Despite a sewer, death happening every 45 hours in the country, shameless governments have chosen to remain in criminal silence. Needless to say, Dalit lives don’t matter for government and they have been turned into a new normal. How widespread this practice is can be understood by this simple fact that this year sewer and septic tank deaths have been reported from 16 states across the. Increase in number of deaths in sewers and septic tanks have been alarming over the last decade. While in 2016 only 39 deaths were reported, this figure jumped by 350% next year in 2017 to a staggering 137 deaths.

After various Supreme Court Judgments and the subsequent passage of the ‘Prohibition of Employment as Manual Scavengers and their Rehabilitation Act’, 2013, one would have expected the governments to be proactive. However, SKA has documented 1726 deaths since the new act came into force. Among them 1203 deaths came just from seven states—Tamil Nadu (332), Gujarat (216), Delhi-NCR (157), Maharashtra (155), Uttar Pradesh (148), Haryana (104) and Bihar (91). Despite such high numbers, none of these states have taken even a single step to stop these deaths.

NAMASTE (National Action for Mechanised Sanitation Ecosystem) scheme was launched by the Modi government in July 2023. The scheme had an allocation of Rs. 349.73 Cr though for building toilets. While, under Swachh Bharat scheme, government had already spent Rs 19 thousand Cr for building 12 Cr toilets. However, neither was the sanitation ecosystem mechanised, nor were dry toilets completely eliminated.

Ironically and unfortunately, all these years ministers in the Modi government kept denying these sordid facts in Parliament, stating, shockingly, that there were no deaths in the country due to Manual Scavenging. Clearly, the act meant or means nothing for them. It also shows, how much government values the lives of Safai Karmacharis, who are still considered to be untouchables.

The SKA has demanded that the Prime Minister intervenes immediately to announce a complete full stop to deaths inside sewers and septic tanks. The press release has been issued by Bezwada Wilson, National Convenor, SKA.

Related:

58 reported deaths in Gujarat in last 5 years: Union Govt data reveals deaths due to cleaning of sewers and septic tanks

Continuing deaths of sewer workers reveals a cynical culture of impunity

941 deaths while cleaning sewers, septic tanks: Centre informs Rajya Sabha

The post Though sewer deaths have crossed the 100 mark this year, government is silent: SKA appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This second part of the P.V. Narasimha Rao Memorial Lecture 2026 at the Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University recently, political economist, Parakala Prabhakar emphasises that the end game of the controversial and ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) conducted by an obviously partisan Election Commission of India (ECI) is the transformation of the Indian state into rigid majoritarian rule.

Sabrangindia is publishing the second part of this lecture today

Leave alone the citizenry. Public intellectuals, media groups, and even political leaders have swallowed this propaganda. (the narrative propagated by the ECI and the present ruling dispensation that SIR is meant only to clean up voters’)

They are uninterested in casting a probing eye on this large-scale disenfranchisement. Political leaders and a large section of the media are looking at this exercise only from the electoral point of view. They are assessing only, who this disenfranchisement benefits and whose electoral chances it harms.

Therefore, many non-BJP/NDA politicians I have interacted with in the states that went to polls after the implementation of SIR felt that it was unlikely to harm their electoral prospects. Among these there are two categories: One felt that the deleted voters were not ‘their voters’. This in itself is troubling. Because these politicians did not want to bother about deletions per se, especially if their calculations show that those deleted from the rolls may have been voters but were/are not their own voters! The second category are those that understood that their own voters too were deleted, but not enough in number to harm their winning chances. For example, some told me that the deletions were about four thousand votes, but they won their last election by about eight thousand votes. And therefore, despite deletions of ‘their own voters’, their net chances of winning the election were intact. It does not matter for them if some eligible voters were disenfranchised.

Deleted voters stay in the public discourse and news cycles only until the election results are declared. Leaders who made some noise about voter deletions, the media which wrote about them suddenly fall silent once the election results are declared. Today nobody talks about the fate of 80 lakh deleted voters of Bihar, 93 lakhs disenfranchised people of Bengal, 97 lakh voters of Tamil Nadu. Because there are no elections there now, no one talks about the 2.83 crore deleted voters of Uttar Pradesh, 44 lakh deleted voters of Rajasthan, 28 lakh deleted voters of Chhattisgarh, 45 lakhs from Madhya Pradesh, 77 lakh deleted voters of Gujarat!

West Bengal presents an even more deeply troubling picture. About 28 lakh voters were not allowed to vote even though they were not pronounced ineligible. Their papers were not examined and claims not adjudicated. Yet, the ECI, the ruling dispensation, many in the political class and the media want us to believe that the Assembly election of May 2026 was legitimate. They also want us to believe that the SIR process was bona fide, only meant to weed out the “Shifted, Absent, Duplicate and Dead (SADD) voters along with infiltrators. The ECI officials still maintain with a straight face that no eligible voter would be denied of their right to vote. 

Indian Polity in the wake of the SIR

One needs to look at the long-term implications of SIR for our polity. It is to these implications that I now turn.

In the wake of SIR India will have two classes of people: one with the right to vote and another without the right to vote. The ones without the right to vote will necessarily be unsure about their citizenship. That is no surprise nowadays when almost everybody’s citizenship is uncertain. Now we are told that even a passport is merely a travel document and not a proof of citizenship.

Let me undertake a thought experiment now. Imagine that none of us in this hall has a vote. Let us also imagine that all of us live together in one residential colony. To this colony where every resident is a non-voter, would any politician or a candidate in an election come to campaign? Would any politician work for us? Would they give us drinking water, a road, a school, a health centre, a power connection?

I can say for sure that a politician would not even spend a minute of their time to stop by in our colony.

We can live there but with no claims on the state for protection and care. We are beyond the state’s pale. The state has no responsibility towards us. It does not have to care for us. If at all it does, which is unlikely, it is out of its generosity and not on account of our rightful claims on it. The state is not duty bound. We do not any more belong to the political society. In other words, the political society of India will be constricted, circumcised. Those who are excluded are no longer relevant to the Republic.

Let me tell you here that so far SIR has deleted about six crore voters. At this rate, by the time the exercise is completed in the entire country, the estimated deletions would be about 16 crores. This means 160 million voters! This is not a small number. About 80% of the countries in the world have populations of 16 crores or less. SIR in other words, is excising (or eliminating) a few countries from within India and throwing them out into the wilderness.

We are so far used to a democracy where voters decided who should be in the government. But now, in the wake of SIR, we are transitioning into a new a democracy in which those who sit in the government are deciding who should be the voters.

That is the picture which is unfolding in our country today.

BJP-isation of Political Parties

SIR has yet another troubling consequence. It is not difficult to understand that every political party will address only the interests, concerns, and priorities of those who have a right to vote. Only they matter to political parties. As we have understood the drift of the SIR deletions, most of those who retain voting right are likely to be savarna (upper caste/privileged caste) Hindus, if not in the immediate present, but eventually at any rate. We need to keep in mind that the present SIR is unlikely to be the last one. Do not rule out the possibility that SIR becomes unstoppable once it is normalised in the way that it is now normalized and even accepted. There is a probability that we will regularly have such SIR exercises that would progressively eliminate the so called unwanted and impure elements from our political society. After many iterations of SIR, the polity will be fully purged of those unwanted elements.

The non-Hindus and non-savarna Hindus who might still retain their voting right will be rendered into a politically inconsequential minority. Even without the SIR the ruling party at the centre is able to have a council of ministers without a single member belonging to the Muslim and Christian minorities. In the entire history of our independent Republic, we never had a Union Council of Ministers that did not have a Muslim and a Christian representative. Even after the conclusion of the SIR, if any minorities and non-savarna Hindus still remain with franchise, they will still be made politically inconsequential by the process of Delimitation. Assam and Jammu C Kashmir showed the way on how to pack and crack the constituencies by implementing Delimitation to make such unwanted populations irrelevant in electoral contests.

If that is the situation now, imagine what would be the political significance of these sections of our society after the SIR after it is fully implemented. That is the level of Hindu majoritarian consolidation that the current ruling dispensation could mobilize behind itself. With SIR that would be the only political society that is going to remain for every political party in the country to operate in. That would mean Hindu-isation, or rather ‘savarna Hindu-isation’, of our polity. This would result in every political party ending up as a Hindu majoritarian party, some more and some less. But all of them Hindu majoritarian, nevertheless.

The die would be cast; the pitch would be set; the political turf would be transformed. Every political party if it has to be electorally successful or even stay relevant in that curated polity and transformed turf, would play like the BJP, adopt the programme of the BJP, would perhaps even be compelled to be more BJP-like than the present BJP itself.

The point I am making is: in the medium to long term, the consequences of SIR would make every political party like the BJP. In other words, every political party in the country would be BJP-ised.

Israel-isation of India

We already see religious symbols of the majority gradually creeping up to the status of quasi state symbols. Not long ago we had seen the spectacle of several Hindu religious men parade along with a symbol of monarchy, the Sengol, in our democratic Republic’s newly built Parliament House. Not long after a ten-hour marathon debate on Vande Mataram, the government had issued an order that all central government functions should have the song’s all 6 stanzas rendered in every official function. We also are witness to government schemes getting their names that clearly allude to Hindu scriptures, godheads, and epics. Renaming MNREGA to call it G-RAM-G is only the latest example.

This process is worryingly close to the political culture of Israel. The Jewish state is unapologetic about having Jewish religious symbols as its state symbols. The Star of David is on its national flag. Every political party in that country serves only Jewish interests, addresses only Jewish aspirations, heeds only to Jewish concerns and priorities. They are barely distinguishable from one another on core issues. They, in fact, work to outdo each other in championing Jewish interests as well as in displaying their indifference and antipathy to non-Jewish concerns. The state takes no obligation onto itself to the well-being of non-Jews.

The process that is now underway in India, if unchecked, will make India go the Israeli way. In other words, what we see today is a steady Israel-isation of India.

Dismantling Secular, Inclusive India 

The unfolding of these two phenomena is unmistakable: BJP-isation of political parties on the one hand and Israel-isation of Indian polity on the other, both proceeding in lockstep.

This is dismantling the idea of India as a secular, plural, and federal state that pledged itself to delivering liberty, equality, justice and fraternity to its people and to foster a humane society. The idea of India embedded in our 1947 tryst with destiny and the political compact enshrined in our 1950 constitution are now in mortal danger.

The secular, plural, democratic conception of India has been the target of unrelenting assaults from a body of individuals and several other past-worshipping obscurantist platforms. They have been openly and doggedly championing an unequal social order for over a century. Their project is to seek India’s future in its past; to recover from that imaginary past a fabricated pristine glory; to turn the secular, democratic Republic into a culturally, linguistically, religiously homogenized nation. The notion of Indian civilization as a synthesis, and as a palimpsest, is abhorrent to them. Their project’s notion of India seeks to obliterate the rich diversity of cultures, languages, lifestyles, eating habits, sartorial practices, ways of worship and syncretism that the country is blessed with. A flattened India is their notion of a ‘civilizational’ state.

SIR is but one key element in a grand project that seeks to assert exclusive Hindu ownership of the Indian nation, to make that Hindu-owned nation the sole rightful resident in the territory of the Indian state – and turn it into a Hindu nation-state, a Hindu Rashtra. It seeks to redefine the country’s identity as ‘Hindu nation-state’. In that configuration ‘savarna’ is deliberately muted and made illegible for the time being for tactical reasons.

Eventually, when constraints are broken, it would be unveiled as a full-blooded, unapologetic, wall to wall ‘savarna Hindu Rashtra’. Make no mistake.

SIR as a Bloodless Political Genocide

When we became a Republic, our founding parents made it a home for everyone who lived in its territory. Membership of the Republic, or citizenship, was not predicated on religion, caste, gender, language, culture, region of residence, colour, economic status, educational qualifications and such other things. Everyone who chose India as their land of residence was a citizen and also a voter. Denominational attributes did not privilege one or the other as rightful owners of the nation. Everybody was.

Europe went through a different experience when nation states were formed. There were people who rightfully belonged and those who were others or minorities. That was the basis of the European nation-states. There were majorities and minorities. Minorities’ residence was predicated on their becoming tolerable to the majorities. European countries, and countries which adopted that model of building their nation-states, either subjugated minorities, pushed them out of their territories, or even exterminated them. Beginning from the cleansing of the Iberian Peninsula in the mid 15th century until the ethnic cleansing that Israel carries out today, history is witness to many bloody attempts to forge homogenised nations.

But in India we chose a different path. We designed our collective life in a way that the state gave room for everyone, despite their diversity, to live together and thrive.

But ideologies in India that continue to draw their inspiration from the European nation-owned state concept want our Republic too to be turned into a state, owned by one nation – the Hindu nation. In their conception of a Republic, the others needed to be assimilated to the point of obliterating their respective identities, pushed out of the territory of the nation-state, or exterminated through genocide. In the present-day India, both the pushing out and physical extermination of unassimilated minorities are politically impractical.

However, extermination of a political kind of the others is possible. Instead of exterminating the citizen, citizenship could be exterminated. SIR is the weapon forged for that kind of extermination. It exterminates citizenship of those unwanted elements by exterminating their franchise. It is clear that without franchise, citizenship is hollow, without substance. Disenfranchisement hollows out citizenship. Therefore, SIR is nothing but a bloodless political genocide. It exterminates citizenship, pushes people out of political society, and makes people stateless even as they continue to live within the borders of the Indian state. What CAA-NRC could not do, SIR is tasked to accomplish.

The idea of India as a state-nation (in contradistinction to a nation-state) that is home to diverse peoples, cultures, languages and religions is being dismantled at a fiendish pace.

Thank you for your attention.

Part one may be read here.

Related:

SIR and the Making of a Stateless Citizen? | R. Rajagopal Speaks Out | Teesta Setalvad

Bihar SIR: New elector applications doubled in just 2 days, showing a 96.6% increase

99.8% of 65 lakh voter deletions go unchallenged on 13th day of objection period

The Stolen Franchise: Why the Election Commission cannot escape accountability

Major Irregularities in 2024 Maharashtra Vidhan Sabha Polls; Vote for Democracy

The post Disenfranchisement route to Majoritarian Rule: Political Logic of SIR appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Within just four days of the commencement of SIR (SIR commenced on June 30, 2026), two BLOs have died in Karnataka. Another person collapsed due to severe stress and has been admitted to hospital.

