country has agreed to accept the individual. This is no ordinary procedural clarification.

The affidavit fundamentally distinguishes between being declared a foreigner and being legally deportable. While a declaration by a Foreigners Tribunal may settle a person’s legal status within India, it does not, the Union now accepts, authorise the State to physically remove that individual from Indian territory. Deportation remains contingent upon a separate process involving diplomatic engagement, nationality verification, issuance of travel documents and, most importantly, the consent of another sovereign State. In other words, the executive cannot unilaterally deport a person merely because Indian authorities believe them to be a foreign national. That proposition carries consequences far beyond the Rajubala case.

For months, instances of forced deportations and illegal pushbacks have surfaced from Assam, West Bengal, Gujarat, Rajasthan, Maharashtra and Delhi of individuals “suspected” of being Bangladeshi nationals. In many of these cases, the family of those deported have approached the courts alleging that the removals were carried out without any disclosed nationality verification, without travel documents, and without Bangladesh formally acknowledging or accepting the individuals concerned.

Detailed reports may be read here, here, here, here and here.

Against this backdrop, the Union’s affidavit assumes a significance that extends well beyond the immediate dispute before the Court. By placing on record the legal prerequisites for deportation, the Government has simultaneously articulated a benchmark against which its own recent executive actions may now be tested. If nationality verification and acceptance by the receiving State are indeed indispensable legal requirements, as the affidavit repeatedly states, the obvious constitutional question is whether recent deportations and border removals have consistently adhered to those very standards.

The case of Rajubala Das

What began in 2020 as a challenge to the continued detention of one individual has gradually transformed into the Supreme Court’s most comprehensive examination of India’s detention and deportation regime. The litigation traces its origins to Rajendra Das, who was declared a foreigner by a Foreigners Tribunal in Morigaon, Assam, in 2011 under the Foreigners Act, 1946, on the allegation that he was a Bangladeshi national. Following that declaration, he was eventually detained in 2018 and remained incarcerated for years despite there being little indication that his deportation was imminent. His wife, Rajubala Das, approached the Supreme Court through the present Writ Petition, arguing that the State’s inability to deport him could not constitutionally justify his indefinite detention. The petition did not primarily dispute the Foreigners Tribunal’s declaration. Instead, it raised a deeper constitutional challenge. If deportation was not realistically possible because nationality remained disputed, travel documents were unavailable, or Bangladesh had not accepted the individual, could the State continue to deprive a person of liberty indefinitely? That question went to the heart of Article 21. For several years, the proceedings remained relatively limited. However, from 2024 onwards, the litigation underwent a remarkable transformation.

2024: The scrutiny of Matia Detention Centre- The case assumed far greater constitutional significance in 2024 when the Supreme Court considered reports of deplorable conditions inside Assam’s Matia detention centre. A report submitted by the Assam State Legal Services Authority documented severe shortages of drinking water, poor sanitation and prolonged detention of hundreds of individuals in conditions raising serious Article 21 concerns.

The Court’s inquiry consequently expanded beyond Rajendra Das’ detention to the functioning of the entire deportation regime. It directed the Assam Government to disclose the legal basis of every detainee’s incarceration, the documents supporting their detention and, crucially, the concrete steps taken towards their deportation. The Court was no longer prepared to accept broad assertions that deportation was “under process.” It demanded documentary proof that deportation was legally and practically feasible.

January–March 2025: Contradictions exposed- The affidavits filed by Assam only deepened the Court’s concerns. The State failed to explain the continued detention of nearly 270 individuals, many of whom had spent close to a decade in detention, while offering little evidence of meaningful diplomatic efforts to secure their deportation. The absence of information regarding nationality verification, travel documents and communication with Bangladesh prompted the Court to observe on January 22, 2025 that prolonged detention without any demonstrable prospect of deportation raised serious concerns under Article 21.

When the matter was heard again on February 4, 2025, Assam attributed the delays to the inability to ascertain addresses in Bangladesh. The Supreme Court was unconvinced. It directed the State to produce complete records of every detainee, explain the absence of a deportation roadmap and required the Chief Secretary to personally oversee compliance.

The contradictions became even more apparent in March 2025. Although Assam informed the Court that thirteen individuals had been deported after nationality verification through Nationality Verification Requests (NVRs), the same affidavit disclosed that 33 of the 63 persons earlier identified for deportation were simultaneously challenging the Foreigners Tribunal orders against them before the Gauhati High Court and the Supreme Court. One such detainee, Ajabha Khatun, had already secured protection against deportation from the Gauhati High Court. Even more strikingly, the thirteen persons ultimately deported were reportedly not from the original list of sixty-three individuals the State had earlier claimed were awaiting deportation. These contradictions exposed the absence of a coherent and transparent deportation framework and significantly undermined the State’s earlier assertions.

Detailed report may be read here and here.

CJP’s legal intervention in Ajabha Khatun’s matter may be read here.

The March 21, 2025 order- Faced with these inconsistencies, the Supreme Court shifted its focus from Assam to the Union Government. Recognising that deportation ultimately depends upon diplomatic engagement through the Ministries of Home Affairs and External Affairs, the Court, by its order dated March 21, 2025, directed the Union to explain the legal procedure applicable where a declared foreigner’s nationality remains unknown or unverified. The July 31, 2026 affidavit is the Union’s response to that direction.

Detailed report may be read here.

The Union’s Affidavit: A judicial admission that deportation cannot occur without nationality verification

If the earlier phases of the Rajubala Das litigation exposed the constitutional deficiencies of India’s detention regime, the Union Government’s affidavit dated July 31, 2026 seeks to explain the legal framework governing deportation itself. Filed pursuant to the Supreme Court’s order of March 21, 2025, the affidavit is, on its face, an attempt to answer a seemingly straightforward question: what happens when a person has been declared a foreigner but their nationality cannot be verified?

The answer offered by the Union is strikingly clear. According to the affidavit, such a person cannot be deported. More importantly, the Union goes a step further and states that the deportation process itself cannot even be initiated until nationality verification is complete. This is perhaps the single most important legal proposition emerging from the affidavit. It is also one that may have consequences extending far beyond the Rajubala case and Assam.

Deportation is not a unilateral exercise of sovereign power: Public discourse often treats deportation as though it were entirely within the executive’s control—that once Indian authorities conclude that someone is a foreign national, they may simply escort that individual across the international border. The Union’s own affidavit rejects that understanding. Instead, it recognises that deportation is an exercise involving two sovereign States, not one.

The affidavit explains that where a foreign national possesses valid travel documents, the concerned State Government, Union Territory Administration or the Foreigners Regional Registration Office may proceed with deportation after criminal proceedings conclude and provided no other criminal case remains pending. However, the affidavit makes it equally clear that this represents only one category of cases.

A much larger legal problem arises where the individual possesses no passport, travel document or proof of nationality. In such situations, deportation cannot simply proceed on the basis of India’s unilateral determination. Instead, the receiving State must first verify that the individual is indeed its national, and only thereafter can travel documents be issued and deportation can legally occur.

A declaration by a Foreigners Tribunal answer only one question—whether, under Indian law, the person has established lawful citizenship or lawful residence. It does not determine whether another sovereign country recognises that individual as its citizen. That determination belongs exclusively to the receiving State.

The three preconditions the Union says are indispensable: Coming to the legal prerequisites for deportation, the affidavit effectively recognises three cumulative conditions.

• First, the individual’s nationality must be verified.
• Secondly, the concerned foreign government must issue or facilitate the issuance of appropriate travel documents.
• Thirdly, the receiving country must agree to receive that person.

The Union leaves little ambiguity. It states:

“ That, a foreign national whose nationality is unknown/unverified can be deported to their home country only upon confirmation of their nationality/possession of a valid travel document/ acceptance by the home country concerned. The deportation procedure cannot be initiated without nationality verification.” (Point 10)

The Union’s formulation is significant because it elevates nationality verification from a mere procedural formality to a legal precondition for deportation. By stating that the deportation process “cannot be initiated” without nationality verification, the affidavit makes clear that verification is not simply one step in the process but the foundation upon which any lawful deportation rests. In effect, the Union acknowledges that, until nationality is confirmed and the receiving State agrees to accept the individual, there is no legally valid deportation process that can commence.

The Ministry of External Affairs emerges as the central actor: The affidavit also clarifies an aspect of deportation that has often remained opaque in public discourse. It explains that nationality verification is not undertaken directly by State Governments. Instead, once an individual is apprehended—or, in certain cases, once an FIR is registered—the concerned State Government or Foreigners Regional Registration Office is required to immediately forward the individual’s particulars, including photographs, to the Ministry of External Affairs.

The Ministry of External Affairs then engages with the Embassy or High Commission of the country believed to be the person’s home State. Only after the foreign government examines the material, verifies nationality and agrees to issue travel documents can the deportation process move forward. This explanation is legally significant because it reveals that deportation is not merely an exercise under the Foreigners Act; it is simultaneously an exercise in diplomacy.

“That, in case the foreigner does not have a valid travel document/passport, it is necessary to obtain the requisite travel document from the Embassy/High Commission ofthe country concerned through the process of nationality verification before he/she can be deported in accordance with Clause 12(4) of the Immigration & Foreigners Order, 2025.” (Point 8)

“That, in such cases, the State Government/UT Administration/FRRO/FRO concerned may take up the matter regarding issuance of travel document in favour of the foreigner with the Ministry of External Affairs (Consular Division), with detailed particulars and photograph of the said foreigner immediately on arrest of the foreign national or on filing of FIR, whichever is earlier.” (Point 9)

The affidavit acknowledges the limits of Indian sovereignty: The Union expressly states that no time limit can ever be prescribed for nationality verification because the process is entirely within the domain of the foreign government. This is a significant concession as it amounts to an acknowledgment that India cannot compel another sovereign State to decide whether a particular individual is its citizen. Nor can India dictate the speed with which that determination must be made.

“That, since verification of nationality is a sovereign function of the foreign government, no time limit can be fixed for completion of the process of nationality verification. Consequently, until such time as nationality is duly verified and deportation is effected, the movement of the illegal migrant, must remain restricted within a designated holding centre to ensure his/her physical availability for deportation.” (Point 12)

Yet this admission also exposes a constitutional dilemma. The affidavit acknowledges that nationality verification is entirely dependent on the receiving State, over which India has no control, and that no timeline can be prescribed for its completion. If so, on what constitutional basis can the State continue to detain a person for an indeterminate period while awaiting a process whose duration is uncertain and potentially indefinite? The affidavit offers no limiting principle. It merely states that such individuals should remain in holding centres until verification is completed, without addressing what Article 21 requires if that process takes years—or never concludes at all.

The affidavit attempts to justify continued detention: To address this obvious constitutional concern, the Union argues that persons awaiting nationality verification should remain in designated holding centres. According to the affidavit, restricting their movement is necessary to prevent absconding, protect national security and ensure that deportation can be carried out once nationality is verified. While these are familiar justifications for immigration detention, they do not fully answer the concerns raised by the Supreme Court in Rajubala. Article 21 may permit temporary restrictions on liberty, but it does not sanction detention for an indefinite period. The affidavit assumes that detention can continue until nationality verification is complete, without addressing the constitutional question of how long such detention can remain lawful if deportation continues to be uncertain or remote. The Court’s concern has consistently been not merely whether deportation is pending, but whether continued detention remains proportionate when there is no foreseeable prospect of removal.

“That, in pursuance of the orders of the Hon’ble Supreme Court of India dated 28.02.2012 in the matter of Bhim Singh vs Union of India & Ors. the Ministry has advised State Govt/UT Administrations to ensure that all foreign nationals who have completed their sentence but whose deportation/repatriation is awaited due to nonconfirmation of nationality/issue of travel documents by the country concerned may  be réleased from jails immediately and may be kept at appropriate place outside the 4 jail premises with restricted movements pending their repatriation. State Govts/UT Administrations have also been advised to ensure that the places where such foreign nationals are being kept must have basic facilities of electricity, water and hygiene.” (Point 13)

The reliance on Bhim Singh is both important and incomplete: To support its position, the Union relies upon the Supreme Court’s decision in Bhim Singh v. Union of India. The affidavit notes that, following that judgment, the Ministry of Home Affairs advised States and Union Territories that persons who had completed their criminal sentence but whose deportation remained delayed due to non-confirmation of nationality or non-issuance of travel documents should ordinarily not continue inside prisons. Instead, they could be accommodated in designated places outside prison premises where their movement could remain restricted pending deportation. The Union cites this advisory as demonstrating that the present practice of housing such individuals in detention or holding centres has judicial support. That reliance is only partly persuasive.

The Bhim Singh framework sought to distinguish immigration detention from ordinary criminal incarceration. It recognised that individuals who had completed their sentences should not continue to be treated as convicted prisoners merely because deportation had become difficult. However, Bhim Singh did not answer the larger constitutional question now arising in Rajubal, which is how long can a person remain in such a holding centre before the detention itself becomes arbitrary?

The July 31 affidavit reproduces the administrative framework flowing from Bhim Singh, but it does not confront its constitutional limits. That omission becomes especially significant given the Supreme Court’s repeated observations since 2024 that Article 21 cannot permit indefinite executive detention unsupported by a realistic prospect of deportation.

The affidavit and the question of recent deportation practices

The Union’s affidavit is notable not only for the legal framework it sets out, but also for what it does not address. It repeatedly states that deportation is contingent upon three conditions: verification of nationality by the receiving State, issuance of travel documents, and acceptance by that State. Yet, it is silent on how these requirements align with the recent allegations of “push back” operations reported from Assam and other States, where individuals were allegedly taken across the border without any publicly disclosed process of nationality verification or acceptance by the receiving country.

This omission is significant because the affidavit is a sworn statement before the Supreme Court, setting out the Union’s own understanding of the law. The Government does not describe nationality verification as a matter of administrative convenience; it states in categorical terms that the deportation process “cannot be initiated” without it. The affidavit also recognises that verification is a sovereign function of the receiving country and that deportation is possible only after that country confirms the individual’s nationality and agrees to accept them. These are presented as legal prerequisites, not procedural formalities.

Against this backdrop, the affidavit inevitably invites comparison with recent events. The Supreme Court is already seized of petitions alleging that several persons from West Bengal were forcibly pushed into Bangladesh without due process. One such case came to forefront in November 2025, wherein Sunali and her husband, Danish Sheikh, along with their son, were apprehended in Delhi’s K.N. Katju Marg in June, labelled as illegal immigrants. Their deportation was ordered by the Foreigners Regional Registration Office (FRRO) and executed despite Sunali’s family presenting Aadhaar and PAN documents. The petitioners further argued that the authorities had ignored the Ministry of Home Affairs’ own guidelines dated May 2, 2025, which required verification from the individual’s home State before deportation. They contended that no meaningful opportunity of hearing had been provided and that the deportations violated both statutory procedure and the constitutional guarantee of fairness. In the case of Bhodu Sheikh v. Union of India, the Union ultimately was made to undertake the decision of bringing these six people back, on humanitarian grounds, after they had allegedly been pushed across the border.

Detailed reports may be read here and here.

Similarly, in the Rajubala proceedings themselves, the Court has repeatedly insisted that deportation must follow nationality verification through Nationality Verification Requests (NVRs), issuance of travel permits and other documented procedures. The affidavit, however, does not explain whether these safeguards were followed in the recent removals that have become the subject of litigation.

The affidavit also has significant implications for how constitutional courts scrutinise deportation cases. Once the Union itself has stated on oath that deportation cannot even be initiated without nationality verification, travel documents and acceptance by the receiving State, courts can no longer be satisfied with bare assertions that an individual has been “deported” or “repatriated”. The legality of deportation necessarily turns on whether these mandatory procedural steps were actually followed.

This issue was focussed on by the CJP legal team in Gauhati Court after the illegal deportation of Doyjan Bibi in May 2025. CJP’s legal intervention in Doyjan’s case may be read here, here and here.

This shifts the focus of judicial review. It will no longer be sufficient for the State to merely state that a person has been deported. Courts will increasingly have to insist on the underlying record: when the Nationality Verification Request (NVR) was sent, whether the receiving country confirmed the person’s nationality, whether travel documents were issued, whether the receiving State formally agreed to accept the individual, and whether the deportation was carried out pursuant to a lawful order after the individual had exhausted or waived available legal remedies.

Indeed, this is precisely the direction in which the Rajubala litigation has already moved. Dissatisfied with vague assertions of impending deportation, the Supreme Court repeatedly sought detailed data from the Assam Government on detainees, nationality verification, pending litigation and the actual steps taken towards deportation. The Union’s July 31 affidavit reinforces that approach. If compliance with these procedural safeguards is what makes a deportation lawful, then those safeguards cannot remain matters of executive assertion—they must be demonstrated through documentary evidence capable of judicial verification.

In that sense, the affidavit has implications beyond the immediate case. It raises the evidentiary threshold for the State in future deportation litigation. Courts will have to examine not only whether a person was deported, but how the deportation was carried out and whether it conformed to the legal framework that the Union itself has now placed before the Supreme Court.

The affidavit leaves little room for informal “push back” operations

Perhaps the most significant implication of the affidavit lies in what it suggests about the legality of the recent “push back” operations reported from Assam and other States. Over the past few months, multiple petitions before the Supreme Court and High Courts have alleged that persons suspected of being Bangladeshi nationals were taken across the international border without any publicly disclosed deportation process. In several cases, families have alleged that individuals were picked up without prior notice, denied access to lawyers or relatives, and removed without any disclosed deportation order or travel documents.

Detailed report may be read here, here, here and here.

The Union’s affidavit describes only one legally recognised route to deportation. According to it, removal can take place only after the receiving country verifies the individual’s nationality, issues the necessary travel documents and agrees to accept them. Significantly, the affidavit states that the deportation process itself cannot be initiated before nationality verification. It does not recognise any separate category of “push back” operations or explain the legal basis on which such removals could take place outside this framework.

That omission is important. If “push back” is treated as a form of deportation, it would necessarily have to satisfy the procedural safeguards outlined in the affidavit. If it is not deportation, the affidavit offers no explanation of the statutory or constitutional authority under which such cross-border removals are carried out. The affidavit therefore leaves unresolved a question that is already before constitutional courts: whether recent removals complied with the legal process that the Union itself now says is mandatory.

Beyond Nationality Verification: The missing due process framework

While the affidavit sets out the broad mechanics of deportation, it is noticeably thin on the procedural safeguards that accompany the process. It explains how nationality verification is to be initiated but says almost nothing about the rights of the individual who is its subject.

