Scheduled for August 2 at the institute’s Mumbai campus, the convocation was called off barely two days before the ceremony. Students received an email from the Registrar shortly after midnight on July 31 stating that the event had been postponed due to “unforeseen circumstances.” No explanation accompanied the announcement.

According to The Indian Express, the decision was formally communicated to students through a late-night email from the Registrar, while the institute later issued a public statement saying only that the ceremony could not be conducted in a “conducive environment.” The administration has since maintained that the convocation will be rescheduled at the earliest.

The last-minute decision came after hundreds of graduating students and their families had already booked flights, train tickets, accommodation and made travel arrangements from across the country and abroad. For many, the postponement represented not merely an inconvenience but a significant financial burden and the loss of a once-in-a-lifetime academic milestone. 

Security concerns reportedly linked to CJI’s visit

Although TISS never officially announced the identity of its chief guest, The Indian Express reported that Chief Justice of India Surya Kant was scheduled to preside over the ceremony. The newspaper, citing institute officials and students, reported that discussions had been ongoing within the administration regarding security arrangements because of concerns that demonstrations linked to the continuing Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) movement could occur during the convocation.

One institute official, quoted by The Indian Express, stated that while the CJI’s visit had never been formally publicised, it was “common knowledge” on campus and there were concerns about possible protests targeting the chief guest.

Similarly, The Quint, citing graduating students and student representatives, reported that the administration had deliberately refrained from officially announcing the Chief Guest because it anticipated protests. One graduating student anonymously told the publication that “everyone knew” the CJI was expected to attend even though no formal announcement had been made.

Students also told The Indian Express that police personnel had visited the campus in the days preceding the ceremony as part of security preparations. The Quint further reported that a security meeting involving senior police officers was held on July 30, a day before the postponement was announced.

Administration offers little explanation

Following widespread criticism, TISS later issued a public statement asserting that the Institute had assessed that the ceremony could not be held “in a conducive environment.” 

The official notification can be viewed here.

The statement said proceeding with the convocation could have affected the wellbeing of students, faculty, staff, dignitaries, guests and campus life. However, it stopped short of explaining what precisely had rendered the environment unconducive. This carefully worded explanation leaves more questions than answers.

If the decision was based upon a concrete security assessment, the institute has not disclosed its nature. If there existed credible intelligence regarding potential violence, that too has not been shared. Instead, the administration has relied upon vague terminology while expecting students to accept the cancellation of one of the most significant events of their academic lives without meaningful justification.

The institute announced that it would examine requests for financial assistance arising from the postponement on a case-by-case basis and assured students that provisional degree certificates and other academic documents would be made available through the prescribed procedure. It also stated that the convocation would be rescheduled. 

While these measures may mitigate some practical consequences, they cannot compensate for the disruption caused by a decision communicated only days before the ceremony.

Allegations of intimidation on campus

The postponement also unfolded against a backdrop of increasing political tension on campus. According to The Indian Express, students said discussions had been taking place for several days regarding possible demonstrations during the convocation because the CJP movement continued to resonate with many students.

Meanwhile, The Quint reported allegations that WhatsApp groups associated with right-wing organisations circulated messages warning students that anyone attempting to protest during the convocation could face FIRs, arrest and disciplinary consequences. Screenshots of such messages were published by the publication.

One graduating student told The Quint that the atmosphere on campus had become increasingly hostile in the days leading up to the convocation, with students allegedly being warned that any form of protest could damage their careers and placement prospects.

Members of the Progressive Students’ Forum (PSF), quoted by The Quint, further claimed that when students questioned the Dean of Student Affairs regarding the postponement, they were informed that it was due to “security reasons.”

Student organisations demand accountability

The Progressive Students’ Forum criticised the decision, arguing that it reflected a broader pattern of administrative failures affecting graduating students. In a statement, the organisation noted that delays in declaration of final results and issuance of degree certificates had already adversely impacted students applying for employment and higher education opportunities. The postponement of the convocation, it argued, compounded these existing difficulties while damaging the institution’s credibility. Student representatives also questioned why degree distribution itself could not proceed even if the formal convocation ceremony was postponed.

