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.

That challenge from citizens has now reached the Bombay High Court. This week, the People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) and the Forum Against Oppression of Women filed a writ petition challenging the constitutional validity of the Maharashtra Special Public Safety Act (MSPSA), contending that the law violates fundamental constitutional guarantees and grants excessive, unchecked powers to the executive. The challenge marks the beginning of a legal test for a legislation that has generated sustained opposition from civil liberties organisations, trade unions, academics, lawyers, students’ groups, political parties and democratic rights movements across Maharashtra.

Importantly, many of the arguments now being advanced before the High Court closely mirror concerns that were repeatedly raised during the legislative process itself. Among the organisations that consistently opposed the legislation was Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), which submitted detailed objections to the Joint Select Committee examining the then Bill, participated in the broader state-wide campaign against the legislation, and warned that the law’s vague provisions could become a tool for suppressing dissent rather than addressing genuine security threats.

A constitutional challenge to the heart of the law

According to the petition filed before the High Court, the Act suffers from a fundamental constitutional defect: it authorises severe restrictions on freedoms of speech, expression, association and assembly without incorporating the procedural safeguards that constitutional jurisprudence requires when the State seeks to limit such rights.

The petition argues that the law violates Articles 14, 19 and 21 of the Constitution and undermines broader constitutional principles of liberty, equality and democratic participation. It further contends that the Act creates a framework through which organisations can be declared unlawful on the basis of broad executive discretion, while insulating those decisions from meaningful scrutiny.

Particularly significant is the challenge to the Act’s definitions of “unlawful activity” and “unlawful organisation.” According to the petitioners, these definitions are so broad and vague that they can potentially encompass trade unions, social movements, human rights organisations, political opposition groups and individuals engaged in peaceful dissent.

The challenge therefore strikes at the central architecture of the legislation rather than merely isolated provisions. It asks whether a law ostensibly enacted to combat extremism can constitutionally employ language so expansive that ordinary democratic activity may fall within its ambit.

A warning raised long before the Act was passed

The constitutional challenge did not emerge in a vacuum. For months before the legislation was enacted, Maharashtra witnessed one of the most extensive civil society mobilisations against a proposed law in recent memory. More than 12,750 objections and suggestions were reportedly submitted to the Joint Select Committee examining the Bill, making it one of the largest public responses ever received by the Maharashtra legislature. More than ninety percent of the submissions reportedly opposed the legislation.

Citizens for Justice and Peace was among the organisations at the forefront of this campaign. In April 2025, CJP submitted a detailed objection memorandum to the Joint Select Committee, warning that the legislation posed a serious threat to constitutional freedoms and democratic dissent. CJP argued that the Bill’s framing around the idea of “Urban Naxalism” rested on an inherently vague and politically charged concept that lacked clear legal meaning. Significantly, the organisation pointed out that the Union Ministry of Home Affairs itself had previously stated that it does not use the term “urban naxal” as an official category in dealing with Left-Wing Extremism. CJP warned that a law justified through such an indeterminate concept risked becoming a mechanism for targeting journalists, activists, artists, civil society organisations and political critics rather than genuine security threats.

Today, many of those concerns have reappeared in the constitutional challenge before the High Court.

The battle over “unlawful activity”

One of the most striking parallels between the writ petition and earlier civil society objections concerns the Act’s definition of unlawful activity.

The petition before the High Court argues that the definition is overbroad and vague, allowing the State to invoke the law against a wide range of lawful democratic activities.

CJP’s earlier objections had similarly focused on Section 2(f), arguing that phrases such as conduct that creates a “danger or menace to public order” were left undefined and provided no clear legal standards. According to CJP, terms such as “menace” were capable of subjective interpretation and could permit authorities to categorise ordinary activities as unlawful according to their discretion. The concern was not merely semantic. Constitutional law has long recognised that vague criminal provisions create opportunities for arbitrary enforcement. When citizens cannot reasonably determine what conduct is prohibited, enforcement becomes dependent on the discretion of the executive rather than the rule of law.

That concern now sits at the centre of the High Court challenge.

The question of executive power

The writ petition also challenges the breadth of powers conferred upon the State government to declare organisations unlawful. Again, this reflects a recurring theme in earlier objections raised by civil liberties groups.

CJP argued that the proposed framework granted extraordinary authority to the executive while providing inadequate independent oversight. It questioned the composition of the Advisory Board established under the legislation, noting that members need only be qualified for appointment as High Court judges rather than serving judicial officers. Because appointments are ultimately controlled by the government itself, CJP warned that the mechanism lacked sufficient institutional independence. The broader concern was that a law designed to regulate political organisations and associations should not depend primarily upon executive opinion.

The constitutional challenge now similarly questions whether the legislation creates a system in which governmental discretion is insufficiently constrained by objective standards and procedural safeguards.

Existing laws already covered the field

Another criticism repeatedly advanced by opponents of the legislation was that Maharashtra already possessed an extensive arsenal of security laws.

CJP argued that provisions dealing with terrorism, organised crime, unlawful activities and threats to national security already exist through laws such as the UAPA, the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act. It questioned why an additional statute with even broader powers was necessary at all. The constitutional challenge raises a related issue. If existing criminal law already addresses violent extremism and organised criminal activity, what precisely justifies a separate law empowering the State to declare organisations unlawful through broad and vaguely worded standards?

This question becomes especially important because the Act itself repeatedly invokes concerns regarding Left-Wing Extremism while failing to define key terms such as “naxalism” or “left-wing extremist” within its operative provisions.

A state-wide democratic resistance

The present litigation is also the culmination of a much broader political and civic campaign. In April 2025, protests against the Bill were organised across Maharashtra, bringing together civil liberties organisations, workers’ groups, farmers’ organisations, students’ groups, political parties and grassroots movements. Demonstrations took place across dozens of districts and reflected an unusually broad coalition united by concerns regarding civil liberties and democratic freedoms.

CJP played a visible role in that mobilisation, participating in a wider coalition that argued the legislation threatened constitutionally protected rights of speech, association, assembly and protest. The campaign consistently maintained that the law’s vague language created the risk that peaceful political opposition could be conflated with threats to public security. The filing of the writ petition therefore represents not the beginning of resistance to the law, but the latest stage of a struggle that has been unfolding for over a year. The formal objections raised by CJP have been detailed and may be perused here.

Why the High Court’s decision matters

The challenge before the Bombay High Court extends beyond the future of a single state law. At its core lies a constitutional question that has repeatedly confronted Indian courts: how far can the State go in the name of security before constitutional freedoms are impermissibly compromised?

The petition asks whether a law can authorise severe consequences, including the declaration of organisations as unlawful, through definitions that have been described as vague, subjective and susceptible to political misuse. It raises concerns about executive overreach, procedural fairness, access to justice and the protection of democratic dissent.

For organisations such as Citizens for Justice and Peace, the issue has never been whether the State can act against genuine violence or armed insurgency. Rather, the concern has been whether legislation drafted in the language of security can ultimately be deployed against lawful political activity.

The complete dissent note by CJP may be read here.

Detailed reports may be read here, here and here.

Related:

Public Resistance and Democratic Assertion: India through protests, 2025

Dissent Note: The alarming scope of Maharashtra’s Special Public Safety Bill, 2024

Censorship After NEET: A substitute for accountability

The Supreme Court in 2025: When procedure trumped principle

Assam, the third state to pass UCC: Gender justice or targeted communalism the aim?

The post From Protest to Petition: Maharashtra’s Public Safety Act in the dock appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Cases emerging from Assam’s citizenship determination regime

The petitions arise from Assam’s unique citizenship adjudication framework, under which Foreigners Tribunals determine whether a person is an Indian citizen or a foreigner who entered the country after March 25, 1971, the cut-off date fixed under the Assam Accord.

Persons referred to these tribunals are required to establish their citizenship by proving linkage with ancestors whose presence in India can be traced to electoral rolls or other admissible records predating the cut-off date. Tribunal orders are challengeable before the Gauhati High Court and thereafter before the Supreme Court.