In addition, as newspapers reported on July 6, yesterday, senior officials ‘have threatened BLOs with disciplinary action’, including removal from their jobs, if they fail to complete the distribution of forms today itself. This has created even more dangerous pressure on them. It is certain to have even more fatal consequences in the coming days.

Furthermore, voters across the state are facing numerous difficulties while filling out the Enumeration Form and are experiencing immense anxiety. In what is described as a simple process, election officials are failing to provide proper answers even to simple questions, thereby further increasing public anxiety.

It is only natural that this anxiety among the people will increase further after the publication of the draft roll-on August 5. During that period, the state is likely to witness even greater chaos and helpless anxiety among the people.

Therefore, conscious sections of society must remain alert, understand the causes behind all these tragedies, and stand against the danger.

In this context, it is necessary to understand the real reasons behind the inhuman pressures being created by the Commission.

What is causing the deaths of BLOs and the anxiety among voters?

In Karnataka, the process of distributing and collecting Enumeration Forms, which began on June 30, must be completed and digitised by July 29—that is, within one month. This is because the Election Commission (ECI) has, without any rational basis, imposed an unscientific and undemocratic deadline requiring the entire SIR process to be completed by October 2026—that is, within a total period of three months. It is this deadline that is creating enormous pressure on both BLOs and voters. This, when elections to the State Assembly are due only in mid-2028, that is at least 18 months after October 2026. Why then the unholy hurry?

What is the urgency behind the cut-off date of October 2026?

The ECI itself admits that the previous SIR in 2002 was carried out gradually over a period of one-and-a-half years.

The real motive and intention of the Commission and the ruling BJP regime is to complete SIR in 31 states across the country by December 2026, before the Census begins in February 2027. That is why this unscientific deadline has been imposed.

What is the connection between the Census and the SIR?

A Census is generally conducted to enumerate/count the population of the country. However, the Modi government –which heads an ideological majoritarian state– had intended to use the 2020 Census to verify people’s citizenship and to strip communities it did not want of their citizenship.

That is why the CAA was enacted in 2019.

For the 2020–21 Census, questionnaires had been prepared for creating the NPR (National Population Register) by asking people for ‘proof of citizenship.’

The plan was then to separate those who could prove their citizenship and prepare the NRC (National Register of Citizens). Those who could not provide proof of citizenship were to be excluded from the NRC, placed on a list of ‘suspected foreigners’, and subjected to processes aimed at deporting them from the country. Or else…

However, this could not be implemented because of a massive public outcry and sustained public protests. The Census itself was not conducted in 2020–21 because of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now, the Census is set to begin again in February 2027. (The house-listing exercise will be completed in 2026.) While only ₹3,000 crore was allocated for the Census in the 2025 Budget, ₹6,000 crore has been allocated in the 2026 Budget for conducting the NPR alongside the Census. Reported Moneycontrol.

This only means one thing: that the Modi government is now moving ahead to complete, during this Census, what it could not accomplish in 2019.

It is possible to carry out the NRC through the Census process itself. But instead of conducting the NRC directly, the same questions are now being asked through SIR, thereby completing the groundwork for the NRC.

Isn’t the SIR just a Voter Verification process?

No. The lawyers for the Election Commission in the proceedings contesting the controversial SIR before the Supreme Court have made it clear that SIR is being conducted to examine citizenship and not merely to revise electoral rolls:

“Revision of electoral rolls had been done earlier on the basis of self-declaration of citizenship. This [SIR 2025] we found was an opportune time to take note of this statutory amendment of 2003 and examine citizenship for the purpose of preparing the electoral roll.” – the Hindu

Understand the Chronology

First, SIR.
Then, the Census.
Alongside it, the NPR.
Immediately after that, the NRC.

Therefore, SIR is being rushed through in order to prepare lists of citizens and non-citizens required for the NPR, which is to be conducted alongside the 2027 Census, and for the NRC that is to follow.

This is the only reason why the present SIR enumeration process is being hurriedly completed within a three-month period even in states such as Karnataka, where elections are not currently due. SIR has to be completed across the country before the 2027 Census.

This is precisely why Chief Electoral Officers are pressuring BLOs to distribute, collect, and digitise SIR forms within one month.

Without providing proper and comprehensive training or the necessary time, BLOs are being threatened with various disciplinary measures if they fail to meet the targets within the prescribed period. That is why, as has happened in other states, a series of deaths among BLOs has now begun in Karnataka as well, with BLOs unable to withstand the pressure.

Although the SIR enumeration questionnaire may appear simple at first glance, it has created considerable confusion. It has been designed by officials who have little understanding of the lives and awareness levels of ordinary people, in order to serve the needs of their political masters.

People unfamiliar with the language of administration are filling out the forms in ways they understand and are consequently getting into difficulties. Here too, instead of creating awareness and collecting the forms patiently, the rushed process is causing anxiety among the people.

Following this difficult, non-transparent and unfriendly process, ‘the draft roll’ will be published on August 5. Those whose names are missing as well as those who receive notices because the information they have provided ‘fails to satisfy 12 categories of logical consistency checks’, (Logical Discrepancy), will thereafter get only one month to get their names re-inserted in the roll.

If they fail to provide documents that satisfy the administration within one month, they will be excluded from the roll.

This will then create even greater chaos and anxiety and may have fatal consequences for voters.

This then is the real reason behind the brutal administrative push to complete SIR before the Census begins.

This is the real reason. The only real reason

SIR is being conducted in order to unconstitutionally implement the BJP government’s politically malicious intentions and Hindutva’s agenda. To implement an untested, contested NRC through the backdoor.

To implement this plan of action (POA) aggressively, the Election Commission—acting as a puppet of the BJP—has devised extremely unscientific SIR criteria, impossible deadlines, an undemocratic process, and an anti-people questionnaire.

This is the cause of the deaths of BLOs, voters’ anxiety, and the developing anarchy.

There is only one solution:

Scrap The Unconstitutional SIR.
Let voter-roll revision be carried out patiently and in a people-friendly manner.
Let’s Act to save democracy.

[1] The National Population Register (NPR) is a comprehensive database of all ‘usual residents in India’, recording both citizens and foreign nationals.

[2] National Register of Citizens (NRC) was a requirement inserted by the 2003 Rules to the Indian Citizenship Act (CA) of 1955. In 2019-2020 the amendment to the CAA drew huge protests, delaying the process of excluding ‘undocumented’ Indians into a list of ‘suspected foreigners’

Related:

SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the very Idea of India?

Karnataka launches SIR with 5.5 crore voters, State Govt voices transparency concerns

Karnataka’s new PRC rules are people-friendly, but will the ECI accept them?

To Karnataka’s Anti-SIR Movement: A note of caution and concern

Anti-SIR Activists Beware: A mere Residential Certificate does not satisfy SIR requirements

The post SIR 2025-2026: A backdoor exercise to bring in the NRC? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This exercise—despite robust contestation –has been unfortunately endorsed by the Supreme Court of India. Despite being conducted with unaccountability to well established law and procedure, in haste and utter opacity that has already ensured the disenfranchisement of millions of Indians from the constitutional right to vote.

Delivering the P.V. Narasimha Rao Memorial Lecture 2026 at the Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University recently, Prabhakar elaborated on a theme that he has been de-constructing for close to a year.

Sabrangindia is publishing this lecture, in two parts, today and tomorrow.

If I were to ever consider myself privileged, blessed, and fortunate I will do so only for one reason: that is, I have known Sri PV Narasimha Rao personally.

Although I have known him since my childhood, it was mainly during my days in Delhi for my university education that I met him and came to know of him much more. I conversed with him, argued with him, learnt from him, sat in silence with him, ate with him, travelled with him, even played badminton with him.

This was an unearned privilege. I did not do anything to deserve it. I simply happened to be the son of his political colleague and friend. That privilege gave me an opportunity to watch one of the greatest personalities of modern India, close-up.

Delivering the PV Narasimha Rao Memorial lecture, therefore, is a very poignant occasion for me.

I express my gratitude to Professor Ghanta Chakrapani, his colleagues, and everyone in this great University associated with organising today’s lecture.

Alarm Bells

I would begin by sounding alarm bells.

We might not be able to hold this kind of gatherings freely in the coming days. You might have to check with the powers that be whether you could invite a particular speaker, whether the speaker could speak on a particular subject. You might even be asked to submit the text of the speaker’s address in advance for them to decide whether the speaker should be allowed to air this or that point of view. You might have to cancel speaking invitations – sometimes, even at the last-minute. To avoid all such chaos and loss of face, sooner than later, you might volunteer to abandon all such discourses.

This is a strong probability now. It is staring in our face. Have no illusions.

This year on the August 15, 2026 there is a good chance that our beloved Tricolour would be hoisted on the Red Fort. Whether it would fly there on the next Independence Day, I am not sure of. It is not difficult for you to guess which could be the flag to take the tricolour’s place.

Recently, the Union government has issued a circular. It is now mandatory that all the six stanzas of Vande Mataram are sung at all Union Government’s official gatherings and functions. The circular also laid down that Vande Mataram had to be sung before the National Anthem, Jana Gana Mana. Not before long, excuses would be made to dispense with Jana Gana Mana. They would say since they are running out of time and as they have already sung Vande Mataram, they might skip Jana Gana Mana. That excuse might sound innocuous. But that excuse would only be a transitory one, until Jana Gana Mana disappears. And then would follow an official decision to do away with Jana Gana Mana.

People who have keenly followed the recent 10-hour marathon discussion in our Lok Sabha on Vande Mataram cannot escape this fear.

The Union Government has recently constituted a High-Level Committee on Demographic Changes (HLCDC). The Terms of Reference of the Committee repeatedly mention ‘illegal immigration’ as one of the justifications for constituting the Committee. That makes obvious the government’s intention of branding certain communities as unwanted residents of this country.

Now, I have got these anxieties off my chest.

Marketing SIR: Effort to Clean Up Electoral Rolls?

I will now use the remaining part of the time given to me to speak about the currently ongoing massive exercise to revise Electoral Rolls in our country. It is called Special Intensive Revision (SIR). I would dwell on what it would mean to our cherished idea of India as a secular democracy and to our Republic that is committed to deliver justice, liberty, equality and fraternity to the people of this land. A staunch champion of these ideals was Babasaheb Ambedkar, after whom this great institution is named.

SIR is presented to the people as an attempt to clean up the electoral rolls. The Election Commission of India (ECI) marketed it as an exercise meant to delete the names of Absent, Shifted, Dead, Duplicate (ASDD) voters from the rolls. It is also marketed as a measure to detect and delete foreigners from the voters’ lists.

If our electoral rolls had unacceptable number of such ASDD voters and foreigners in them, our previous elections and the mandates they produced, by implication, are rendered questionable. The successive Lok Sabhas and state assemblies – even the mandates of 2014, 2019 and 2024 as well as the governments those mandates produced – in effect, have to be treated as lacking in legitimacy. If that is the implication of the ECI’s claim of impure electoral rolls, then our democracy is and has been in grave jeopardy.

The present ECI, wittingly or unwittingly, is levelling a serious allegation against all the previous ECIs. As a consequence, it also makes the legitimacy of earlier mandates too questionable.

But as I would try to show here, the ECI’s claims about ‘impure’ electoral rolls and stated purpose of carrying out SIR lack conviction. The present ECI’s intent behind conducting SIR is dubious. It leads one to suspect that SIR is not an exercise to weed out ASDD voters but it is a part of the larger project to transform the nature and composition of the country’s political society.

Before I explore the nature of this project, I would like to dwell on the opacity of the ECI and the glaring irregularities that render the intent behind the SIR exercise, suspect.

SIR has to be evaluated against the justifications offered by the ECI. These justifications are:

1) Time Lapse: This is the primary justification. The ECI argued that more than 20 years have elapsed between the last Intensive Revision and now.

2) Demographic Shifts: Large scale urbanisation, large scale migration, and population changes resulted in demographic shifts and necessitated a comprehensive house-to-house clean-up.

3) Database Errors: the ECI had said that the Revision was intended to purge duplicate entries, ghost voters, unreported deaths and unverified entries from the voters’ lists.

These stated objectives are noble. I don’t think anyone in this room disagrees with these objectives. We all want our voter lists to be clean, free from errors. We do not want dead peoples’ names in the electoral rolls, we want duplicate names eliminated, unverified names deleted, and ghost voters removed.

We have a process called Special Summary Revision (SSR). This summary revision is carried out every year. It eliminates dead, shifted and absent voters. It includes persons who attained the voting age at that time and also adds who came into that area after the last such revision had happened.

ECI’s Opacity

After the 2024 General Elections SSR (Special Summary Revision) has taken place. Then on what basis did the ECI come to the conclusion that it should undertake (yet another) an intensive revision? In its affidavit to the Supreme Court of India (SC), responding to petitions that were filed challenging the constitutional validity of SIR, the ECI said an independent appraisal had found that there were errors in the electoral rolls after SSR.

When information about the ‘independent appraisal’ was sought under the Right to Information (RTI) Act, the ECI did not reveal any details. Until we started the meeting here, the ECI did not say who did the appraisal, what were its recommendations. It still refuses to put the report of that independent appraisal in public domain. No one has seen it.

The ECI has admitted on record in response to an RTI query that it had no record of why or how the SIR was initiated.

To another RTI query seeking “reference number of all files in which decision to initiate a Special Intensive Revision (SIR) across the country in 2025…” is to be found, Mr T.C. Kom, Principal Secretary of the ECI said, “…the requisite information is not available…in any material form.” He said that because the “…RTI Act mandated to disclose information which is available…in material form only” and since information on how the decision was taken on the SIR roll out was not available in ‘material form’, there was nothing for him to disclose.

The question that arises is: why is the decision to conduct SIR taken in secrecy and why are there no records in material form of files and correspondence in the Commission, if the intentions behind SIR are bona fide? Is this not opaque and highly suspect?