As reported by The Quint, elected representatives met the Registrar seeking clarification after the announcement. Students present at the meeting alleged that the Registrar repeatedly referred only to “unforeseen circumstances” while declining to provide any substantive explanation.

The publication also reported that the administration later declared August 3 a non-instructional day without addressing students’ demands for greater transparency regarding the postponement. For many students, this reinforced concerns that the administration’s priority had shifted from engaging with students to preventing gatherings on campus.

Universities cannot function on speculation

Universities have historically served as spaces where disagreement, political engagement and democratic participation coexist alongside academic life. The possibility that some students may express dissent during a public function cannot, by itself, justify cancelling that function altogether.

Peaceful protest is protected under Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(b) of the Constitution, subject only to reasonable restrictions. Administrative inconvenience or apprehension of embarrassment cannot become substitutes for concrete threats to public order. Where genuine security concerns exist, universities possess numerous less restrictive alternatives: enhanced security arrangements, controlled access, designated protest zones and coordination with law enforcement. Resorting immediately to cancellation represents the most restrictive response available and inevitably burdens the very students whose achievements the institution is meant to celebrate.

Equally concerning is the opacity surrounding the decision-making process. When an institution invokes vague “unforeseen circumstances” and point towards anticipated protests surrounding a constitutional functionary, the absence of transparency inevitably fuels speculation.

Students pay the highest price

Lost amid discussions about security and protocol are the students themselves. Convocation is more than a ceremonial event. For many first-generation learners and families from distant parts of the country, it represents years of sacrifice, financial struggle and academic perseverance. By postponing the ceremony at the eleventh hour without a clear explanation, the administration transferred the consequences of its decision almost entirely onto graduating students.

Whether the postponement ultimately stemmed from genuine security assessments or merely apprehensions about possible dissent, the episode reflects an increasingly familiar pattern within Indian universities. Across campuses, administrative responses to anticipated protests have increasingly prioritised pre-emptive restrictions over engagement. Events are curtailed, permissions withdrawn and public functions altered not because disorder has occurred, but because authorities fear that dissent might emerge. Such decisions risk transforming universities from spaces of intellectual exchange into institutions governed by precautionary control. Until the institute provides a fuller account of why the ceremony could not proceed, questions surrounding transparency, institutional accountability and the balance between security and democratic freedoms are likely to remain unanswered. The institution’s silence has not merely postponed a convocation—it has deepened anxieties about whether India’s universities are increasingly willing to curtail normal academic life in response to the mere possibility of protest, rather than uphold both security and the democratic values they are meant to foster.

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The post TISS, Mumbai: When convocation gives way to caution appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Gumiapal is a small village in Dantewada district that remained under Maoist control until very recently. I first visited Gumiapal many years ago when I was trying to meet the Maoist leader Ganesh Uike (not his real name), who exercised firm control over the region. There was no electricity then—and in parts of Gumiapal, that is still the case. I vividly remember Ganesh Uike telling me how solar power and LED lights had transformed his revolutionary life.

He was a voracious reader. “Earlier, I used to read beside a bonfire,” he told me. “During the day there was never any time, and nights without LED lights made reading almost impossible.” To reach him, we literally crossed the red-coloured waters of the Shankhini River, stained by iron ore dust from the nearby mines of the National Mineral Development Corporation (NMDC). The river, the principal source of drinking water for many villagers, had become completely unfit for consumption.

Aarti Sponge obtained a mining lease for the Tularmeta Hills in 2017, covering 31.55 hectares within Gumiapal panchayat. Yet it could not begin mining because of Maoist opposition. Following the Maoists’ withdrawal earlier this year, democratic protests emerged alongside renewed efforts by the company to commence mining. The Gram Sabha conducted earlier had been dismissed by villagers as a sham. About two months ago, however, reports began to emerge of a dialogue between the company and the villagers.