For instance, the affidavit does not clarify whether a person is informed when a Nationality Verification Request (NVR) is sent to a foreign government, whether they have access to the material relied upon for such verification, or whether they have any opportunity to contest incorrect or incomplete information before it is acted upon. Equally, it is silent on what follows once nationality is confirmed. Is a formal deportation order issued? Is the individual notified that the receiving State has accepted them? Can that decision be challenged before a constitutional court? None of these questions are addressed.

These are not peripheral procedural details. They go to the heart of procedural fairness under Article 21. Deportation is among the most coercive powers the State can exercise—it results in the physical removal of a person from the territory of India. Such a power necessarily requires a transparent legal process, one that affords notice, an opportunity to be heard where appropriate, and meaningful judicial oversight before the final act of removal.

The significance of these omissions becomes even more pronounced in light of recent litigation concerning alleged “push back” operations. If the Union’s own position is that deportation cannot commence without nationality verification and acceptance by the receiving State, the procedural steps connecting those two stages assume constitutional importance. Without clarity on how those decisions are communicated, documented and implemented, it becomes difficult for courts to effectively scrutinise whether the legal requirements identified by the Union have actually been followed in an individual case.

The affidavit therefore provides only part of the legal architecture. It explains the prerequisites for deportation, but not the due process safeguards that ensure those prerequisites are fairly implemented. That gap is likely to assume increasing significance as constitutional courts continue to examine the legality of detention and deportation in the Rajubala proceedings and in the growing number of cases challenging recent removals across the country.

Beyond Rajubala: Why this affidavit reinforces the constitutional limits of deportation

The significance of the Union Government’s July 31 affidavit extends well beyond the immediate dispute in Rajubala Das. Rather than introducing an entirely new legal framework, the affidavit reiterates and reinforces the procedural safeguards that the Supreme Court has been examining throughout the proceedings. In doing so, it re-emphasises a central constitutional question: what constitutes a lawful deportation?

For years, courts have largely focused on whether an individual was correctly declared a foreigner under the Foreigners Act, 1946. The Rajubala case has broadened that inquiry by examining the legality of what follows—the process of detention and eventual deportation. The Union’s affidavit continues that shift by setting out the legal conditions that, according to the Government itself, must precede any deportation.

A key takeaway from the affidavit is that deportation is not a unilateral executive act. While Indian authorities may identify a person as a foreign national and initiate the process, deportation ultimately depends on nationality verification by the receiving State, issuance of travel documents and that State’s willingness to accept the individual. Until these steps are completed, the Union says, deportation cannot be initiated.

The affidavit therefore re-emphasises that executive power under the Foreigners Act is not unfettered. Declaring a person to be a foreigner may establish that they have no legal right to remain in India, but it does not automatically authorise their physical removal from the country. Deportation remains a separate legal process governed by procedural safeguards and diplomatic engagement.

This is an important clarification because it places legal limits on the State’s deportation powers. Those limits arise not only from constitutional guarantees under Article 21 but also from the Union’s own understanding of the deportation process, as placed before the Supreme Court. In that sense, the affidavit is significant not because it creates a new legal standard, but because it reaffirms one before the country’s highest court. That reaffirmation is likely to shape future judicial scrutiny of deportation cases, particularly where allegations are made that individuals were removed without following the safeguards that the Union itself now says are mandatory.

Related:

Aadhaar, Voter ID and PAN Cannot Prove Citizenship: Calcutta High Court’s Foreigners Order and the burden of belonging

They Belong Here: An elderly couple’s victory for citizenship

Another CJP Victory: Barpeta Tribunal declares Alam Khan ‘not a foreigner’

When a narrow reading of documents decide citizenship: GHC in Aminul Hoque

‘Fairness & reason ‘: SC rules that due process is a must for citizenship determination

Gauhati High Court upholds foreigner declaration, rejects mental illness plea

The post ‘Deportation Cannot Begin without Nationality Verification’: Union’s Rajubala affidavit clarifies legal limits on executive power appeared first on SabrangIndia.

On August 3, 2026, the Rouse Avenue Court in Delhi acquitted Brij Bhushan Singh and former WFI assistant secretary Vinod Tomar in the sexual harassment case filed by six women wrestlers, holding that the prosecution had failed to establish the charges beyond reasonable doubt.

Additional Chief Judicial Magistrate (ACJM) Ashwini Panwar delivered the verdict after more than two years of trial proceedings, including in-camera hearings, reported LiveLaw. The court had earlier framed charges against Singh under provisions relating to sexual harassment, assault with intent to outrage the modesty of a woman and criminal intimidation.

While the court’s decision establishes that the prosecution could not meet the criminal standard required for conviction, the verdict has left India’s leading women wrestlers, who had risked their careers, reputations and public standing to speak out, expressing deep disappointment and announcing that their legal battle will continue.

For the wrestlers, the case the legal battle was only one part of a much more varied and substantive struggle. It has been about whether institutions meant to protect athletes would stand with them when allegations were raised against the person controlling one of India’s most important sporting federations.

Olympic medallist Vinesh Phogat, one of the complainants, reacting to Bhushan’s acquittal said that the verdict had caused immense pain but would not end their fight. In a statement posted on X, Phogat said the wrestlers had gathered extraordinary courage to come forward against a politically powerful figure.

“We had to gather a lot of courage to take to the streets and get an FIR registered against a powerful leader of the ruling party.”

She alleged that Singh had used his influence and power to intimidate women wrestlers and force some complainants to withdraw.

“Using power and muscle power, Brij Bhushan intimidated several girls and forced them to withdraw their names.”

Phogat said that despite the pressure, several women wrestlers continued to stand firm throughout the legal process.

“Several women wrestlers stood firm and fought the legal battle against Brij Bhushan in court.”

However, she alleged that the institutional response from the beginning had been tilted in favour of the accused.

“From the very beginning, the entire system, the government and the administration have been engaged in protecting Brij Bhushan.”

However, she emphasised that all the women wrestlers would challenge the verdict before a higher court.

“We have not lost hope, and the wrestlers will continue their fight.”

pic.twitter.com/iDnAdceZa3

— Vinesh Phogat (@Phogat_Vinesh) August 3, 2026

Olympic bronze medallist Bajrang Punia also described the verdict as deeply disappointing, while recalling the struggle the wrestlers faced simply to have their allegations formally registered.

As reported by Hindustan Times, Punia said that the wrestlers had been forced to take to the streets because institutional mechanisms had failed to respond to their complaints.

“We had to fight a long battle, take to the streets and get an FIR registered against a powerful leader of the ruling party.”

He alleged that Singh’s position and influence created fear among complainants but said the women wrestlers who continued with the case demonstrated extraordinary courage.

The reactions from the wrestlers underline a central tension surrounding the case: a criminal court decides guilt based on whether evidence meets the legal threshold beyond reasonable doubt, but survivors often experience the justice process as a much longer struggle involving social pressure, institutional resistance and unequal power structures.

A protest born out of institutional silence

The allegations against Brij Bhushan Singh first came into public focus in January 2023, when some of India’s most decorated wrestlers gathered at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar demanding action against the then WFI president. The protestors included Olympic medallists Vinesh Phogat, Bajrang Punia and Sakshi Malik, along with other national and international-level wrestlers. They alleged that Singh had sexually harassed and intimidated women wrestlers over several years, including during training camps, tournaments and official interactions.

The allegations were particularly significant because Singh was not merely a sports administrator. He was a six-time Member of Parliament, a senior political figure of the Narendra Modi-led government and the head of the national federation responsible for governing wrestling in India.

The wrestlers demanded:

• Singh’s removal from the WFI;
• an independent investigation;
• dissolution of the federation’s existing leadership structure;
• protection for athletes who came forward with complaints.

However, the initial institutional response became one of the biggest points of contention. The wrestlers approached sports authorities, including the Indian Olympic Association (IOA) and the Union Sports Ministry, seeking intervention. Following their complaints, the IOA constituted an oversight committee headed by prominent sportspersons, including boxer Mary Kom and wrestler Yogeshwar Dutt. However, the wrestlers later expressed dissatisfaction with the process, alleging that their concerns were not adequately addressed and that instead of accountability, they faced delays and uncertainty.

The controversy highlighted a long-standing problem in Indian sport — athletes often depend on administrators for selections, training opportunities and career progression, creating a significant power imbalance when allegations are made against those very administrators.

Detailed reports may be read here, here, here, here and here.

The Supreme Court Intervention: When the FIR was finally registered

One of the most critical aspects of the case was the delay in registration of the FIR. The wrestlers eventually approached the Supreme Court, seeking directions to register a criminal case against Singh. In April 2023, the Supreme Court took note of the allegations and observed that they were serious in nature. Following the court’s intervention, Delhi Police registered two FIRs against Singh.

The development was significant because, according to the wrestlers and their supporters, it demonstrated the difficulties survivors often face in getting their complaints formally recognised when the accused occupies a position of power. The Supreme Court proceedings also brought attention to concerns regarding the safety of one of the complainants, who was a minor at the time of the allegations. The police later filed a chargesheet against Singh and Vinod Tomar in June 2023 under:

• Section 354 IPC — assault or criminal force against a woman with intent to outrage her modesty;
• Section 354A IPC — sexual harassment;
• Section 354D IPC — stalking;
• Section 506 IPC — criminal intimidation.

The chargesheet alleged that incidents took place between 2016 and 2019 at locations including the WFI office, Singh’s official residence and during international tournaments.

From charges to trial

Following the registration of the FIRs, the case moved into the criminal justice system, where the central question became whether the prosecution could establish the allegations against Brij Bhushan Singh beyond reasonable doubt.

In June 2023, Delhi Police filed a chargesheet against Singh and Vinod Tomar, the former assistant secretary of the Wrestling Federation of India (WFI). The chargesheet invoked provisions of the Indian Penal Code relating to sexual harassment, assault with intent to outrage the modesty of a woman, stalking and criminal intimidation.

The allegations made by the women wrestlers were not limited to a single incident. The complaints referred to a pattern of alleged misconduct between 2016 and 2019, including incidents at the WFI office, Singh’s official residence and during overseas competitions.

The prosecution case was built around the statements of six women wrestlers who accused Singh of inappropriate behaviour, unwanted physical contact, harassment and intimidation. Singh denied the allegations from the beginning, claiming that the accusations were politically motivated and part of a conspiracy against him.

In July 2023, the Rouse Avenue Court granted bail to Singh and Vinod Tomar while imposing conditions restricting them from influencing witnesses or leaving the country without permission. The trial, however, became a prolonged legal battle for the complainants. For women athletes who had already challenged one of the most powerful figures in Indian sport publicly, the courtroom became another arena where they had to repeatedly defend their allegations.

Charges Framed: Court finds material to proceed against Brij Bhushan Singh

In May 2024, the trial court found sufficient material to proceed against Brij Bhushan Singh. The court framed charges against him under Sections 354 and 354A of the Indian Penal Code for allegations involving sexual harassment and outraging the modesty of women. Charges of criminal intimidation were also framed in relation to allegations made by some complainants.

The court, however, discharged Singh in relation to one of the complaints, observing that there was insufficient material to proceed on that particular allegation. For the remaining allegations, the court held that a trial was necessary. The framing of charges was significant because it meant the court found a prima facie case requiring examination through evidence.

It did not determine guilt, but it rejected the argument that the allegations were entirely without basis. The trial formally commenced thereafter, with proceedings conducted in-camera due to the sensitive nature of the allegations.

Detailed report may be read here.

The Minor Wrestler’s Complaint: Allegations, withdrawal and pressure

One of the most sensitive aspects of the Brij Bhushan Singh case was the complaint filed by a minor wrestler, which initially led to the registration of a separate FIR under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act. The minor wrestler had accused Singh of sexual harassment, following which the Delhi Police registered a case under the stringent child protection law after the intervention of the Supreme Court in April 2023. The allegation added another layer of seriousness.

However, the case later took a different course. During the investigation, the minor wrestler and her father changed their position, following which Delhi Police filed a cancellation report in the POCSO case, stating that the allegations could not be substantiated. In May 2025, the Patiala House Court accepted the cancellation report and closed the proceedings.

While the police treated the development as a reason to close the case, supporters of the wrestlers pointed to the larger concerns surrounding complaints made against powerful individuals — particularly by young survivors who may face immense social, institutional and personal pressure. The minor wrestler’s father had earlier alleged that the family faced pressure and intimidation after the complaint was filed, raising questions about the circumstances under which the statement was changed. The allegations of pressure were strongly denied by Singh and his supporters.

Detailed report may be read here and here.

A federation, a powerful president and questions of accountability

At the heart of the allegations raised was not only the criminal case against Singh but also the functioning of the Wrestling Federation of India.

The WFI president controlled one of India’s most important sporting institutions — an organisation responsible for selecting athletes, conducting tournaments and shaping the careers of wrestlers. The allegations therefore raised a fundamental question: What protection exists for athletes when the person accused of misconduct is also the person exercising institutional authority over their careers?

The wrestlers argued that their struggle was not merely against one individual but against a culture within sports administration where athletes often lack independent mechanisms to report abuse. Women’s rights groups repeatedly pointed to the need for stronger implementation of the Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Act, 2013 (POSH Act) within sports bodies. They argued that national sports federations cannot remain outside effective accountability mechanisms and that athletes must have access to independent committees free from political and administrative influence.

Detailed reports may be read here, here

The Verdict: Acquittal, but not the end of the battle

On August 3, 2026, after hearing arguments from the prosecution, defence and complainants, ACJM Ashwini Panwar of the Rouse Avenue Court acquitted Brij Bhushan Singh and Vinod Tomar. The court held that the prosecution had failed to establish the charges beyond reasonable doubt.

This standard is fundamental to criminal law. An acquittal means the prosecution was unable to prove guilt to the legally required degree. It does not automatically mean that the allegations were fabricated or that the complainants acted dishonestly. In our judicial system, sexual harassment cases are often difficult to prove because they frequently occur in private spaces, without independent witnesses or immediate reporting. To the same, one can add the issue of survivors delaying reporting because of fear, professional consequences, social stigma or the power imbalance between the complainant and accused.

At the same time, criminal courts are bound by evidentiary standards and cannot convict unless the prosecution proves the charges beyond reasonable doubt. One cannot turn blind to the reality that the same system that had dragged the protesting wrestlers from Jantar Mantar had the responsibility of collecting evidence against the accused.  For the wrestlers, however, the issue goes beyond the courtroom outcome. Their central allegation is that the system failed them long before the judgment was delivered.

Women’s Rights Groups: “The fight for safe sporting spaces continues”

The acquittal triggered strong reactions from women’s organisations, activists and members of civil society. More than 250 feminists, women’s rights advocates and members of women’s organisations issued a joint statement expressing solidarity with the wrestlers and condemning what they described as the continued failure to create safe sporting environments.

The signatories include senior lawyer Indira Jaising, academician Uma Chakravarti, social activist Aruna Roy, PUCL India President Kavita Srivastava, Kalyani Menon Sen, publisher Urvashi Butalia, danseuse Mallika Sarabhai, author and activist, Teesta Setalvad, activists Sujata Gothaskar and Shabnam Hashmi, women’s leaders  Jagmati Sangwan and Annie Raja and Nisha Sidhu of National Federation of Indian Women, Maimoona Mollah of the All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA), Lalita Ramdas, Syeeda Hameed, Meena Saraswati Seshu, transparency activist Anjali Bharadwaj, lawyer Lara Jesani, Govind Kelkar, academic Shilpa Phadke and journalists Rituparna Chatterjee and Laxmi Murthy.

The signatories described the wrestlers’ struggle as a fight against powerful structures within Indian sport where money, political influence and institutional control often determine whose voices are heard. They said the acquittal would not end the movement for accountability. The statement recalled that the FIRs against Singh were registered only after Supreme Court intervention and argued that the wrestlers had repeatedly attempted to seek institutional remedies before approaching the courts.

It also criticised the treatment of the wrestlers during their protests in 2023, including the police action against them when they attempted to march towards the new Parliament building on May 28, 2023.

The organisations demanded:

• implementation of POSH mechanisms across all sports institutions;
• independent complaint mechanisms for athletes;
• protection for whistleblowers and survivors;
• sporting institutions free from political interference.

Senior advocate Rebecca John, who represented four of the complainants, described the acquittal as “deeply disturbing”. She maintained that the verdict would be challenged before a higher court.

Political Reactions: Opposition questions government’s claims on women empowerment

The acquittal triggered sharp criticism from opposition parties, who questioned the government’s response to the allegations and accused it of failing to stand with women athletes.

Congress MP Priyanka Gandhi Vadra criticised what she described as a contradiction between political messaging on women’s empowerment and the treatment of the wrestlers. “On one hand they say they are with the young generation, they talk about women empowerment and women reservation, and on the other hand this,” she said, reported Times of India.

Maharashtra Congress chief Harshvardhan Sapkal said the verdict reflected a failure to protect women athletes who had brought international recognition to India. As per the report of The Telegraph, he accused the government of ignoring the allegations made by the wrestlers and alleged that political power had shielded Singh.

The Communist Party of India (Marxist–Leninist) Liberation criticised the acquittal, stating that the case exposed the persistence of political patronage and institutional protection enjoyed by powerful individuals. The party argued that the case had been weakened from the beginning due to delayed FIR registration, the composition of inquiry mechanisms and the treatment of protesting wrestlers.

Shiv Sena (UBT) MP Arvind Sawant questioned why BJP leaders had not supported the wrestlers when they were protesting publicly at Jantar Mantar. Jharkhand Mukti Morcha MP Mahua Maji said that while judicial decisions must be respected, many women were disappointed by the verdict and feared that such outcomes could discourage survivors from reporting harassment. Congress MP Shashi Tharoor adopted a more cautious position, stating that judicial processes must be allowed to continue and that courts’ decisions should not be prejudged.

Brij Bhushan’s Defence: “Truth Has Prevailed”

Following the verdict, Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh welcomed the court’s decision and maintained that the allegations against him were false and politically motivated. Speaking after the judgment, Singh claimed that he had never considered himself guilty and that the court’s decision had vindicated his stand. He said that from the beginning he had maintained that if even one allegation against him was proved, he would accept punishment.

Singh described the acquittal as an “honourable” clearance and alleged that the protests by the wrestlers had later turned into a political campaign against him. He claimed that the case was not a genuine movement by athletes but had become an effort by opposition parties to target him politically.

The current Wrestling Federation of India (WFI) leadership also welcomed the judgment. WFI president Sanjay Singh said the allegations had caused significant damage to Indian wrestling and described them as politically motivated. He said the acquittal was a victory for the sport and a rejection of what he called false accusations.

Did the system fail women wrestlers before the court did?