Suspicions and apprehensions about SIR are heightened after its completion in Bihar, followed by nine other states and three Union Territories. These states include West Bengal, Tamil Nadu, Pondicherry, Kerala, Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan.

In Bihar about 80 lakh names were eliminated from the voters’ list and about 21 lakh voters were added. Over 2.04 crore voters were removed from UP’s electoral rolls, and 84 lakh new voters were added. The story is similar in every state. Deletions ranged between 24 lakhs in Kerala and 97 lakhs in Tamil Nadu, and over 2 crores in Uttar Pradesh.

The SIR deletions fail the demographic test. In all these states, the number of voters after the final revised electoral roll falls short of the size of the adult population in those states. Since ours is a democracy based on universal adult franchise, the number of voters should be equivalent to the adult population in a state. If a state’s adult population is 100, the number of voters in that state ought to be 100, ideally. If it is 99 or 101, one can accommodate that number. But it is unacceptable to have 70 or 130 voters in the final revised list. In UP, the final number of voters after SIR falls short of the state’s adult population by 2.83 crores. In Bihar, the figure is about 80 lakhs.

What accounts for this short fall? The ECI does not tell us.

Among the deleted, voters belonging to Minorities, Dalit and Adivasi communities, daily wage earners, poor and illiterate persons are disproportionately high in number. Among these sections, women constitute a substantial portion. Studies have established that SIR adversely impacted women’s potential political participation in our polity. Many among these are unlikely to know that they were disenfranchised. Even if they know they are too weak and incapable to make their protesting voices heard.

Was There an SIR Before?

The ECI claimed that SIR was done once before too, in the year 2002. I would like to ask those who are here today and who were voters in 2002 a question. Does anybody here recall having gone to any government official to prove you were eligible to be a voter? I was a voter in 2002. I never went to anybody carrying a bundle of documents to establish that I was eligible to be a voter. When I asked this question in different gatherings that I addressed in different parts of the country, so far not a single person said they had to prove their eligibility.

Therefore, the revision that happened in 2002 was entirely different from what is going on now in the name of SIR. The ECI is misleading the country.

When activists wanted to know what the 2002 revision’s guidelines were so that they could compare them with the present revision’s guidelines, they sought the information under RTI. The ECI said that they had no copy of the 2002 guidelines, and they were not obliged to give documents from over 20 years ago under the RTI rules. This again is far from the truth and reveals the opacity of the ECI.

There is one more misleading information from the ECI. The exercise conducted in 2002 was called Special Revision of an intensive nature. It was not Special Intensive Revision. It required the ECI to do the revision transparently by vetting the revisions against the then existing ‘mother list’. Those 2002 guidelines mandated that the exercise be carried out openly in Gram Sabhas and Ward Committee meetings.

Arbitrary revisions had no room in the 2002 revision.

Why is the ECI misinforming the country about the 2002 revision exercise?

SIR: Marketing vs Reality

From several investigative studies it has now come to light that many who were listed as dead are actually alive. Some of them were presented to the Supreme Court. The Hindu, a newspaper known for its diligent reporting, carried out a study in Tamil Nadu which found that the age of those listed as dead did not conform to the mortality trends in the official data on the basis of their age. The numbers defied the overall trend. In Bengal many deleted voters listed as dead and absent thronged the local government offices that were involved in SIR exercise.

In Bihar, the electoral roll that was supposed to have been cleaned up had 1.32 crore fake addresses. In Barachatti assembly constituency of the state 877 voters were shown as residing in one address in a village. In Pipra constituency’s Galimpur village 509 voters were registered in one address. The address was not just wrong. It does not exist. There are several such examples from the state. In all the 243 constituencies, 14.35 lakh duplicate voters were found by investigative journalists.

Weeding out of infiltrators or foreigners also turns out to be a phony claim. In Bihar the total number of objections raised on the basis of being foreigners were 1087. Out of which only 390 were found to be in order and accepted for verification. Of them only 76 were Muslims. And of them, 10 were in Seemanchal region. Of these 10 from Seemanchal, only five were Muslims. Of those five, 2 were dead. Finally, only 3 were identified as foreigners. But the viral propaganda in the social media continues to show that thousands of infiltrators have been detected and deleted and are now running away from the country in droves.

If weeding out foreigners and non-citizens was one of the primary concerns of SIR as claimed by the ECI, the most eligible candidate state for conducting the exercise ought to be Assam. If there was ever a state in the Indian Union where citizenship became the most contested issue, it was Assam. But it is ironic that the ECI decided to do only a Special Revision (SR) in the state, and not SIR. The total number of voters who were put in the doubtful category – the ‘D’ category – in the state during the NRC exercise was 19 lakhs. Of which 12 lakhs are Hindus and 7 lakhs are Muslims.

This data makes the ECI vulnerable to the charge that it did not conduct SIR in Assam to avoid because pronouncing 7 lakh Muslims ineligible for voting will requires it to pronouncing 12 lakh Hindus also ineligible for voting. After the SR in Assam, the total deletions amounted to under 3 lakhs. This figure is in stark contrast to the tens of lakhs of voter deletions in other states. In Assam, the officials went from house to house to update electoral rolls. The burden of enrolling was not put on the people there. That is not the case with the rest of the country. Why?

Despite clear evidence to the contrary, the narrative propagated by the ECI and the present ruling dispensation that SIR is meant only to clean up voters’ lists still has takers. Many do believe it.

Note: To be followed by Part 2: Disenfranchisement is the route Majoritarian Rule: The Political Logic of SIR examines how large-scale voter deletions could fundamentally reshape India’s political system.

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Karnataka launches SIR with 5.5 crore voters, State Govt voices transparency concerns

The post SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the very Idea of India? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The story of Punjab ’95—eventually released on ZEE5 as Satluj—has now become far larger than the film itself. It has evolved into one of the most significant contemporary debates on censorship, artistic freedom and the State’s uneasy relationship with politically sensitive histories. At its centre, lies a profound constitutional question: Can a democracy allow uncomfortable truths to be told through cinema, particularly when those truths concern allegations of abuse by State institutions?

The controversy surrounding Satluj is not simply about certification by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), nor is it confined to questions of film regulation. It raises broader concerns about whether politically inconvenient narratives can find space in India’s public sphere at all. Over the course of three years, the film encountered repeated delays, demands for sweeping edits, multiple title changes, withdrawal from an international film festival, abandonment of its theatrical release, and finally, removal from an OTT platform within days of release. Each development added another layer to an increasingly troubling narrative about the shrinking space available for artistic engagement with contentious political history.

Ironically, the film itself tells the story of a man who dedicated his life to uncovering suppressed truths. That parallel has not gone unnoticed. Following the film’s removal from ZEE5, lead actor Diljit Dosanjh shared a still from the film on Instagram with a pointed message in Punjabi: “The same thing that happened to Satluj also happened to Shaheed Jaswant Singh Khalra.” Accompanied by the caption “I challenge the darkness,” the post transformed the controversy from a dispute over streaming rights into a larger commentary on memory, erasure and the continuing discomfort surrounding Khalra’s legacy. As reported by Hindustan Times, this marked Dosanjh’s first public response after the film’s abrupt removal, directly drawing a connection between the silencing of Khalra’s work in 1995 and what he perceived as the silencing of the film today. That comparison goes to the heart of why Satluj has generated such intense public debate.

Unlike fictional political dramas, Satluj is rooted in the life of a real human rights defender whose investigations forced India to confront one of the darkest chapters of Punjab’s insurgency years.

The story the film sought to tell

Originally conceived under the title Ghallughara, later renamed Punjab ’95, and finally released as Satluj, the film chronicles the life of Jaswant Singh Khalra, the Punjab-based human rights activist whose investigations into alleged enforced disappearances and secret cremations during the militancy period fundamentally altered public understanding of State violence in Punjab. Khalra was not a lawyer, journalist or politician.

He was a bank employee who gradually transformed into one of Punjab’s most influential human rights investigators after uncovering records revealing that thousands of unidentified bodies had been secretly cremated by the police without informing families or following legal procedure. By examining cremation registers and municipal records, Khalra alleged that security forces had carried out large-scale illegal cremations of persons who had disappeared during counter-insurgency operations. His work suggested that many of these individuals had never entered the criminal justice system at all.

These revelations that also attracted international attention and intensified demands for accountability during a period when allegations of fake encounters, custodial killings and enforced disappearances had already become the subject of sustained concern among domestic and international human rights organisations. Numerous media reports at the time documented Khalra’s efforts to compile documentary evidence of these alleged abuses and to bring them before judicial institutions and international forums. His investigations, however, came at an enormous personal cost.

[[On the disappearances in Punjab, the same subject that Khalra spent and gave his life working on, the Working Group (of the United Nations) on Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances, established in 1980, reported large numbers of enforced disappearances, attributing primary responsibility to the Punjab police. The Working Group also held that officers of the Punjab police acted with virtual impunity, disobeyed judicial orders, even ignored writs of habeas corpus and intimidated family members of disappeared persons so as to make them refrain from making complaints. The Group’s 1996/97 report also mentioned the disappearance of Jaswant Singh Khalra after he filed the petition regarding illegal cremations in the High Court, alleging that many of the cremated had been arrested by the Punjab police.[1]]]. Read Communalism Combat’s 2003 report on mass crimes violations here and here.

On September 6, 1995, Khalra was abducted outside his residence in Amritsar. According to findings that later emerged through criminal proceedings, he was illegally detained, tortured and murdered. His body was allegedly disposed of in the Harike canal after his killing. Following sustained litigation by his wife, Paramjit Kaur Khalra, the investigation was transferred to the Central Bureau of Investigation by the Supreme Court. Several Punjab Police officials were eventually convicted for Khalra’s abduction and murder, convictions that were later upheld through the judicial process. His death transformed him from a human rights investigator into one of the most enduring symbols of the struggle against impunity in India.

A film that was never intended to be fiction

Unlike many historical dramas that borrow loosely from real events, Punjab ’95 was conceived as a biographical account inspired by Khalra’s life and struggles. Produced by Ronnie Screwvala’s RSVP Movies in collaboration with MacGuffin Pictures and directed by Honey Trehan, the film cast Diljit Dosanjh in what he would later describe as one of the most meaningful roles of his career.

According to both Trehan and Dosanjh, the project was undertaken with the consent and involvement of Khalra’s family. Paramjit Kaur Khalra reportedly viewed the completed film and confirmed that the version eventually released was the same version the family had previously seen, reinforcing the filmmakers’ assertion that they had resisted attempts to dilute the substance of the narrative. As Trehan later told Variety, only the title changed; the filmmakers maintained that the content remained intact despite years of pressure.

Dosanjh repeatedly emphasised that it was Khalra’s sacrifice, rather than commercial considerations, that persuaded him to join the project. Before the OTT release, he described the film as a story of “conviction, courage and humanity” and remarked that opportunities to participate in narratives of such historical significance were rare.

Three years in limbo

Completed several years ago, the film was submitted to the Central Board of Film Certification in 2022 for theatrical release. What followed would become one of the most controversial certification disputes in recent Indian cinema.

According to the filmmakers, the CBFC initially sought an unprecedented 127 cuts, in addition to changes to the title and other modifications before certification could be granted. The scale of the proposed changes was extraordinary, particularly for a film based on documented historical events.

Detailed report may be read here.

The battle over Punjab ’95 did not end with the CBFC’s reported insistence on over a hundred cuts. If anything, that confrontation marked only the beginning of a prolonged struggle that would span multiple years, multiple titles, multiple release plans and multiple forums before culminating in an unprecedented removal from an OTT platform.

For most films, certification is an administrative hurdle preceding release. For Punjab ’95, certification itself became the site of contestation over who gets to narrate history—and under what conditions.

The filmmakers consistently maintained that the film sought neither to sensationalise Punjab’s militancy nor to reopen old political wounds. Rather, they argued that it was an attempt to document the life of a man whose investigations into alleged enforced disappearances had already been acknowledged through judicial proceedings and whose murder had resulted in criminal convictions. Yet despite drawing from documented events, the film remained caught in a prolonged impasse with the certification authorities.

The Changing of Names: From Ghallughara to Punjab ’95 to Satluj

Perhaps no aspect of the film’s journey illustrates the pressures surrounding politically sensitive storytelling more vividly than its repeated changes of title. The project was originally announced under the title Ghallughara, a deeply significant Punjabi word historically associated with the massacres of Sikhs in 1746, 1762 and, in contemporary political discourse, often invoked in relation to the violence of 1984. The title immediately situated the film within a broader historical memory of collective trauma.

However, when the film entered the certification process, the title reportedly became one of the points of objection. According to several media reports, including Times of India, the filmmakers were asked to abandon the original title. The project subsequently became Punjab ’95, directly referencing the year in which Jaswant Singh Khalra was abducted and killed. Even that proved insufficient. After years of delays, the filmmakers were ultimately unable to retain Punjab ’95 either.

When the film finally appeared before audiences in July 2026, it carried an entirely different name—Satluj, named after the river that flows through Punjab. The change was not a creative choice.

Director Honey Trehan candidly acknowledged this reality while speaking to Variety, explaining simply that they could not secure the previous title and therefore the film would release under the name Satluj. The statement itself reflected the unusual circumstances surrounding the production. Rarely does a filmmaker publicly acknowledge that a title central to the identity of a film had to be abandoned not because of artistic reconsideration but because it could not obtain approval.

The film that never reached Toronto

The obstacles facing Punjab ’95 were not confined to India. In September 2023, the film had been selected for a world premiere at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), one of the world’s most important platforms for independent and political cinema. An international premiere would have introduced Khalra’s story to global audiences and placed the film within broader conversations on human rights and transitional justice. That premiere never happened. Just a day before its scheduled screening, the film was withdrawn from the festival.

Although no detailed official explanation was provided, Variety reported that sources attributed the withdrawal to political considerations, while several Indian publications subsequently highlighted the episode as another indication of the extraordinary pressures surrounding the project. The withdrawal immediately attracted attention because it departed from the normal dynamics of international film festivals.