Earlier this month, villagers belonging to the registered Malla Moitor Gram Vikas Samiti—named after Malla Moitor, the tribal deity of the Tularmeta Hills—submitted a MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING (MoU) between the company and the village committee to the District Collector. Mining operations have now commenced. At first glance, however, the MoU appears weak. It states that the company will provide 10 per cent of its CSR allocation directly to the village committee. CSR and royalty, however, are entirely different concepts.

I hope the district administration will help draft a stronger agreement—one that provides the villagers with a defined share of royalty or a production-linked share of profits to create a permanent Village Development Fund. While the present MoU refers to routine labour benefits, it makes no commitment to guaranteed local employment or skill development. A village committee has been constituted to oversee mining operations, but the agreement is silent on what happens if the company ignores its recommendations.

In short, the MoU appears amateurish and requires considerable strengthening. For the moment, villagers are pleased that employment has come to their doorstep, sparing many of them the annual migration to Andhra Pradesh and Telangana in search of work. Yet the agreement does little to protect their long-term interests. Ironically, many social activists who could have contributed to strengthening the agreement remain occupied with protests and anti-mining padyatras (foot marches).

Somaru Kadti, an independently elected Zila Panchayat member from one of the affected villages, says: “Earlier, everyone opposed mining. Now, almost everyone in my area supports it. I don’t know whether they are right or wrong, but I could not join the protest rallies because I have to stand with my people. In fact, hardly anyone from the affected villages attended those rallies. Most participants came from outside our area.”

Soni Sori, one of the leading protesters, offers a different perspective: “When we opposed mining, we stood together. Now that some people support mining, that decision too should be taken collectively. Everyone from South Bastar—not just the people of Gumiapal—must decide because the Tularmeta Hills belong to all of us. People accuse me of taking money from the company, but what has really happened is that the company has succeeded in dividing the Adivasi community. That is the tragedy.”

The Gumiapal MoU should be viewed as a work in progress. Much remains to be improved. Yet it also offers a small ray of hope in the long-contested debate over mining reform in central India, where jhagra remains the defining reality. The current social and political context presents a historic opportunity—one that should be seized by building trust between Adivasi communities, mining companies and the state.

Mao launched the Great Leap Forward in China after the Communist Revolution. The campaign itself failed to deliver the economic transformation it promised during his lifetime, though China later emerged as a global manufacturing power under very different policies. Likewise, an absolute “no mining” position is unlikely to be a practical solution today. The Gumiapal MoU, despite all its shortcomings, may point towards something more achievable: better mining—mining that gradually expands ownership, benefits and decision-making power for local communities.

Can mining one day brighten the lives of Adivasis as dramatically as LED lights once brightened the life of Ganesh Uike? This question rings out alternatively loud and muffled in contemporary Chhattisgarh, even as the state copes with new social and political realities.

Courtesy: theaidem.com

The post A Small Leap Forward: Chhattisgarh, Mining, Democracy and Gumipal appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

Background

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Court’s reasoning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An impossibly high evidentiary threshold?

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

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

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

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

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

The burden of proof may become nearly impossible to discharge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The complete judgment may be read below:

Related:

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

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Defending Citizenship, On the Ground | CJP Assam 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charges against the accused

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

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

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

The prosecution established the violence—but not the perpetrators

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

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

Dismantling of the evidence against the accused

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benefit of doubt and prolonged incarceration

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

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

A judgment reaffirming the burden of proof in riot prosecutions

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

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

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

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

Court distinguished proof of participation from proof of guilt

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

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

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

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

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

The Court repeatedly criticised the investigation rather than merely the evidence

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

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

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

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

The judgment carefully applied the law on sole eyewitness testimony

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

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

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

A reminder that criminal trials test evidence—not public narratives

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

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

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

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

The complete judgment may be read below.