The Brij Bhushan Singh case now enters its next phase with the wrestlers preparing to challenge the acquittal. But beyond the legal appeal lies a larger unresolved question: Why did some of India’s most celebrated athletes have to fight for months on the streets before their allegations even reached a courtroom? The controversy exposed deep structural problems within Indian sports governance. The wrestlers were not ordinary complainants approaching an unfamiliar system. They were Olympic medallists and international champions who had represented India on the world stage. Yet, according to them, even their public stature did not shield them from institutional resistance.

The wrestlers’ struggle was never limited to one criminal case; it exposed deeper structural problems within Indian sports governance. At the centre of their concerns was the difficulty of challenging powerful administrators who control athletes’ careers, opportunities and futures. Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh was not only the president of the Wrestling Federation of India (WFI) but also a politically influential figure. For athletes dependent on federations for selection, training facilities and international opportunities, raising allegations against the person at the top carries enormous personal and professional risks. The wrestlers alleged that this unequal power dynamic enabled intimidation and discouraged some women from pursuing complaints, highlighting the vulnerability of athletes within institutions where authority and accountability often remain concentrated in the same hands.

The controversy also brought renewed scrutiny on the lack of effective accountability mechanisms within sports bodies. Although the POSH Act requires workplaces to establish Internal Complaints Committees to address complaints of sexual harassment, women’s rights groups have long argued that sporting institutions require stronger and more independent systems. Athletes often have direct professional dependence on coaches, administrators and federation officials, making internal mechanisms controlled by the same institutions inadequate. The wrestlers’ protest therefore became a larger demand for independent grievance redressal bodies, transparent investigations and protection for athletes who speak against misconduct.

Detailed piece may be read here.

The movement also exposed the immense personal cost of speaking out against powerful individuals. The wrestlers, who had been celebrated as national sporting icons for winning medals for India, found themselves on the streets at Jantar Mantar demanding that their allegations even be heard. They faced public scrutiny, political attacks and questions about their motives, while supporters argued that instead of receiving institutional protection, they were forced to fight for recognition and accountability. Their protest became symbolic of a larger struggle faced by survivors — where seeking justice often requires confronting not only the accused but also the systems that are expected to provide protection.

For Vinesh Phogat, Bajrang Punia and the other wrestlers, the acquittal is not the end of their fight. They have announced plans to challenge the verdict before a higher court, while continuing to demand broader reforms in Indian sport — including independent sexual harassment committees, effective implementation of POSH provisions, protection for athletes who report misconduct and greater transparency in sports administration. The case has already changed the conversation around women athletes in India. The medals won by these wrestlers brought national pride, but their protest tested whether the same institutions that celebrated their victories would stand with them when they challenged authority. The court has delivered its verdict in the criminal case, but the larger question raised by the wrestlers remains: when a woman athlete challenges the most powerful person in her sporting institution, does the system protect her — or does she have to fight the system itself?

Related:

Women Wrestlers & Lawyers’ battle for justice: Feminists, women leaders in support

Clear case of re-victimisation: Former SC judge Madan B Lokur on Delhi Police’s handling of women wrestlers case

“I changed my statement because I was scared, my family is living under constant threat”: father of the minor wrestlers’ complainant

Mumbai: Silent protest organised to condemn the injustice meted out to women wrestlers

FIRs suggest wrestlers had informed PM about their repeated sexual trauma in 2021

#STOPKILLINGUS Protest at Jantar Mantar on August 4 against GOI’s “cover-up” of Manual Scavenging deaths

The post Brij Bhushan Acquittal: The system vs the wrestlers appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Justice Madhav J. Jamdar delivered the ruling while dismissing a writ petition filed by Vignesh Ramesh Kamble challenging an externment order passed by the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Mumbai, and its affirmation by the Divisional Commissioner, Konkan Division. The Court found that the statutory requirements under Section 55 had been duly satisfied in light of the petitioner’s alleged membership of a gang facing numerous criminal prosecutions and the material placed before the externing authority.

Background

The petitioner challenged the legality of the externment order dated January 21, 2026, passed under the Maharashtra Police Act, as well as the appellate order dated July 3, 2026, contending that the authorities had failed to satisfy the statutory prerequisites for invoking their externment powers. It was argued that only four criminal cases had been registered against him, three of which had ended in acquittal, and that the authorities had mechanically relied upon the criminal history of the gang without independently examining his own conduct. The petitioner also relied on the Bombay High Court’s earlier decision in Jabbar Razzak Shaikh v. Divisional Commissioner to contend that the externment proceedings suffered from legal infirmities.

The State, however, defended the externment by pointing out that the petitioner was alleged to be a member of a gang headed by one Sunil alias Sunny Balaram Patil, against whom and whose associates 31 criminal cases had been registered. The prosecution further highlighted that one criminal case against the petitioner, involving offences under Sections 302 and 307 of the Indian Penal Code along with provisions of the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act, 1999, remained pending for trial. According to the State, the action had rightly been taken under Section 55, which is specifically designed to deal with gangs and bodies of persons whose collective activities pose a threat to public order.

Court’s Analysis: Two distinct statutory regimes

The judgment turns on a detailed interpretation of Sections 55 and 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act, with the Court emphasising that although both provisions confer powers of externment, they are triggered by entirely different factual considerations.

Justice Jamdar observed that Section 55 authorises the competent authority to extern a gang or body of persons where it is satisfied that the movement or encampment of such gang is causing, or is calculated to cause, danger, alarm, or reasonable suspicion that unlawful designs are being entertained. Consequently, the “subjective satisfaction” contemplated by Section 55 is directed towards the collective conduct, movement and activities of the gang itself. The enquiry is not confined to evaluating the individual criminal history of every member; rather, it is the overall conduct and impact of the group that forms the basis of the authority’s satisfaction.

“The subjective satisfaction contemplated under Section 55 of the Maharashtra Police Act, 1951, where the externment action is contemplated against the gangs and bodies of persons and under Section 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act, 1951, where the externment action is proposed against a person are totally different. As far as Section 55 of the Maharashtra Police Act, 1951 is concerned, the authorities can pass order of externment if the movement or encampment of any gang or body of persons in the area in his charge is causing or is calculated to cause danger or alarm or reasonable suspicion that unlawful designs are entertained by such gang or body of persons thereof. Thus, the subjective satisfaction is required to be recorded about the activities of gang or bodies of persons.” (Para 9)

The Court contrasted this with Section 56, which deals with externment of an individual person. Under that provision, the competent authority must independently satisfy itself that the individual’s own movements or acts are causing danger, alarm or harm to persons or property, or that there are reasonable grounds to believe that the person is engaged, or is about to engage, in offences involving force or violence or other specified offences under the Indian Penal Code. The statutory focus under Section 56, therefore, is squarely on the conduct of the individual proposed to be externed.

“As far as the subjective satisfaction required under Section 56 where the action is contemplated against the person is if the movements or acts of any person are causing or calculated to cause alarm, danger or harm to person or property or (b) that there are reasonable grounds for believing that such person is engaged or is about to be engaged in the commission of an offence involving force or violence or an offence punishable under Chapter XII, XVI or XVII of the Indian Penal Code (XLV of 1860), or in the abatement of any such offence.” (Para 10)

The Court categorically held that the two standards of satisfaction are “totally different” and cannot be treated as interchangeable. While Section 55 is concerned with the collective threat posed by a gang, Section 56 requires a personal assessment of the individual’s conduct and criminal activities. Conflating the two provisions, the Court observed, would effectively defeat the distinct legislative framework consciously adopted by the Maharashtra Legislature.

“Thus, the subjective satisfaction required to be recorded under Section 55 and under Section 56 is totally different.” (Para 11)

Application of the law to the present case

Applying this interpretation, the Court noted that the petitioner was admittedly alleged to be a member of a gang against which 31 criminal cases had been registered. It further observed that, even independently, the petitioner continued to face trial in a serious criminal case alleging offences under Sections 302 and 307 IPC read with the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act.

“In this case, the Petitioner is alleged to be a member of the gang. There are 31 cases registered against the gang of which the Petitioner is a member and the offences alleged inter alia lodged even against the Petitioner including under Section 302 of the Indian Penal Code.” (Para 12)

While the petitioner emphasised that he had secured acquittals in three out of the four criminal cases registered against him, the Court held that this argument overlooked the very nature of proceedings under Section 55. Since the provision is concerned with the activities of the gang or body of persons, the relevant enquiry was whether there was sufficient material demonstrating that the gang’s activities justified externment and whether the petitioner formed part of that body. The Court found ample material supporting the authorities’ satisfaction on both counts and held that the statutory requirement under Section 55 had been properly fulfilled.

“Although learned Counsel appearing for the Petitioner contended that as far as the Petitioner is concerned, there are only 4 cases registered against him and he has been acquitted in three out of four cases, C.R. No.544 of 2023 was registered with the Chunabhatti Police Station, Mumbai, inter alia concerning offence under Section 302 of the Indian Penal Code and wherein the provisions of the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act, 1999 have also been invoked. The said case is pending trial. The subjective satisfaction which is required to be recorded is about the activities of gang or bodies of persons of which the Petitioner is member. There is adequate material on record including against the Petitioner which demonstrate that subjective satisfaction recorded under Section 55 of the Maharashtra Police Act, 1951 is properly recorded in the facts and circumstances of this case.” (Para 13)

The Bench also rejected the petitioner’s reliance on Jabbar Razzak Shaikh, holding that the factual matrix of that decision was materially different and therefore incapable of governing the present case. Finding no perversity, procedural irregularity or legal infirmity in either the externment order or the appellate order, the Court declined to exercise its writ jurisdiction and dismissed the petition.

Why the judgment matters

The decision is significant because it clarifies an issue that frequently arises in challenges to externment orders—whether the authority must establish individual culpability to the same extent in proceedings against members of a gang. By holding that Section 55 and Section 56 embody two distinct standards of “subjective satisfaction,” the Bombay High Court has reaffirmed that gang-based externment is premised upon the collective activities and threat posed by the group, whereas individual externment requires an independent assessment of the person’s own conduct. The ruling is likely to serve as an important precedent in future challenges involving preventive action against organised gangs under the Maharashtra Police Act.

The complete order may be read here.

Detailed report on Bombay HC quashing of externment of SDPI leader Saeed Ahmad Abdul Wahid Chaudhary may be read here.

Related:

Khargone riots case collapses: Four years after Ram Navami violence, MP court acquits 11 accused, finds prosecution failed to establish guilt

The Supreme Court’s Uneasy Middle Path on Protest Policing

Reforming policing beyond force

Bail Stays, But Under Tight Curbs: Delhi HC’s order in Parvez-Mehraj UAPA case

Three High Courts, One Message: Police power has constitutional limits

SC: Reasoned & Fair adjudication by Foreigners Tribunals, a must for proving citizenship

State cannot escape liability for custodial suicide: Delhi HC

The post Bombay High Court clarifies distinct externment tests under Maharashtra Police Act appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In Suman Molla v. State of West Bengal, the Calcutta High Court was asked to examine whether a person detained as an alleged Bangladeshi national had produced sufficient material to establish Indian citizenship. Rejecting a habeas corpus petition, the Division Bench of Justice Debangsu Basak and Justice Ajay Kumar Gupta held that documents such as Aadhaar cards, voter identity cards, PAN cards, bank records and ancestral land records, though important indicators of identity and residence, are not conclusive proof of citizenship. The judgment reinforces the statutory burden placed upon persons alleged to be foreigners while simultaneously illustrating how difficult that burden can become in practice, particularly for individuals whose lives have long been documented through the very instruments of the Indian State.

At its core, the dispute was not whether the State could regulate immigration or deport undocumented migrants. Rather, it concerned a more fundamental legal question: what must a detainee prove to establish Indian citizenship once the State alleges that they are a foreign national? The Court undertook a detailed examination of what constitutes legally acceptable proof of citizenship under Indian law, reiterating that citizenship cannot be inferred from possession of government-issued identity documents alone. Instead, the Court emphasized that citizenship must be established strictly in accordance with the Citizenship Act, 1955, and that when authorities allege a person to be a foreign national, the burden of disproving that allegation rests squarely upon the individual concerned.

Background

The habeas corpus petition was filed by the detainee’s relative, challenging the detention of a man who had been apprehended on June 18, 2026 after authorities concluded that he was a Bangladeshi national. The petitioner argued that the detention was illegal because the detainee’s citizenship remained under dispute following the 2026 Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls. According to the petition, the detainee had initially been placed “under adjudication” during the SIR exercise, his name had subsequently been deleted from the electoral roll, and an appeal against that deletion remained pending. Consequently, it was argued that the authorities could not proceed to detain him before the citizenship dispute had been finally resolved.

To establish Indian citizenship, the petitioner relied upon several documents, including:

• the detainee’s Voter Identity Card;
• Aadhaar Card;
• PAN Card;
• bank account records;
• ancestral land records; and
• the passport of the detainee’s paternal aunt.

The petitioner also relied upon the Supreme Court’s decision in Sabitri Dey @ Swasthi Dey v. Union of India to contend that a meaningful opportunity of hearing ought to have preceded the detention.

The State, however, maintained that the detainee had already been identified as a Bangladeshi national after inquiry, interrogation and verification, and had been detained in accordance with the Ministry of Home Affairs Circular dated May 2, 2025 governing deportation proceedings. It further informed the Court that the detainee had failed to produce any document capable of legally establishing Indian citizenship within the period prescribed under the circular.

“There is an acknowledgement on the part of the detainee that he is a Bangladeshi national. However, such acknowledgement was made when the detainee was in the detention centre.” (Para 19)

“There is no criminal proceedings initiated as against the detainee as on date. Without entering into the debate as to whether or not an admission of civil liability made while in detention will be visited with the same consequences as that of an admission made to the police while in custody in respect of the criminal proceeding, we propose to examine the documents and materials put forward by the detainee and the writ petitioner in support of the claim of Indian Citizenship of the detainee. Even if we are to apply the principle that, an admission made in the custody of the police 6 should be discarded, none the less, the onus of establishing citizenship remains with the detainee.” (Para 20)

Court’s reasoning

Citizenship cannot be proved merely through identity documents: The central question before the Bench was not whether the detainee possessed official identity documents, but whether those documents legally established citizenship under the Citizenship Act. The Court answered that question emphatically in the negative.

Examining each document individually, the Bench observed that a Voter Identity Card merely evidences enrolment in the electoral roll and is not conclusive proof of citizenship. That conclusion assumed greater significance in the present case because the detainee’s name had already been deleted from the electoral roll during the SIR process.

The Court further held that an Aadhaar Card does not certify citizenship, noting that Aadhaar is fundamentally an identity document linked to residence and not nationality. Likewise, a PAN Card merely facilitates tax administration and cannot establish citizenship. Even the opening or operation of a bank account does not prove that the account holder is an Indian citizen.

Similarly, ancestral land records, although relevant to ownership or lineage, do not establish the citizenship of descendants. Nor could the passport of the detainee’s paternal aunt conclusively prove his own nationality, since citizenship is an individual legal status that cannot be inferred solely from the citizenship of relatives without satisfying the statutory requirements governing acquisition by descent.

In doing so, the Court effectively distinguished between documents that establish identity or residence and documents capable of legally proving citizenship, observing that the former cannot automatically establish the latter.

“There is a Voter Identity Card of the detainee appearing at page 27 of the writ petition, AADHAAR Card at page 28, PAN Card issued by the Income Tax Department at page 29, a Pass book of United Bank of India from pages 30 to 35 of the writ petition.” (Para 38)

“Voter Identity Card is not a conclusive proof with regard to Indian Citizenship. It is evidence of enrolment of the detainee in the electoral roll. Name of the detainee stands deleted from the electoral roll in the SIR, 2026 process.” (Para 39)

“AADHAAR Card, cannot by itself be a conclusive proof of Indian citizen. So also a Permanent Account Number issued by the Income Tax Department. Opening of a Bank Account, by itself, again is not a proof of Indian citizenship.” (Para 40)

“Record of Rights of the great grand-father and the grand-father of the detainee are annexed to the writ petition. Again, those do not establish conclusively the Indian citizenship of the detainee.” (Para 41)

For millions of Indians, these are precisely the documents through which the State recognises their existence. They are required to open bank accounts, obtain welfare benefits, access government schemes, pay taxes, register property, secure employment and participate in elections. Yet, when citizenship itself becomes disputed, the Court holds that these very documents carry limited evidentiary value.

This legal distinction between identity recognised by the State and citizenship recognised by law may be doctrinally sound, but it also reveals the fragmented nature of India’s documentary architecture. Individuals often accumulate multiple layers of State-issued identification over decades without ever possessing a singular document conclusively proving citizenship. The judgment therefore reinforces a legal principle while simultaneously highlighting the evidentiary difficulties faced by persons accused of being foreigners.

Citizenship must be established under the Citizenship Act, 1955: Through the judgement, the Bench had emphasised that citizenship cannot be inferred from possession of identity documents. Instead, it must be established through one of the statutory modes recognised under the Citizenship Act, 1955.

The Court carefully analysed whether the detainee could claim citizenship by birth under Section 3, by descent under Section 4, or by registration under Section 5. It concluded that none of these routes had been satisfactorily demonstrated. No birth certificate or reliable proof of birth was produced to substantiate citizenship by birth. The claim of citizenship by descent failed because the documentary record contained inconsistencies regarding the detainee’s parentage and failed to establish the Indian citizenship of the relatives through whom descent was claimed. Citizenship by registration was never pleaded at all.

The Court was particularly critical of the manner in which the petition had been argued, observing that despite repeated opportunities, neither the petitioner nor the detainee identified the statutory provision under which citizenship was claimed. Instead of addressing the legal requirements of the Citizenship Act, the petition relied primarily upon documentary indicators of identity and residence.

“Neither the writ petitioner nor the detainee despite repeated opportunities being granted to them addressed the Court on the core issue of citizenship of the detainee. Queries of the Court as to under which provision of the Act of 1955 is the detainee a citizen of India is met with either stoic silence or thunderous utterances completely removed from the issue at hand, by the learned Advocate for the petitioner.” (Para 23)

This insistence on grounding every citizenship claim within the framework of the Citizenship Act is legally significant. It reinforces that citizenship disputes cannot be resolved through broad assertions of long residence or possession of government documents alone; they must satisfy the statutory conditions prescribed by Parliament.

Yet this approach also raises broader concerns. In practice, many citizenship disputes arise precisely because documentary trails spanning several decades are incomplete, inconsistent or unavailable. Particularly in border regions and among economically vulnerable populations, births frequently went unregistered, family records remain fragmented and documentary continuity across generations is difficult to establish. By requiring claimants to trace citizenship strictly through statutory categories while simultaneously according limited evidentiary value to commonly held documents, the threshold for proving citizenship becomes considerably more demanding. Whether such a standard strikes the appropriate balance between sovereign control over immigration and protection against erroneous detention is a question that extends well beyond the facts of this individual case.