Films are occasionally withdrawn because of production delays, unresolved rights disputes or technical reasons. Here, however, the project had already been completed. The concern centred not on the film’s readiness but on its subject matter. The aborted TIFF premiere therefore became another episode in the film’s increasingly remarkable history—one in which institutional obstacles repeatedly emerged whenever the film appeared close to reaching public audiences.

Abandoning theatres

Following years of uncertainty, repeated certification disputes and prolonged delays, the producers eventually abandoned plans for a theatrical release altogether. This decision itself was significant. Unlike theatrical exhibition, films released directly on OTT platforms generally do not require prior certification under the existing regulatory framework governing streaming services. For many filmmakers working on politically contentious subjects, digital platforms have increasingly been viewed as an alternative avenue for audiences after theatrical certification becomes difficult.

It appeared that Punjab ’95 had finally found that route. Director Honey Trehan repeatedly emphasised that the version eventually released digitally represented the film as originally intended. Paramjit Kaur Khalra, the widow of Jaswant Singh Khalra, reportedly viewed the completed version and confirmed that the film remained unchanged in substance. Trehan similarly stated that the version released on ZEE5 was the same film that had been defended throughout the certification battle.

Diljit Dosanjh echoed those assertions. During interactions with audiences before the release, he stated that if even a single cut had been imposed on the film, he would not have promoted it. According to media reports, he maintained that the film audiences would eventually watch was identical to the version he had seen years earlier.

For the filmmakers, the digital release therefore represented something more than distribution. It represented vindication. After years of negotiations, delays and resistance, the film would finally be seen. Or so it appeared.

When Satluj eventually appeared on ZEE5 on July 3, 2026, there was little of the elaborate publicity normally associated with a major release featuring one of India’s biggest stars. Diljit Dosanjh’s films typically receive extensive promotional campaigns across television, digital media and live events. Yet Satluj arrived with remarkably subdued publicity.

Forty-Eight Hours Later: The film disappears again

If the release of Satluj appeared to mark the end of one of Indian cinema’s longest censorship battles, what followed instead transformed the controversy into something arguably even more troubling. The film became available on ZEE5 on July 3, 2026. Within two days, it was gone.

On July 5, viewers attempting to access the film in India found that it had been removed from the platform. No advance notice had been issued. No detailed explanation accompanied the decision. A film that had survived years of certification disputes, title changes and release delays had once again become inaccessible to Indian audiences. This time, however, the removal did not originate from the Central Board of Film Certification. It came after the film had already been released. That distinction is constitutionally significant.

For decades, debates around censorship in India have centred on the CBFC’s powers before a film reaches theatres. Satluj presents an altogether different phenomenon: a film that was already lawfully available for public viewing disappearing from a digital platform after release, without any publicly available legal order directing its removal.

The episode immediately raised difficult questions about the growing vulnerability of artistic expression in the digital age. If films can be withdrawn after release without transparent legal processes or publicly disclosed reasons, censorship itself begins to move beyond formal statutory mechanisms into a far more opaque domain.

ZEE5’s unusual statement

Soon after the removal, ZEE5 confirmed that Satluj would no longer be available to stream in India. Its statement, however, was remarkable not only for what it said, but also for what it omitted. The platform thanked audiences for the “overwhelming response” received during the brief period the film remained online and declared that it stood firmly behind both the film and its creators.

“At ZEE5, we stand firmly by Satluj and the creative vision behind it. We believe powerful storytelling has the ability to inspire, endure and leave a lasting impact. We remain committed to championing authentic and meaningful narratives.”

The platform further stated: “In light of the current developments, Satluj will be unavailable in India until further notice.”

It assured viewers that it was exploring “every appropriate avenue through due process” to restore the film and reiterated its commitment to artistic integrity and meaningful storytelling. Yet nowhere did the statement explain what those “current developments” were.

Satluj may have paused. But the conversation it started hasn’t.

Thank you for the incredible love.
We hope to bring it back soon.#Satluj pic.twitter.com/Ox3MZIBvlT

— ZEE5Official (@ZEE5India) July 5, 2026

The ambiguity immediately became the central feature of the controversy. Neither the platform nor any government authority publicly disclosed what had changed between July 3, when the film was made available, and July 5, when it became unavailable. For a controversy that had already stretched across three years, the absence of transparency only intensified speculation.

Government sources and the ‘Anti-India’ explanation

Although no formal governmental order directing removal entered the public domain, reports published by NDTV cited official sources claiming that certain portions of the film could be misused by “anti-India forces.” According to those reports, the concern was not merely the subject matter itself but the possibility that specific scenes or narratives could allegedly be exploited by hostile actors. Sources also noted that while OTT platforms are not subject to prior certification requirements comparable to theatrical films, concerns had been raised regarding the content after its release. These reported explanations immediately generated fresh debate.

The phrase “anti-India forces” has increasingly appeared in public discourse surrounding politically sensitive expression. Yet its deployment in relation to a feature film based on documented historical events raised difficult questions.

• What precisely constituted the objectionable material?
• Which portions of the film were considered problematic?
• Did those portions depart from established judicial records?
• Had any competent authority examined whether the film incited violence or hatred?

No detailed answers were forthcoming. Instead, the controversy became characterised by broad assertions about national interest without corresponding public disclosure of the legal or factual basis for restricting access.

Restrictions on freedom of expression under Article 19(2) of the Constitution cannot ordinarily rest upon vague apprehensions alone. They must satisfy recognised constitutional grounds, such as sovereignty and integrity of India, public order, security of the State or incitement to an offence, and must also withstand judicial scrutiny regarding necessity and proportionality. Whether those standards were met in the case of Satluj remains impossible to evaluate because the reasons underlying the film’s removal have never been publicly articulated.

Diljit Dosanjh saw it coming

One of the most striking aspects of the controversy is that the film’s lead actor appeared to anticipate precisely what would happen. During an Instagram Live interaction with viewers shortly after the release, Diljit Dosanjh candidly admitted that he feared the film might not remain available for long.

“Today is Saturday. I feel it could be taken down by Monday. But no worries—you download it.”

The remark, widely reported by Hindustan Times, Times of India and other publications, initially appeared almost humorous. Within hours, it proved prophetic. After the removal, Dosanjh became considerably more direct. Posting a still from the film, he wrote:

“The same thing that happened to Satluj also happened to Shaheed Jaswant Singh Khalra.”

According to Dosanjh, the film recounting that struggle had itself become the subject of suppression. He later remarked that he had repeatedly wondered whether audiences would ever be allowed to watch the film at all, asking publicly: “Can’t we tell our own story?”

Beyond Satluj: What the controversy says about censorship in contemporary India

The removal of Satluj should not be viewed as an isolated controversy involving a single film, a streaming platform or a celebrated actor. Rather, it reflects a much broader transformation in how politically sensitive speech is regulated in India.

Traditionally, censorship in India has been associated with the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). Under the Cinematograph Act, films intended for theatrical release require certification before they can be publicly exhibited. That certification process has always been contentious. Filmmakers have repeatedly criticised the CBFC for functioning not merely as a certifying body but as an authority empowered to determine what citizens should or should not watch.

Over the years, several judicial decisions, including the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, have emphasised that freedom of expression cannot be curtailed merely because a section of society finds a work controversial or offensive. In Rangarajan, the Court famously observed that freedom of expression cannot be suppressed on account of threat of demonstration or violence, warning that doing so would amount to surrendering constitutional freedoms to those willing to intimidate or disrupt public order.

The Court’s reasoning was unequivocal. If a film does not fall within the limited restrictions recognised under Article 19(2) of the Constitution, the State has an obligation to protect its exhibition rather than prohibit it merely because some groups oppose it. That constitutional philosophy appears increasingly difficult to reconcile with the contemporary reality confronting politically sensitive artistic works.

From formal censorship to informal control

The Satluj controversy demonstrates how censorship itself appears to be evolving. The earlier model was comparatively straightforward. A filmmaker submitted a completed work to the CBFC. The Board either certified it, sought modifications or refused certification. Its decisions could then be challenged before appellate authorities and constitutional courts. There existed, at least formally, a transparent statutory process.

The controversy surrounding Satluj suggests something considerably more complex. After years of battling certification, the filmmakers shifted to an OTT platform, where prior certification is generally unnecessary. The assumption was that digital distribution would allow audiences to access the work without navigating the same regulatory obstacles applicable to theatrical releases. Instead, the film disappeared after release, without a publicly available legal order, without any transparent adjudicatory process or without detailed reasons.

That shift is significant because it signals a movement away from formal censorship towards what many scholars describe as informal or indirect censorship—a situation in which legal prohibitions are replaced by institutional pressure, regulatory uncertainty, commercial risk or opaque decision-making.

The consequence may ultimately be the same. The public is denied access to the work. The only difference is that responsibility becomes more difficult to locate. Was the removal voluntary or was it prompted by governmental communication?  Did legal concerns emerge after release or were there political pressures? The public still does not know. In constitutional democracies, opacity itself is a problem. Restrictions upon expression derive legitimacy not merely from statutory authority but from transparency, accountability and the possibility of judicial review. When those elements disappear, censorship becomes considerably more difficult to challenge.

Political sensitivity is not a constitutional ground for censorship

One feature unites many of the most controversial censorship disputes in independent India- they concern politically sensitive history. Films addressing communal violence, caste oppression, insurgency, police excesses, emergency-era abuses or governmental failures have repeatedly encountered resistance from one institution or another.

Yet the Constitution contains no exception permitting censorship merely because a subject is politically uncomfortable. Article 19(1)(a) guarantees every citizen the right to freedom of speech and expression. That freedom is undoubtedly subject to reasonable restrictions under Article 19(2). Those restrictions include sovereignty and integrity of India, security of the State, public order, decency, morality, contempt of court, defamation and incitement to offences.

Notice what does not appear in Article 19(2)- there is no constitutional category called political sensitivity. There is no ground permitting restrictions because historical events remain controversial. Nor does the Constitution authorise suppression because a work may embarrass governments, expose institutional failures or revisit contested episodes of national history. Democracies are expected to accommodate precisely such speech.

Indeed, constitutional protections become most meaningful when they shield expression that unsettles prevailing political narratives. Speech that is universally accepted rarely requires constitutional protection. It is controversial speech, provided it remains within constitutional limits, that tests the strength of democratic institutions.

The chilling effect on political cinema

The implications of the Satluj controversy extend far beyond this single production. Cinema is an extraordinarily resource-intensive medium. A politically sensitive feature film often requires years of research, substantial financial investment and the willingness of producers, distributors and actors to assume considerable commercial risk.

When filmmakers witness a project spending three years in certification disputes, reportedly facing over one hundred proposed cuts, undergoing repeated title changes, losing its theatrical release, withdrawing from an international film festival and finally disappearing from a streaming platform within forty-eight hours, the lesson extends beyond that individual case. The consequence is self-censorship.

Future filmmakers may decide that certain subjects are simply not worth pursuing. Producers may avoid financing projects concerning custodial violence, communal riots, insurgency, enforced disappearances or politically contentious episodes. Streaming platforms may hesitate before acquiring similarly sensitive content. Actors may decline participation. Writers may soften narratives before anyone even asks them to do so. This phenomenon, the suppression of expression not through direct prohibition but through anticipatory fear, is one of the most enduring concerns in free speech jurisprudence.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly recognised that vague or excessive restrictions create a “chilling effect” on expression, discouraging lawful speech because individuals cannot confidently predict where regulatory boundaries actually lie.

Whose history is remembered?

At its core, the controversy surrounding Satluj is ultimately about memory. Jaswant Singh Khalra dedicated his life to documenting disappearances that many families feared would never be officially acknowledged. His investigations attempted to preserve records that otherwise risked disappearing from public consciousness. The film sought to tell that story. Whether audiences agree with every creative choice made by the filmmakers is beside the point.

Democratic societies do not require unanimity regarding historical interpretation. They require the freedom to debate it. Cinema occupies a unique place within that process. Unlike academic writing or judicial decisions, films reach millions who may never otherwise encounter chapters of history.

The journey of Punjab ’95—from Ghallughara, to Punjab ’95, to Satluj—is no longer simply the story of a film. It is the story of the increasingly uncertain space occupied by politically sensitive artistic expression in contemporary India.

A project inspired by the life of a murdered human rights activist reportedly encountered years of certification disputes, demands for extensive alterations, repeated title changes, the cancellation of its international premiere, the abandonment of theatrical release, and finally, its removal from an OTT platform within two days of release. Whether each of those developments arose from formal regulatory decisions, institutional caution or broader political sensitivities, the cumulative effect is unmistakable.

The public conversation has shifted from the content of the film to the conditions under which difficult histories may be narrated at all. That shift should concern anyone committed to constitutional democracy. The measure of a democracy is not how comfortably it accommodates stories that reinforce official narratives. It is how confidently it allows the telling of stories that question power, revisit painful histories and compel institutions to confront uncomfortable truths. The legacy of Jaswant Singh Khalra reminds us that documenting history is often an act of courage. The journey of Satluj suggests that saying that history through cinema may require courage too.

[1] E/CN. 4/1996/38, Commission on Human Rights, Fifty-second session, Report of the Working Group on Enforced on Involuntary Disappearances, paras 236-240; E/CN. 4/1997/34, para 181—from Background Materials by Ram Narayan Kumar for the Conference at Boston in 2003

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The post From Punjab ’95 to Satluj: When cinema becomes a battlefield over history, memory and censorship appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In a detailed judgment running over thirty pages, Justice Sachin Datta awarded ₹18.44 lakh as compensation to the father of 19-year-old Deepak, who died while lodged in the lock-up of Police Station Karawal Nagar, Delhi in January 2018.[1] The Court held that once a person’s liberty is curtailed by the State, the constitutional obligation to safeguard that person’s life becomes absolute, and any failure to discharge that obligation amounts to an infringement of the fundamental right guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution.

Far more than an ordinary compensation order, the judgment is an extensive survey of constitutional jurisprudence on custodial deaths. Drawing from landmark Supreme Court authorities including Nilabati Behera v. State of Orissa, D.K. Basu v. State of West Bengal, In Re: Inhuman Conditions in 1382 Prisons, alongside important High Court decisions from Delhi, Bombay, Karnataka, Punjab and Haryana, Allahabad and elsewhere, the Court reiterated that the State cannot evade constitutional responsibility merely because the exact cause of death remains disputed or because officials deny direct involvement.