Related:

2022: A year when Bulldozer became a ‘lawful’ means of punishment

Demolitions of homes of Gujjar Bakerwals in Jammu unconstitutional & violation of FRA 2006: AIUFWP

Rebuild or Compensate: Nagpur HC confronts NMC over ‘bulldozer’ demolition in riot case

Demolition of Adivasi homes at Sanjay Gandhi National Park on Republic Day

Faiz-e-Ilahi Masjid, Turkman Gate: A court-ordered demolition, midnight policing, stone-pelting, arrests, and the ongoing legal battle

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

(O Lord Rama, soft rains drizzle down and flow, As Queen Radha swings where the monsoon breezes blow! With her Lord she swings in Vrindavan’s green shade, With dark Shyam she sways as the thick clouds pervade, Dark rain-laden skies overhead are displayed! O Lord Rama, soft rains drizzle down and flow, As Queen Radha swings where the monsoon breezes blow! Her anklets chime softly, her glass bangles ring, In the sweet woods of Madhuban, wild peacocks dance and sing! O Lord Rama, soft rains drizzle down and flow, As Queen Radha swings where the monsoon breezes blow).

This Kajri lyric captures the essence of the celebration that the folks collectively break into at the advent of Sawan, bringing the rains that wash the multi-coloured oleander, hibiscus and champa blossoms, and green leaves of Mahua, Peepal, Banyan, Mango and Guava trees dotting the landscape of Purvanchal, Western Bihar and Eastern Uttar Pradesh along the Ganges.

The Kajri primarily emerged from the rhymes of life in the Gangetic belt. It’s hard to trace the time of its origin. It might have emerged with the pastoral people settling down as agriculturalists in the plains of North India. It chimed with the brass and copper bells around the necks of plough oxen, echoed against the grey, overcast skies, silver ropes of rain and mingled with the scent of earth—sondhi mitti—the features of a settled agricultural economy. It reflected life’s humdrum as well as merriment.

In the folk tradition of the Indo-Gangetic plains, Radha and Krishna were never distant, abstract deities. Radha became the village girl whose heart yearned during the long rains; Krishna became the dark, rain-bearing cloud (Ghanshyam) that promised bounty to the parched earth. To put Radha on a swing (jhula) was to invite grace into the everyday domesticity of rural life.

In the folk music of the Gangetic plain, the phrase “Hare Rama” acts as the traditional Tek (refrain or rhythmic anchor), providing the foundational beat, pulse, and vocal hook that sets the song’s tempo. By opening with this familiar spiritual invocation, the song grounds the listeners before gracefully shifting into the playful, intimate story of Radha and Krishna swinging in the Sawan rains.

Lived Experience

Yours truly was born, brought up and grew in the mud and soil of a typical village of Purvanchal along the river Saryu on the Bihar-Uttar Pradesh border. It was in the 1960s and 70s when oxen still were the pride of farmers at their doors. The villagers still had men and women—young and old—breaking into Kajri and Virha while sowing paddy seedlings and ploughing the muddy fields with oxen.

The peasants would create smoke at the doors to keep the mosquitoes away from the cattle and comfort the cows that returned from the grazing fields in the fading light of the setting sun. The village boys and girls would pluck oleander and hibiscus flowers to give them to their mothers, grandmothers and aunts and help them do Sawani puja of Kali Mai, who lived under a sprawling Neem tree in every village.

Every village had its share of Kajri singers who broke into the chorus of the lyric as they escorted their oxen to the field or sowed paddy seedlings.

The Genesis

The word Kajri itself stems from Kajal (kohl), mirroring the dense, dark, water-laden clouds of Sawan that gather over the Gangetic plains. Folk traditions deeply trace the geographical heartland of Kajri to Mirzapur (along the Ganges in UP). Legend speaks of a local princess named Kajali, who wept in deep separation (viraha) when her husband was sent away to war during the monsoon.

Her mournful songs resonated with local women and evolved into a ritualistic celebration. Another tradition links its origin to the worship of Goddess Vindhyavasini in Mirzapur, where devotees sang praises for protection before the rains.

In its semi-classical and urban folk forms, Kajri is almost always set to Dadra Taal (a light, swaying 6/8 or six-beat cycle: Dha Dhina / Na Tina). The 6/8 rhythm naturally matches the motion of a swing (jhula) rising and falling, as well as the gait of oxen in the mud.