The burden of proof survives the transition from the Foreigners Act to the Immigration and Foreigners Act: The second major contribution of the judgment lies in its treatment of the burden of proof under the newly enacted Immigration and Foreigners Act, 2025. Although the legislation repealed the Foreigners Act, 1946, the Court makes it abundantly clear that the fundamental evidentiary principle governing foreigners’ proceedings has remained unchanged—the person alleged to be a foreign national bear the burden of proving otherwise.

The Court located this burden in Section 16 of the Immigration and Foreigners Act, 2025, observing that once the Indian authorities allege that a detained person is a foreign national, “the onus is on the detainee to establish his or her nationality.” The Bench noted that the detention had been effected pursuant to the Ministry of Home Affairs Circular dated 2 May 2025, which lays down the procedure for apprehension and deportation of illegally staying foreign nationals.

“When Indian authorities alleged that, a person detained is a foreign national, the onus is on the detainee to establish his or her nationality. This is so by reason of Section 16 of the Immigration and Foreigners Act, 1946.” (Para 12)

Importantly, neither the validity of the Circular nor the procedure prescribed therein had been challenged by the petitioner. In the absence of such a challenge, the Court confined itself to examining whether the authorities had acted within the framework of the Circular, ultimately concluding that they had.

This aspect of the judgment is significant because it effectively signals judicial continuity despite legislative change. While the statutory framework has shifted from the Foreigners Act, 1946 to the Immigration and Foreigners Act, 2025, the Court treats the burden of proof as having been substantially carried forward into the new regime.

In doing so, however, the judgment raises a larger constitutional question. The allocation of the burden of proof has long distinguished foreigners’ law from ordinary civil and criminal proceedings. In most legal disputes, the party making an allegation must establish it. Foreigners legislation reverses that position. Once the executive forms the view that an individual is a foreign national, it is the individual who must prove Indian citizenship. This reverse burden has historically been justified on the basis that facts concerning one’s birth, parentage, family lineage and migration history lie within the “special knowledge” of the individual concerned. The Calcutta High Court adopts precisely this rationale.

Inconsistencies in the petition weakened the claim: Apart from deficiencies in documentary evidence, the Bench found significant inconsistencies in the petitioner’s own case. While the police complaint described the petitioner as the detainee’s cousin, the writ petition claimed he was the detainee’s uncle. The Court also found the assertion that the petitioner had raised the detainee after his father’s death to be implausible, noting that the petitioner himself was only 38 years old whereas the detainee claimed to be 46.

The Bench further recorded that despite repeated opportunities, neither the petitioner nor the detainee disclosed the burial place of the detainee’s parents, even after the Court indicated that such information could facilitate DNA testing to establish lineage. Their refusal prompted the Court to draw an adverse inference against the claim that the parents were Indian citizens. These inconsistencies, according to the Court, further eroded the credibility of the petitioner’s assertions regarding the detainee’s citizenship.

The Court’s reliance on Sabitri Dey: A part of the petitioner’s argument rested on the Supreme Court’s recent decision in Sabitri Dey @ Swasthi Dey v. Union of India, where the Court had underscored the importance of procedural fairness in foreigners’ proceedings in Assam. The petitioner argued that the detainee ought not to have been detained before his citizenship claim had been adjudicated and relied upon Sabitri Dey to contend that an opportunity of hearing was an indispensable safeguard before coercive action could be taken.

The Calcutta High Court, however, distinguished the decision rather than applying it directly. It observed that Sabitri Dey arose under an entirely different statutory framework—the Foreigners Act, 1946 read with the Foreigners (Tribunals) Order, 1964, which governed proceedings before Foreigners Tribunals in Assam. That regime, the Court noted, involved formal adjudication before specialised tribunals and was therefore materially different from the procedure presently being followed under the Immigration and Foreigners Act, 2025 and the MHA Circular dated May 2, 2025. Nevertheless, the Court did not reject the principles articulated by the Supreme Court altogether.

On the contrary, it expressly acknowledged that Sabitri Dey reaffirmed an important proposition that although the burden of proof rests upon the proceedee, the adjudicatory authority is not relieved of its obligation to conduct a lawful adjudication. The Bench recognised that the Supreme Court had interpreted Section 9 of the Foreigners Act as operating alongside ordinary evidentiary principles, placing the burden upon the person proceeded against because matters such as birth, parentage, residence and family history ordinarily remain within that person’s special knowledge.

A detailed report on the Sabitri Dey judgment may be read here.

Yet, having acknowledged these principles, the Court concluded that they did not assist the petitioner because the challenge before it was fundamentally different. The present detention had been carried out under the new statutory framework; the applicable MHA Circular itself had not been challenged; and there was no allegation that the authorities had departed from the procedure prescribed therein.

The distinction is legally coherent. However, it also leaves certain constitutional questions unresolved. The Supreme Court’s observations in Sabitri Dey were not confined merely to the procedural architecture of Assam’s Foreigners Tribunals. They reflected broader constitutional concerns regarding fairness where questions of citizenship carry the gravest of consequences—loss of liberty, detention and eventual deportation. Those concerns do not disappear merely because Parliament has enacted a new immigration statute. Indeed, one may argue that the repeal of the Foreigners Act does not diminish the constitutional obligation to ensure that executive determinations of nationality remain subject to meaningful procedural safeguards.

An impossibly high evidentiary threshold?

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the judgment is not its reiteration that Aadhaar, PAN or Voter ID are not conclusive proof of citizenship, that proposition has long been accepted in law, but its treatment of the cumulative evidentiary value of multiple public documents.

The petitioner did not rely upon a single document. Instead, the record contained an array of government-issued and historical documents: a Voter Identity Card, Aadhaar Card, PAN Card, bank account records, ancestral land records, and the passport of a close blood relative. Yet the Court held that none of these documents, whether considered individually or collectively, established citizenship.

This raises an important evidentiary question. While each document may not independently prove citizenship, should courts entirely discount the probative value arising from their cumulative existence?

The Bench correctly reiterates a settled proposition that identity documents are not citizenship documents. Legally, Aadhaar establishes identity and residence, PAN facilitates taxation, while the Voter ID merely evidences electoral enrolment. None is issued after a formal determination of citizenship.

However, in practical governance, these documents are issued by different State authorities after varying levels of verification. When an individual has simultaneously been recognised by electoral authorities, tax authorities, banking institutions and other public agencies over a prolonged period, those records may not conclusively establish citizenship, but they do create a significant evidentiary narrative that deserves weight. By treating every document as legally irrelevant once citizenship is questioned, the Court risks reducing decades of governmental recognition to virtually no evidentiary value.

The burden of proof may become nearly impossible to discharge

The Court places considerable emphasis on the statutory burden under the Immigration and Foreigners Act, 2025, holding that once authorities allege that an individual is a foreign national, the burden shifts to that individual to establish Indian citizenship.

However, in India, birth registrations were not uniformly maintained across rural India, particularly before universal civil registration became commonplace. Land records may be incomplete, names frequently vary across official records, and multiple generations may never have possessed formal documentary proof of citizenship. Against that backdrop, if voter registration, Aadhaar, PAN, banking records, ancestral property records and even close relatives’ documents are all held insufficient, the question naturally arises: what evidence would realistically satisfy the burden?

The Court also found inconsistencies regarding the petitioner’s relationship with the detainee, discrepancies in the father’s name across documents, and the inability to identify the burial place of the detainee’s parents, drawing adverse inferences from these circumstances. Those inconsistencies undoubtedly weakened the petitioner’s case. Yet the reasoning also reflects an expectation of documentary precision that may not always align with Indian administrative realities.

Minor spelling variations, inconsistent recording of names across generations, differing descriptions of familial relationships and gaps in historical records are hardly uncommon in citizenship litigation. Courts have repeatedly recognised such inconsistencies in other contexts without treating them as determinative. Viewed through that lens, the judgment arguably privileges documentary consistency over the broader social realities of record-keeping in India.

Detailed reports of small errors costing people their citizenship may be read here and here.

Interestingly, the Court distinguishes the Supreme Court’s decision in Sabitri Dey primarily because it arose under a different statutory framework. However, Sabitri Dey was not merely about the Foreigners Act—it also reaffirmed the broader constitutional requirement that nationality determinations affecting liberty must be undertaken through fair and meaningful procedures.

The judgment therefore raises a larger constitutional question that extends beyond the facts of this case: when the State itself has, over decades, repeatedly recognised an individual through various statutory systems, should those recognitions collectively carry greater evidentiary weight in citizenship adjudication, even if none is independently conclusive?

The complete judgment may be read below:

Related:

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Gauhati High Court upholds foreigner declaration, rejects mental illness plea

Abdul Sheikh Citizenship Case: Gauhati High Court issues notice, continues protection against deportation

“All I Wanted Was Peace”: How 55-year-old widow Aklima Sarkar won back her citizenship

Defending Citizenship, On the Ground | CJP Assam 2025

From Despair to Dignity: How CJP helped Elachan Bibi win back her identity, prove her citizenship

The post The Citizenship Proof Paradox: Calcutta HC holds Aadhaar, Voter ID and PAN cannot prove citizenship, burden on detainee appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The judgment, delivered by Fourth Additional Sessions Judge Mukesh Nath, is significant not simply because it results in an acquittal, but because of the manner in which the prosecution’s case unravels under judicial scrutiny.

Far from identifying minor procedural lapses, the court records a chain of fundamental investigative failures: the majority of prosecution witnesses abandoned the case; the only eyewitness was introduced nearly two months after the incident without explanation and was absent from the FIR; no Test Identification Parade (TIP) was ever conducted despite the accused allegedly being part of a large mob; and forensic evidence failed to support one of the prosecution’s central allegations—that petrol bombs were used during the violence.

Read together, the findings expose a prosecution that, in the court’s assessment, failed to satisfy even the most basic evidentiary requirements necessary for a criminal conviction. The judgment also carries another uncomfortable fact. Before being acquitted, the accused had already spent between 462 and 827 days in custody, close to two years in some cases, raising broader questions about prolonged incarceration in riot prosecutions that ultimately fail for lack of evidence.

The prosecution alleged that the eleven Muslim men, along with several unidentified persons, formed an unlawful assembly during the communal violence that erupted in Khargone on April 10, 2022. According to the prosecution, the accused were part of a mob armed with stones, swords, sticks and petrol bombs that attacked Hindu homes in Bhatwadi locality, vandalised residential properties, burnt vehicles, trespassed into houses and endangered the lives of residents.

What this verdict also showcases is the frequent faultlines displayed by law enforcement during bouts of communal violence. Instead of dispassionate acts of detention and arrests, inherent majoritarian biases train actions only on males from the minority communities. In fact, Sabrangindia had on April 14, 2022 reported how it was the hate speech and provocations by offender Kapil Mishra who had been accused of inciting violence. This report may be read here. In fact Sabrangindia also reported on a viral video of hate-offender Kapil Mishra –then making the rounds on social media—in which Mishra is heard inciting communal hate in a speech he made on April 10, 2022 Ram Navami, around the same time that the Khargone violence took place 40 kms away. Reports on this brand of hate speech may be read here.

A case born out of one of 2022’s consequential communal flashpoints

The prosecution arose from the communal violence that erupted in Khargone on April 10, 2022, during a Ram Navami procession. The clashes quickly escalated into a politically charged incidents. Houses, shops and vehicles were damaged, police personnel, including the district Superintendent of Police, were injured, curfew was imposed, internet services were suspended and additional police forces were deployed across the district. What followed transformed the incident from a law-and-order issue into a national constitutional debate.

Within forty-eight hours of the violence, the Madhya Pradesh government launched a demolition drive targeting dozens of homes and commercial establishments allegedly linked to those accused of participating in the riots. Bulldozers rolled into predominantly Muslim neighbourhoods, demolishing structures that authorities claimed were illegally constructed.

Images of homes being razed spread across the country, prompting fierce criticism from civil liberties groups, constitutional scholars and opposition parties, who argued that the demolitions amounted to punishment without trial. The State, however, maintained that the structures violated municipal laws and denied carrying out any punitive exercise.

Notably, barely a day after communal clashes erupted during a Ram Navami procession in Madhya Pradesh’s Khargone, the district administration demolished 16 houses and 29 shops in five areas across the town. According to a report in Indian Express, MP’s Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan had said that “a claims tribunal” would be formed and action taken against rioters. His colleague, Home Minister Narottam Mishra issued a warning, saying, “Jis ghar se pathar aaye hain, us ghar ko hi patharon kaa dher banaenge (We will turn the houses from where the stones were pelted to a heap of rubble).”

Detailed reports from Sabrangindia may be read here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

The demolitions soon became one of the defining symbols of what came to be described as “bulldozer justice”—a practice that would later become the subject of repeated constitutional challenges before the Supreme Court.

Detailed report on the bulldozer judgment as well as the prevalence of the bulldozer’s misuse may be read here and here respectively.

Against this backdrop, the criminal prosecutions arising from the Khargone violence acquired significance well beyond the fate of individual accused persons. They became central to assessing whether the State’s extraordinary post-riot response rested on investigations capable of withstanding judicial scrutiny.

The present judgment offers one of the clearest judicial examinations of that question. In a detailed judgment delivered on July 27, Fourth Additional Sessions Judge Mukesh Nath concluded that while the prosecution successfully established that extensive rioting, arson and destruction of property had indeed occurred in Khargone’s Bhatwadi locality, it failed to prove that the eleven accused before the court were the perpetrators of those offences.

The judgment is significant not because it questions the occurrence of communal violence, but because it reiterates a foundational principle of criminal jurisprudence—that conviction must rest on legally admissible and reliable evidence establishing the guilt of identified accused persons, and not merely on proof that a crime took place.

Charges against the accused

As stated below the prosecution, the charge sheet, alleged that the eleven Muslim men, along with several unidentified persons, formed an unlawful assembly during the communal violence that erupted in Khargone on April 10, 2022. According to the prosecution, the accused were part of a mob armed with stones, swords, sticks and petrol bombs that attacked Hindu homes in Bhatwadi locality, vandalised residential properties, burnt vehicles, trespassed into houses and endangered the lives of residents.

Charges were framed under Sections 147, 148, 149, 336, 427, 435, 436 and 450 of the Indian Penal Code, along with Sections 3 and 4 of the Explosive Substances Act, 1908. The prosecution also alleged that the accused acted in furtherance of a common object, attracting the principle of vicarious liability under Section 149 IPC.

The FIR itself was registered on April 12, 2022, on the basis of multiple written complaints submitted by residents alleging attacks on their homes during the Ram Navami procession. The complainants alleged that members of the mob hurled stones and petrol bombs, set houses and motorcycles ablaze, destroyed household articles and looted valuables.

The prosecution established the violence—but not the perpetrators

One of the most striking aspects of the judgment is the distinction drawn by the Sessions Court between proving the occurrence of the offence and proving the identity of those responsible. The Court found that the prosecution had successfully established that widespread communal violence had occurred in Bhatwadi locality. The testimony of residents, seizure memos, spot inspections and damage assessment reports consistently demonstrated that houses were attacked, windows shattered, vehicles burnt and substantial property damage caused during the violence. The defence did not seriously dispute these aspects of the prosecution’s case.

The Court therefore accepted that a violent mob had attacked several residential properties and that the complainants had suffered significant losses. However, criminal liability required considerably more. The central issue before the Court, it held, was not whether communal violence occurred, but whether the prosecution had proved beyond reasonable doubt that these eleven accused were members of the mob responsible for those acts.

Dismantling of the evidence against the accused

Eight eyewitnesses abandoned the prosecution’s case: The prosecution examined thirteen witnesses during trial, of whom eleven were projected as eyewitnesses. The Court found that eight of those eleven witnesses completely failed to support the prosecution insofar as the identity of the accused was concerned. These witnesses, including complainants themselves, did not identify any of the accused before the Court, did not attribute any overt act to them and, according to the judgment, no incriminating material emerged against the accused even after the prosecution declared them hostile and cross-examined them.

Judge Nath observed that despite extensive questioning by the prosecution, these witnesses did not provide any evidence linking the accused persons to the alleged offences. Their testimony established only that violence had occurred—not who had committed it. This finding substantially weakened the prosecution’s case because many of these witnesses were themselves the victims whose homes had allegedly been attacked. The Court therefore held that the prosecution had failed to derive any evidentiary benefit from a substantial portion of its own witnesses.

The prosecution’s case ultimately rested on a single witness. With eight eyewitnesses failing to implicate the accused, the prosecution’s case effectively rested upon one witness—Vaishnavi Jain (PW-6). According to the prosecution, Vaishnavi witnessed the accused attacking houses, breaking doors, setting vehicles on fire and entering residential premises. She claimed to have identified all eleven accused in court and alleged that they were among those participating in the violence. The Court acknowledged that conviction can legally rest upon the testimony of a solitary witness. However, the decisive question was whether that testimony inspired confidence.

Far from treating the evidence of a sole eyewitness with suspicion merely because she was alone, the Court undertook an extensive examination of whether her testimony satisfied the standards of reliability required under criminal law. It ultimately concluded that it did not.

Prosecution’s sole eyewitness subjected to rigorous scrutiny: Having found that eight of the prosecution’s eleven eyewitnesses failed to implicate the accused, the Court turned to examine whether the testimony of the remaining witness, Vaishnavi Jain (PW-6), could independently sustain a conviction. The Court began by reiterating that there is no legal requirement that every criminal case must be supported by multiple eyewitnesses. Relying on the Supreme Court’s landmark decision in Vadivelu Thevar v. State of Madras (AIR 1957 SC 614), Judge Mukesh Nath observed that Section 134 of the Indian Evidence Act makes it clear that evidence must be weighed, not counted. A conviction can lawfully rest upon the testimony of a single witness if the Court finds that witness to be wholly reliable and trustworthy. Conversely, where the testimony is doubtful or falls into the category of “neither wholly reliable nor wholly unreliable,” courts are expected to seek corroboration before recording a conviction.

Thus, the Court did not reject Vaishnavi Jain’s evidence merely because she was the only eyewitness supporting the prosecution. Instead, it undertook an extensive assessment of whether her testimony inspired confidence. Ultimately, it concluded that it did not. One of the principal infirmities identified by the Court was that Vaishnavi Jain attributed a collective role to all eleven accused without identifying the specific acts allegedly committed by each individual.

According to her deposition, all eleven accused arrived armed with swords, sticks, stones and petrol bombs, vandalised houses, burnt vehicles, broke doors and entered residential premises. However, the Court observed that she did not specify which accused committed which act, nor did she distinguish the role of any individual despite attributing the entire incident to all eleven persons simultaneously.