For years, rights groups such as Citizens for Justice and Peace have criticised the functioning of the tribunals, arguing that citizenship claims are frequently rejected on the basis of minor discrepancies in names, ages, spellings, or documentary inconsistencies that are common in rural records. Questions have also been raised regarding the treatment of illiterate and economically vulnerable persons who often struggle to navigate complex evidentiary requirements. The cases before the Supreme Court appear to bring many of these concerns into sharp focus.

Saleha Khatun: Citizenship claim rejected despite multiple lineage documents

One of the petitioners, Saleha Khatun, a 50-year-old illiterate woman, has been lodged in the Goalpara detention centre since March 2 after being declared a foreigner by a Foreigners Tribunal in Darrang district, a finding later affirmed by the Gauhati High Court.

According to her petition, reported by Livelaw, she had produced extensive documentary evidence to establish that she is the daughter of Indian citizens Ahsan Ali and the late Korpuljan, whose names appear in electoral records predating 1971 from Nagabandha village in Nagaon district.

Her evidence reportedly included NRC legacy records relating to her father, voter lists, certificates issued by the Gaonburah and Gram Panchayat authorities, family electoral records and oral testimony from her sister intended to establish lineage and continuity of residence.

Despite this, the Foreigners Tribunal rejected her claim in December 2018, citing discrepancies relating to family particulars, age and other collateral details. The Tribunal also declined to rely on linkage certificates because the authorities who issued those certificates had not been examined before it.

The case raises questions regarding the weight that should be accorded to documentary evidence when discrepancies are not directly connected to the core issue of citizenship. AoR Fuzail Ahmad Ayyubi has filed the SLPs for this case.

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Sarbhanu Begum: Spelling variations become grounds for rejection

The petition filed by Sarbhanu Begum presents another example of citizenship claims allegedly being defeated by inconsistencies in official records, according to LiveLaw. Sarbhanu, an illiterate domestic worker aged around 50 years and currently detained in Goalpara, contends that she is the daughter of the late Mia Hussain, whose name appears in pre-1971 electoral records from Barkur village in Darrang district.

According to her plea, she produced documentary evidence and independent witness testimony to establish both lineage and continued residence in Assam. However, the Tribunal reportedly rejected her claim primarily because of variations in the spelling of her name appearing as “Sarbhanu”, “Sorbhanu” and “Saharbhanu” in different records. An additional discrepancy concerning an electoral entry relating to her husband’s name was also relied upon against her.

Her petition raises a recurring issue that has appeared in numerous citizenship cases in Assam: whether spelling variations and clerical inconsistencies in documents prepared over several decades should be sufficient to discredit an otherwise supported claim of citizenship. AoR Fuzail Ahmad Ayyubi has filed the SLPs for this case.

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Nureza Begum: Challenge to ex-parte declaration

The case of Musstt Nureza Begum centres on allegations of procedural unfairness. Nureza Begum, as per LiveLaw, who describes herself as an illiterate woman living below the poverty line, contends that she was declared a foreigner through an ex parte proceeding.

According to her petition, after receiving notice from the Tribunal, she appeared before it and signed a register as instructed. Believing that she had complied with the process, she left the premises. She later discovered that the Tribunal had proceeded ex-parte and declared her a foreigner.

Her challenge before the Gauhati High Court was unsuccessful. The High Court held that once notice had been served, she could not avoid the consequences of failing to properly participate in the proceedings. The Court observed that the responsibility to defend the case rested upon her and concluded that judicial intervention could not be granted merely because she had been negligent.

The petition before the Supreme Court raises broader concerns regarding access to justice, particularly for illiterate litigants who may not fully understand legal procedures or the consequences of procedural defaults. AoR Fuzail Ahmad Ayyubi has filed the SLPs for this case.

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Basiram Nessa: Alleged non-consideration of documentary evidence

Basiram Nessa’s petition centres on allegations that crucial documentary evidence was ignored. As per LiveLaw, she claims to have produced electoral rolls from 1965 and 1989 containing the names of her grandfather and father respectively. She also relied upon certificates issued by local authorities certifying that she was the daughter of Zakir Hussain and had subsequently married Osman Gani.

According to her plea, the Tribunal nevertheless concluded that she had failed to establish her parental linkage and therefore failed to discharge the burden of proving citizenship. The matter has a long procedural history. Basiram previously approached the Supreme Court, which in January 2020 permitted her to seek review before the Gauhati High Court. However, those proceedings also failed to provide relief, leading her to once again approach the apex court.

Her case highlights concerns regarding judicial scrutiny of documentary records and the extent to which tribunals must expressly engage with evidence produced by persons facing the risk of detention and deportation. AoR Fuzail Ahmad Ayyubi has filed the SLPs for this case.

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Aklima Khatun: Citizenship claim questioned despite NRC and electoral records

The Supreme Court also issued notice in the case of Aklima Khatun and directed that status quo be maintained. Aklima was declared a foreigner on the allegation that she entered India after the statutory cut-off date of March 25, 1971. The finding was subsequently upheld by the Gauhati High Court, reported LiveLaw.

Her petition asserts that she relied upon NRC 1951 records relating to her parents, electoral rolls from 1966, 1970, 1985, 2006 and 2016, as well as her voter identity card demonstrating continued residence in Balarchar village of Bongaigaon district.

Despite these documents, the Tribunal allegedly relied upon discrepancies in the names of her grandparents to reject her claim. Advocate Ujjaini Chatterji appeared for this case.

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

The Supreme Court’s own warning against hyper-technical citizenship determinations

The present cases acquire added significance because they echo concerns that the Supreme Court itself has previously expressed about the manner in which citizenship claims are assessed in Assam. Several of the petitioners before the Court contend that their claims were rejected because of spelling variations, inconsistencies in family particulars, discrepancies in ages, or other defects in historical records, despite the production of legacy documents and electoral records intended to establish their Indian citizenship.

In this regard, the Supreme Court’s decision in Sirajul Hoque v. State of Assam assumes particular importance. In that case, the Court set aside a Foreigners Tribunal order that had treated spelling variations in ancestral names as fatal to the petitioner’s citizenship claim. The Court recognised that documentary records prepared across different decades, by different authorities and often in different languages, are naturally susceptible to variations in spelling, transliteration and clerical recording.

The judgment acknowledged a reality that has long characterised citizenship litigation in Assam: names appearing in electoral rolls, land records, NRC documents and village certificates frequently undergo changes in spelling when translated between Assamese, Bengali and English. Such variations, the Court indicated, cannot automatically be treated as evidence of foreign origin or as grounds to discard an otherwise credible claim of citizenship.

When documentary imperfections become grounds for exclusion

The allegations raised by the present petitioners appear to mirror precisely the concerns identified in Sirajul Hoque. Sarbhanu Begum’s citizenship claim, for instance, was reportedly rejected because her name appeared in different records as “Sarbhanu”, “Sorbhanu” and “Saharbhanu”, alongside a discrepancy relating to her husband’s name. Saleha Khatun’s claim was allegedly defeated by inconsistencies relating to family particulars and age, while Aklima Khatun’s case turned substantially on discrepancies in the names of her grandparents.

Viewed collectively, these cases raise questions about whether tribunals are giving disproportionate weight to clerical inconsistencies while overlooking the broader evidentiary record. Citizenship proceedings often involve individuals from rural and economically marginalised backgrounds whose records span several decades and have been generated by multiple authorities. In such circumstances, minor inconsistencies may be inevitable rather than indicative of fraud or foreign origin.

A question of evidentiary standards

The Supreme Court’s intervention therefore goes beyond the individual facts of the petitioners’ cases. At its core lies a broader legal question: what standard should govern the evaluation of citizenship claims in Assam? Should tribunals focus narrowly on isolated discrepancies, or should they assess documentary evidence holistically, considering whether the overall record establishes lineage and residence?

The reasoning in Sirajul Hoque suggests that citizenship determinations cannot be reduced to a mechanical comparison of names and spellings across decades-old records. Instead, tribunals must examine whether discrepancies are material enough to undermine the substance of the claim. Where multiple documents consistently point towards the same family lineage and place of residence, minor variations may not be sufficient to justify a declaration of foreignness.