Amir Khusrau’s innovation of early prototypes of the tabla and his development of Hindavi (Awadhi/Bhojpuri mixed with Persian influence) laid the foundation for secular, cross-community folk music in Northern India. Because Sawan is a seasonal and agricultural reality rather than a purely sectarian one, Kajri functioned as a shared cultural space.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Muslim and Hindu ustads and local performers alike composed, played, and improvised Kajris. The Dangal (poetic and musical duels) of Kajri in Mirzapur and Varanasi saw musicians of all castes and creeds competing side-by-side.

Men migrating for work left women to face the charged monsoon alone; the song became a vessel for viraha (longing) and emotional release.

The great courtesans and masters of the Classical Banaras Gharana, like Rasoolan Bai, Siddheshwari Devi, and Girija Devi, brought the rural, earth-scented Kajri into formal classical concerts.

In traditional villages, there are two distinct ways Kajri was performed: unaccompanied or accompanied only by a dholak or simple handclaps, sung in a collective chorus by women while swinging or transplanting paddy (roponi); or performed with harmonium and tabla in village gatherings or urban akharas, where male and female poets exchanged improvised couplets (Sawaal-Jawab). This dual nature—how a song born in the wet soil of paddy fields found its way into the formal baithaks with harmonium and tabla while preserving its inclusive, syncretic soul.

Era of Degeneration

Till the 1970s and the middle of the 1980s, the villages of Purvanchal had ubiquitous wells with oleander flowers and banyan trees canopying them. The villagers used the wells to bathe, drink water, and channel the water from them into their fields. The oxen and desi cows were still there, and so were ploughmen and cowherds. But the last three and a half decades have witnessed a metamorphosis in the village life of Purvanchal.

The smoke of diesel from pumping sets, tractors, and harvesters hits the nostrils when one travels in the villages of Purvanchal now. The oxen have vanished, and so have the singers of Kajri and Viraha. Of course, one can hear and even enjoy them in the videos and reels on Instagram and Facebook. But the people who lived with Kajri and Viraha have vanished from the villages.

And the village festivals, too, have degenerated into instruments of division and hate—the biggest example is the Kanwar Yatra, which, too, had its syncretic past and requires another column to explain its harmonious roots.

But the politicians—particularly those belonging to the Hindutva stream—have transformed the Kanwariyas into a band of rogues and have been using the Kanwar Yatras to intimidate minorities and attack their eateries and restaurants on the way in the name of maintaining purity and vegetarianism.

But be it Kajri or Kanwariyas—both emerged from the soil, adding to the rhyme of village life in Purvanchal. The purpose of writing this column is to preserve the stories, songs, and lyrics of Purvanchal that nurtured love, harmony, and co-existence for generations till the emergence of the Hindutva brand of politicians rewriting the story of India that is Bharat in their own diabolical ways.

O Generation-Z! You have every reason to be proud of your forefathers who lived singing the songs and lyrics of love and harmony for centuries before the despoilers took over. Get back to your roots to root out the merchants of hate who have taken over your cultures and traditions.

Nalin Verma is a journalist and author. He teaches at Jamia Hamdard University, New Delhi. He has written multiple books. Nalin’s latest books include ‘Lores of Love and Saint Gorakhnath’ and ‘Sacred Unions and Other Stories: Tales from Purvanchal’.

Courtesy: The AIDEM

The post Kajri: When the Village Sang Together in “Sawan” appeared first on SabrangIndia.

According to the notification, the SIR is underway across the state and every voter whose name is already included in the existing electoral roll is required to fill the enumeration form and submit it to the concerned Booth Level Officer (BLO). The BLO will visit voters at their residences to collect the completed forms by August 8, 2026.

The notification states that the names of voters who submit the duly filled and signed enumeration forms will be included in the draft electoral roll scheduled for publication on August 17, 2026.

Schedules for inclusion, corrections and objections

The schedule states that eligible voters whose names do not appear in the draft electoral roll, as well as new eligible voters, may apply for inclusion by submitting Form 6 along with the prescribed declaration and supporting documents during the claims and objections period from August 17 to September 16, 2026.

The applications will be verified by the Electoral Registration Officer (ERO) before eligible names are included in the final electoral roll.