The Court held that where criminal liability is sought to be fixed upon identified individuals, especially in a prosecution involving allegations of rioting and unlawful assembly, such sweeping and undifferentiated assertions require careful scrutiny. The absence of any individual attribution assumed greater significance when no other eyewitness corroborated her version.

Contradictions regarding the time and sequence of events: The Court also found substantial inconsistencies within Vaishnavi’s own testimony. In her examination-in-chief, she stated that around 3:00 p.m., the accused pelted stones at houses opposite her residence before leaving, and that they returned between 6:30 p.m. and 7:00 p.m., armed with weapons and petrol bombs, when they allegedly attacked houses and entered her residence. However, during cross-examination she stated that around 4:00 p.m., only three or four persons came, threw stones and left, while simultaneously admitting that she did not actually see those persons while they were throwing stones.

The Sessions Court held that these inconsistencies were not minor discrepancies arising from lapse of memory. Instead, they directly affected the prosecution’s narrative regarding when the attack occurred, how many persons were involved and whether the witness actually observed the assailants.

The Court found the basis of identification unreliable: Perhaps the most significant aspect of the judgment concerns the Court’s assessment of identification evidence. Vaishnavi claimed that although she did not know the accused by name, she recognised all eleven accused by face because she had frequently seen them sitting at a paan shop, puncture repair shop and neighbourhood square. The Court carefully examined this explanation against the surrounding evidence. It found several inconsistencies.

While Vaishnavi initially stated that the accused were residents of her locality, the evidence on record showed that the accused actually belonged to Miyaman Mohalla and Kalali Mohalla, whereas she resided in Bhatwadi locality. During cross-examination, she alternately claimed that they lived behind her house before admitting she did not know whether several accused resided in Miyaman Mohalla. She also accepted that the paan shop and puncture repair shop from which she allegedly recognised the accused were not visible from her residence and were not situated immediately adjacent to her house.

These contradictions, according to the Court, substantially weakened the very foundation of her claimed familiarity with the accused. If the witness neither knew the accused personally nor consistently established how she recognised them, the Court held that her in-court identification became difficult to accept as reliable.

Judge Nath therefore concluded that the basis of identification advanced by the witness was not sufficiently credible to safely sustain criminal conviction.

Material contradictions within the same family: The Court attached considerable importance to the fact that Vaishnavi’s testimony was contradicted by the evidence of her own father and brother, both of whom were also examined by the prosecution. According to Vaishnavi, all eleven accused participated in the attack.

Her brother Akash Jain (PW-10), however, testified that only four or five persons were involved in pelting stones at the house. More importantly, Akash stated that the assailants had covered their faces with cloth, because of which he could not identify them. He specifically stated that he was unable to recognise the persons who attacked his house.

Similarly, Vaishnavi’s father, Dinesh Jain (PW-7), admitted during cross-examination that the rioters had cloth tied over their faces. He further acknowledged that he had viewed the attackers only from a considerable distance and was unable to state who among them had thrown stones, committed arson or looted property. The Court observed that these inconsistencies were not peripheral.

If two members of the same family consistently stated that the assailants had concealed their faces, it became difficult to accept Vaishnavi’s assertion that she had clearly recognised all eleven accused by face during a rapidly unfolding riot situation. Accordingly, the Court held that these inter se contradictions among closely related witnesses significantly undermined the credibility of the prosecution’s only identifying eyewitness.

Identification from 500–600 metres found inherently improbable: The Court also carefully analysed the evidence of Dinesh Jain regarding identification. Although Dinesh stated that he recognised the accused in court, he simultaneously admitted that he had witnessed the incident from a distance of approximately 500 to 600 metres, had no prior personal acquaintance with the accused, and could not state who specifically had burnt the doors, thrown stones or committed looting.

Judge Nath observed that identification of persons within a large violent mob from such a distance was inherently unnatural, particularly where the witness himself admitted that the rioters had their faces covered. The Court therefore refused to treat Dinesh Jain’s testimony as reliable evidence establishing the identity of the accused. The cumulative effect of these contradictions, the Court held, was that the prosecution had failed to present a single eyewitness whose testimony could safely form the basis of conviction beyond reasonable doubt.

Unexplained delay in recording the sole eyewitness’s statement: Apart from the inconsistencies in Vaishnavi Jain’s testimony, the Court found the manner in which the investigation was conducted to be equally problematic. A significant factor that weighed against the prosecution was the unexplained delay of 51 days in recording the statement of its only eyewitness.

The incident occurred on April 10, 2022. However, Vaishnavi Jain’s statement under Section 161 of the Code of Criminal Procedure was recorded only on May 31, 2022. The Court noted that the prosecution offered no explanation whatsoever as to why the statement of a witness, who was ultimately projected as the principal eyewitness to the entire occurrence, was recorded nearly two months after the incident.

The Court observed that unexplained delays in recording the statement of a material eyewitness assume considerable importance in criminal trials because they create the possibility of embellishment, tutoring or afterthought. While delay alone may not necessarily render a witness unreliable, the absence of any explanation assumes significance when the witness becomes the sole basis for seeking conviction. The Sessions Court therefore treated the delay as one more circumstance casting doubt on the prosecution’s case rather than an isolated procedural irregularity.

Absence of the sole eyewitness was absent from every contemporaneous complaint: The Court also found it significant that none of the six written complaints submitted immediately after the violence referred to Vaishnavi Jain as an eyewitness. The prosecution case originated from multiple written complaints submitted on 12 April 2022, two days after the communal violence. These complaints formed the basis of the FIR.

Despite the detailed allegations contained in those complaints, not one complaint identified Vaishnavi Jain as someone who had personally witnessed the attack. Her name did not appear as an eyewitness in any of the written complaints, nor was she mentioned in the FIR that was subsequently registered on their basis.

The Court held that where an individual is later projected as the prosecution’s only direct eyewitness, the complete absence of any reference to that witness in the earliest version of events becomes a relevant circumstance while assessing credibility. Coupled with the unexplained 51-day delay in recording her statement, the omission strengthened the Court’s conclusion that her claim of being an eyewitness appeared doubtful.

Absence of a Test Identification Parade: Perhaps the most damaging investigative lapse identified by the Court was the complete absence of a Test Identification Parade (TIP). The Court noted that although the prosecution relied heavily on identification evidence, no witness was ever asked to identify the accused during the investigation.

Vaishnavi Jain identified the accused for the first time inside the courtroom. The Court observed that first-time identification in court ordinarily carries significantly less evidentiary value, particularly where the witness had not previously known the accused personally and where the incident involved a large, violent mob. In such cases, a properly conducted Test Identification Parade serves as an important investigative safeguard by testing the witness’s ability to identify the alleged perpetrators independently and without suggestion.

In the present case, however, no such exercise was undertaken. The Court therefore held that the prosecution had failed to establish how or on what basis the investigating agency concluded that the eleven accused were among the persons who participated in the violence.

No explanation for implicating five of the accused later: The Court also scrutinised the manner in which the accused were arrayed in the charge-sheet. While six accused were named in the FIR, five additional persons were subsequently chargesheeted. However, the prosecution failed to explain how these additional accused came to be identified during investigation. The Court records in its judgment that no witness identified them, no Test Identification Parade was conducted, no documentary or electronic evidence linked them to the crime, and the investigating officer did not explain the evidentiary basis on which these additional accused were implicated.

The Court therefore observed that there was no discernible investigative foundation for prosecuting these five individuals. More broadly, the Court found that the prosecution had failed to explain how, from a crowd estimated by witnesses themselves to consist of nearly fifty persons, investigators concluded that these eleven individuals, and no others, were responsible for the offences alleged.

Photographic evidence failed to implicate the accused: The prosecution also relied upon photographs extracted during investigation. However, the Court held that this evidence was of little assistance.

First, the photographs were not accompanied by a certificate under Section 65B of the Indian Evidence Act, affecting their admissibility as electronic evidence. Secondly, even assuming they were admissible, none of the accused were visible in the photographs. Accordingly, the Court held that the photographs merely depicted the aftermath of the violence and did not connect any of the accused with the commission of the offences.

Forensic evidence contradicted the prosecution’s allegation of petrol bombs: The prosecution consistently alleged that the mob had used petrol bombs to set fire to houses and vehicles. To substantiate this allegation, investigators seized broken glass bottles and burnt residue from various locations and forwarded the material to the State Forensic Science Laboratory at Sagar. However, the forensic examination did not support the prosecution’s narrative.

According to the FSL report, no residue of inflammable petroleum hydrocarbons—including petrol, diesel or kerosene—was detected in the seized material. The Court observed that this scientific evidence directly undermined one of the prosecution’s central allegations—that petrol bombs had been used during the attacks. While the Court did not hold that no arson had occurred, it concluded that the prosecution had failed to establish, through reliable scientific evidence, that explosive substances or petrol bombs had in fact been used by the accused. Consequently, the offences under the Explosive Substances Act also remained unproved beyond reasonable doubt.

Benefit of doubt and prolonged incarceration

Having analysed the evidence cumulatively, the Court concluded that the prosecution had failed to establish the identity and participation of the accused beyond reasonable doubt. Judge Mukesh Nath accordingly acquitted all eleven accused of offences under Sections 147, 148, 336, 427, 435, 436 and 450 read with Section 149 IPC, as well as Sections 3 and 4 of the Explosive Substances Act, extending to them the benefit of doubt.

The judgment also records that the accused had already undergone substantial periods of incarceration during investigation and trial, ranging from 462 days to 827 days before being released on bail. Two of the accused remained in custody for over 827 days, while several others spent well over a year and a half in prison before trial concluded.

A judgment reaffirming the burden of proof in riot prosecutions

The judgment is notable for the distinction it draws between proving the occurrence of violence and proving the criminal liability of identified individuals. The Court expressly accepted that serious communal violence, arson and large-scale destruction occurred in Khargone’s Bhatwadi locality on 10 April 2022. What remained unproved, however, was whether the eleven accused standing trial were members of the mob responsible for those offences.

Rather than questioning the occurrence of the violence itself, the acquittal rests on familiar principles of criminal law: that suspicion, however grave, cannot substitute proof; that identification evidence must withstand careful scrutiny; that investigative lapses can materially weaken a prosecution; and that conviction must be founded on evidence establishing guilt beyond reasonable doubt.

The judgment also arrives against the broader backdrop of the 2022 Khargone violence, which was followed by controversial demolition drives targeting properties alleged to belong to persons involved in the riots. One such challenge, filed by a Khargone resident who alleged that his property was demolished because he belonged to the Muslim community, remains pending before the Madhya Pradesh High Court. The petitioner has contended that the demolition formed part of the State’s post-riot crackdown and relied upon public statements by senior government functionaries attributing responsibility for the violence to members of the Muslim community.

By ultimately acquitting the accused after finding fundamental deficiencies in the prosecution’s evidence, the Sessions Court’s decision underscores that even in prosecutions arising from communal violence, constitutional guarantees of fair trial and the criminal law’s insistence on proof beyond reasonable doubt remain the governing standards.

Court distinguished proof of participation from proof of guilt

An important thread running through the judgment is the distinction between establishing that communal violence occurred and proving the participation of specific individuals in that violence. The Court repeatedly observed that there was little dispute that rioting, stone-pelting, vandalism and arson had taken place in Khargone on 10 April 2022. Multiple witnesses described attacks on residential properties, damaged houses and burnt vehicles. However, the Court emphasised that these facts, by themselves, could not justify convicting the eleven accused unless their individual involvement was established through reliable evidence.

This distinction is central to criminal jurisprudence. The judgment reiterates that criminal courts are concerned not merely with whether an offence occurred, but whether the prosecution has proved, beyond reasonable doubt, that the persons standing trial committed that offence. The existence of a violent mob, therefore, did not automatically establish the culpability of every individual arraigned before the Court.

The Court found the prosecution failed to establish unlawful assembly against the accused

The prosecution invoked Sections 147 and 148 IPC (rioting), along with Section 149 IPC, which creates vicarious liability for every member of an unlawful assembly acting in prosecution of its common object. However, before Section 149 can be invoked, the prosecution must first establish that the accused were themselves members of the unlawful assembly. The Sessions Court held that this foundational requirement remained unproved.

Since the prosecution failed to reliably identify the accused as members of the alleged mob, the statutory presumption of collective liability under Section 149 could not be invoked. Consequently, the charges under Sections 336, 427, 435 and 436 read with Section 149 also failed. Although the judgment does not elaborate separately on the legal ingredients of Section 149, its reasoning effectively reflects the settled principle that vicarious criminal liability cannot arise unless membership of the unlawful assembly itself is first established.

The Court repeatedly criticised the investigation rather than merely the evidence

While acquitting the accused, the Court’s criticism extended beyond witness testimony to the manner in which the investigation itself was conducted.

Throughout the judgment, Judge Mukesh Nath identified several investigative deficiencies:

• failure to explain the delay in lodging the FIR;
• failure to explain the 51-day delay in recording the statement of the prosecution’s principal eyewitness;
• failure to conduct any Test Identification Parade;
• failure to explain how five additional accused were implicated despite not being named in the FIR;
• failure to produce evidence establishing the basis on which investigators selected these eleven individuals from a crowd estimated to comprise around fifty persons.

Rather than viewing these lapses in isolation, the Court assessed their cumulative effect. It held that these deficiencies substantially undermined the prosecution’s ability to establish guilt beyond reasonable doubt. The judgment therefore illustrates how procedural shortcomings during investigation can have a decisive impact on the prosecution’s case at trial.

The judgment carefully applied the law on sole eyewitness testimony

A notable feature of the judgment is that the Court did not insist upon corroboration merely because there was only one eyewitness. Instead, it correctly applied the principles laid down by the Supreme Court in Vadivelu Thevar v. State of Madras. The Court recognised three categories of witnesses identified in that decision:

• wholly reliable;
• wholly unreliable; and
• neither wholly reliable nor wholly unreliable.

Having analysed Vaishnavi Jain’s testimony in detail, the Sessions Court concluded that it fell into the third category. Her evidence was not rejected outright, but the Court found that it suffered from material inconsistencies, lacked independent corroboration and was surrounded by circumstances that rendered it unsafe to rely upon as the sole basis for conviction. The judgment therefore reflects a cautious application of established evidentiary principles rather than the creation of any new legal standard.

A reminder that criminal trials test evidence—not public narratives

Although the judgment is confined to the evidence led during trial, it inevitably unfolds against the larger backdrop of one of Madhya Pradesh’s most contentious episodes of communal violence. The Khargone violence was followed by sweeping police action, multiple criminal prosecutions and demolition drives targeting properties alleged to belong to the Muslim individuals involved in the violence.

Against this backdrop, the acquittal does not amount to a judicial finding that no violence occurred or that no offences were committed. Instead, it underscores a narrower but constitutionally significant proposition: that criminal courts adjudicate individual guilt on the basis of legally admissible evidence, and not on the basis of the broader public narrative surrounding communal violence. It also raises the fundamental issue of a taint or bias on part of law enforcement agencies that, in India, during the charged atmosphere during communal violence, bow to majoritarian state or non-state pressures and arrest or penalise only men from minority communities.

Beyond the evidentiary deficiencies that led to the acquittal, the judgment also brings into sharp focus the human cost of a prosecution that ultimately failed to meet the threshold of proof required in criminal law. The eleven accused remained in judicial custody for periods ranging from 462 to 827 days during the course of the investigation and trial before being acquitted after the prosecution failed to establish their guilt beyond reasonable doubt.

The acquittal therefore raises broader constitutional concerns about the protection of individual liberty within the criminal justice system. Article 21 of the Constitution guarantees that no person shall be deprived of personal liberty except according to procedure established by law, while the presumption of innocence remains a foundational principle of criminal jurisprudence until guilt is established through a fair trial. Where individuals spend years in incarceration before a court concludes that the prosecution failed to prove even their identification beyond reasonable doubt, the case illustrates the profound consequences that deficient investigations can have on these constitutional guarantees.

The complete judgment may be read below.

Related:

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The post Khargone riots case collapses: Four years after Ram Navami violence, MP court acquits 11 accused, finds prosecution failed to establish guilt appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Yet the order is equally notable for what it leaves untouched. While expressing sufficient doubt about the conduct of law enforcement to contemplate an independent investigation, the Court simultaneously permits the same police machinery to continue investigating protesters under the FIRs already registered. It further conditions its interim protection upon the absence of “criminal antecedents”, effectively creating two classes of protesters for the purposes of constitutional relief. Read closely, the order reveals not merely judicial caution but an unresolved constitutional contradiction that lies at the heart of the litigation.

From a challenge to police violence in Delhi to a nationwide constitutional controversy

The hearing itself reflected how dramatically the litigation has expanded since the events at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar on July 20. What began as petitions concerning police action in the national capital has evolved into a challenge to policing practices across multiple States. The Bench, comprising Chief Justice Surya Kant, Justice Joymalya Bagchi and Justice V. Mohana, heard petitions alleging police brutality in Delhi, Bihar, Maharashtra, Assam, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, West Bengal and Kerala, alongside petitions filed on behalf of injured police personnel, journalists and individual protesters. The order correspondingly issues notice not only to the Union and the Government of NCT of Delhi but also to the Chief Secretaries of the seven States where similar allegations have arisen, making it clear that any eventual investigation may extend well beyond Delhi.

The courtroom exchanges demonstrated that the litigation had also moved beyond disputes over individual incidents. As reported by LiveLaw, Senior Advocate Gopal Sankaranarayanan argued that the issue before the Court was systemic rather than episodic, referring to alleged departures from established crowd-control protocols, the deployment of plain-clothes police personnel and the need for an investigation independent of the very agencies accused of violence. Senior Advocate Shyam Divan drew attention to allegations of electronic shock batons, assaults on women protesters and threats allegedly issued by police personnel. Senior Advocate Shadan Farasat highlighted the continued detention of minors in Bihar despite the State’s announcement that cases would be withdrawn, reported LiveLaw. Advocate Prashant Bhushan referred to the petition of Junaid Malik, who alleged illegal detention, harassment and police action against his family. On the other side, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta accepted that allegations concerning injuries to students required serious examination but maintained that “anti-social elements” had infiltrated the protests and that hundreds of police personnel had themselves suffered injuries.

It was against this backdrop that the Chief Justice repeatedly observed that the Court was confronted with two competing narratives, each accusing the other of serious violence. The question, therefore, was not simply whether police had used excessive force or whether protesters had attacked police personnel, but whether either version could be accepted without an investigation independent of those directly involved. That concern ultimately shaped the Court’s reasoning.