Against this backdrop, the present batch of petitions may provide the Supreme Court with an opportunity to further clarify the evidentiary principles governing Foreigners Tribunal proceedings. The Court’s interim decision to stay deportation suggests a recognition that the issues raised warrant closer scrutiny before irreversible consequences such as detention and deportation are allowed to follow.

Detailed report on evolving jurisprudence on documentary evidence in Assam citizenship cases may be read here.

Related:

Gauhati HC upholds foreigner declaration, reasserts harsh reverse burden under colonial-era Foreigners Act

The Immigrant Expulsion from Assam Act, 1950: Re-evaluating executive powers in light of judicial pronouncements and due process

CJP Assam: A journey without parallel, evolving & expanding rights jurisprudence

Assam’s “Doubtful Citizens”: CJP secures justice for Anowara Khatun, declared Indian citizen after decades of state persecution

Dead Voters, Forged Forms, and Political Interference: CJP flags systemic manipulation in Assam’s electoral roll revision, seeks ECI probe

“Premier agency?” SC slams Assam Police for “appalling” two-year UAPA detention without chargesheet

Assam’s New SOP Hands Citizenship Decisions to Bureaucrats: Executive overreach or legal necessity?

The post Declared Foreigners, Facing Deportation: Supreme Court grants interim relief appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The statement states that the signatories have followed with concern Khurram Parvez’s detention on baseless charges since November 2021, and his continued detention without trial in Delhi’s Rohini Jail. By his birthday, June 18, he will have spent 1,670 days in prison.

The signatories have also reminded the Indian authorities that three years ago, in June 2023, the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention (UNWGAD) determined that Khurram Parvez’s detention was arbitrary and called on the Indian authorities to release him. They have expressed concern that the Indian government, despite pledging to participate meaningfully with UN mechanisms as a member of the UN Human Rights Council, has not engaged with the UNWGAD in relation to Khurram’s detention.

Categorising his detention and judicial harassment is happening in a context of longstanding, ongoing grave violations of human rights and fundamental freedoms in Jammu & Kashmir, the signatories have also condemned the Indian authorities’ widespread and normalised use of repressive counter-terrorism laws, such as the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, under which Khurram Parvez is being targeted, to silence human rights defenders and dissenting voices.

The statement had urged the government of India to immediately and unconditionally release Khurram Parvez. It also calls on India’s international partners to publicly denounce Khurram Parvez’s detention and to demand that their Indian counterparts release him immediately and unconditionally. The solidarity with Khurram Parvez will continue.

Background

On June 10, 2026, in one of the cases that Parvez is facing, the Delhi High Court granted bail to Kashmiri rights defender Khurram Parvez after 4½ years in jail. Though significant, the ruling, however, did not immediately secure Parvez’s freedom. He is in continued judicial custody because he is also an accused in a separate NIA case registered in 2020 relating to alleged terror-funding networks in Jammu and Kashmir, where his bail plea remains pending. The June 10 ruling however is still key: a Division Bench of Justice Navin Chawla and Justice Ravinder Dudeja ruled that the constitutional guarantee of personal liberty under Article 21 cannot be indefinitely subordinated to statutory restrictions on bail. “The appellant’s rights under Article 21 of the Constitution of India need to be balanced and may even trump the restriction imposed under Section 43D(5) of the UAPA,” the Court observed, as per LiveLaw, while setting aside a December 2024 order of the Special NIA Court that had refused bail.

SabrangIndia had reported extensively on this ruling and the article may be read here.

The signature campaign cum statement released on June 19, the day after Khurram Parvez’s 49^th birthday had the following signatories:

Signed by:

Organisations:

1. ACAT-France
2. Activate Rights
3. Al-Haq
4. Amnesty International
5. Armanshahr / OPEN ASIA
6. Asia Alliance Against Torture (A3T)
7. Asia Human Rights and Labour Advocates (AHRLA)
8. Asia Justice and Rights
9. Asian Federation Against Involuntary Disappearances (AFAD)
10. Asian Human Rights Commission
11. Asociación Pro Derechos Humanos de España (APDHE)
12. Association Démocratique des Femmes du Maroc (ADFM)
13. Association for Democracy in the Maldives (ADM)
14. Association of Women for Awareness and Motivation (AWAM)
15. Association Tchadienne pour la Promotion et la défense des droits de l’homme (ATPDH)
16. Bridging for Sustainable Development (BSD)
17. Bytes For All, Pakistan
18. Cambodian Center for Human Rights (CCHR)
19. Cambodian Human Rights and Development Association (ADHOC)
20. CENIDH
21. Center for Civil Liberties
22. Center for Prisoners’ Rights
23. Centro de Investigación y Promoción de los Derechos Humanos (CIPRODEH)
24. Centro de Políticas Públicas y Derechos Humanos (Perú EQUIDAD)
25. CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation
26. Civil Society and Human Rights Network (CSHRN)
27. Collectif de Sauvegarde de la Ligue Algérienne pour la Défense des Droits de l’Homme
28. Commission for the Disappeared and Victims of Violence (KontraS)
29. Committee on the Administration of Justice (CAJ) (Northern ireland)
30. Community Self Reliance Centre (CSRC)
31. Defence of Human Rights Pakistan
32. DITSHWANELO – The Botswana Centre for Human Rights
33. Ethiopian Human Rights Council (EHRCO)
34. Forum Against Repression, Telangana
35. FORUM-ASIA
36. Foundation Day of the Endangered Lawyer
37. Front Line Defenders (FLD)
38. Hindus for Human Rights
39. Hivos
40. Human Rights Association (IHD)
41. Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP)
42. Human Rights Defenders’ Alert – India (HRDA)
43. Human Rights Forum
44. Human Rights Online Philippines (HRonlinePH)
45. Human Rights Watch
46. IMPARSIAL, the Indonesian Human Rights Monitor
47. India Labour Solidarity (UK)
48. Indian Alliance Paris (IAP)
49. Indian Social Action Forum
50. International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH), within the framework of the Observatory for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders
51. International Legal Initiative Public Foundation
52. International Service for Human Rights (ISHR)
53. International Solidarity with Academic Freedom in India (InSAF India)
54. Just Peace Advocates/Mouvement Pour Une Paix Juste
55. Justiça Global
56. Karapatan
57. Kashmir Law and Justice Project
58. Kazakhstan International Bureau for human rights
59. Kirithavar Vazhvurimai Iyakkam (Christian Rights Forum – India)
60. Lawyers for Human Rights (South Africa)
61. League for Defence of Human Rights in Iran (LDDHI)
62. Liga Voor Mensenrechten
63. Liga voor de Rechten van de Mens
64. Ligue Burundaise des droits de l’homme Iteka
65. Ligue des Droits de l’Homme (LDH – France)
66. Ligue Djiboutienne des Droits Humain (LDDH)
67. Madaripur Legal Aid Association (MLAA)
68. Maldivian Democracy Network (MDN)
69. National Alliance of People’s Movements (NAPM)
70. Nonviolence International
71. Odhikar
72. Organisation Marocaine des droits humains (OMDH)
73. People’s Watch
74. Philippine Alliance of Human Rights Advocates (PAHRA)
75. Progressive Voice (PV)
76. Project South
77. Public Association “Dignity”
78. Public Committee against Torture in Israel
79. Rafto Foundation for Human Rights
80. Rencontre Africaine pour la Défense des Droits de l’Homme (RADDHO)
81. Solidarite Fanm Ayisyèn (SOFA)
82. South Asia Justice Campaign
83. South Asia Solidarity Group
84. South Asians for Human Rights (SAHR)
85. SUARAM
86. Task Force Detainees of the Philippines (TFDP)
87. The Advocates for Human Rights
88. The Canadian BDS Coalition and International BDS Allies
89. The Sudanese Human Rights Monitor (SHRM)
90. Think Centre
91. University of Madras, Criminology Students
92. World Organization against Torture (OMCT), within the framework of the Observatory for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders

Individuals:

1. Kulandaisamy
2. Ahmed Aloui
3. Aissa Rahmoune
4. Alexis Deswaef (President of FIDH)
5. Allarassem Yemingar
6. Angana Chatterji
7. Appandairaj Jain
8. Asiya Arif
9. Ather Zia
10. Bela Bhatia
11. Bernadette Hamenyimana
12. Cecille Baello (Families of Victims of Involuntary Disappearance (FIND))
13. Cedric Prakash
14. Clifton D’ Rozario
15. David Kaye (former UN Special Rapporteur)
16. Dean Accardi
17. Dhayanithi Raj Jeganathan
18. Diana Alzeer
19. Dr Yeshua Moser-Puangsuwan
20. Frazer Mascarenhas
21. Emma Brännlund (Senior Lecturer in Sociology, Mid Sweden University)
22. Farhatullah Babar
23. Fatima Babu
24. Fernand de Varennes (former UN Special Rapporteur)
25. Fionnuala Ni Aolain (former UN Special Rapporteur)
26. Alex Maria Chelliah (OFM Cap)
27. Freny Manecksha
28. Giulia Ganovelli
29. Hafidha Chekir
30. Haley Duschinski
31. Hariprasath V
32. Harsh Mander
33. Immanuel Kalaiselvan
34. Johanna Chardonnieras
35. Joseph Xavier
36. Karan Singha
37. Khadija Errebah
38. Krishnakant Chauhan
39. Kumar Prashant
40. Lotika Singha
41. Mamadou Sy
42. Maryse Artiguelong (former FIDH Vice President)
43. Mody Watt (General Secretary, ONDH/ Sénégal)
44. Mona Bhan
45. Namdev Dagam
46. Nandita Narain
47. Navsharan Singh
48. Oli D’Cruz
49. Omer Aijazi
50. R Shameer Basha
51. Rajeev Singha
52. Rajni Shah
53. Rakshith M R
54. Raqib Naik
55. Ruki Fernando
56. Saba Ismail
57. Sam Kamalesan
58. Shahindha Ismail
59. Sherley Dokiburra
60. Shyama Sivadas
61. Siddeeqa Iram
62. Sidharth Tulsi Ganeshan
63. Siraj Dutta
64. Somasekhara sarma
65. Sruti Bala
66. Stephen J. Rapp
67. Suchitra Vijayan
68. Sudarshan Ramiengar
69. Suresh Babu Marayil
70. Suresh M
71. Théobald Rutihunza
72. Vasantha Lakshmi
73. Vijay S P
74. M
75. Vivek Sundara
76. VS Krishna
77. Yoojung Hong
78. Zainab Jamil
79. Zia Ur Rehman
80. Zohra Yusuf

The statement may also be read here.

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The post Release Kashmiri HRD Khurram Pervez immediately & unconditionally: International HR Fora appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Published by the Human Rights Advocacy and Research Foundation (HRF), The Elusive Search for Justice: 30 Year Review of the SCs & STs (PoA) Act brings together the work of former civil servants, lawyers, academics, human rights defenders and Dalit rights activists to assess how India’s principal anti-atrocities legislation has functioned over three decades. Across its chapters, the report paints a troubling picture of rising atrocities, persistently low conviction rates, and poor implementation of victim compensation schemes, weak monitoring mechanisms, and widespread institutional failures that continue to undermine access to justice. The report’s central conclusion is that while Parliament has repeatedly strengthened the law through amendments and expanded protections for victims, the institutions responsible for implementing these safeguards have largely failed to match the law’s ambition.

Among the most revealing contributions to the volume is a chapter by activist, writer and human rights defender Vidya Bhushan Rawat, who examines the functioning of the Act in Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana. While the broader report identifies national trends of weak implementation and institutional apathy, Rawat’s chapter shows how these failures manifest on the ground, in police stations, district administrations, courts and villages across northern India.

Unlike chapters that focus on legislative history or national statistics, Rawat’s contribution is rooted in lived experiences. Drawing on field investigations, case studies, Right to Information disclosures and years of engagement with Dalit communities, he examines the obstacles faced by survivors seeking justice under the PoA Act. Rawat’s account suggests that the greatest barriers often emerge not in the courtroom but much earlier, at the stages of complaint registration, investigation and administrative response.

Rawat’s central argument is that the crisis confronting the PoA Act is no longer one of legislative inadequacy. Over three decades, Parliament has progressively strengthened the law, expanded the list of recognised offences, enhanced victim protections and introduced new accountability mechanisms. Yet the effectiveness of these provisions ultimately depends upon the willingness of police officers, prosecutors, district administrations and local governments to enforce them. It is at this level, he argues, that the law repeatedly breaks down.

The result is a system in which the formal existence of legal rights often bears little resemblance to the realities experienced by Dalit survivors attempting to access protection, accountability and justice.

The hidden crisis behind atrocity statistics

Rawat begins by challenging a common assumption that official crime statistics adequately capture the scale of caste violence.

For many observers, NCRB data provides the principal measure of atrocities committed against Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. Rawat argues that these figures reveal only a fraction of the reality. The larger problem, he suggests, lies in the vast number of incidents that never enter official records at all.

Across Uttar Pradesh and neighbouring states, Dalit complainants frequently encounter resistance at the very first stage of the criminal justice process. Police officials may refuse to register FIRs under the PoA Act, dilute charges, classify incidents as ordinary criminal disputes, or encourage parties to arrive at informal compromises. In many villages, survivors must navigate local power structures before they can even reach a police station.

The consequence is that official statistics may reflect only those cases that successfully overcome multiple layers of institutional resistance.

Rawat argues that any assessment of the PoA Act that relies exclusively on registered cases risks overlooking the structural barriers that prevent countless incidents from being formally recognised as atrocities in the first place.

Uttar Pradesh: The limits of legal protection

Among the three states examined, Uttar Pradesh occupies a central place in Rawat’s analysis. The state has long recorded some of the highest numbers of crimes against Scheduled Castes in the country. Yet Rawat contends that these figures tell only part of the story. The deeper problem lies in the persistent inability of victims to secure meaningful justice after a case is reported.

According to the chapter, many police officials continue to approach caste atrocities through the lens of local disputes rather than recognising them as manifestations of entrenched social discrimination. Complaints are often discouraged, investigations delayed, and statutory provisions under the PoA Act either ignored or improperly applied.

Rawat argues that this administrative response reflects a broader reluctance within state institutions to confront caste power directly. Rather than functioning as neutral enforcers of the law, institutions frequently mirror the social hierarchies that the legislation was intended to challenge.

The Case of Shivam: A child, a crushed arm, and a system that failed

To illustrate these dynamics, Rawat recounts the case of Shivam, an eight-year-old Dalit child from Jaunpur district whose arm was allegedly crushed in a sugarcane-crushing machine owned by an upper-caste family in December 2015.

The incident should have triggered an immediate legal response. Instead, according to the account presented in the chapter, the family encountered resistance from law-enforcement authorities when they sought to pursue the matter. Efforts to register a complaint were allegedly met with indifference, while those assisting the family reportedly faced hostility from officials.

What makes the case particularly significant for Rawat is not merely the injury itself but the social environment surrounding it.

The family belonged to a community economically dependent upon dominant-caste landowners. Villagers were reportedly unwilling to speak openly about the incident, fearing repercussions. The imbalance of power was such that even seeking justice carried social and economic risks. Ultimately, concerns for safety and survival reportedly forced the family to leave the village.

For Rawat, the episode demonstrates how caste violence cannot be understood solely as a criminal act. It is sustained by relationships of economic dependence, social exclusion and institutional indifference that make accountability exceptionally difficult to achieve.

Hundreds of cases, no convictions

Perhaps the most striking evidence presented in the chapter comes from information obtained through Right to Information applications in eastern Uttar Pradesh. Seeking to understand how the PoA Act functioned in practice, activists requested data from police authorities in Deoria and Kushinagar districts regarding cases registered under the Act between 2015 and 2019.

The responses revealed a startling pattern. In Deoria district, 568 cases had reportedly been registered under the Act across seventeen police stations during the five-year period. Yet not a single conviction had been secured. In neighbouring Kushinagar district, 754 cases had reportedly been registered across thirteen police stations during the same period. Again, there was not a single conviction. For Rawat, these figures are among the most compelling indicators of institutional failure.

The issue is not merely that convictions are low. Rather, the complete absence of convictions despite hundreds of registered cases raises fundamental questions about investigations, prosecutions, witness protection and judicial outcomes. Such figures suggest a justice system in which the formal registration of cases does not necessarily translate into accountability.