The document further states that voters seeking correction of entries in the electoral roll may submit Form 8 during the claims and objections period. It also provides that any voter in the concerned constituency may seek deletion of an entry from the draft electoral roll by filing Form 7.

Provision on false declarations

The July 27 notification refers to Section 31 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950, stating that any person making a false declaration or statement while applying for inclusion, correction or deletion of a name in the electoral roll is liable to imprisonment for a term which may extend to one year, or fine, or both.

Final electoral roll scheduled for October 19

The July 27 notification also re-affirms that the final electoral roll will be published on October 19, 2026.

It further states that publication of the final electoral roll does not conclude the process of updating electoral records. Referring to Sections 22 and 23 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950, it states that entries in the electoral roll may continue to be corrected and eligible persons whose names are not included may apply for inclusion through Form 6 even after publication of the final roll.

It also states that correction of electoral rolls is a continuous process and that, under Section 23(3) of the Act, such corrections may be carried out up to the last date for filing nominations for any election.

Revised SIR schedule

Separately, the Election Commission has revised the schedule for the Special Intensive Revision of electoral rolls in Maharashtra with October 1, 2026 as the qualifying date. The revised programme was communicated to the Chief Electoral Officer, Maharashtra through a letter dated July 15, 2026, replacing the schedule issued on May 14, 2026.

Under the revised schedule, house-to-house visits by Booth Level Officers (BLOs) will continue from June 30, 2026 to August 8, 2026. Rationalisation and re-arrangement of polling stations has been fixed for August 8, 2026. The draft electoral roll will be published on August 17, 2026, while the period for filing claims and objections will remain open from August 17 to September 16, 2026. The notice phase and disposal of claims and objections will continue until October 15, 2026, and the final electoral roll is scheduled to be published on October 19, 2026.

CEO, Maharashtra’s official revised schedule dated July 15, 2026

Link: https://ceoelection.maharashtra.gov.in/Downloads/PDF/Notification/Revised%20Schedule%20-%20SIR%202026.pdf

The Commission has also directed that the revised schedule be given wide publicity through available media and that political parties be informed of the modified programme in writing.

Earlier schedule

The revised programme changes the schedule originally notified for Maharashtra under the nationwide Phase III Special Intensive Revision. Under the earlier timetable, house-to-house visits by BLOs were scheduled from June 30 to July 29, 2026, the draft electoral roll was to be published on August 5, 2026, claims and objections were to be accepted from August 5 to September 4, 2026, disposal of claims and objections was scheduled until October 3, 2026, and the final electoral roll was to be published on October 7, 2026.

Following the revision, the house-to-house enumeration period has been extended by 10 days, while the publication of the draft electoral roll, the claims and objections period, disposal of claims and objections, and publication of the final electoral roll have been rescheduled.

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The post SIR Maharashtra: CEO details schedules for publication & verification of draft and final electoral rolls appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Hindu reported that the Bill was passed by voice vote amid sustained Opposition protests in the Rajya Sabha. Opposition MPs continued to demand a statement from Union Home Minister Amit Shah over the police action against demonstrators protesting the alleged NEET paper leak, before eventually staging a walkout during the debate. Defending the legislation, Minister of State for Home Affairs Nityanand Rai said Vande Mataram was inseparable from India’s freedom movement and accused the Congress of diminishing a symbol of national honour through “appeasement politics”, according to The Hindu.

The government’s decision to expand the law comes despite a decade-long record of low convictions and mounting case backlogs under the existing legislation. An analysis by The Indian Express, based on National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) data from 2014 to 2024, found that 699 cases were registered under the Prevention of Insults to National Honour Act over the 11-year period. These cases led to the arrest of 1,102 people and the chargesheeting of 962 individuals, yet only 60 people were convicted, while 153 were acquitted or discharged.