The Court’s recognition of a prima facie case is constitutionally significant

The order carefully records the allegations placed before the Court. It refers to the alleged use of pellet guns causing severe injuries, including the loss of eyesight of one student, the deployment of rubber bullets, electronic batons and nail-studded lathis, assaults by police personnel both in uniform and in civilian dress, and attacks on members of the media. At the same time, it records allegations that police personnel suffered serious injuries owing to stone-pelting and violence allegedly perpetrated by protesters or anti-social elements. Rather than accepting either version, the Court concludes that the material placed before it establishes a “compelling case” for an independent and impartial investigation capable of addressing both sets of allegations. This finding carries greater constitutional significance than the interim directions themselves.

Ordinarily, investigations conducted by the police are presumed to possess institutional legitimacy. Constitutional courts do not lightly transfer investigations or contemplate court-monitored inquiries. Such departures occur only where the Court concludes that confidence in the ordinary investigative process has been sufficiently undermined. The very logic behind an SIT is that the institutional mechanisms ordinarily entrusted with criminal investigation may not command public confidence in exceptional circumstances. The Court’s observation that an independent investigation may be necessary is therefore, in itself, a recognition that the allegations against law enforcement cannot simply be left to the agencies whose conduct has come under challenge. That premise, however, sits uneasily with the operative directions that follow.

The order simultaneously questions and preserves the ordinary criminal process

Despite concluding that the allegations disclose a prima facie case warranting an independent investigation, the Court expressly permits Delhi and all concerned States to continue investigating the FIRs already registered in connection with the protests. The only restriction imposed is that “no coercive measures” shall be taken against protesting students, subject to an important qualification discussed later.

“(iv) The NCT of Delhi and other States may proceed with the investigation of the FIRs registered; however, no coercive measures shall be taken against the protesting students. Such protection, nonetheless, shall not be extended to the persons with criminal antecedents.” (Para 8)

This aspect of the order deserves closer attention than it has received. The Court does not stay the FIRs; it does not transfer the investigations or direct that future investigative steps be undertaken by an independent agency. Instead, the police authorities whose conduct is alleged to require independent scrutiny continue to exercise the full range of investigative powers available under criminal law. Statements may still be recorded, electronic devices may still be seized and examined, witnesses may still be questioned, forensic reports may still be prepared, and charge-sheets may continue to take shape.

The Court thus creates a constitutional arrangement in which two investigations are expected to proceed simultaneously: one, a proposed independent inquiry into police conduct; the other, the ordinary police investigation into the conduct of protesters. The order never explains how these two processes are to coexist.

This is not merely a procedural curiosity. Criminal investigations shape the evidentiary record. They determine which witnesses are examined, what evidence is collected, how events are reconstructed and ultimately which narrative enters the criminal justice system. If the Court considers the neutrality of the ordinary investigative process sufficiently doubtful to contemplate an independent investigation, it is difficult to understand why that same process should continue exercising authority over the protesters arising out of the same sequence of events. The contradiction is never confronted.

“No coercive measures” does not suspend the coercive force of criminal process

The Court’s direction that no coercive measures shall be taken against protesting students has understandably attracted public attention. Yet, as a matter of constitutional law, the protection is considerably narrower than it first appears. Orders restraining coercive action ordinarily operate against arrest or similarly drastic steps. They do not suspend investigation itself. Nor do they prevent repeated summons, compulsory appearances before investigating officers, seizure of electronic devices, extraction of digital data, surveillance, examination of social media activity or the continuing collection of evidence. The distinction is significant in cases concerning political protest.

The chilling effect upon constitutional freedoms is produced not only by arrest but by the criminal process itself. A protester compelled to repeatedly appear before investigating agencies, surrender personal devices or remain subject to an ongoing criminal investigation continues to bear the burden of state action irrespective of whether arrest is immediately threatened. The Court therefore restrains one manifestation of coercion while leaving intact the broader investigative machinery through which coercion may continue to operate.

If the purpose of the interim order is to ensure that constitutional rights remain meaningful while allegations of police excess are independently examined, it is not immediately apparent why the continuation of the ordinary criminal process should remain unaffected.

The exception for “criminal antecedents” undermines the logic of constitutional protection

Perhaps the most constitutionally troubling aspect of the order is the qualification that protection against coercive action shall not extend to persons with criminal antecedents. The same qualification also governs the release of detained children. 

The order does not explain what constitutes a criminal antecedent. Nor does it distinguish between previous convictions and pending criminal cases. However, that omission is significant. In practice, the expression “criminal antecedents” is routinely employed by investigating agencies to refer not only to persons previously convicted of offences but also to individuals against whom criminal proceedings are pending or FIRs have previously been registered. For those engaged in political mobilisation, this distinction assumes particular importance.

Student leaders, trade union organisers, civil rights activists and political workers frequently accumulate criminal cases because they repeatedly participate in demonstrations. Many such prosecutions culminate in acquittal or remain pending for years without adjudication. The mere existence of previous criminal proceedings therefore cannot be equated with criminality. Yet the Court’s formulation effectively permits previous executive allegations to determine the scope of present constitutional protection.

The result is that the protesters most likely to have prior experience with the criminal justice system, precisely because they have participated in earlier movements, become least likely to receive interim judicial protection. This sits uneasily with first principles of constitutional law- the presumption of innocence does not disappear because an individual has previously been named in an FIR. Nor are the guarantees of Articles 19 and 21 reserved only for first-time protesters. Constitutional rights do not fluctuate according to the number of criminal cases the State has chosen to register against a citizen. The Court’s order, however unintentionally, risks producing precisely that consequence.

The Court’s instinctive turn towards an SIT also deserves scrutiny

The Court’s indication that it may constitute a Special Investigation Team headed by a retired Supreme Court judge has naturally been welcomed as evidence of judicial seriousness. It is also entirely consistent with an increasingly familiar pattern in Indian constitutional adjudication. Whenever allegations involve politically sensitive policing, communal violence, custodial abuse or failures of ordinary investigation, constitutional litigation frequently culminates in demands for an SIT.

The institutional appeal of this mechanism is obvious. It reassures the public that the investigation will not remain entirely within the control of the executive while allowing the Court to maintain supervisory distance. Yet experience also warrants caution. An SIT is not itself a constitutional remedy. It is only an investigative mechanism.

Indian constitutional history is replete with court-monitored investigations that have extended over years, produced little by way of institutional accountability or concluded long after the immediate constitutional crisis had passed. Judicial supervision has not invariably translated into meaningful prosecutions, as one may understand with the SIT on Manipur violence. Nor have SITs consistently addressed questions of command responsibility, systemic policing failures or institutional reform. They frequently identify individual culpability while leaving broader structures of power untouched.

The Supreme Court’s growing reliance on SITs also reflects a deeper institutional tendency. Faced with allegations of executive misconduct, the Court increasingly responds by creating new investigative mechanisms rather than directly interrogating the legality of executive action or crafting structural constitutional remedies. An SIT may well uncover facts. It does not necessarily answer the constitutional questions that those facts reveal.

If the present litigation ultimately results only in another prolonged investigation, without examining the legality of protest policing, the use of force, surveillance practices, deployment of plain-clothes personnel or the repeated invocation of criminal law against dissent, the constitutional significance of the proceedings may prove considerably narrower than their immediate political importance.

Preserving evidence is necessary, but accountability requires more

Among the strongest features of the order are its directions preserving CCTV footage, drone recordings, body-camera footage, wireless communication records and PCR logs, alongside the prohibition on publishing protesters’ personal information. These directions recognise the centrality of digital evidence in contemporary protest litigation and respond to legitimate concerns regarding surveillance and the destruction of electronic records.

They are undoubtedly important; but they are also procedural safeguards. They preserve the possibility of accountability without guaranteeing accountability itself. The harder constitutional question remains unresolved. If the Court has already concluded that there exists a prima facie case warranting an independent investigation because the allegations against the police cannot be left to the ordinary investigative process, should that conclusion not also have consequences for the criminal investigations being conducted by the same police authorities?

The July 28 order does not answer that question. Instead, it reflects a familiar pattern in constitutional adjudication. The Court acknowledges serious allegations of state excess, preserves evidence, contemplates an independent investigation and grants carefully calibrated interim relief, but stops short of disrupting the ordinary machinery of criminal administration. Meanwhile, the more enduring constitutional issue, however, lies elsewhere. The order proceeds on the premise that police conduct is sufficiently doubtful to justify independent scrutiny, while simultaneously leaving the architecture of criminalisation almost entirely intact. 

The complete order may be read here. 

Detailed reports on the protests and the state violence may be read here, here, here, here and here. 

Related:

Maharashtra: After backlash, govt. moves to withdraw FIRs against student protesters but questions remain

Governments begin rolling back cases against protesters, but questions over violence, arrests and accountability remain

From Feeding Students to Fighting in the Supreme Court: The story of Mohammad Junaid Malik

A deleted tweet, an NSA order, and the shadow of past crackdowns

Youth Uprising: A protest, a brute crackdown, a continuing countrywide response

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

Brute Police Action: Mumbai’s crackdown on protestors in solidarity with CJP & Student Groups, AISF, SFI & AISA

The post The Supreme Court’s Uneasy Middle Path on Protest Policing appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Mohd Junaid Was Arranging Foods And Water At CJP Protest Since Day One.
जंतर मंतर प्रोटेस्ट में पहिले दिन से प्रदर्शनकारियों को खाना बांटने में सहयोग करने वाले मोहम्मद जुनैद भाई…@abhijeet_dipke @CJP_for_India @Cockroachisback pic.twitter.com/mpTcEEv44p

— khalid Chougle (@ChougleKhalid) July 25, 2026

मुहम्मद जुनैद के घर वालों को सिर्फ इसलिए पुलिस ने उठा लिया था, क्योंकि Mohammad Junaid ने जंतर मंतर में प्रदर्शनकारी छात्रों को 34 दिनों से खाना खिला रहे थे, पानी पिला रहे थे!

घर वालो का आधार कार्ड, पासपोर्ट, सब ज़ब्त कर लिया था पुलिस ने!

इस सरकार को हिन्दू-मुस्लिम की एकता नहीं… pic.twitter.com/QwU7BSXEEy

— Sadaf Afreen صدف (@s_afreen7) July 26, 2026

देश भर के छात्रों की सेवा के लिये लगातार मौजूद रहने वाले जुनैद को डिटेन करना और उनको परेशान करना इस सिस्टम का सबसे शर्मनाक चेहरा था, देश भर के लोग अपने अपने स्तर पर बच्चों की सेवा कर रहे थे, जुनैद ने भी इंसानियत के नाते छात्रों की मदद की।
सरकार से अनुरोध है कि ऑंदोलन में लोगों की… pic.twitter.com/vJ3GJW03aY

— Imran Pratapgarhi (@ShayarImran) July 27, 2026

The 26-year-old is a law graduate and a judicial services aspirant, and was not among the movement’s organisers. According to the petition he has now filed before the Supreme Court, he neither held any official position nor helped shape the protest’s strategy. His role was considerably simpler: feed people. Yet by the final week of July, the volunteer who had become known for distributing food had himself become one of the protest’s biggest stories, alleging illegal detention, intimidation and harassment of his family by police—a set of claims that are now before the Supreme Court.

The volunteer behind the community kitchen

Malik says he first arrived at Jantar Mantar after noticing that students camping at the protest lacked even basic drinking water in Delhi’s summer heat. As he told India Today, what began with a table of water bottles and biscuits gradually evolved into a volunteer-run kitchen serving tea, juice and food packets around the clock. The operation, he insisted, relied not on institutional funding but on ordinary people bringing supplies or contributing money for meals.

“People come on their own. Some bring food, others bring water. Our work is simply to organise everything and make sure nobody goes hungry,” he told India Today.

Over the next 35 days, according to his Supreme Court plea, Malik coordinated food and water distribution every day beginning June 20, 2026. Videos of the community kitchen spread widely across social media, earning him praise from students, volunteers and even “leaders” of the CJP, who publicly thanked him during the protest. For many following the agitation online, he became “the man feeding the students.”

The night everything changed  

That visibility, Malik now claims, also drew unwanted attention. As reported by LiveLaw, his petition states that after media coverage of the community kitchen, police repeatedly became interested in a single question: Who was paying for the food? According to Malik, the answer never changed. The meals, he says, were financed through public donations, volunteers and supporters who either transferred money or directly supplied food and water. There was no central financier.

According to Malik’s petition, the turning point came shortly after midnight on July 24. Having visited Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital for an anti-rabies injection after a dog bite, he says he was stopped while returning by men who identified themselves as Delhi Police officers. In interviews with India Today and The Lallantop, Malik alleged that he and others accompanying him were blindfolded, their phones seized and taken to an undisclosed location.

His petition before the Supreme Court provides a more detailed account. As per the LiveLaw report, he alleges he remained in police custody through the night, was compelled to unlock his mobile phone, had its contents examined, and was repeatedly questioned by senior officers about the funding behind the protest kitchen. The questioning, according to the petition, focused less on the food itself than on identifying those allegedly financing the wider protest. Malik claims officers threatened him with serious consequences, including possible action under the National Security Act. if he failed to reveal the source of funding. He says he consistently replied that there was no hidden financier, only ordinary citizens helping feed protesters.

Claims of harassment

After returning to Delhi, Malik defended his actions in a series of emotional media interviews. Speaking to India Today, he said: “I have zero criminal cases against me. I am not a criminal. We are only fighting for students.”

He added: “If giving someone food or drinking water is considered a crime, then I will commit that ‘crime’ a thousand times over.” The remark quickly became one of the most widely shared quotations associated with his case.

Malik’s allegations extend well beyond his own detention. His Supreme Court application says police questioned his father about family bank accounts, raided the family’s Ghaziabad residence, searched the house, demanded identity documents and financial records, and detained relatives in Meerut—all without legal paperwork or compliance with established procedure. The petition argues that these actions were intended to pressure him into abandoning the protest and disclosing its alleged funding network. Calling the actions an abuse of state power, the application says the treatment of his family violated their rights under Article 21 of the Constitution.

Police response

Police authorities have disputed significant parts of Malik’s account. According to a report by Scroll, Ghaziabad Police acknowledged questioning Malik’s father but denied arresting him, describing it as a routine inquiry. Mussoorie Police similarly confirmed questioning his father regarding financial sources before releasing him. Meerut Police denied detaining any of Malik’s relatives, while Delhi Police said it was looking into the allegations.

From volunteer to petitioner

Malik has now approached the Supreme Court through an intervention application in the writ petition filed by RJD MP Manoj Kumar Jha concerning alleged police excesses during the CJP protests. Filed through Advocate-on-Record Neha Rathi, the application seeks protection against further coercive action toward his family and asks the Court to ensure that any investigation complies strictly with the law.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Malik’s story is that he was never one of the protest’s public leaders. He did not deliver speeches, negotiate with officials or lead marches. Instead, his visibility came from doing something almost mundane—making sure students had food and water. By the time the protest entered the courtroom, however, the man remembered for handing out meals had himself become one of its most prominent litigants.

Malik’s story also raises uncomfortable questions about the intersection of protest, policing and religious identity. By his own account, he was not a student leader, political strategist or public face of the agitation; he was a volunteer running a community kitchen. Yet much of the scrutiny he describes, from repeated questions about who was funding the food to the alleged raids on his family’s home, came to centre on him. The fact that he is a Muslim became impossible to ignore, with the lingering suspicion that he had been singled out despite his role being limited to providing food and water. While the matter is now before the Supreme Court, Malik’s case has become emblematic, for many, of how an act of humanitarian solidarity can become entangled with suspicion when filtered through the lens of religious identity.

Related:

July 2026: A dissent that was brutally put down, a crackdown after the protest ended

A deleted tweet, an NSA order, and the shadow of past crackdowns

Youth Uprising: A protest, a brute crackdown, a continuing countrywide response

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

Brute Police Action: Mumbai’s crackdown on protestors in solidarity with CJP & Student Groups, AISF, SFI & AISA

Governments begin rolling back cases against protesters, but questions over violence, arrests and accountability remain

The post From Feeding Students to Fighting in the Supreme Court: The story of Mohammad Junaid Malik appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In a sense, the developments may mark a significant de-escalation after one of the country’s largest youth-led protest movements in recent years. Little moves for pinning individual or collective accountability on RAF/Police/Paramilitary inflicted violence have been witnessed though. This leaves unresolved questions about accountability of the state during peaceful protest.

Bihar: first state to formally withdraw cases

The Bihar Home Department on Monday issued a notification announcing that no punitive, retaliatory or other adverse legal action would be taken against anyone who participated in protests before 6 p.m. on July 26.

The government said it would immediately begin the legal process of withdrawing all FIRs, criminal complaints and show-cause notices linked to the demonstrations. Everyone arrested or detained in connection with those cases would be released, while the government also assured that no future action would be taken against protesters covered by the order. Past experiences of activists and protests movements however reveal many a slip between the cup on the lip: at the height of agitations when public anger and attention is trained on the issue being agitated, the state appears to “concede to its overreach;” once public attention –notoriously fickle shifts—the demeanour of the state hardens. It then becomes a herculean task to ensure that these promises are kept.

Be that as it may, the “prompt” announcement of case withdrawals this time came after sustained pressure from the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP), the All India Students’ Association (AISA) and several student organisations, which had accused governments of reneging on commitments made during negotiations that led to the suspension of nationwide protests.

Neha Bora: “The movement will not stop”

AISA national president and JNU PhD scholar Neha Bora confirmed that Bihar’s notification followed a meeting between student representatives and Bihar Director General of Police Vinay Kumar.

Posting on X, Bora wrote: “Order of release of arrested students and withdrawal of cases has been notified following our meeting with Bihar DGP.”

संघर्ष तब तक जब तक आखिरी छात्र अपने घर नहीं पहुँच जाता है!

Order of release of arrested students and withdrawal of cases has been notified following our meeting with Bihar DGP pic.twitter.com/xxLL5y75FO

— Neha (@neha_aisa) July 27, 2026

However, she made clear that the notification alone would not end the agitation. Calling dissent a constitutional right rather than a crime, she said AISA would continue monitoring implementation of the government’s assurances until every detained student had been released. Even after welcoming Bihar’s notification, Bora maintained that AISA’s planned statewide protest on July 30 would remain in place until the government fully implements its commitments. At a press conference in Patna, Bora declared:

“Jab tak har arrested student protestor riha nahi hota, movement rukne wala nahi. The right to dissent is a constitutional right, not a crime. No government can take that away.”

AISA All India President Neha Bora (@neha_aisa) made it clear at a press conference in Patna today:

Jab tak har arrested student protestor riha nahi hota, movement rukne wala nahi.