Most importantly, the Court emphatically rejected the argument that a custodial suicide stands outside State responsibility. It observed that suicide within police custody is itself an unnatural custodial death and reflects a failure of those entrusted with the legal duty of ensuring the prisoner’s safety. Consequently, the State cannot avoid liability by arguing that the deceased took his own life.

The judgment is likely to assume considerable importance in future litigation involving custodial deaths, police accountability and constitutional compensation. Besides strengthening the evolving doctrine of public law compensation under Article 21, it also adopts the multiplier method commonly employed in motor accident compensation cases to determine damages in custodial death claims, thereby providing a more structured framework for assessing compensation in such cases.

The background

The writ petition was filed by Shyam Sundar, who approached the Delhi High Court seeking constitutional compensation following the death of his son Deepak, who died while in police custody at Police Station Karawal Nagar. The petition invoked the extraordinary jurisdiction of the High Court under Article 226, alleging a grave violation of the deceased’s fundamental right to life.

The events giving rise to the petition began on January 15, 2018, when Deepak was arrested at approximately 11:10 a.m. from the premises of Karkardooma Courts by Sub-Inspector Sandeep in connection with FIR No. 334 of 2017 registered at Police Station Karawal Nagar. According to the petitioner, after learning of his son’s arrest, he visited the police station to meet him. Instead of being allowed to meet his son, he himself was allegedly detained and confined inside the lock-up alongside Deepak for several hours. He was released only around 5:30 p.m. that evening.

The father’s account, recorded in the judgment, paints a disturbing picture of what allegedly transpired inside the police station. He alleged that both he and his son were subjected to physical assault, intimidation and abuse by police officials, specifically naming Sub-Inspector Sandeep and Constable Karamveer Singh. According to the petition, the officers allegedly demanded ₹20,000 to ₹30,000 in exchange for securing Deepak’s release.

The allegations did not end there. Later that same night, the father allegedly received a telephone call from Sub-Inspector Sandeep seeking further particulars regarding Deepak. During that conversation, according to the petitioner, the demand for money was reiterated. Being a person of limited financial means, the father informed the officer that he was incapable of arranging such an amount.

The following morning, believing that his son would be produced before a magistrate, the father contacted the police station. He was initially informed that Deepak had indeed been produced before the court.

Shortly thereafter, however, the situation took a devastating turn. The petitioner received a phone call from a local political leader informing him that Deepak had allegedly committed suicide while in police custody. By 11:56 a.m. on 16 January 2018, Deepak had been declared “brought dead” at Guru Tegh Bahadur Hospital.

The police thereafter sought a magisterial inquiry into the custodial death. Interestingly, as recorded in the judgment, the very officer against whom allegations had been levelled—Sub-Inspector Sandeep Kumar—was entrusted with several aspects of the post-incident investigation, including arranging the post-mortem examination, photographing the lock-up, seizing the alleged ligature material, and coordinating with the crime team for forensic examination of the scene.

A medical board conducted the post-mortem examination on January 17, 2018. The board concluded that the cause of death was “asphyxia due to ante-mortem hanging.” Following the examination, Deepak’s body was handed over to his father.

The petitioner, however, consistently maintained that the official version did not explain the surrounding circumstances leading to the death. One aspect that particularly troubled the petitioner related to the recovery of articles from inside the lock-up.

According to the judgment, the Forensic Science Laboratory report noted that two blades had been recovered from the lock-up and further recorded that the possibility of the alleged ligature material having been cut using those blades could not be ruled out. The petitioner argued that Deepak had been searched thoroughly at the time of his arrest and no such objects had been found on his person. In these circumstances, the unexplained presence of the blades inside the lock-up raised serious questions regarding the police version of events.

The petitioner also relied heavily upon a departmental enquiry order dated 26 September 2018, contending that it demonstrated negligence on the part of police personnel stationed at Police Station Karawal Nagar and reinforced the State’s constitutional liability for the custodial death.

Another issue addressed during the proceedings concerned the petitioner’s relationship with the deceased. Although Deepak was biologically the son of the petitioner’s brother, the Court recorded that following the death of his biological mother when he was approximately one year old, he had been brought up and adopted by Shyam Sundar, with whom he shared a father-son relationship throughout his life. An affidavit affirming these facts was placed on record before the Court.

These factual circumstances ultimately formed the backdrop against which the Delhi High Court examined a much larger constitutional question: whether an unnatural death inside police custody, irrespective of disputes surrounding its precise cause, automatically engages the State’s constitutional liability to compensate the victim’s family under Article 21 of the Constitution.

The constitutional question before the Court

Although the petition contained serious allegations of custodial assault, extortion and police misconduct, Justice Sachin Datta made it clear that the High Court was not called upon, in these writ proceedings, to determine whether Deepak had been murdered, subjected to custodial torture, or whether individual police officers were criminally liable.

Instead, the Court carefully narrowed the controversy. The central issue before it was whether an undisputed unnatural death occurring inside police custody, regardless of whether it was ultimately caused by custodial violence, negligence or suicide, entitled the victim’s next of kin to constitutional compensation under Article 21 of the Constitution. Questions regarding criminal culpability, the Court observed, would have to be determined in appropriate proceedings independently of the constitutional remedy sought before it.

This distinction ultimately became the foundation of the judgment. Rather than treating compensation as dependent upon proving police brutality beyond doubt, the Court examined whether the constitutional obligation of the State itself had been breached merely because an individual entrusted to its custody had died an unnatural death. The answer, according to the Court, was unequivocal.

Petitioner’s Case: Every custodial death reflects a failure of the state’s constitutional duty

Appearing for the petitioner, Senior Advocate Trideep Pais argued that the State’s liability arose not merely because of allegations of police misconduct but because Deepak had died while completely under State control.

The petitioner contended that the circumstances surrounding the death demonstrated serious lapses on the part of police officials. Reliance was placed upon the forensic evidence showing recovery of two blades from inside the lock-up. Since Deepak had been searched upon arrest and no such objects had been recovered from him, the petitioner questioned how these articles came to be inside the lock-up and argued that the official version of suicide was riddled with unanswered questions.

The departmental enquiry, according to the petitioner, independently established negligence on the part of the police personnel posted at Police Station Karawal Nagar. Consequently, irrespective of the precise mechanism through which the death occurred, the State had failed in its constitutional obligation to safeguard the life of a person entirely under its control.

The petitioner also urged the Court to adopt the multiplier principle, developed in motor accident compensation jurisprudence through Sarla Verma v. Delhi Transport Corporation, for calculating compensation in custodial death cases, arguing that constitutional compensation should be determined on objective principles rather than arbitrary figures.

The State’s Defence: Compensation is not automatic

The Government of NCT of Delhi resisted the petition by advancing a substantially different understanding of custodial death compensation. It argued that compensation does not automatically follow every custodial death and that claims for monetary relief must be governed primarily by Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme, 2018.

According to the State, the statutory scheme constituted a comprehensive framework for determining both entitlement and quantum of compensation, and constitutional courts should ordinarily operate within those parameters.

The respondents further argued that the present case materially differed from cases involving proven custodial violence. Medical evidence, they pointed out, attributed the cause of death to ante-mortem hanging and did not reveal injuries conclusively suggestive of custodial assault. In the absence of established police brutality or direct culpability, the State argued that liability could not simply be presumed. Compensation, it submitted, must depend upon the degree of responsibility established in each individual case rather than broad constitutional presumptions.

In support of this submission, reliance was placed upon the Delhi High Court’s earlier decision in Shakila v. State (NCT of Delhi), where compensation had been discussed in the context of the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme.

The Court’s Response: Custodial death is not an ordinary death—it is a constitutional failure

Justice Datta rejected the attempt to reduce the case to a mere dispute over compensation. The judgment begins its constitutional analysis with an emphatic observation that custodial deaths are fundamentally different from deaths occurring in ordinary circumstances.

The Court observed:

“Custodial death is not merely an individual tragedy but a matter of systemic concern, striking at the very foundation of the rule of law. When a person is deprived of liberty and placed in the custody of the State, the authorities assume a heightened duty of care.” (Para 21)

Unlike ordinary citizens, individuals lodged in police custody have surrendered every meaningful degree of personal liberty. They cannot leave, seek medical assistance independently, or protect themselves. They depend entirely upon the State for their safety.

Consequently, once liberty is taken away, the State simultaneously assumes what the Court described as a “heightened duty of care.”

Justice Datta observed that every lapse resulting in death inside custody—whether arising from violence, negligence, unexplained circumstances or suicide—necessarily demands judicial scrutiny because such incidents affect not merely the individual concerned but also public confidence in the justice system itself.

This articulation marks one of the strongest statements in recent custodial death jurisprudence regarding the constitutional nature of the State’s responsibility.

Drawing upon national and international standards

To reinforce this understanding, the Court referred to the Supreme Court’s decision in In Re: Inhuman Conditions in 1382 Prisons, where the Supreme Court had itself relied upon the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) Guidelines on Investigating Deaths in Custody. Those guidelines classify deaths caused by intentional injury—including homicide and suicide—as unnatural deaths.

The Supreme Court had earlier endorsed these guidelines and recommended that they receive wider circulation among governments in India. Justice Datta invoked this principle to underline that suicide occurring within custody is not a natural event capable of insulating the State from constitutional scrutiny. Rather, it is categorised internationally and constitutionally as an unnatural custodial death.

Precedents invoked in the judgment

1. Nilabati Behera: The foundation of custodial death jurisprudence

The Court then turned to one of the cornerstones of Indian constitutional law—Nilabati Behera v. State of Orissa (1993). Justice Datta described the decision as laying down the strict constitutional duty owed by the State to every individual placed in custody.

The Supreme Court had declared that prisoners, undertrials and detainees do not cease to enjoy the protection of Article 21 merely because they have been deprived of liberty. Their freedom may be lawfully restricted, but their right to life remains inviolable. Indeed, because they are unable to safeguard themselves, the responsibility resting upon police and prison authorities becomes even greater.

The Delhi High Court emphasised the Supreme Court’s observation that the State’s duty of care towards persons in custody is strict, admits no exceptions, and that the doctrine of sovereign immunity has no application where constitutional rights are violated.

Where a person dies in custody otherwise than according to procedure established by law, constitutional courts possess not merely the power but the obligation to award monetary compensation for the violation of fundamental rights under Articles 32 and 226.

Justice Datta noted that Nilabati Behera fundamentally transformed Indian constitutional law by recognising compensation as an independent public law remedy rather than merely a civil claim for damages.

2. Parvathamma: Even a custodial suicide raises questions of negligence

The judgment next relied extensively upon the Karnataka High Court’s decision in Parvathamma v. Chief Secretary to Government of Karnataka, a case involving an alleged custodial suicide. Justice Datta reproduced the Karnataka High Court’s reasoning questioning how a detainee managed to fashion a ligature, obtain the necessary material, and commit suicide inside a police station supposedly under constant supervision.

The Karnataka High Court had observed that, regardless of whether death resulted from torture or suicide, the burden rested squarely upon the police to demonstrate absence of negligence. Once an individual enters police custody, it becomes the responsibility of the police to ensure that he remains alive and safe until produced before the court.

The Court had also warned that custodial deaths cannot be treated in a “casual and cavalier fashion,” emphasising that constitutional courts must continuously evolve effective public law remedies to preserve the rule of law and protect citizens against abuse of State power. Justice Datta treated these observations as directly reinforcing the constitutional principles laid down in Nilabati Behera.

3. Bombay High Court: Suicide inside custody cannot be equated with suicide outside custody

One of the most significant discussions in the judgment concerns the Bombay High Court’s decision in Gopichand v. State of Maharashtra, which dealt specifically with custodial suicide. Rejecting the argument that suicide automatically severs State responsibility, the Bombay High Court had reasoned that a person in police custody experiences severe psychological trauma by virtue of detention itself. The existence of such trauma, it held, cannot be ignored while assessing constitutional liability.

Justice Datta reproduced the reasoning that there exists a direct logical relationship between police custody and the subsequent custodial death, even where death occurs by suicide.

The Bombay High Court had further observed that once death occurs inside police custody, the burden shifts to the authorities to demonstrate that conditions surrounding the detainee remained entirely normal and that no acts or omissions on their part contributed to the fatal outcome. Where they fail to discharge that burden, constitutional liability follows. This reasoning would become central to Justice Datta’s own conclusions regarding the State’s responsibility in Deepak’s case.

An unnatural custodial death is sufficient to attract constitutional liability

After surveying decades of constitutional jurisprudence, Justice Sachin Datta arrived at what is undoubtedly the central holding of the judgment. Rejecting the State’s attempt to limit compensation to cases involving proven custodial violence, the Court held that the very fact of an unnatural custodial death is sufficient to trigger constitutional liability.

In words that are likely to be repeatedly cited in future custodial death litigation, the Court declared that a person does not forfeit his fundamental rights merely because he has been arrested. Rather, the opposite is true. The moment an individual enters police custody, the constitutional burden upon the State becomes even heavier because the detainee is completely dependent upon State authorities for his safety, health and survival.

Justice Datta observed:

“It is well settled that when a person is in custody, he does not lose his fundamental rights guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution and the State assumes an absolute and inalienable duty to protect his life and dignity.” (Part 28)

The Court then articulated perhaps the most significant proposition emerging from the judgment. It held that an unnatural custodial death—even where the immediate cause is stated to be suicide—is not a private act divorced from State responsibility. Instead, such a death necessarily reflects a failure of the authorities entrusted with the constitutional obligation of protecting the prisoner.

Justice Datta observed:

“An unnatural death in custody, even if by suicide, is not a private act divorced from State responsibility, but reflects an omission of duty on the part of those charged with safekeeping. The State cannot escape responsibility by invoking statutory schemes or by contending absence of direct culpability. The very fact of custodial death, being unnatural, attracts liability and obliges the Court to mould relief in the form of compensation.” (Part 28)

This finding is particularly important because custodial suicide has frequently been invoked by investigating agencies as a defence against allegations of custodial misconduct. The Delhi High Court categorically rejected such an approach. Instead, it held that the question is not merely how the detainee died, but whether the State fulfilled its constitutional obligation to prevent that death.