The data also points to a criminal justice system struggling to dispose of such cases. According to The Indian Express, the number of cases pending trial rose from 85 in 2014 to 358 by the end of 2024, representing a more than fourfold increase. During the same period, police chargesheeting rates declined substantially—from 53.6% in 2014 to 36.5% in 2024. By the end of 2024, 53 cases remained under police investigation, while the overall trial pendency rate stood at 95.2%, continuing a pattern in which more than nine out of every ten cases remained pending each year.

The conviction record has been particularly weak. NCRB data cited by The Indian Express shows that acquittals exceeded convictions in every year between 2014 and 2024. In 2024, courts recorded six convictions, compared with 25 acquittals or discharges of accused persons. Across the entire period, only 44 cases ended in conviction, while 105 cases resulted in acquittal or discharge, highlighting the limited effectiveness of prosecutions under the existing law even as Parliament has chosen to broaden its scope to include Vande Mataram.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The order simultaneously questions and preserves the ordinary criminal process

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preserving evidence is necessary, but accountability requires more

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

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

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

The complete order may be read here. 

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

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

The resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan amid the political fallout surrounding examination controversies and sustained student anger over examination-related concerns has brought back into focus the strength of democracy and youth: some of the most consequential political corrections do not happen inside Parliament but outside it—on streets, at protest sites, in university campuses and in public spaces where ordinary citizens refuse to let their concerns be ignored. The “Cockroach Janta Party” emerged as a satirical youth-led protest movement after a remark by Chief Justice of India Surya Kant; and young protesters transformed it into a platform of resistance, starting with humour, memes and digital mobilisation, and then on-site protest and fast to highlight broader anxieties over unemployment, examinations and institutional accountability.

For the students who stood at the forefront of protest, the journey was marked not merely by slogans and demonstrations, but by immense personal hardship. They faced police crackdowns, lathi charges (even pellet injuries and sexual abuse!), physical injuries, detention and intimidation. Excessive force, restrictions on movement, internet shutdowns, closure of businesses and disruption of daily life across protest sites reflected the heavy cost imposed on those exercising their democratic rights. Young people, including women protesters, endured harassment, abuse and humiliation while insisting that their concerns be heard. Behind every protest was a human story of anxiety, sacrifice and resilience: the latest is a generation that felt compelled to leave classrooms and homes to defend the fairness and credibility of the very systems upon which their aspirations and future depend.

The departure of a senior minister from one of the most sensitive portfolios of governance underscores the growing power of public pressure as a force of democratic accountability in contemporary India. For millions of students who spent weeks demanding transparency, fairness and institutional responsibility, the moment carries the significance of a democratic victory—the recognition that sustained civic resistance can compel even powerful governments to confront failures they might otherwise seek to manage politically. The intensity of the public debate was reflected in the usually restrained PM Modi’s late-night Instagram video defending the government’s handling of the controversy, while Union ministers simultaneously engaged with activist Sonam Wangchuk, leading to the conclusion of his hunger strike. Together, these developments demonstrated that sustained public mobilisation had pushed the government into direct engagement, reinforcing a fundamental democratic principle: when citizens organise persistently, power is compelled to respond.

But the significance extends beyond one minister or one controversy. It reflects the rise of a new generation of Indians unwilling to accept institutional failure as inevitable. For these young citizens, the struggle was never merely about examinations; it was about trust, merit and the credibility of systems that shape their futures. Their movement represented a larger democratic demand—that institutions created to serve citizens must remain accountable to those whose lives and aspirations they influence. This politically conscious youth generation participates beyond traditional party structures. They organise through campuses, digital networks, creative campaigns and public conversations, using technology not merely to communicate but to mobilise, document and challenge authority. Their politics is rooted in lived realities—unemployment, questions of fairness, institutional credibility and the anxieties of a generation competing for limited opportunities. For millions, a competitive examination is not merely a test; it is often the dividing line between economic security and prolonged uncertainty

The significance of the student movement lies in how it transformed individual anxiety into collective democratic action. Students who could have remained isolated by personal uncertainty recognised a shared institutional failure and converted it into a national conversation. Their struggle demonstrated that youth participation in democracy does not begin and end with voting every few years; it also means questioning systems, demanding transparency and insisting that institutions remain answerable to the people they serve.