The chapter argues that marginalised communities such as Mushahars and Doms—among the most socio-economically vulnerable groups in the region—face particular obstacles in sustaining legal battles against socially and politically influential perpetrators.

Haryana and the Bhagana struggle

The chapter also revisits the Bhagana movement in Haryana, one of the most prominent Dalit rights struggles in recent years. The Bhagana episode became emblematic of the vulnerabilities faced by Dalit communities confronting dominant-caste power structures. Rawat argues that despite national attention and public mobilisation, many affected families continued to face displacement, insecurity and uncertainty long after the initial incidents.

The chapter questions whether state institutions have meaningfully addressed the grievances of survivors or ensured accountability for those responsible. Years after the events, the promise of rehabilitation and justice remained largely unrealised.

For Rawat, Bhagana exemplifies a recurring pattern visible across many atrocity cases: public outrage may generate temporary visibility, but institutional follow-through remains weak.

Uttarakhand: When administrative structures complicate justice

Rawat’s discussion of Uttarakhand focuses particularly on the Jaunsar region, where he raises concerns about the interaction between social realities and administrative classifications.

According to the chapter, the widespread Scheduled Tribe classification in the region has created complex challenges for the implementation of the PoA Act. Rawat argues that social hierarchies and discriminatory practices continue to exist despite official classifications that often obscure these realities. The chapter points to continuing experiences of exclusion faced by communities such as the Kolta and Bajagi. Practices associated with untouchability, restrictions on social participation and entrenched caste hierarchies, Rawat argues, remain part of everyday life in many areas.

Rawat’s broader concern is that administrative categories sometimes fail to reflect the actual distribution of social power on the ground. When legal frameworks are built upon such classifications, opportunities for accountability may be weakened. The Jaunsar example thus serves as a reminder that the effectiveness of anti-discrimination laws depends not only on legal provisions but also on the accuracy with which institutions understand social realities.

The Larger Lesson: The problem is enforcement

Running through the chapter is a consistent theme. The PoA Act has not failed because Parliament neglected to create legal protections. Successive governments have expanded the law, strengthened penalties, increased compensation, established monitoring mechanisms and introduced procedural safeguards.

Yet none of these measures can succeed when the institutions responsible for implementation remain unwilling or unable to act. Across Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana, Rawat identifies recurring patterns: reluctance to register cases, weak investigations, pressure on victims to compromise, social and economic intimidation of witnesses, delays in prosecution and negligible accountability for officials who fail to perform their duties.

The cumulative effect is the creation of a justice system that often places the burden of enforcement upon the very communities it was designed to protect.

Thirty years after the enactment of the PoA Act, Rawat’s assessment is sobering. The greatest challenge facing India’s anti-atrocities framework is no longer the absence of legal safeguards. It is the persistence of caste power within the institutions responsible for enforcing them.

As long as that reality remains unchanged, the chapter suggests, the promise of justice embodied in the PoA Act will continue to remain beyond the reach of many Dalit survivors.

The complete chapter may be read below:

The complete report may be read below:

Detailed story on the complete report may be accessed here.

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The post Thirty years on, justice remains elusive for Dalits in Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Court answered that question in the affirmative.

In doing so, it has delivered what may prove to be one of the most consequential judgments on internet governance and platform regulation in India. While the judgment is framed as a narrow, emergency response to an exceptional situation, the legal principles it endorses have implications that extend to every major digital platform operating in India. The decision substantially expands the scope of Section 69A of the Information Technology Act, broadens the meaning of “public order” in the digital context, and adopts an unusually deferential approach to governmental claims of necessity and proportionality.

The immediate dispute may have ended with NEET. The constitutional questions raised by the judgment have only just begun.

A case that was never really about Telegram

The government’s justification for the blocking order rested on a familiar narrative. Following the cancellation of the original NEET examination amid allegations of paper leaks and widespread irregularities, authorities claimed that Telegram had become a central vehicle for the circulation of fraudulent examination material, fake leak claims, scams targeting candidates, and organised cheating networks.

The government relied upon reports from the National Testing Agency (NTA), the Indian Cyber Crime Coordination Centre (I4C), and various law-enforcement agencies to argue that Telegram’s infrastructure had become deeply embedded in these activities. The Court accepted these claims, noting allegations that channels openly advertising themselves as “PAPER LEAKED NEET” and similar variants were operating on the platform and soliciting large sums of money from students. The Court also accepted evidence suggesting that mirror channels, reserve groups, bots, and audience migration systems allowed operators to evade enforcement efforts and quickly reconstitute themselves after takedowns.

Yet the real issue before the Court was not whether examination fraud existed. Few would dispute that it did. The real issue was whether the existence of unlawful activity on a platform can justify disabling access to the platform itself.

That distinction is critical. The Indian legal system has long recognised that newspapers may publish unlawful content without justifying a ban on newspapers as a medium. Telephone networks may be used for criminal conspiracies without justifying the suspension of telecommunication services. Email services may facilitate fraud without warranting the shutdown of email itself.

The question before the Court was therefore not whether Telegram had been misused, but whether misuse by some users justified restricting access for everyone. The judgment ultimately answers that question in favour of the State.

A detailed report on the Telegram ban may be read here.

Transforming Section 69A into a platform-blocking power

The single most important aspect of the decision is the Court’s interpretation of Section 69A of the Information Technology Act. Historically, Section 69A has been understood as a mechanism through which the government can block access to specific information hosted online. The provision authorises blocking “any information generated, transmitted, received, stored or hosted in any computer resource.”

Telegram argued that this language permits blocking particular content but not an entire platform. The Court rejected this argument.

Relying upon the expansive definition of “information” under Section 2(1)(v) of the IT Act—which includes software, computer programmes, codes and databases—the Court held that there was “no reason to exclude an application or platform” from the scope of Section 69A. Since Telegram itself is software comprising code, databases, and communication infrastructure, the Court concluded that the entire platform constitutes “information” capable of being blocked.

“The expression “information”, appearing in Section 69A of the IT Act, is defined under Section 2(1)(v) of the IT Act and includes, inter alia, images, sound, voice, codes, computer programmes, software and databases. The breadth of the said definition indicates that the expression “information” is required to be construed expansively. A restrictive construction, confining the expression only to individual user accounts, channels, images, posts, files or messages, would unduly narrow the scope of Section 69A and may render the provision otiose. The legislative intent, therefore, appears to be to confer a broad and technologically neutral meaning upon the expression “information”.” (Para 35)

This is a dramatic interpretive leap. Section 69A was enacted in a vastly different technological context. For years, it has been used primarily to block URLs, websites, accounts, posts, pages, and other identifiable pieces of online content. The Delhi High Court’s reasoning effectively transforms it into a statutory basis for disabling entire digital ecosystems.

The distinction is not merely semantic as blocking a webpage and blocking a platform are fundamentally different exercises of state power. One targets particular content. The other disables an entire infrastructure of communication.

The judgment therefore does not simply uphold the Telegram ban. It significantly enlarges the legal architecture of internet censorship in India. If the reasoning is followed in future cases, the government may argue that any platform itself constitutes “information” and may therefore be blocked whenever authorities conclude that statutory grounds under Section 69A are satisfied. The implications extend far beyond Telegram.

The extraordinary expansion of “Public Order”

Equally striking is the Court’s treatment of public order. Section 69A permits blocking only on limited grounds, including sovereignty and integrity of India, security of the State, and public order. Historically, Indian constitutional jurisprudence has treated “public order” as a serious and relatively narrow category. The Supreme Court has repeatedly distinguished public order from ordinary law-and-order concerns and emphasised that restrictions on fundamental freedoms require a proximate and not merely speculative connection with public disorder.

In the present case, however, the Court appears willing to accept a significantly broader conception of public order. The judgment repeatedly refers to the possibility that misinformation regarding examination papers could erode public confidence in the examination process, trigger unrest among candidates, undermine faith in public institutions, and potentially lead to public disorder.

This reasoning raises important concerns. The Court does not identify any actual breakdown of public order directly caused by Telegram’s continued operation between the issuance of the blocking order and the examination. Instead, it relies primarily upon anticipated consequences and the possibility of future disruption.