The right to dissent is a constitutional right, not a crime. No government can take that away. pic.twitter.com/8vN0HEyfRK

— AISA (@aisa_official_) July 27, 2026

Assam follows with similar assurance

Hours later, the Assam government issued a similar press note. The state acknowledged that five criminal cases had been registered and 13 people arrested during the protests but announced that it would begin withdrawing those cases “as per law” while expediting the release of everyone arrested. The government further stated that it would initiate no further legal proceedings against those involved in the protests and would treat the matter as closed once the process is completed.

The Assam government’s announcement has also raised hopes for Monjur Rahman, Ashraful Islam and Abdul Kashem, the three young men arrested after allegedly attempting to organise a solidarity protest. As reported by The Wire, their families have maintained that the protest never even took place. With Assam now promising to withdraw protest-related cases and release those arrested, it remains to be seen whether their cases will also be withdrawn.

Bengal remains the key test

West Bengal is now the principal state where protesters continue to await a similar announcement. According to ThePrint, senior police officials indicated that while the government is examining the possibility of withdrawing protest-related cases, FIRs lodged by private complainants—including journalists alleging assault during the demonstrations—would likely require separate legal examination.

Meanwhile, The Hindu reported that Kolkata Police arrested two more people on Monday in connection with the July 24 Esplanade violence, taking the total number of arrests to sixteen. Responding to the developments, the Cockroach Janta Party publicly appealed to Chief Minister Suvendu Adhikari to honour the assurances allegedly given during negotiations with Union ministers J.P. Nadda and Jitendra Singh by releasing all arrested protesters and withdrawing every pending FIR.

CJP says Delhi calm, updates expected from three states

Providing the latest organisational update in a video statement, CJP spokesperson Ratna Singh said the party expects official updates regarding FIR withdrawals and the release of detainees from West Bengal, Delhi and Maharashtra shortly. She added that, according to information received by the organisation, no fresh FIRs have been registered and no new detentions have taken place in Delhi since the agreement. Ratna also said the organisation had raised concerns with authorities over allegations that members of one particular community were being selectively targeted and harassed for participating in the protests.

According to her, officials assured CJP that clear instructions would be communicated to all police officers to prevent any such discrimination. She further disclosed that she had received complaints from Goa regarding the alleged harassment of a protest organiser and had requested the concerned authorities to examine the matter. The update was shared through her official post on X, where she wrote:

Update on FIR withdrawals and the release of detained/arrested individuals: We expect updates from West Bengal, Delhi, and Maharashtra shortly, and we will share them as soon as we receive them. Yesterday, we were informed that there are currently no fresh FIRs being registered or detentions taking place in Delhi. I also raised concerns that members of one particular community were allegedly targeted and harassed for participating in the protest. We were assured that clear instructions would be communicated to all officers to ensure this does not happen. As of now, there are no fresh FIRs in Delhi. I was also contacted regarding a similar issue in Goa, where an organiser is allegedly facing harassment. I have requested the concerned authorities to look into the matter.

Update on FIR withdrawals and the release of detained/arrested individuals:

We expect updates from West Bengal, Delhi, and Maharashtra shortly, and we will share them as soon as we receive them.

Yesterday, we were informed that there are currently no fresh FIRs being registered…

— Ratna Singh (@whattalawyer) July 28, 2026

Agreement must be honoured

The government notifications followed a public warning from the Cockroach Janta Party earlier on July 27. Addressing the media, CJP spokesperson Ashutosh Ranka accused governments of violating the understanding reached after the Jantar Mantar protests by continuing arrests in Bihar and West Bengal while allegedly detaining volunteers in Delhi. He warned that unless FIRs were withdrawn immediately and governments stopped initiating fresh criminal proceedings, the organisation would be forced to resume nationwide protests.

Later that night, CJP spokesperson Saurav Das announced that government representatives, including Delhi Police officials, had met party leaders and shown them Bihar’s official notification confirming withdrawal of cases. Das said the organisation had also expressed concern over possible harassment of protesters across states and claimed that authorities assured them that appropriate instructions would be issued to prevent any retaliatory action.

Rajya Sabha MP Kapil Sibal, who has been advising the organisation, said he would continue providing legal assistance to protesters. Alongside pressing governments to withdraw criminal proceedings, CJP announced a nationwide legal support initiative. The organisation has launched a public fundraising campaign to support injured protesters and those facing criminal proceedings. It has also established legal aid cells across India, with Kapil Sibal pledging ₹1 crore towards legal assistance while urging lawyers across districts to volunteer.

Additionally, CJP announced the launch of the Sakshi Portal, where photographs and videos documenting alleged police excesses during the protests can be uploaded for legal documentation.

Allegations of excessive force continue

Despite governments beginning to withdraw cases, allegations against police remain widespread. Ratna Singh alleged that volunteer lawyers are already assisting detainees in Assam, West Bengal and Bihar. She claimed that eleven people had been arrested in Kolkata, ten of whom belonged to the Muslim community, and alleged that stringent legal provisions were being considered against them.

She further alleged police brutality in Patna, Siwan and Chhapra, claiming that protesters had been booked under serious charges including attempted murder while cases had been registered against nearly 5,000 unidentified persons.

Following visits to detainees in Beur Jail, Neha Bora also alleged that arrested students described being abused, threatened with fake encounters and questioned about their religion and caste while in police custody. She further claimed that some detainees were labelled “terrorists” and “Naxalites.” Jail officials, however, assured her that students would receive all necessary assistance during their detention.

A fragile truce

While governments appear to be stepping back from criminal prosecution under public pressure, the violence witnessed during the protests remains an important part of the story. According to Bihar Police, 694 people were detained during the demonstrations. Of these, 339 students, women and minors were released after verification, while 355 individuals accused of involvement in violent incidents were produced before courts. Police stated that 91 personnel, including the Superintendents of Police of Siwan and Sitamarhi, sustained injuries during clashes. Authorities also reported that 14 police vehicles were damaged and one government vehicle was set ablaze.

One of the most controversial moments of the protests occurred in Bihar’s Siwan district, where Constable Abhishek Kumar was captured on video firing an AK-47 rifle into the air while attempting to disperse demonstrators. Bihar Police suspended the constable and ordered a departmental inquiry, confirming that four rounds were fired but stating that no injuries resulted from the incident.

Police action also extended into the digital space. According to ThePrint, Delhi Police approached X and Meta seeking removal of social media posts considered abusive towards Prime Minister Narendra Modi and other political leaders, describing the exercise as part of routine monitoring.

In Madhya Pradesh, content creator Yashpal Soni was booked over an Instagram reel allegedly containing abusive remarks directed at former Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan and the BJP. Meanwhile, Kolkata Police registered a complaint after BJP leader Keya Ghosh alleged that actor Sreelekha Mitra displayed defamatory caricatures of the Prime Minister during a protest rally.

Detailed report may be read here.

For now, the immediate confrontation appears to be easing. Bihar and Assam stated that they will implement these commitments that student organisations say, formed the basis of the agreement reached with the Union government. Delhi, according to CJP, has not seen any fresh FIRs or detentions since the understanding was reached, while West Bengal and Maharashtra are expected to announce their positions shortly. Yet protest leaders insist the movement is far from over.

Both CJP and AISA say they will continue monitoring implementation of the government’s assurances until every arrested protester has been released, every pending FIR withdrawn and all allegations of harassment addressed.

The rollback of criminal proceedings may have reduced immediate tensions, but it does not resolve the deeper questions exposed by the protests: the limits of police force, accountability for violence committed during demonstrations, the treatment of detainees, and the balance between maintaining public order and safeguarding the constitutional right to peaceful dissent.

Other detailed reports may be read here, here, here and here.

Related:

A deleted tweet, an NSA order, and the shadow of past crackdowns

Youth Uprising: A protest, a brute crackdown, a continuing countrywide response

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

Brute Police Action: Mumbai’s crackdown on protestors in solidarity with CJP & Student Groups, AISF, SFI & AISA

The post Governments begin rolling back cases against protesters, but questions over violence, arrests and accountability remain appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A protest is a strange, difficult thing to be inside. It looks, from the outside, like a single body moving with a single will, but anyone who has actually stood in one knows it is nothing of the sort. It is a loose weave of grandmothers who came because a grandchild was picked up, students who saved a week of bus fare to be there, farmers who slept in trucks to be there, office workers who slipped out at lunch, drifters who came for the free water, agitators who came for the fight, and thousands of ordinary people who simply felt they could not stay silent any longer. It is tired feet and dry throats and long stretches of nothing happening. It is chants that rise and fall for no clear reason. It is bad information travelling faster than good information. It is fear and hope tangled together in the same body. What a protest is not, almost ever, is a coordinated attack on the state. And yet the standard institutional response of the Indian state, across governments and across decades, has been to treat it as exactly that.

Also, a celebration is in order. A celebration of the grit and courage the youth of this country has shown in the face of government apathy and violence by the police, all of it leading to resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan, a powerful union minister in the NDA III government.

While the main anchor entity of the movement Cockroach Janata Party has declared that government will withdraw FIRs against the protestors, a question on the responsibility for the violence against the protestors remains i.e., why were the peaceful protestors dealt with such violence to the extent of pellet guns, by the Delhi Police—a police department that works under the control of the Central Government (Home Ministry). That again begs a more structural question. How did India end up with a civilian police that is capable of unleashing such violence on peaceful protestors and since such violence is not new, how should the system be reformed?

This is the starting point from which any serious reform conversation has to begin, because the failure of Indian crowd control is not primarily a failure of individual officers behaving badly. It is a failure of an institution that has never fully accepted that a citizen with a grievance is not the same thing as an enemy of the state.

Where does the problem lie?

The Police Act of 1861 was written in the wake of 1857 with the explicit purpose of controlling a hostile native population, and its basic architecture, a paramilitary force accountable upward to the political executive rather than outward to the public, granted enormous statutory discretion and almost no statutory duty, remains largely intact. The Supreme Court’s Prakash Singh judgment of 2006 tried to open a window wherein it fixed tenures for senior officers, separation of investigation from law and order, independent complaints authorities. Every state has technically complied and almost every state has hollowed out that compliance in practice. Complaints authorities exist on paper with no staff, no budget, and no independence; officers are transferred within months of politically inconvenient decisions; the political control that Prakash Singh tried to loosen has, in many states, actually tightened. Reform in India has developed a peculiar shape wherein the letter of change manifests without the substance of it.

But locating the entire problem in colonial history is too easy, because it lets the last seventy-eight years off the hook. Post-independence India has added its own pathologies to the colonial skeleton. The most important of these is that the police have become a resource that ruling parties at the state level deploy against political opposition, and the crowd-handling function has become the sharpest edge of that deployment. A sub-inspector on the ground has almost unlimited discretion to declare an assembly unlawful under what is now Section 148 of the BNSS, to order a baton charge, to fire tear gas. There are no binding directions, no codified escalation ladder, and no procedural check that must be cleared before force is used. The following is what Section 148 (1) of the BNSS states:

Any Executive Magistrate or officer in charge of a police station or, in the absence of such officer in charge, any police officer, not below the rank of a sub-inspector, may command any unlawful assembly, or any assembly of five or more persons likely to cause a disturbance of the public peace, to disperse; and it shall thereupon be the duty of the members of such assembly to disperse accordingly.

In this very consciously worded provision of the ironically named Bharatiya Nagari Suraksha Sanhita, the brakes on arbitrary decision making are what the law starts with when it says “Any Executive Magistrate” a rank that can be seen as higher than a sub-inspector and its equal rank “an officer in-charge of a police station.” These brakes are immediately loosened as soon as the provision says “in the absence of such officer in-charge, any officer not below the rank of sub-inspector” which is essentially ‘any sub-inspector may command an unlawful assembly to disperse’. Section 148(2) states that if the unlawful assembly does not break or disperse, force may be used.

This vacuum of doctrine is filled, on the ground, by the officer’s own instincts, which are shaped by his training, and his training has taught him that a crowd is a mob and a mob is dispersed. The verbs matter. Everything downstream of that verb, the choice of equipment, the posture of the constable, the tone of the first announcement over the loudhailer, flows from an idea that treats the citizen as the problem.

Reform, then, has to begin with rewriting the verb, and only afterward can it move to the machinery. A new statutory framework, whether through fresh state Police Acts or a national code drafted with genuine input from civil liberties lawyers, protest organisers, retired officers, and public health experts, would need to establish something Indian policing has never really had i.e., an affirmative duty on the police to facilitate the exercise of Article 19 rights, with the burden of proving imminent danger sitting on the state rather than on the citizen. This is a bigger conceptual shift than I am making it out to be. It converts a protest from a privilege the police grant to a right the police protect, and it changes what a good day at work looks like for the officer on the ground. Under the current architecture, a successfully dispersed protest is a professional success. However, if facilitation becomes the way, a protest that ended peacefully with people going home hoarse and tired is the professional success, and the constable who talked a knot of angry young men out of throwing stones is the officer who is promoted.

It is here that international experience begins to matter, but it matters with far more nuance than mere adoption of any other country’s practices.

Is there a better way to handle crowds?

Swedish dialogue policing, developed after the Gothenburg riots of 2001, is genuinely interesting. A uniformed dialogue officers whose only job is to talk, weeks of pre-protest negotiation with organisers, jointly walked routes, agreed visible signals for escalation. But Sweden is a country of ten million people with a small, homogeneous police service, protests that usually have identifiable organisers, and a political culture that treats the state as broadly trustworthy. Almost none of that describes India. An Indian protest often has no single leadership to negotiate with. And that itself has many legitimate reasons. Shaheen Bagh’s power came precisely from being leaderless, and the farmers’ protest at Delhi’s borders had a rotating cast of union heads who did not always agree. A dialogue officer culture cannot be imported wholesale into a force where the sub-inspector’s authority over the constable rests substantially on his willingness to be feared, or into a political environment where the ruling party may actively want the protest broken. What can be borrowed is the underlying idea that communication is a professional skill and that the officer who de-escalates is doing the harder, more valuable job. The Indian adaptation would have to invent new institutional forms. Perhaps designated Protest Liaison Cells at the district level, staffed by officers who volunteer for this work and are trained in the sociology of Indian protests specifically, the role of caste and community in shaping crowd dynamics, the way rumours travel through WhatsApp during a sit-in, the different psychology of a farmer’s rally and a student’s march.

How do we ensure Accountability and Transparency?

Training has to move in parallel with theories and ideas, because an institution behaves the way it has been trained to behave. The average Indian constable receives around nine months of basic training, of which crowd control occupies perhaps a handful of days delivered largely as physical drill: forming a cordon, swinging a lathi, executing a charge. What is ironic is that the Delhi Police had sent its force to train on crowd control to the Rapid Action Force’s academy in Meerut.  Therefore, a serious redesign would build in weeks rather than days on crowd psychology, non-violent communication, and scenario simulation, and it would bring in outside trainers whom the police service currently views with suspicion i.e., lawyers, doctors, protest organisers themselves, journalists who have been on the receiving end of a lathi charge. This means that not only is there a need to impart more democratic training to the police officers, there is also a need to first have them unlearn the anti-democratic training they undergo within the current system. Empathy is a trainable skill, and India has trained it out of the force with unusual efficiency.

Equipment is the piece where brakes are needed the most, and it is where the current system does its most visible damage. The tear gas shells commonly used in Indian crowd control operations are frequently past expiry, often fired directly at protesters rather than in high arcs, and their canisters have killed by head impact alone. The pattern is documented from Tuticorin in 2018 through Delhi in 2020 and beyond. Pellet guns, deployed extensively in Kashmir, have blinded thousands, including children, and belong to a category of weapon that no civilian police service anywhere in the democratic world uses at that scale. Reform here is partly a matter of procurement rules, independent medical review of every less-lethal munition, withdrawal of anything with a documented pattern of causing serious injury, and partly a matter of what the equipment signals. When a police unit arrives at a peaceful sit-in in full riot gear with automatic weapons visible, it has communicated something before a word is spoken, and the communication is that this is not a conversation.

Body cameras are worth thinking about carefully, because they have become the fashionable answer everywhere and their record is genuinely mixed. American police departments adopted them at scale after Ferguson in 2014, and the studies since have shown that they reduce complaints and reduce force only when the surrounding accountability system actually processes the footage. Otherwise, they simply become one more piece of evidence that the police control. An Indian body camera regime would work only if the footage was held by an authority outside the police, if turning the camera off during an incident created a legal presumption against the officer, and if selective deletion carried personal consequences. Without those scaffolds, a body camera is theatre.

Section 197 of the CrPC, now carried into the BNSS, requires government sanction to prosecute a public servant for acts committed in the course of duty, and that sanction is almost never granted for crowd-control violence. The Hashimpura convictions came thirty-one years after the killings, and only because the High Court refused to let the case die. The blinding, firings, and custodial deaths that fill the decades between then and now have produced almost no criminal consequences for the officers involved. Reform requires narrowing the sanction requirement sharply for offences involving death, grievous hurt, or sexual violence during crowd operations; creating a statutory presumption of state liability with immediate compensation from a dedicated fund; and, most importantly, building Police Complaints Authorities with the staff, the budget, and the independence to actually investigate. None of this needs a foreign model to justify it. It is a purely Indian problem with a purely Indian solution i.e., the state must be willing to let its own officers be held to account, and until it is, every other reform is decoration. And the deployment of paramilitary forces like the CRPF for what is essentially civil policing has to be scaled back, because their training is for insurgency, not for citizens.

Be that as it may, some protests turn violent and they will need force to restore peace. When such protests do happen, it is natural for the police to need split-second decision-making powers. It is here that a transparent system should be put in place that protects both the citizens against undue force and also ensures that the police are able to restore peace. What could those systems be?

A detailed, publicly accessible post incident report, with statements taken from the personnel as soon as their shift ends, by an independent protest cell would be desirable. This cell could consist of independently appointed panel of citizens, by the people’s representatives at the local level i.e., the Sarpanches, Corporators, Mandal Parishad and Zilla Parishad Members via detailed reasoning for each selection.

For added protection, each cell should be mandatorily adopt a consensus approach while making decisions. This could ensure that accountability is introduced. It is here again that Bodycams could be of assistance to show whether disproportionate force is being used or not. The police should be able to show to the protest cell all their attempts to assuage the crowd or calm it before they resorted to force. Individual complaints against any officer using disproportionate force need to be taken. For example, there have been many instances in the recent Delhi protests against NEET, where videos were shot when the police used batons to thrash protesters as they were walking without any disturbance. Such excessive and unnecessary use of force needs to be held accountable for any meaningful reform.

Conclusion

Reform of this depth is slow, and its friends inside the system are few. But the alternative is what India has now i.e., a police service whose default response to democratic expression is force, and a citizenry that has learned to expect the lathi as the state’s first sentence in any conversation about grievance. That expectation, more than any single incident, is what corrodes the trust on which a democracy runs. A protest, at its heart, is a citizen still willing to talk to the state. The reform of Indian policing, in the end, is the question of whether the state is willing to talk back.