State cannot escape responsibility by denying direct culpability

Justice Datta further rejected another recurring defence often advanced in custodial death cases—that unless direct police assault or torture is conclusively proved, compensation cannot be awarded. The Court held that constitutional liability under Article 21 is qualitatively different from criminal liability.

A criminal prosecution seeks to determine individual guilt. A constitutional court, on the other hand, examines whether the State has discharged its constitutional obligations. Accordingly, the Court held that the State cannot evade liability merely by asserting that no police officer has yet been found criminally responsible. Nor can it rely upon statutory compensation schemes to dilute constitutional remedies.

Justice Datta therefore concluded that the constitutional entitlement of the petitioner’s family to compensation was “beyond dispute.” The only remaining question concerned the amount that ought to be awarded.

Compensation under Article 21 is independent of statutory compensation schemes

A substantial portion of the judgment is devoted to answering one of the State’s principal legal arguments—that compensation must be restricted to the framework contained in Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme, 2018.

Justice Datta firmly disagreed. The Court acknowledged that statutory victim compensation schemes undoubtedly provide one avenue of relief for victims and their families. However, constitutional compensation occupies an entirely different field. Tracing the law from Nilabati Behera, D.K. Basu, and subsequent Supreme Court decisions, Justice Datta explained that compensation awarded under Article 226 is not derived from statutory provisions. Instead, it flows directly from the violation of the fundamental right guaranteed under Article 21.

Consequently, statutory schemes supplement constitutional remedies—they do not replace them. The Court held:

” The statutory scheme under Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 is only one avenue of relief; it supplements and does not curtail or exclude the power of this Court under Article 226 to award compensation for established infringement of fundamental rights. Custodial death, being unnatural, prima facie attracts liability under Article 21.” (Para 38)

This clarification considerably strengthens the scope of writ jurisdiction in custodial death cases. It confirms that constitutional courts are not constrained by the monetary limits prescribed under victim compensation schemes whenever Article 21 has been violated.

Why the court distinguished Shakila v. State

The respondents had placed considerable reliance upon the Delhi High Court’s earlier decision in Shakila v. State (NCT of Delhi).

Justice Datta carefully examined that precedent but concluded that it did not govern the present case.

The Court observed that Shakila principally dealt with an entirely different issue—namely, who qualifies as a “dependent” under the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme and how compensation should be distributed under that statutory framework. It was not concerned with determining constitutional compensation under Article 226 based upon violation of Article 21.

Moreover, Justice Datta pointed out that Shakila had not considered the earlier Division Bench judgment in Kiran v. State, which had specifically approved the use of the multiplier principle while awarding compensation for custodial deaths.

Since a Division Bench decision binds a Single Judge, the Court held that Kiran, rather than Shakila, furnished the correct legal framework for determining compensation in the present case. This aspect of the judgment provides important doctrinal clarity regarding the relationship between constitutional compensation and statutory victim compensation schemes.

The court endorses the multiplier method for custodial death cases

Perhaps the most practically significant contribution of the judgment lies in its approach to determining compensation. Historically, constitutional compensation in custodial death cases has often varied widely from case to case, with courts awarding amounts based largely on judicial discretion. Justice Datta sought to bring greater consistency to this area.

Relying upon earlier decisions including Kiran v. State, Prakash Kaur v. State of Punjab, Sanjeevani v. State of Maharashtra, and the recent Allahabad High Court decision in Prema Devi v. State of Uttar Pradesh, the Court held that the multiplier method evolved in motor accident compensation jurisprudence provides a rational and objective framework for calculating damages in custodial death cases as well.

The Court also referred to the Supreme Court’s decision in Jagdish v. Mohan, where the Supreme Court had observed that compensation should not be viewed as charity or largesse but as an affirmation of constitutional dignity. Justice Datta reproduced the Supreme Court’s observation that:

“Awards of compensation are not law’s doles. In a discourse of rights, they constitute entitlements under law.” (Para 40)

This, the Court held, perfectly captures the constitutional philosophy underlying public law compensation. The objective is not generosity, but rather the enforcement of constitutional rights after their violation.

How the court arrived at the figure of ₹18.44 lakh

Having settled the legal principles, the Court turned to the actual computation of compensation. The material before the Court indicated that Deepak, aged 19 years, worked as a waiter and earned approximately ₹12,000 per month.

Justice Datta accepted the lower end of the asserted income and calculated compensation in accordance with the principles laid down in Sarla Verma v. Delhi Transport Corporation and National Insurance Co. Ltd. v. Pranay Sethi. The calculation proceeded as follows:

• Monthly income: ₹12,000
• Annual income: ₹1,44,000
• Addition of 40% towards future prospects: ₹57,600
• Total annual income after future prospects: ₹2,01,600
• Deduction of 50% towards personal expenses (the deceased being a bachelor): ₹1,00,800
• Application of the multiplier of 18, applicable to persons aged between 15 and 20 years: ₹18,14,400
• Addition of ₹15,000 towards loss of estate.
• Addition of ₹15,000 towards funeral expenses.

The resulting compensation came to ₹18, 44, 400, which the Court directed the respondents to pay within eight weeks. Notably, by explicitly adopting the multiplier method, the Court has provided future litigants and constitutional courts with a far more structured methodology for quantifying compensation in custodial death cases, reducing dependence upon arbitrary lump-sum awards.

A significant expansion of constitutional accountability

Beyond the immediate relief granted to the petitioner’s family, the judgment represents a significant reaffirmation of India’s constitutional commitment to protecting life within State custody. Justice Datta makes it abundantly clear that the constitutional obligation of the State begins, and not ends, with arrest.

The judgment decisively rejects the notion that custodial suicide somehow falls outside constitutional responsibility. Instead, it recognises that a person confined within a police lock-up has surrendered virtually every means of self-protection. In those circumstances, ensuring that the detainee emerges alive is not merely an administrative responsibility but a constitutional obligation flowing directly from Article 21.

By reaffirming the doctrines of strict public law liability, rejecting attempts to confine relief within statutory compensation schemes, endorsing the multiplier method for assessing damages, and declaring that an unnatural custodial death itself constitutes sufficient basis for constitutional compensation, the Delhi High Court has added another important chapter to the evolving jurisprudence on custodial violence and State accountability. In doing so, the Court reinforces a foundational constitutional principle: when the State assumes control over an individual’s liberty, it assumes an equally inescapable responsibility for protecting that individual’s life and dignity.

The complete judgement may be read below:

[1] While, in 2018, the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) was in power in Delhi, with Arvind Kejriwal serving as the Chief Minister and Lieutenant Governor Anil Baija, the Delhi Police has always been directly governed by the union home ministry, an issue that has caused frictions between state and centre. Rajnath Singh was union home minister at the time.

Related:

Decoding the Sathankulam Judgement on Custodial Death – Part 1 – Context of Torture in India

Rights

“Your Helplessness feels in the garb of Protection”: SC rebukes CBI for failure to arrest officers in custodial death case of Deva Pardhi

Monitoring Torture: SC’s suo motu action on custodial deaths and CCTV camera non-compliance

Custodial Death of Dalit Law Student Somnath Suryawanshi: FIR registered after Supreme Court upholds Bombay HC directive

“Even a Murderer Wouldn’t Do This”: Ajith Kumar’s custodial death and Tamil Nadu’s shameful culture of impunity

“Shielding their own”: Supreme Court slams Madhya Pradesh police, transfers custodial death probe of a tribal man to CBI

The post State cannot escape liability for custodial suicide: Delhi HC appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Stan Swamy listed all the activities that have made him a ‘Desh Drohi,’ a traitor of the country, in his open letter after he was charged with sedition. This short note was written by Fr Stan Swamy after the Jharkhand authorities filed a case of sedition against him for supporting the adivasi Pathalgadi movement. He is one of 20 activists accused of sedition, a committed Jesuit priest.

During the past two decades, I have identified myself with the Adivasi people and their struggle for a life of dignity and self-respect. As a writer, I have tried to analyse the different issues they are facing. In this process, I have clearly expressed dissent with several policies, laws enacted by the govt in the light of the Indian Constitution. I have questioned the validity, legality, justness of several steps taken by the govt and the ruling class.

As for the Pathalgadi issue, I have asked the question “Why are Adivasis doing this?” I believe they have been exploited and oppressed beyond tolerance. The rich minerals which are excavated in their land have enriched outsider industrialists and businessmen and impoverished the Adivasi people to the extent there are starvation deaths taking place.

They have had no share in what is produced. Also, the laws and policies enacted for their wellbeing are deliberately left unimplemented. So they have reached a situation where they realised ‘enough is enough’ and are seeking to re-invent their identity by empowering their Gram Sabhas through Pathalgadis. Their action is understandable.

Some questions that I have raised are as follows:

1. I have questioned the Non-implementation of the 5th Schedule of the Constitution [Indian Constitution, Article 244(1)]clearly stipulates that a ‘Tribes Advisory Council’ (TAC) composed solely of members from the Adivasi community who will advise the Governor of the State about any and everything concerning the protection, well-being and development of the Adivasi people in the State. The Governor is the constitutional custodian of the Adivasi people and he/she can make laws on his/her own and can annul any other law enacted by the parliament or state assembly always keeping in mind the welfare of the Adivasi people.

Whereas the reality is that in none of the States during all these nearly seven decades has any State Governor ever used his/her constitutional discretionary power to reach out to the Adivasi people proffering the excuse that they have to work in harmony with the elected government of the State. The meeting of the TAC takes place rarely, and it is convened by and presided over by the Chief Minister of the State and is controlled by the ruling party. TAC has thus been reduced to a toothless body. Verily a constitutional fraud meted out to the Adivasi people.

2) I have questioned why the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act [PESA],1996 [No:40 of 1996] have been neatly ignored which for the first time recognized the fact the Adivasi communities in India have had a rich social and cultural tradition of self-governance through the Gram Sabha.
Whereas the reality is this Act of the parliament has deliberately been left unimplemented in all the nine states. It means the capitalist ruling class does not want the Adivasi people to self-govern themselves.

3) I have questioned the silence of the govt on Samatha Judgment, 1997 of the Supreme Court [Civil Appeal Nos:4601-2 of 1997] which came as a huge relief to the Adivasi communities in Scheduled Areas. It came at a time when consequent to the policy of globalization, liberalization, marketisation, privatisation national and international corporate houses started to invade particularly the Adivasi areas in central India to mine the mineral riches. The govt machinery gave its full cooperation to these companies. Any resistance by the Adivasi people was put down with an iron hand. The judgment was meant to provide some significant safeguards for the Adivasis to control the excavation of minerals in their lands and to help develop themselves economically.

Whereas the reality is the state has ignored this verdict of the highest court. Several cases have been filed by affected communities but the ‘law of eminent domain’ of the colonial rulers are invoked to alienate Adivasi land and to loot the rich mineral resources.

4) I have questioned the half-hearted action of govt on Forest Rights Act, 2006: [Act of Parliament No:2 of 2007] jal, jangal, jamin, as we know, are the basis of the economic life of the Adivasi people. Of particular importance is their traditional rights in the forest have been infringed upon systematically over the decades. At long last, the govt came to the realization that a historic injustice has been done to the Adivasi and other traditional forest-dwellers. To correct this anomaly, it enacted this Act.

Whereas the reality is far from desirable. From 2006 to 2011 of its operation, about 30 lakh applications were made all over the country for title-deeds, of which 11 lakhs were approved but 14 lakhs were rejected and five lakhs were pending. Of late the Jharkhand govt is trying to bypass the Gram Sabha in the process of acquiring forest land for industrial set up.

5) I have questioned the inaction of the govt to carry out the SC order ‘Owner of the land is also the owner of sub-soil minerals’. [SC: Civil Appeal No 4549 of 2000] wherein it has said “we are of the opinion that there is nothing in the law which declares that all mineral wealth sub-soil rights vest in the State, on the other hand, the ownership of sub-soil/mineral wealth should normally follow the ownership of the land, unless the owner of the land is deprived of the same by some valid process.”

The rich minerals in their lands are being looted by the govt and private companies. The Supreme Court has declared 214 out of the 219 Coal-Blocks in the country illegal and ordered their closure and levied a fine on them for their illegal mining. But the Central & State Govts have found a way out by re-allotting these illegal mines through auction to make it look legal!

6) I have questioned the reasons why SC observation is being ignored that ‘Mere membership of a banned organisation will not make a person a criminal unless he resorts to violence or incites people to violence or creates public disorder by violence or incitement to violence. [SC: Criminal Appeal No: 889 of 2007]. The court rejected the doctrine of ‘guilt by association’.

It is common knowledge that many young men and women are held in prison on the suspicion of being “helpers of Naxalites”. After arresting them other penal clauses are added on. It is an easy label that can be put on anyone whom the police want to catch. It does not require any proof or witness. Supreme Court says even membership in a banned organisation does not make a person a criminal. How far removed are the law and order forces from the judiciary!

7) I have questioned the recently enacted Amendment to ‘Land Acquisition Act 2013’ by Jharkhand govt which sound a death-knell for the Adivasi Community. This does away with the requirement for “Social Impact Assessment’ which was aimed at safeguarding the environment, social relations and cultural values of affected people. The most damaging factor is the govt can allow any agricultural land for non-agricultural purposes. So, any and everything can be included.
8) I have questioned ‘Land Bank’ which I see as the most recent plot to annihilate the Adivasi people.

During ‘Momentum Jharkhand’ in February 2017 the govt announced that 21 lakh acres in Land Bank of which 10 lakh acres is ready for allotment to industrialists.

Gair-Majurwa” land (uncultivated land) can be ‘khas’ (private) or ‘aam’ (common). As per tradition, individual Adivasi families or communities have been in possession and use this land [jamabandi]. Now the govt shockingly cancelled all ‘jamabandi’ titles and claims that all ‘gair-majurwa’ land belongs to the govt and it is free to allot it to anybody (read industrial houses) to set up their small and big industries.