“In the present case, the Impugned Order discloses that temporary blocking of the public access to Telegram is directed having regard to the potential grave implications for public order in the country and for preventing the commission of cognizable offences arising from the circulation of examination-related misinformation and purported examination papers on Telegram, particularly in light of prior incidents relating to NEET UG, 2026.” (Para 24)

“Thus, this Court is of the view that given the emergency nature of the Impugned Order, the reasons supplied in arriving at the decision were sufficient. As Respondent No. 1 has strictly followed the procedural steps as required under Section 69A of the IT Act, the challenge to the Impugned Order on the ground non-communication of reasons cannot be sustained. Accordingly, the objections founded on alleged non-application of mind and inadequacy of opportunity of hearing also fail given the statutory scheme of Section 69A of the IT Act and 2009 Rules. In view of the foregoing, this Court is of the considered opinion that the Impugned Order contains reasons and there exists a direct and substantial nexus between the direction issued and the reasons assigned.” (Para 25)

The result is a conception of public order that appears considerably broader than traditional constitutional doctrine. Under this framework, the State may be able to justify restrictions not because disorder exists, but because misinformation could theoretically undermine public confidence in an institution and thereby create conditions for disorder.

That shift is significant. If accepted as a general principle, the same logic could potentially be invoked in relation to elections, recruitment examinations, public protests, political controversies, or other events where misinformation is alleged to threaten institutional legitimacy. The danger lies not in the immediate facts of the case, but in the elasticity of the principle being created.

The curious treatment of proportionality

The Court repeatedly invokes the doctrine of proportionality and cites the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in Anuradha Bhasin. It correctly notes that restrictions upon fundamental rights must be necessary, proportionate, and constitute the least restrictive means available for achieving a legitimate objective.

However, the judgment’s application of that doctrine is considerably less rigorous than its recitation. The government’s central claim was that narrower measures had failed. According to authorities, Telegram’s architecture enabled the rapid reappearance of unlawful actors through mirror channels, reserve groups, bots, and alternate identities. Consequently, channel-specific takedowns were said to be ineffective.

The Court largely accepted this assertion. What is missing, however, is a meaningful examination of alternative measures.

“In the present case, the NEET UG, 2026 examination is scheduled to be conducted on 21.06.2026. The temporary blocking of Telegram under the Orders is operative only until 22.06.2026, while the disabling of the message-editing feature is confined to the period until 30.06.2026. The limited temporal scope of these measures demonstrates that they are narrowly tailored and confined to the period strictly necessary for securing the stated objective. Applying the parameters laid down in Anuradha Bhasin (supra), this Court is satisfied that the requirements of proportionality stand fulfilled, namely: (i) identification of a legitimate objective; (ii) existence of a rational nexus between the objective and the measure adopted; (iii) necessity of the measure in the facts and circumstances of the case; and (iv) adoption of the least restrictive measure available.” (Para 46)

A genuine proportionality analysis would ordinarily require the State to demonstrate why each less restrictive option was inadequate. The judgment does not meaningfully interrogate several possibilities:

• enhanced emergency compliance obligations;
• platform-specific moderation requirements;
• targeted blocking of identified channels;
• restrictions on public channels exceeding certain thresholds;
• disabling forwarding features;
• temporary limitations on bot functionality;
• emergency monitoring arrangements;
• targeted orders directed at specific classes of accounts.

Instead, the Court appears to accept the government’s conclusion that these alternatives would not work. The distinction is important because proportionality requires courts to independently verify governmental claims of necessity. It does not require courts merely to accept them. By deferring substantially to executive assessments regarding platform architecture and technical feasibility, the Court risks diluting the very standard of scrutiny that proportionality was designed to impose.

The forgotten rights of 150 million users

Perhaps the most striking omission in the judgment is the relative absence of any serious engagement with the rights of Telegram’s lawful users. The Court expressly acknowledges that approximately 150 million people in India use Telegram. Yet these users remain largely invisible throughout the constitutional analysis.

The judgment contains extensive discussion of examination integrity, public confidence, platform architecture, bots, channels, and enforcement difficulties. Comparatively little attention is devoted to the rights being restricted.

There is almost no sustained analysis of:

• the speech rights of ordinary users;
• educational communities operating on Telegram;
• journalists and researchers using the platform;
• businesses conducting communications through Telegram;
• civil-society organisations dependent upon Telegram networks;
• the broader Article 19(1)(a) implications of disabling an entire communications platform.

This imbalance matters because proportionality requires balancing. The Court carefully assesses the interests of 2.2 million NEET candidates but devotes far less attention to the constitutional rights of 150 million users whose access to a communications platform was suspended. The asymmetry is difficult to ignore.

Architecture as a basis for restriction

Another deeply consequential feature of the judgment is its repeated emphasis on Telegram’s architecture. The Court identifies Telegram’s defining characteristics as reasons why platform-wide intervention was necessary:

• large public channels;
• cloud-based storage;
• automated bots;
• anonymity through usernames;
• reserve-channel structures;
• rapid audience migration systems;
• message-editing functionality.

What is striking is that the Court explicitly acknowledges that these features are not unlawful. Yet it nonetheless treats them as factors justifying extraordinary state intervention because they allegedly make enforcement more difficult. This aspect of the judgment may have implications extending far beyond examination fraud.

“The Orders expressly record that entity-specific interventions, including the reporting and removal of channels, groups, bots, and accounts, were repeatedly found to be ineffective and inadequate. Further, the audience-migration mechanisms enable operators to rapidly reconstitute networks after enforcement action was taken by the concerned authorities. It is clearly observed in the Orders that despite corrective measures having been sought in relation to various misuses of the Telegram platform, fresh material, including reports received from Respondent Nos. 2 and 3, disclosed the continued occurrence of illicit activities by unlawful entities notwithstanding prior interventions. Therefore, it is evident that narrower measures, including the takedown of specific bots and channels, were ineffective having regard to the particular nature and architecture of the Telegram platform.” (Para 45)

Many privacy-protective technologies are deliberately designed to minimise surveillance, decentralise control, or resist centralised moderation. If technological architecture itself becomes a ground for restrictive action whenever authorities believe it impedes enforcement, a wide range of digital platforms could face heightened regulatory vulnerability. The judgment therefore moves the debate beyond content moderation and into the realm of platform design. That shift is profound.

Preventive regulation and the message-editing feature

The Court also upheld the government’s separate direction disabling Telegram’s message-editing functionality. The rationale was that users could allegedly modify messages after an examination and falsely create the impression that papers had been leaked beforehand. Telegram’s own acknowledgement that it was making edited labels more visible was treated as corroborative evidence supporting this concern.

Here too the Court adopts a highly preventive approach. Rather than responding to demonstrated misuse, the restriction is justified largely by the possibility of future misuse. The judgment therefore reflects an increasing willingness to permit governmental intervention into platform design choices based upon anticipated harms rather than completed violations. Whether such preventive regulation can be reconciled with robust free-speech protections remains an open question.

A judgment likely to impact India’s digital future

The Delhi High Court presents its decision as a narrow, temporary and exceptional response to an extraordinary crisis surrounding NEET-UG 2026. Yet some of the most significant constitutional judgments emerge from exceptional circumstances. The lasting importance of this case lies not in the temporary suspension of Telegram but in the principles the Court has endorsed:

• that Section 69A authorises blocking entire platforms and not merely content;
• that platform architecture may itself justify platform-wide restrictions;
• that examination-related misinformation can be treated as a public-order threat warranting emergency intervention;
• that post-decisional hearings can sufficiently cure concerns regarding emergency censorship;
• and that the rights of millions of lawful users may be overridden where the State demonstrates a sufficiently compelling regulatory objective.

Taken together, these propositions represent a substantial expansion of executive power over digital communications. The judgment undoubtedly reflects legitimate concerns about examination fraud, organised criminal networks, and the integrity of public institutions. But constitutional law is tested not when governments pursue illegitimate goals, but when they pursue legitimate ones through extraordinary means.