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

Related:

Permission to Protest? Why the right to dissent needs no licence

Defectors & Democracy: A critique of the Tenth Schedule of the Indian Constitution

July 2026: A dissent that was brutally put down, a crackdown after the protest ended

The post Reforming policing beyond force appeared first on SabrangIndia.

That contradiction lies at the heart of what comes next. The resignation may have answered one political demand, but it does not answer what happened to the protesters who were arrested. It does not account for the FIRs filed against them. It does not explain why cases were registered despite the Centre’s assurance that there would be none. And it does not settle the allegations of excessive police force, including the reported use of pellet guns, or the injuries sustained during the crackdown. Nor does it address what happened after the crowds dispersed.

The protests of India’s youth, especially in Delhi, the capital and Bihar were especially brutal. The use of pellet guns, steel lathis and visuals and videos of brazen sexual assault by policing personnel against female protesters are now a household story and have generated outrage and demands for accountability and action.

Though the protests have ended, for now, police cases have not been withdrawn. Notices were issued. Families were drawn into the process. Protesters were detained and, in some cases, sent to judicial custody. Facial-recognition technology was deployed around protest sites. Muslim protesters and volunteers reported police action that, in some instances, allegedly extended to their families. Across different states, the response to dissent increasingly moved beyond the street and into the criminal justice system, the home and the private lives of those who had participated.

This is why the aftermath cannot be reduced to the resignation of a minister or the withdrawal of a protest. The more difficult questions remain. What happens to the FIRs filed against protesters after the Centre’s assurance that there would be none? Why are police reportedly waiting for government approval to withdraw cases that should, according to that assurance, never have been registered? Who will account for the arrests and detentions that have already taken place? Who will investigate allegations of police brutality and excessive force? And what happens to those who were injured, who were under surveillance or drawn into cases simply for being part of a movement that challenged the government? The political confrontation may have ended. The State’s actions during and after it still demand answers.

The Centre’s assurance and the FIRs that followed

Among the final demands put forward by the Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) before it called off the agitation was the withdrawal of all FIRs and cases registered against protesters during the movement. The demand was significant because it recognised that, beyond the immediate political questions of examination reforms and ministerial accountability, hundreds of students and young protesters had already been drawn into the criminal justice system. Following assurances from the Centre that protest-related cases would not continue and that FIRs against protesters would be withdrawn, the CJP announced the suspension of its agitation.

To date however, there is no confirmation that these assurances have resulted in real action.

Yet the events on the ground tell a more complicated story. Reports from across the country show that FIRs had already been registered, protesters had been arrested, and many had been remanded to judicial custody before the political settlement was reached. According to reporting cited by Maktoob Media, more than 400 protesters were arrested and sent to jail, while police released photographs and posters of identified protesters in several districts. The report noted that these arrests came despite the Union government’s assurance that no cases related to the protests would be registered in NDA-ruled states. In Patna, at least 87 people were reportedly remanded in an FIR connected to the Bihar Bandh, while Prabhat Khabar, as cited in the same compilation, reported that 190 people had been arrested and sent to jail. In Chhapra, four FIRs were reportedly registered and 56 people arrested, while 25 people were arrested in Siwan.

The Centre’s assurance and the events on the ground therefore sit uneasily alongside each other. If peaceful participation in the protests was never meant to attract criminal proceedings, why were FIRs registered against protesters at all? And if, as reported by The Times of India, the Delhi Police are now awaiting government approval to withdraw these cases, it raises another question: why should people who were peacefully exercising their constitutional rights have had to pass through the criminal justice system in the first place?

As per Indian Express, Mumbai Police registered 15 FIRs against nearly 1,500 people in connection with demonstrations supporting the agitation. Police data accessed by the newspaper showed that among 301 people named in seven FIRs, more than half were aged 25 or younger, with one in five between 18 and 20. Around one-third of those named were women. The offences included unlawful assembly and disobedience of lawful orders. The Indian Express also reported the case of a 20-year-old student who said he had been recording a protest from a sweet shop after attending his coaching class. He was taken to a police station and later struggled to determine whether an FIR had actually been registered against him. The uncertainty surrounding his legal status became a form of pressure in itself.

This does not diminish the importance of withdrawing the FIRs. On the contrary, their withdrawal is necessary where protesters have been booked solely for participating in peaceful demonstrations. But the withdrawal of cases cannot be the end of the conversation. It must also be accompanied by an examination of how and why peaceful protesters were criminalised despite the Centre’s assurance and despite the constitutional guarantee of the right to assemble and protest peacefully.

This distinction is important. Where individuals committed acts of violence, attacked police personnel or damaged public property, those allegations must be investigated on their own merits. But participation in a peaceful protest is not, by itself, a crime. The criminal law must distinguish between acts of violence and the exercise of democratic rights. That distinction is essential if the constitutional right to protest is to have any real meaning. This is the point at which the FIR becomes more than a legal instrument. It becomes a mechanism through which the State can impose a cost on dissent even without securing a conviction. The consequences begin before the court has spoken.

From tear gas and barricades to alleged pellet injuries in Delhi

The use of force in Delhi adds another dimension to the story. The march towards Parliament on July 20 became a defining moment in the State’s response to the movement, with police action involving barricading and crowd-control measures, including tear gas, followed by allegations that pellet guns were used.

The Hindu reported that at least four of approximately 80 protesters injured during the police action sustained pellet-gun injuries, according to a source at Lady Hardinge Medical College. Delhi Police denied using pellet guns and called the claims false and misleading, while allegations focused on the Rapid Action Force. The RAF, reported The Print, has accepted using excessive force.

The Hindu’s analysis notes that the Ministry of Home Affairs has maintained that pellet guns should be used only as a last resort after other crowd-control measures, including warnings, tear-smoke and PAVA shells, have failed to disperse a violent crowd. The July 20 incident therefore raises the question of whether the safeguards governing their use were followed. That question becomes particularly important when the protesters are students and when there is no established finding that the crowd posed a threat requiring such a weapon.

The debate over pellet guns is not new. The Hindu’s reporting recalls how the government explored alternatives following the injuries caused during the unrest in Kashmir, including PAVA shells, stun-lac rounds, acoustic devices and plastic bullets. Yet pellet guns remained part of the security forces’ arsenal. The weapon’s continued use has been criticised because of its capacity to cause permanent eye injuries and other serious harm.

The United Nations Human Rights Office’s 2020 guidance on less-lethal weapons went further, stating that metal pellets fired from shotguns should never be used because multi-projectile weapons are inherently inaccurate and generally cannot meet the principles of necessity and proportionality.

The Delhi episode therefore requires a transparent investigation into what happened, which forces were deployed, what weapons were used, who authorised their use and whether the response was proportionate to the threat. The same principle that applies to protesters must apply to the State: evidence must determine responsibility.

The State’s response did not stop at the barricades

The crackdown also moved into the realm of surveillance. The Daily Pioneer reported that Delhi Police deployed four facial-recognition units around the Jantar Mantar protest site. Police said the systems were intended to identify wanted criminals, absconders and history-sheeters rather than ordinary protesters, and that the cameras were connected to the Delhi Police database.

The police explanation is relevant, but it does not resolve the broader civil-liberties question. When facial-recognition systems are deployed around a political demonstration, citizens may reasonably wonder whether participation itself is being recorded and monitored. The difference between surveillance intended to identify wanted criminals and surveillance that chills ordinary political participation must be clearly maintained. Without adequate safeguards, a protest site can become a space where citizens exercise their democratic rights while simultaneously being subjected to technologies of identification.

The effect may be subtle, but it can be powerful. A young person who knows that their face may be scanned may think twice before attending a demonstration. A student who has already seen fellow protesters arrested may decide not to return. A citizen who fears being identified may choose silence over participation. The State does not need to prohibit protest outright to weaken the right to protest. It only needs to make participation feel dangerous.

According to The Times of India, Delhi Police have initiated action against social media posts that allegedly contained abusive or derogatory language directed at Prime Minister Narendra Modi during the CJP-led agitation. Several social media platforms have reportedly received notices seeking the removal of such content, with most of the flagged videos, posts and comments already taken down. The report further states that police teams are continuing to monitor online content, issuing fresh notices as new posts emerge and directing platforms to remove them promptly.

The police have maintained that the action is limited to content containing abusive language and is aimed at enforcing the law. At the same time, the move illustrates how the State’s response to the protests has expanded beyond physical demonstrations into the digital spaces where political mobilisation, criticism and debate increasingly take place. While speech that falls foul of the law may legitimately invite legal scrutiny, sustained monitoring of online expression linked to a protest also raises broader questions about the extent to which digital speech surrounding political dissent is being policed in the aftermath of the agitation.

Viewed alongside the registration of FIRs, arrests, surveillance measures and police action during the protests, the scrutiny of online content suggests that the State’s response has not been confined to restoring public order at protest sites. It has continued into the spaces where the protest is remembered, discussed and documented.

The Muslim protester and the question of unequal policing

The allegations involving Muslim protesters and volunteers add another layer of concern to the story. It is important to be precise here: the available reporting does not establish a universal policy of targeting Muslims, and individual allegations must be independently verified. But the number and nature of the reported incidents are serious enough to raise questions about whether Muslim citizens have been disproportionately exposed to police scrutiny and coercion.

One of the most striking cases concerns Muhammad Junaid, a volunteer who was reportedly involved in distributing food and water to protesters. According to reporting cited from Scroll, Junaid alleged that police action extended to his family while authorities were looking for him. His relatives were reportedly detained or questioned, and documents were allegedly seized, while police denied taking action against his family. The allegation is significant not simply because it concerns one individual. It raises the possibility that the pressure of policing can extend beyond the person who participated in a protest and reach those around them.

The reported targeting of families is especially troubling because it changes the nature of State pressure. When a person is arrested for an alleged offence, the State is at least claiming to act against that individual. When police action allegedly reaches parents, siblings, spouses or in-laws, the message becomes broader. It suggests that the consequences of dissent may not be confined to the person who chose to protest.

A similar concern emerged in reports concerning five Muslim students returning from Jantar Mantar towards Jamia Millia Islamia. According to The Siasat Daily, the students were taken to a police station and later released after activists and a reporter questioned the police action. The students alleged that they had been picked up without explanation and threatened with a case when they questioned the detention, while the police position was reportedly that the action amounted to verification. Again, these incidents require independent scrutiny rather than sweeping conclusions.

But the pattern is difficult to ignore when placed alongside the case of three young Muslim men in Assam. The Wire reported that Monjur Rahman, Ashraful Islam and Abdul Kashem were arrested after allegedly attempting to organise a peaceful protest in solidarity with the wider movement. Their families said they had sought permission for the demonstration and that the proposed protest had not even taken place. The men were nevertheless booked under serious provisions, including Section 152 of the BNS, while their families disputed the allegations. The central question is not whether every action against a Muslim protester is necessarily communal. The more fundamental question is whether the State is applying the same standards of suspicion, surveillance and force to citizens regardless of their religious identity. That is the test of equal citizenship; and it is a test that must be answered through evidence, transparency and accountability.

Moreover, in Assam, advocate Ariful Islam was remanded to judicial custody until August 7 after being detained by the police for more than 24 hours. According to lawyer and Congress spokesperson Aman Wadud, who represented him in court, Islam was not participating in the protest but was near the site in his advocate’s uniform, carrying his Bar Council identity card and copies of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) and Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS). As reported by Maktoob Media, Wadud alleged that despite identifying himself as a practising lawyer, Islam was booked under Section 152 of the BNS and remanded to judicial custody. Wadud also pointed to the contradiction between the arrest and the Union government’s assurance that cases against peaceful protesters would be withdrawn, describing the police action as arbitrary and unconstitutional.

West Bengal and the Invocation of the Goonda Act

The legal response to the protests also escalated beyond the filing of FIRs. In West Bengal, the State government invoked the West Bengal Public Safety and Control of Anti-Social Activities Act, 2026, commonly known as the Goonda Act, for the first time since its enactment in connection with violence during the Kolkata protest march.

Announcing the decision in the Assembly, Chief Minister Suvendu Adhikari said around 70 people identified from the protest had “nothing to do with the student movement” and alleged that they had participated solely to create disorder. Seven FIRs were registered in connection with the violence, and police arrested 11 people, including 10 Muslims. The Chief Minister also condemned the reported attacks on journalists during the demonstration, stating that the law had been invoked to ensure “exemplary punishment” for those responsible.

The invocation of the legislation is significant because of the extraordinary powers it confers on the State. The Act allows authorities to order preventive detention for up to one year without trial, issue externment orders requiring individuals to leave specified districts and attach property allegedly connected to unlawful activities. Its constitutional validity is currently under challenge before the Calcutta High Court, with Opposition parties and civil rights groups arguing that its broad preventive detention provisions are susceptible to political misuse and could be used to suppress dissent.

The government has defended its decision by maintaining that the law is being applied not against peaceful protesters but against individuals accused of orchestrating violence and attacking police personnel and journalists. According to the State, shoes, bottles and other objects were thrown at security personnel and members of the media, while the police exercised restraint despite alleged attempts to provoke a stronger response.

Student organisers, however, dispute that account. The Students’ Federation of India (SFI) condemned the attacks on journalists but alleged that “agent provocateurs” linked to the BJP had infiltrated the demonstration to derail the protest and discredit the movement. As reported by Maktoob Media, SFI leaders also accused the Kolkata Police of using tear gas and batons against peaceful demonstrators and alleged that several student protesters sustained injuries. They further called for an independent investigation, claiming that video footage showed individuals allegedly associated with the BJP participating in the violence.

The competing narratives surrounding the Kolkata violence underscore the importance of an impartial investigation. Those responsible for attacking journalists, police personnel or damaging public property must be identified and prosecuted on the basis of evidence. At the same time, the decision to invoke a preventive detention law with sweeping powers in the context of a political protest inevitably raises wider questions about proportionality, necessity and the extent to which extraordinary legislation should be used in situations involving public demonstrations.

The arrests also drew further scrutiny because 10 of the 11 people arrested were Muslims. Responding to these reports, CJP spokesperson Ratna Singh said the party had received information that protesters had been detained by police in both Assam and West Bengal and that many of those detained were allegedly Muslims. She stated that if those reports were accurate, any targeting of individuals on the basis of religion would be unlawful and deeply concerning. While these allegations remain contested, they add to broader concerns raised elsewhere during the protests regarding whether policing and criminal proceedings were being applied uniformly across communities.

Bihar and the problem of the government’s promise

Bihar presents perhaps the clearest example of why the Centre’s assurance requires greater scrutiny. The State witnessed serious incidents during the Bihar Bandh, including allegations of stone-pelting and damage to public property, and those incidents must be investigated. The legitimacy of a protest does not provide immunity to anyone who commits violence. At the same time, the State’s response must remain proportionate and individualised.

The Hindu reported that police opened fire using AK-47 in Siwan after protesters allegedly continued throwing stones, with at least three protesters injured and police officers also reportedly hurt. The said police officer was later suspended. Scroll separately reported that police opened fire in Jehanabad after protesters allegedly damaged the gate of the district magistrate’s residence and threw stones, while more than 100 people were reportedly arrested. These incidents demonstrate why accountability cannot be one-sided. Those who attacked police officers or damaged property must be investigated, but allegations of excessive police force must also be independently examined. The same principle applies to the FIRs.

The political language around protest is changing

The legal and physical response to dissent has also been accompanied by increasingly charged political language. The Hindu reported that BJP state president Shamik Bhattacharya described protesters involved in a West Bengal rally as “anti-nationals” amid allegations of violence, while an FIR was also registered against actor Sreelekha Mitra over an allegedly objectionable poster depicting Prime Minister Narendra Modi. The reporting also documented competing allegations about violence and attacks on journalists during the protest.

There is no question that violence, vandalism and attacks on journalists must be investigated. Political speech does not provide immunity from criminal law. But the use of labels such as “anti-national” has consequences beyond rhetoric. It can transform the public understanding of dissent from a democratic right into a security threat. Once protesters are framed as threats rather than citizens, stronger State intervention becomes easier to justify. That is why political language matters. The difference between calling someone a protester and calling them an anti-national is not merely semantic. One recognises a citizen exercising a political right. The other places that citizen outside the boundaries of legitimate dissent.

The protest has ended; the questions have not

The resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan may have brought the immediate political confrontation to a close, but it has not resolved the questions raised by the State’s response to the protests. Those questions extend far beyond whether the FIRs against protesters will eventually be withdrawn. They concern the use of force against demonstrators, including allegations of excessive police action and the reported use of pellet guns. They concern the registration of FIRs despite assurances that protest-related cases would not continue, the arrests and judicial custody that followed, and reports that police are now awaiting government approval before withdrawing those cases. They concern the deployment of facial-recognition technology and the monitoring of online speech long after protesters had left the streets. They concern the invocation of extraordinary laws such as West Bengal’s Goonda Act, allegations that Muslim protesters and volunteers were disproportionately targeted, and the political language that increasingly sought to portray demonstrators as “anti-nationals”, “outsiders” or agents of disorder rather than citizens exercising a democratic right.

None of these developments can be viewed in isolation. Taken together, they reveal a broader pattern in which the State’s response to dissent extended well beyond maintaining public order. The protest moved from the streets into police stations, courtrooms, surveillance systems and social media platforms. What began as a movement demanding accountability for failures in the education system became, in many instances, a test of how far the State would go in policing dissent and political opposition.

This does not mean that acts of violence, attacks on journalists or damage to public property should go unpunished. Those responsible must be identified and prosecuted on the basis of evidence. But the same standard of accountability must apply to the State. Allegations of excessive force must be independently investigated. The circumstances surrounding injuries sustained during police action must be examined. The use of facial-recognition technology and expanded digital surveillance at protest sites requires greater transparency. The decision to register FIRs despite public assurances demands an explanation. And allegations of selective targeting, including those involving Muslim protesters and their families, cannot simply be dismissed without an impartial inquiry.

The end of a protest cannot mark the end of accountability. Withdrawing FIRs, if that is ultimately done, would provide relief to many protesters, but it would not answer the larger questions raised by the State’s conduct during and after the movement. A democracy is measured not only by its willingness to hear dissent but also by the limits it places on its own exercise of power. Those limits are precisely what the protests have placed under scrutiny, and they remain unresolved long after the streets have emptied.

Other detailed reports may be read here, here, here and here.

Related:

A deleted tweet, an NSA order, and the shadow of past crackdowns

Youth Uprising: A protest, a brute crackdown, a continuing countrywide response

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

Brute Police Action: Mumbai’s crackdown on protestors in solidarity with CJP & Student Groups, AISF, SFI & AISA

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