People are in the dark about their land being written off. The TAC has not given its approval as is required by the Vth Sched., the respective Gram Sabhas have not given their consent as required by PESA Act, affected Adivasi people have not given their consent as required by Land Acquisition Act (2013).

Above are the questions I have consistently raised.

If this makes me a ‘Desh Drohi’ then so be it!

The post I raise my voice for Adivasis, am I a Traitor? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The judgment is a strong reaffirmation of the constitutional guarantees under Articles 19 and 21, recognising that the freedom to express political disagreement and the right to live with dignity cannot be curtailed through executive action unsupported by law. Rejecting the police’s justification, the Court concluded that the externment proceedings were unsupported by material, based on an erroneous application of the Maharashtra Police Act, and tainted by mala fides.

The hearing also attracted considerable public attention because of Justice Jamdar’s unusually candid oral observations questioning the increasing use of criminal law against protesters and commenting on Maharashtra’s contemporary political landscape. Although these remarks do not form part of the operative judgment, they underscore the constitutional concerns that informed the Court’s approach to the case.

Background: Externment order passed against SDPI office-bearer

The petitioner, Saeed Ahmad Abdul Wahid Chaudhary, serves as the General Secretary of the Social Democratic Party of India (SDPI), a political party registered with the Election Commission of India under Section 29A of the Representation of the People Act, 1951. The writ petition challenged two administrative orders: an externment order dated December 3, 2025 passed by the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Zone VI, Chembur, Mumbai, and the appellate order dated March 27, 2026 passed by the Divisional Commissioner, Konkan Division, affirming the externment.

The externment directed that Chaudhary be removed from the area for one year under Section 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act.

According to the State authorities, several FIRs had been registered against him, principally in connection with protests organised against decisions of the Union Government. These included demonstrations concerning amendments to citizenship laws, the Gyanvapi mosque dispute, and other politically contentious issues. The police alleged that the protests had been conducted despite the denial of permission and that slogans critical of the Central Government had been raised during these demonstrations.

Represented by Advocate Payoshi Roy, the petitioner contended that the criminal cases relied upon by the authorities were overwhelmingly under Section 188 of the Indian Penal Code for alleged disobedience of prohibitory orders. These FIRs, it was argued, arose solely because the petitioner had organised morchas, dharnas and agitations in his capacity as a political office-bearer opposing governmental decisions. Such activities, the petitioner submitted, could not legitimately constitute grounds for invoking the drastic power of externment under Section 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act.

The petition further alleged that the externment proceedings reflected a mala fide exercise of power and lacked the statutory “subjective satisfaction” required under the Act. To support this challenge, reliance was placed upon the Supreme Court’s decision in Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India as well as the Gujarat High Court’s decision in Mohmmad Kaleem Taufiq Ahmed Siddiqui v. State of Gujarat, both of which recognised the constitutional protection afforded to peaceful democratic protest.

The State, on the other hand, defended the externment by relying upon an affidavit filed by the Deputy Commissioner of Police. The prosecution argued that the petitioner had organised demonstrations despite police refusal of permission and that the slogans raised during such protests justified preventive action under the Maharashtra Police Act.

However, the High Court found that the State’s case fundamentally misunderstood both the purpose and scope of the externment provisions.

Justice Jamdar’s Oral Remarks: ‘Citizens are being made slaves of the government’

During the hearing, as reported by LiveLaw, Justice Madhav Jamdar made a series of pointed oral observations questioning the increasing tendency to invoke criminal law against citizens who protest governmental policies.

Expressing concern over the police’s approach, the Court observed that democratic governance cannot function if citizens are prevented from voicing disagreement with the government of the day.

Questioning the rationale behind the externment proceedings, reported LiveLaw, Justice Jamdar orally remarked: “All citizens are being made slaves of the Indian Government. They cannot stage protests, they cannot agitate… What is all this? If people protest, you will slap cases. It is the right of citizens to protest.”

The Court further questioned why slogans critical of political leaders or the ruling party should invite such severe executive action.

Referring to the allegations against the petitioner, Justice Jamdar observed that slogans such as “BJP Government Murdabad” or “Amit Shah Murdabad” represented political expression, asking why such slogans should become grounds for externing a citizen.

The Court also reminded the State of the constitutional role of law enforcement agencies, orally remarking that: “Police are not servants of the Chief Minister or the Prime Minister. They are public servants.”

Justice Jamdar even warned that he was inclined to impose substantial costs on the officers responsible for passing such an order, reflecting the Court’s deep dissatisfaction with the manner in which the statutory power had been exercised.

These oral observations, though not forming part of the written judgment, echoed the constitutional principles ultimately embodied in the Court’s final order—that executive powers cannot be deployed to suppress legitimate political opposition or peaceful democratic activity.

‘Horse-Trading’ and the ‘Washing Machine’: Court’s sharp political commentary

The hearing also attracted national attention because of Justice Jamdar’s comments on the prevailing political climate in Maharashtra. During the proceedings, as per the LiveLaw report, after noting that the petitioner belonged to the SDPI, the Court referred to the ongoing movement of legislators between political parties.

Justice Jamdar observed that while the State Assembly was occupied with discussions regarding shifting political loyalties and the election of its Presiding Officer, more pressing public issues, including the death of a ten-year-old child in a road accident,appeared to receive comparatively little attention.

In a lighter vein, the Judge remarked that the petitioner himself might consider changing political sides, adding that “horse-trading” appeared to be occurring across Maharashtra. Referring to the criminal cases pending against the petitioner, Justice Jamdar further quipped that perhaps he should join the “washing machine“—an unmistakable allusion to the popular political expression suggesting that corruption or criminal allegations tend to disappear after politicians join the ruling establishment.

Although these comments were made humorously and do not constitute judicial findings, they quickly became among the most widely discussed aspects of the hearing because of their obvious political significance and broader commentary on contemporary public discourse.

The Court’s Legal Reasoning: Why the externment order could not stand

While the oral observations generated widespread attention, the written judgment is equally significant for its careful examination of the statutory limits governing externment powers under the Maharashtra Police Act and its reaffirmation of constitutional protections for political dissent. Justice Madhav Jamdar systematically dismantled the factual and legal basis relied upon by the police, ultimately concluding that the externment order rested on no legally sustainable foundation.

At the heart of the dispute was Section 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act, a preventive provision that empowers designated authorities to direct a person to remove themselves from a particular area under narrowly defined circumstances. Since an externment order deprives an individual of the freedom to reside and move freely within a particular territory, the provision has consistently been treated by courts as an extraordinary preventive measure that must be exercised with great caution.

The Court therefore began its analysis not with the allegations against the petitioner, but with the statutory requirements themselves.

1. Section 56 of the Maharashtra Police Act: A preventive, not punitive, power

Justice Jamdar reproduced the relevant portions of Section 56(1)(a) and (b) of the Maharashtra Police Act to determine whether the authorities had satisfied the statutory conditions before directing the petitioner’s externment.

Under Section 56(1)(a), externment may be ordered only where the movements or acts of a person are causing, or are calculated to cause, alarm, danger or harm to persons or property.

Section 56(1)(b), on the other hand, authorises externment where there are reasonable grounds to believe that a person is engaged in, or is about to engage in, offences involving force or violence or offences punishable under specified chapters of the Indian Penal Code, particularly offences against the human body, coupled with an assessment that witnesses are unwilling to come forward because of fear.

The Court emphasised that these are not broad administrative powers permitting the State to remove inconvenient political opponents from a locality. Rather, they are exceptional preventive measures intended to address genuine threats to public safety.

Consequently, before an externment order can lawfully be passed, the authorities must possess objective material capable of supporting the statutory satisfaction required under Section 56.

Merely reproducing the language of the statute without factual support is insufficient.

2. The allegations against the petitioner did not meet the statutory threshold

Applying these principles to the facts before it, the Court found that the police had failed to demonstrate how the petitioner’s conduct satisfied either limb of Section 56.

Justice Jamdar noted that it was an admitted position that Saeed Ahmad Abdul Wahid Chaudhary had organised protests, morchas and dharnas in his capacity as Secretary of the Social Democratic Party of India against decisions taken by the Union Government. The State itself accepted that these demonstrations constituted the basis of the proceedings.

However, beyond recording that protests had been organised and slogans raised, the authorities had placed no material before the Court demonstrating that the petitioner’s activities had caused alarm, danger or harm to persons or property.

The FIRs relied upon by the State primarily alleged that demonstrations had been organised without police permission and therefore constituted offences under Section 188 of the Indian Penal Code for disobedience of promulgated orders.

Justice Jamdar observed that an alleged violation of Section 188 IPC, carrying only a relatively minor punishment, could not by itself justify invoking the extraordinary machinery of externment.

The Court stated in unambiguous terms that there was “no material on record” demonstrating that the petitioner’s movements or activities caused, or were calculated to cause, alarm, danger or harm as required by Section 56. Instead, every FIR relied upon by the authorities essentially alleged only that he had organised political protests against decisions of the Government of India and that some of these protests had taken place without prior permission. Such allegations, the Court held, simply did not satisfy the statutory requirements for externment.

“There is no material on record to show that the movements or acts of the Petitioner are causing or calculated to cause alarm, danger or harm to person or property. In all these FIR, the allegation is that the Petitioner, in his capacity as the Secretary of the Social Democratic Party of India, has arranged agitations/morchas/dharnas, opposing certain decisions taken by the Government of India. The other allegation is that such agitations/morchas/dharnas have been arranged without permission of the Police. The same is an offence under Section 188 of the IPC and maximum punishment is of simple imprisonment of one month. However, that cannot be a ground for passing the externment order under the provisions of the Maharashtra Police Act.” (Para 7)

This distinction proved decisive. The judgment makes clear that unlawful assembly or violation of regulatory conditions governing protests may attract criminal consequences under the applicable penal provisions, but such allegations cannot automatically be elevated into grounds for preventive exile under the Maharashtra Police Act.

To hold otherwise would fundamentally alter the character of Section 56, transforming a narrowly tailored preventive provision into an instrument capable of suppressing political opposition.

3. The court finds the authorities’ ‘subjective satisfaction’ was vitiated

One of the most important aspects of the judgment concerns the doctrine of subjective satisfaction, which lies at the heart of preventive measures such as externment. Although externment orders involve administrative discretion, that discretion is not immune from judicial scrutiny.

The authority must genuinely arrive at the statutory satisfaction based upon relevant material. Justice Jamdar carefully examined the externment proposal and the affidavit filed by the police. While these documents repeatedly asserted that the petitioner’s activities were causing alarm, danger and harm to the public, the Court found that the supporting material did not justify these conclusions.

The FIRs themselves narrated only that the petitioner had organised agitations against decisions of the Union Government and raised political slogans. There was no evidence of violence, no evidence of intimidation, no evidence of danger to public safety, or of harm to persons or property.

The Court therefore concluded that the findings recorded by the authorities were unsupported by the factual record. Consequently, the statutory “subjective satisfaction” required under Section 56 stood vitiated because it rested upon assertions rather than evidence.

“Although the Externment Proposal, the details of which are set out in the Affidavit-in-Reply, records that the movements and acts of the Petitioner are causing or are calculated to cause, alarm, danger and harm to the public and property, perusal of the FIRs on the basis of which action is taken and the gist of which is set out in the Affidvit-in-Reply shows that the only allegation is that the Petitioner has arranged agitations/morchas/dharnas against certain decisions of the Union of India and given slogans. Thus, the subjective satisfaction recorded by the authorities that movements and acts of the Petitioner are causing or are calculated to cause, alarm, danger and harm to the public and property, is without any material to support the same. Thus, the subjective satisfaction is vitiated.” (Para 9)

Justice Jamdar held that although the authorities had formally recorded that the petitioner’s movements were causing alarm and danger, a scrutiny of the underlying FIRs revealed no factual basis capable of supporting such a conclusion. The recorded satisfaction was therefore unsupported by material and legally unsustainable. The judgment thus reiterates a long-standing principle of administrative law—that preventive powers cannot be exercised merely by reciting statutory language. The existence of objective material remains subject to judicial review.

4. A finding of mala fides against the state

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the written judgment is the Court’s express acceptance of the petitioner’s allegation that the action bore the hallmarks of mala fides. After analysing the nature of the FIRs and the statutory requirements, Justice Jamdar observed that there was substance in the petitioner’s contention that the externment proceedings constituted a mala fide exercise of power.

“There is substance in the contention raised by Ms. Roy, learned Counsel for the Petitioner, that the action taken is a mala fide action.” (Para 8)

Although the judgment does not embark upon an elaborate discussion of improper motive, this finding carries considerable legal significance. Indian courts are ordinarily reluctant to attribute mala fides to executive authorities without compelling material.

The Court’s conclusion therefore reflects its view that the statutory power had been invoked for a purpose divorced from the object for which Section 56 was enacted. Externment exists to prevent imminent threats to public order—not to remove political activists whose principal activity consists of organising protests against governmental policies.

By accepting the allegation of mala fides, the Court effectively recognised that preventive policing cannot become a substitute for managing political dissent. The finding significantly strengthens the constitutional character of the judgment, indicating that the problem before the Court was not merely one of procedural irregularity but one involving the misuse of statutory authority itself.

5. The judgment as a constitutional reaffirmation of the right to dissent

Beyond the statutory shortcomings in the externment proceedings, Justice Madhav Jamdar anchored the decision firmly within India’s constitutional framework, emphasising that democratic disagreement with the government lies at the heart of constitutional governance. The judgment makes it abundantly clear that preventive policing cannot become a mechanism for punishing political expression, particularly where citizens seek to voice opposition through peaceful and organised protest.

The Court rejected the implicit premise underlying the State’s action, that repeated protests against government policies, coupled with criminal cases arising from such demonstrations, could justify the extraordinary remedy of externment. Instead, it recognised that such an approach strikes directly at the freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution.

“It is settled legal position that an order of externment is an extraordinary measure and effect of such order is of depriving a citizen of his fundamental right of free movement throughout the territory of India.” (Para 10)

Referring specifically to Articles 19 and 21, Justice Jamdar observed that the Constitution protects not only the right of citizens to express their opinions but also their right to live with dignity. These guarantees, the Court held, are substantially impaired when the State seeks to remove a person from his locality merely because he has criticised governmental decisions or organised political demonstrations.