The real question raised by the Telegram judgment is therefore not whether the State should combat examination fraud. It unquestionably should. The deeper question is whether the misuse of a communications platform by some users can justify denying access to all users.

By answering that question in the affirmative, the Delhi High Court has moved Indian internet jurisprudence decisively toward a model of platform-level regulation and censorship. Whether higher courts ultimately endorse that approach may determine the future contours of digital freedom in India.

The complete judgment may be read below:

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The post The telegram NEET case and the expansion of platform-level censorship in India appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In a detailed representation submitted to the authorities, the organisation has argued that the residents of Kandapara Longjap Taungya, Padumoni Taungya, Hatijur Taungya and 9 No. Kheroni Taungya cannot legally be treated as ordinary encroachers on forestland. According to the representation, these villages were established under the Taungya system—a forest management arrangement created and administered by the Forest Department itself—which settled families within forest areas in return for their labour in forestry operations. The organisation has further contended that any attempt to evict these residents without first recognising and verifying their rights under the Forest Rights Act would violate both the statutory protections contained in the legislation and repeated directions issued by the Union Ministry of Tribal Affairs.

At one level, the dispute concerns four villages facing the threat of displacement. At another, it raises far-reaching questions about the implementation of one of India’s most significant social justice legislations. The controversy unfolding in the Lutumari Longjap Reserve Forest goes to the heart of a long-standing tension in India’s forest governance framework: how should the law treat communities that were settled in forests through state policy, contributed labour to the development of forest landscapes for generations, and yet never received formal recognition of their rights over the land they occupied?

The issue is particularly significant because the Forest Rights Act, 2006 (The Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006) was enacted precisely to address what Parliament described as the “historical injustice” suffered by forest-dwelling communities whose customary and occupation-based rights were either ignored or never formally recorded. Far from excluding Taungya settlements from its protection, the legislation expressly recognises them as a distinct category of forest villages and provides mechanisms for the recognition of their rights and, ultimately, the conversion of such settlements into revenue villages. Yet nearly two decades after the enactment of the law, residents of many forest villages in Assam continue to exist in a state of legal uncertainty, vulnerable to eviction despite the protections ostensibly guaranteed by Parliament.

The present controversy therefore extends beyond the immediate fate of the affected villages. It raises fundamental questions about whether communities specifically recognised under the Forest Rights Act can be subjected to eviction before the statutory process for recognition of rights has been completed. It also exposes a deeper contradiction within forest administration itself. The families presently facing eviction are not alleged to have recently occupied reserve forest land. Rather, they belong to settlements whose origins lie in a state-sponsored forestry system that depended upon their labour and permitted their occupation for decades. The attempt to now classify these communities as illegal occupants invites scrutiny not only of the legality of the eviction notices themselves, but also of the larger failure to resolve the historical status of forest villages in Assam.

To understand why the AIUFWP has described the proposed evictions as unlawful, it is necessary to revisit both the history of the Taungya system and the legal protections that Parliament sought to create through the Forest Rights Act.

A forest department that created settlements now calls their residents encroachers

For more than a century, the people living in Kandapara Longjap Taungya, Padumoni Taungya, Hatijur Taungya and 9 No. Kheroni Taungya in Assam’s Nagaon Forest Division have occupied a peculiar position in India’s forest governance framework. Their villages were not spontaneous encroachments. They were settlements created and sustained under the colonial and post-colonial Taungya system, a system designed by the Forest Department itself to secure a stable labour force for forestry operations. In fact, here it is appropriate to mention that they were brought in by the Forest Departments under a colonial power mainly for vast cultivation/plantation and other manual activities. Yet today, these very communities are being served eviction notices and labelled “encroachers.”

The contradiction is stark. A state institution that historically settled families inside forests for the purpose of forest management is now seeking to remove their descendants by treating them as unlawful occupants. The legal problem is even more serious. The proposed evictions appear to be directly contrary to the provisions of the Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006 (FRA), a legislation enacted precisely to remedy such historical injustices.

The controversy unfolding in the Lutumari Longjap Reserve Forest is therefore not merely a dispute over land. It is a test of whether the Forest Rights Act will be implemented in Assam in the manner Parliament intended, or whether communities specifically recognised by the Act will continue to face displacement despite statutory protection.

The forgotten history of the Taungya system

Understanding why these evictions are problematic requires understanding who the Taungya residents are.

The Taungya system was introduced by the British colonial administration as a method of forest management. Landless peasants and shifting cultivators were settled in forest areas and permitted to cultivate land while simultaneously providing labour for forestry operations, timber extraction and plantation work. The arrangement supplied the colonial Forest Department with a dependable workforce while reducing the costs of forest management.

In Assam, Taungya settlements were established throughout the colonial period. Historical studies show that these settlements functioned primarily as labour colonies for the Forest Department. Residents were expected to perform forestry work in exchange for limited cultivation rights and habitation. Over time, however, these temporary settlements evolved into permanent villages as generations of families continued to reside there.

Professor Chandan Kumar Sharma and Indrani Sarma, in their study on forest villages and forest dwellers in Assam, explain that forest villages and Taungya settlements were integral to colonial forest governance. They were not illegal occupations of forest land but settlements consciously established by state authorities to support forestry operations.

The history of the Lutumari Longjap settlements is consistent with this broader pattern. Indeed, official records produced by the Assam Government itself demonstrate that families were deliberately settled under the Taungya system in the Kaki and Lutumari Reserved Forest areas. A June 7, 1974 communication from the Assam Forest Department directed authorities to provide temporary shelter to hundreds of evicted families under the Taungya system in Kaki Reserved Forest and Lutumari Longjap Reserved Forest after proper screening by designated committees.

This document is critically important. It shows that occupation of these areas was not clandestine or unlawful. The state itself facilitated settlement under an official policy framework.

The present attempt to classify residents of these villages as encroachers therefore raises an obvious question: how can people settled by the Forest Department under a recognised Taungya scheme subsequently be treated as illegal occupants?

The Forest Rights Act, 2006 explicitly recognises Taungya Villages

The Forest Rights Act leaves little ambiguity on this issue. One of the most significant features of the FRA is that it expressly recognises forest villages and Taungya settlements. Section 2(f) defines “forest village” to include settlements established by Forest Departments for forestry operations and specifically includes “all types of Taungya settlements.”

This inclusion was not accidental. Parliament enacted the FRA to address what the statute itself describes as the “historical injustice” suffered by forest-dwelling communities whose customary rights were never recognised during colonial rule and continued to remain unrecorded after independence. The Act acknowledges that state forest policies systematically excluded forest dwellers from legal recognition despite their long-standing relationship with forests.

Taungya communities were among the clearest examples of this injustice. For decades they supplied labour to the Forest Department, helped create and maintain forest landscapes, and lived under state supervision without ever receiving secure tenure over the lands they occupied. The FRA was designed to correct precisely this situation.

Consequently, the law not only recognises Taungya settlements but also creates a pathway for their legal transformation. Section 3(1)(h) specifically recognises rights relating to the “conversion of all forest villages, old habitations, unsurveyed villages and other villages in forests” into revenue villages.

The legislative intent is therefore unmistakable: forest villages and Taungya settlements are to be regularised and recognised, not erased through eviction.

AIUFWP’s case against the evictions

According to the representation submitted by the AIUFWP, the affected families possess a range of documentary evidence demonstrating their long association with the settlements, including Taungya allotment records, annual khiraji pattas, electoral documents and other official records. The organisation argues that these documents, read alongside the historical record of state-sponsored settlement under the Taungya system, fundamentally undermine attempts to characterise the residents as illegal occupants of forest land.

The organisation has also drawn attention to a June 7, 1974 communication issued by the Assam Forest Department relating to settlement under the Taungya system in Kaki Reserved Forest and Lutumari Longjap Reserved Forest. According to the AIUFWP, the document demonstrates that the state itself facilitated the settlement of families in these areas and therefore cannot now ignore the historical basis of their occupation while pursuing eviction proceedings.

Most importantly, the representation argues that the Forest Rights Act creates a statutory bar against eviction until the process of recognition and verification of rights has been completed. Since the affected villages fall within a category of settlements expressly recognised under the legislation, the organisation contends that any eviction undertaken without completing this process would be unlawful.