The Court unequivocally held:

“The action taken by the Respondent–State of Maharashtra of externing the Petitioner, merely for opposing certain decisions of the Government of India, affects the Petitioner’s fundamental right of freedom of speech and expression and also right to live with dignity.” (Para 12)

The observation is significant because it extends the analysis beyond the freedom of speech guaranteed under Article 19 (1) (a). By invoking Article 21, the Court recognised that an externment order has consequences that reach far beyond physical displacement. It disrupts an individual’s social existence, political participation, livelihood, community ties and personal dignity. The judgment therefore situates externment not merely as an administrative measure but as one carrying profound constitutional implications.

Political opposition cannot be converted into grounds for preventive action

One of the clearest messages emerging from the judgment is that criticism of the government, even if forceful, unpopular or politically inconvenient, does not transform a citizen into a threat to public order.

Throughout the proceedings, the State repeatedly relied upon the petitioner’s participation in protests against governmental decisions, including demonstrations concerning citizenship-related issues and other matters of public controversy. However, Justice Jamdar drew a sharp constitutional distinction between opposition to government policy and conduct that genuinely threatens public safety.

The judgment records that the petitioner’s activities consisted principally of organising agitations, morchas and dharnas against decisions taken by the Government of India. The allegations further indicated that he had raised political slogans and organised demonstrations despite refusal of police permission. Yet none of these circumstances, the Court held, established the statutory conditions necessary for externment. This distinction assumes considerable constitutional importance.

Democratic governments routinely face criticism, protests and organised political mobilisation. If such activities were sufficient to justify preventive measures like externment, the constitutional guarantee of political speech would become contingent upon executive approval. Justice Jamdar’s judgment rejects precisely such an approach. Instead, it reaffirms that disagreement with governmental decisions is not a constitutional anomaly—it is one of the defining characteristics of a functioning democracy.

Precedents invoked in the judgment

1. Reliance on Anuradha Bhasin: Democratic rights cannot be suppressed

The Court’s constitutional reasoning was reinforced by its reliance upon the Supreme Court’s landmark decision in Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India. Although Anuradha Bhasin primarily concerned restrictions imposed under Section 144 of the Code of Criminal Procedure following the constitutional changes in Jammu and Kashmir, the principles articulated by the Supreme Court regarding democratic freedoms were considered directly relevant to the present case.

Justice Jamdar noted that the Supreme Court had clearly held that extraordinary executive powers cannot be used as instruments to suppress legitimate expressions of opinion, grievances or democratic rights.

By invoking Anuradha Bhasin, the Bombay High Court placed the present dispute within a broader constitutional jurisprudence recognising that preventive powers must always be exercised consistently with democratic freedoms.

The precedent underscores that constitutional rights cannot be displaced merely because executive authorities find political protests inconvenient or uncomfortable.

2. Support from the Gujarat High Court’s decision on political protests

The Court also relied upon the Gujarat High Court’s decision in Mohmmad Kaleem Taufiq Ahmed Siddiqui v. State of Gujarat, a case involving remarkably similar facts.

Justice Jamdar observed that the Gujarat High Court had considered a situation where an externment order had likewise been issued against a citizen for participating in protests against decisions of the Union Government. The Gujarat High Court held that such circumstances could not legally justify externment and consequently set aside the order.

Finding the reasoning directly applicable, Justice Jamdar held that the principles laid down by both the Supreme Court in Anuradha Bhasin and the Gujarat High Court squarely governed the present dispute.

The reliance on these precedents strengthens the judgment’s doctrinal foundation by demonstrating that courts across jurisdictions have consistently viewed preventive restrictions on political protest with constitutional scepticism.

3. Externment is an extraordinary measure, not an ordinary administrative tool

The judgment also draws support from the Supreme Court’s decision in Deepak s/o Laxman Dongre v. State of Maharashtra, which characterised externment as an extraordinary measure because of its direct impact on an individual’s liberty and freedom of movement.

Justice Jamdar reiterated that externment cannot be treated as a routine administrative response to alleged misconduct.

Unlike ordinary criminal prosecution, an externment order effectively banishes an individual from a particular area, restricting movement, disrupting family life, employment and political participation. Such a drastic consequence necessarily demands strict compliance with statutory safeguards and close judicial scrutiny.

The Court’s reasoning reinforces the settled principle that preventive measures must remain exceptional. Administrative convenience or political sensitivity cannot dilute the high threshold established by law.

Externment orders quashed in their entirety

Having found that the statutory conditions under Section 56 were absent, that the authorities’ subjective satisfaction lacked evidentiary support, that the proceedings were vitiated by mala fides, and that the petitioner’s constitutional rights had been infringed, the Court allowed the writ petition in full.

Justice Jamdar quashed both the original externment order dated December 3, 2025 passed by the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Zone VI, Chembur, Mumbai, as well as the appellate order dated March 27, 2026 passed by the Divisional Commissioner, Konkan Division, thereby completely restoring the petitioner’s rights.

A judgment with wider constitutional significance

Although the immediate dispute concerned the externment of a single political activist, the judgment speaks to a much broader constitutional concern: the increasing use of preventive legal mechanisms against political dissent.

Externment laws were enacted to protect society from individuals whose conduct presents a demonstrable threat to public order or safety. They were never intended to become instruments for regulating political speech or discouraging public protest. Justice Jamdar’s decision restores that distinction.

By insisting that the statutory prerequisites under Section 56 must be established through objective material, by recognising the chilling effect of punitive action against protesters, and by reaffirming that Articles 19 and 21 protect not merely abstract liberties but the practical ability of citizens to oppose governmental decisions, the judgment reinforces a foundational constitutional principle—that democracy cannot function without dissent.

Read alongside the Court’s striking oral observations questioning attempts to criminalise protest, criticising the misuse of police powers, and cautioning against treating political opposition as a threat to public order, the decision stands as a robust reminder that constitutional governance demands tolerance of disagreement. Governments may disagree with protesters, investigate genuine criminality where it exists, and regulate assemblies in accordance with law, but they cannot employ extraordinary preventive powers to exile citizens simply because they challenge those in authority.

In doing so, the Bombay High Court has delivered a judgment that is likely to resonate well beyond the facts of this individual case, strengthening the constitutional jurisprudence on political dissent, preventive policing and the limits of executive power.

The complete judgment may be read below:

Related:

How “Khalistani” became a weaponised political label against Sikh dissent

Silence in the Statistics: What NCRB data doesn’t say about dissent

Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill: Bogey of “urban naxals” invoked to legitimise clamping down of dissent?

Mob justice in Bengal? Mahua Moitra’s siege and the High Court’s constitutional message

The post Bombay HC condemns use of externment to silence political dissent; says opposition to government cannot be treated as a crime appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In this conversation with Teesta Setalvad, Rajagopal recounts his personal ordeal and reflects on the wider implications of SIR exercises now being discussed and expanded across multiple states. The discussion explores the relationship between electoral rolls, citizenship, passport verification, welfare entitlements and democratic rights.

The conversation also raises difficult questions: Why is there so little transparency around SIR processes? What happens when administrative verification begins to determine access to rights? Where are the media and political opposition in this debate? And if this can happen to a veteran journalist with decades of documentation, what does it mean for millions of ordinary citizens?

The post SIR and the Making of a Stateless Citizen? | R. Rajagopal Speaks Out | Teesta Setalvad appeared first on SabrangIndia.

“In March this year, my name was deleted from the Ballygunge constituency electoral roll in Kolkata, apparently because the Special Intensive Revision process could not trace either my name or that of my late father in the 2002 voters’ list. My father, a Gandhian, retired professor and former State Secretary of the Gandhi Smarak Nidhi in Kerala, passed away in 2016. I remain unable to understand how a conscientious voter like him could have been absent from the rolls.

“Like nearly 27 lakh other residents of West Bengal, I was excluded on account of what were described as “logical discrepancies”. No reason was furnished even after I submitted my matriculation certificate, and my appeal is now pending before one of the tribunals constituted pursuant to the Supreme Court’s directions. As a consequence, I was unable to vote in the recent election.

“More distressing has been the fate of my passport renewal application. Although I completed the biometric formalities on March 19, 2026, police verification has not been cleared because my name no longer appears on the electoral roll. Despite submitting several alternative documents, I have been informed that they are insufficient. In fact, today (Saturday, June 27, 2026) is the 100th day since my biometrics for passport renewal were taken. I was formally informed last week by the passport-issuing authority that Kolkata Police sent an adverse report, citing the deletion of my name from the voters’ list. I have been asked to appear before the Regional Passport Office in Calcutta “immediately” but when I sought an appointment, without which it is difficult to gain entry, the date granted is July 17, 2026.

“In between, our daughter, a journalist in California, got married in San Francisco on April 17. Needless to say, it would have been impossible for me to attend the wedding in the absence of an active passport, notwithstanding my possession of a valid ten-year US visa.

“For all practical purposes, I find myself in a state of civic uncertainty although recently the government iterated that a passport is no proof of citizenship.  Much of my time is now consumed by efforts to reconstruct family records and secure documents dating back several decades….

“My days begin with checking my voting right appeal status and then the passport tracker. Then I write to the college where my mother taught in 1965 and to her school from where she passed out in 1959, asking for any document that proves she existed. The school has been very helpful but not the college. Similarly, I speak to prohibition campaign activists in Kerala, running down a list I collected after coming across an activist’s name in a group by chance, asking for any news clipping or photographs that show my father campaigning against illegal liquor vends and communalism.

“Some close friends and public figures have helped me in all these efforts. However, I am unaware if any media outlet or journalists’ association or guild (of which I am not a member) has shown any interest in my situation. A senior journalist reminded me that this situation is by no means unique as “rejection” has been the daily certainty confronting millions of Indians for centuries. I accept that point.

“My intention has never been to project myself as a victim. Rather, I have wanted to underline a larger point: if someone who spent his professional life in journalism and edited a relatively known newspaper can encounter such difficulties, one can only imagine what the truly marginalised must endure.  Did I approach any newspaper? No, because I do not want it to become an issue concerning me. Do editors and journalists know about my issue? Of course, several do. If they don’t, they should not be in the profession, don’t you think?

“Yet, the complete silence of newspapers on this issue has confirmed my suspicion, now reinforced with personal experience, that so-called mainstream journalism has little to do with my life. I do not “read” any newspaper now. I glance at some but hardly find anything that piques my interest.

“I continue, however, to admire the work of organisations such as The Wire, Scroll, The Reporters’ Collective, Newslaundry, The News Minute and PARI. They represent journalism of the highest order, and I sometimes feel it does them a disservice to evaluate them alongside much of what passes for mainstream journalism today.

“It is for this reason that I no longer feel ethically justified in serving on a jury entrusted with recognising excellence in journalism. My views on much of the misidentified “mainstream media” have become deeply sceptical, and I cannot be confident that they would not unconsciously influence my judgment. There may well be outstanding work being done within those organisations, but I am no longer sure that I would be able to assess it with the detachment such a responsibility demands. My disenchantment cannot be allowed to affect their chance at winning an award named after Shri Prem Bhatia.

“My reservations are ethical rather than legal. I believe my continued presence would diminish, rather than enhance, the integrity of the selection process.

“I, therefore, request that you kindly permit me to step aside. I apologise to you for any inconvenience caused. I remain deeply appreciative of this stellar initiative and wish it every success in the years ahead. Please feel free to share this note with anyone you prefer.

This note that has been made public by R. Rajagopal was also a part of his resignation from the Prem Bhatia Journalism Award Jury.

R. Rajagopal

P.S. The The Prem Bhatia Journalism Awards and Lecture were instituted in 1995 by the Prem Bhatia Memorial Trust to honour the legacy of the legendary former editor of The Tribune. Mr. Bhatia was an eminent journalist, known for both his incisive political reporting and far-sightedness, as well as his independence of judgement and unfaltering objectivity. The trust instituted two awards — one for Excellence in Political Journalism, and the other for Excellence in Environmental Journalism, to honour his memory.In 2024, under an arrangement, the trust handed over its corpus to the Guild. Since 2025, the Editors Guild of India (EGi) has continued the legacy by administering the awards, along with the annual lecture.

Meanwhile the Editor’s Guild of India issued a statement condemning the treatment meted out to R. Rajagopal on Sunday, June 28. The full text may be read here:

“June 28, 2026 | New Delhi: The Editors Guild of India condemns the manner in which Mr. R. Rajagopal, a former Editor of The Telegraph, a leading Kolkata-based daily, is being treated by the bureaucracy that gets to decide who is an Indian citizen and who is not. Mr. Rajagopal, despites decades of work in the public domain as a journalist and editor, today finds himself not only disenfranchised as a voter due to the deletion of his name from the electoral rolls, but also unable to renew his passport since more than 100 days, allegedly due to an ‘adverse report’ from the Kolkata Police, who must have been very familiar with Mr. Rajagopal as the Editor of one of the city’s leading dailies. The police verification appears to have been denied on the basis that Mr. Rajagopal’s name no longer figured on the electoral rolls!

Mr. Rajagopal’s plight highlights the misery that millions of Indians are being put through due to the Special Intensive Revision of electoral rolls being carried out by the Election Commission of India.

If it could happen to someone like Mr. Rajagopal, a known public figure, the fate of others who have similarly been disenfranchised by a bureaucratic stroke of the pen, and lacking the voice to seek redressal can only be imagined.

The EGi calls on the EC to display common sense – and sympathy — and restore Mr. Rajagopal’s identity as a voter at the earliest — and extend similar consideration to all those who have suffered a similar fate.

Related:

Exclusive Investigation SIR: How many voters did the ECI actually disenfranchise? Why do final figures show inexplicable ‘additions’?

To Karnataka’s Anti-SIR Movement: A note of caution and concern

Anti-SIR Activists Beware: A mere Residential Certificate does not satisfy SIR requirements

The post Rejected as Voter, also denied a Passport? Here is how ‘New India’ deals with exclusion complaints under SIR: Former editor, Telegraph, R Rajagopal appeared first on SabrangIndia.