The complete document may be read here.

The Most Serious Legal Problem: Section 4(5) absolutely prohibits eviction before rights recognition

Even if there were disputes regarding individual claims, the FRA contains a clear statutory safeguard. Section 4(5) states: “No member of a forest dwelling Scheduled Tribe or other traditional forest dweller shall be evicted or removed from forest land under his occupation till the recognition and verification procedure is complete.”

This provision is central to the architecture of the FRA. It recognises that forest dwellers historically faced displacement before their claims could be heard. Parliament therefore prohibited eviction until the entire process of recognition, verification and adjudication of rights had been completed.

The legal consequence is straightforward. Before any eviction can lawfully occur:

• Forest Rights Committees must be constituted.
• Claims must be invited.
• Claims must be verified.
• Appeals must be exhausted.
• Rights must be finally determined.

Only after completion of this statutory process can questions of removal arise. According to the representations made regarding the four Taungya villages, no meaningful FRA implementation process has been initiated and no recognition exercise has been completed. If this is correct, eviction notices issued at this stage would be fundamentally inconsistent with Section 4(5).

The Ministry of Tribal Affairs (MOTA) has repeatedly clarified that no evictions are permissible

The legal position becomes even clearer when one examines official directions issued by the Ministry of Tribal Affairs, the nodal ministry responsible for implementation of the FRA. In April 2015, the Ministry expressly directed State Level Monitoring Committees to ensure that Section 4(5) is implemented “in letter and spirit” and that no forest dweller is evicted or removed until the FRA process is complete.

The Ministry also repeatedly expressed concern regarding wrongful rejection of claims, lack of communication of rejection orders, failures in appeals processes and improper implementation by state authorities. It instructed states to review doubtful rejections and ensure that rightful claimants are not denied protection.

Subsequent communications reiterated that implementation cannot be rushed, procedural safeguards cannot be bypassed, and recognition of rights is incomplete until appeals are exhausted and records of rights are created.

These directions are highly relevant in Assam because the state has historically faced criticism for weak implementation of the FRA. The current dispute appears to arise precisely because rights-recognition processes have either not commenced or remain incomplete in the affected villages.

The Supreme Court’s 2019 intervention strengthens the protection

The legality of the proposed evictions must also be examined in light of developments before the Supreme Court. In February 2019, the Supreme Court initially issued directions concerning claimants whose forest rights claims had been rejected. However, following widespread protests and more than a dozen legal interventions in the ongoing Wild Life First case, interventions that high-lighted the misconceived framework of the original order, the SC the Court subsequently stayed the eviction-related consequences of its own order! In fact, Sokala Gond, Nivada Rana, AIUFWP backed by Citizens for Justice and Peace, were among the first who filed an Intervention Application in the Supreme Court to prevent the mass eviction of Adivasis and traditional forest dwellers. The application argued that the FRA vests independent rights in Adivasi women, and that evictions violate their constitutional rights. Finally, MOTA itself supported these contentions (the matter is ongoing). Reports on this crucial legal intervention may be read here.

The Ministry of Tribal Affairs thereafter circulated a detailed communication to all States explaining the Court’s stay order and reiterating the necessity of reviewing wrongful rejections, ensuring proper procedures, communicating reasons for rejection, allowing appeals and preventing evictions before completion of statutory processes.

The significance of this history is often overlooked. The central concern before the Supreme Court was that thousands of claims across India may have been rejected without proper adherence to FRA procedures. The Court’s intervention effectively reinforced the principle that forest dwellers cannot be removed merely because authorities assert that they lack recognised rights.

In the case of the four Taungya villages, the issue is even stronger because these communities belong to a category specifically recognised under the FRA itself.

Historical records undermine the “encroacher” narrative

The language of “encroachment” occupies a powerful place in public discourse. Yet its application to Taungya villages is legally and historically problematic. An encroacher is ordinarily understood as a person who unlawfully occupies land without authority.

The residents of the four villages claim the opposite: that they possess long-standing documentary evidence demonstrating their lawful association with the settlements. According to representations submitted to the Assam government, residents possess Aadhaar cards, voter identity cards, Taungya allotment documents, annual khiraji pattas and even historical records linked to wartime service.

More fundamentally, the historical record demonstrates that Taungya settlements were established by state authorities themselves. Academic research on Assam’s forest villages documents how generations of landless peasants were settled within reserved forests to serve as labourers for forestry operations. These communities were denied secure tenure despite their contribution to forest administration and conservation.

The FRA was enacted precisely because Parliament recognised that such communities had suffered historical injustice.

To describe them today as encroachers without first determining their statutory rights risks reversing the very objective of the legislation.

Assam’s longstanding failure to implement the FRA

The present controversy also exposes a larger governance problem. Nearly two decades after enactment of the FRA, implementation in Assam remains deeply uneven. There have been documented persistent difficulties in recognising the rights of forest dwellers, especially among non-tribal forest village residents whose historical circumstances differ from those in central India.

Forest villages across Assam have long existed in a legal limbo. Settled by the state, dependent on agricultural cultivation, and often possessing decades of documentary evidence, many residents nevertheless remain without formal tenure security. The result has been a recurring cycle of uncertainty, conflict and eviction threats. The four villages in Lutumari Longjap Reserve Forest appear to be the latest manifestation of this unresolved problem.

The constitutional dimension

Beyond statutory violations, the issue raises constitutional concerns. The Supreme Court has consistently interpreted Article 21 of the Constitution as encompassing rights to livelihood, dignity and shelter. Communities that have lived in officially recognised settlements for generations cannot be dispossessed through administrative action that disregards statutory protections.

The FRA itself is a welfare legislation enacted to realise constitutional commitments to equality, social justice and protection of vulnerable communities. Any interpretation that permits eviction of Taungya residents before recognition of rights would undermine these constitutional objectives.

What the law requires now

The legal position emerging from the FRA, Ministry guidelines and Supreme Court proceedings is clear. Before any eviction can occur:

1. Eviction notices should be withdrawn or kept in abeyance.
2. Forest Rights Committees should be constituted in the affected villages.
3. Individual and community claims should be invited and processed.
4. Historical records relating to Taungya settlements should be examined.
5. Claims must be verified through the statutory process.
6. Appeals must be exhausted.
7. Revenue village conversion under Section 3(1)(h) must be considered.
8. No coercive action should occur until the entire process is completed.

Anything less would defeat both the text and purpose of the Forest Rights Act.

Conclusion: A test case for the Forest Rights Act in Assam

The eviction notices issued to residents of Kandapara Longjap Taungya, Padumoni Taungya, Hatijur Taungya and 9 No. Kheroni Taungya are not merely administrative notices. They represent a collision between two competing visions of forest governance.

One vision views long-settled forest communities as encroachers whose presence must be removed. The other—the vision embodied in the Forest Rights Act—recognises that many of these communities were settled, used and controlled by the state itself, and that their continued insecurity is the product of historical injustice rather than illegality.

The FRA was enacted to resolve that injustice. It specifically recognises Taungya settlements, provides for their conversion into revenue villages, and unequivocally prohibits eviction before recognition and verification of rights are completed. The Ministry of Tribal Affairs has repeatedly reaffirmed this position, and the Supreme Court’s interventions have further underscored the need for procedural safeguards.

The question before Assam is therefore not whether these communities should be evicted. The question is whether a law enacted by Parliament to protect forest dwellers will finally be implemented in the state in the manner intended. Until that process is completed, the attempt to remove residents of these Taungya villages stands on deeply questionable legal ground and risks perpetuating the very historical injustice that the Forest Rights Act was enacted to undo.

Related:

Weaponising Forest Laws: The systemic criminalisation of Tharu tribals in Lakhimpur Kheri

How FCA 2023 amendments seek to undermine Adivasi land protections guaranteed in Forest Rights Act, 2006: SC

AIUFWP to LoP Rahul Gandhi: Act now on forest rights

Forest Conservation Amendment Act, 2023: A challenge to Adivasi land rights and environmental protections

Inside India’s forest lands a battle for land and resources: Adivasis & Forest dwellers

TN: 158 people in two villages get title deeds under the Forest Rights Act, 2006

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