This is the same democratic force that was witnessed during the farmers’ movement, which forced the repeal of the three farm laws in 2021. The issues were different, but the underlying principle was remarkably similar: citizens confronting a powerful State, facing initial dismissal, enduring prolonged resistance and ultimately creating enough moral and political pressure for the government to reconsider its position.

When the farm laws were introduced in 2020, the Union government presented them as transformative reforms that would modernise agriculture, expand market opportunities and attract investment. Farmers, however, feared that the reforms would weaken the minimum support price system and gradually erode the mandi structure that protected millions of cultivators. Instead of resolving these concerns through sustained dialogue, the disagreement escalated into confrontation. Farmers moving towards Delhi encountered barricades, trenches, barbed wire, concrete barriers, restrictions and heavy security deployment—creating the extraordinary image of the State responding to its own citizens as a security challenge.

The movement was also subjected to political de-legitimisation, with sections of the ruling establishment and its supporters portraying protesters as politically motivated and, at times, associating them with anti-national or separatist forces. Yet the farmers remained at Delhi’s borders for more than a year through harsh weather, criticism and immense political pressure. Their persistence eventually forced the government to withdraw the laws.

The significance of that moment extended far beyond agricultural policy, and it demonstrated that electoral dominance cannot substitute for democratic persuasion. A government may possess a strong parliamentary majority, but legitimacy requires more than numbers; it requires public trust, dialogue and the willingness to listen.

The student movement carries the same message. Institutions cannot demand public confidence while avoiding public accountability. When young citizens are forced to leave classrooms and enter streets to demand fairness, protest is not a disruption of democracy—it is one of democracy’s most important corrective mechanisms.

India’s students have historically been central to democratic transformation, from the freedom movement to the anti-Emergency struggles. The present generation belongs to that longer tradition of young citizens questioning authority and reshaping public debate.

But unlike earlier political movements built primarily around traditional organisations and ideological structures, today’s youth movements operate through networks, creative communication and collective storytelling. This generation does not merely react to political decisions; it documents, debates and challenges them. Its politics is shaped by immediate questions of dignity, opportunity, merit and institutional credibility. A hashtag can become a movement, a meme a political message, and a single statement a national conversation. Democracies survive not merely because institutions exist, but because citizens believe those institutions are fair. Once that confidence weakens, protest becomes a language through which society demands repair. No government moves survive without democratic consent.

This new generation is not rejecting democracy but demanding a deeper system with transparent and responsive institutions. They are demanding that systems determining their futures deserve their trust, and they have new methods to mobilise and react.

The Citizenship (Amendment) Act protests, particularly the women-led mobilisation at Shaheen Bagh, transformed a public space into a forum of constitutional dialogue. By carrying copies of the Constitution and the Preamble, ordinary citizens asserted a fundamental democratic principle: questioning government policy is not an act of disloyalty. In a constitutional democracy, disagreement with those in power is itself a legitimate form of citizenship.

The wrestlers’ protest in 2023 raised another troubling question about institutional accountability. Athletes who had brought international recognition to India were compelled to mobilise publicly while seeking action over serious allegations. Their struggle revealed an uncomfortable reality: when institutions fail to respond adequately, even those with public recognition may feel compelled to seek justice through collective pressure.

These movements differ in their immediate demands, but they share a common democratic foundation. Citizens do not take to the streets because they have abandoned faith in the Republic. They do so because they believe the Republic can still be made to listen.

The deeper concern for Indian democracy is not that citizens are expressing their voice. It is that governments increasingly risk interpreting criticism as hostility, dissent as conspiracy and critics as adversaries, anti-national elements or even threats to national security. Such an approach misunderstands the essence of constitutional democracy. Peaceful protest is not an attack on the State; it is one of the ways through which the State is reminded of its obligations.

The government has a legitimate responsibility to maintain public order and act against violence. But there is a fundamental difference between enforcing law and delegitimising peaceful opposition. Force, political labelling and attempts to discredit protesters may delay resolution, but they cannot eliminate legitimate grievances or rebuild public trust.

Democratic movements function as warning systems. They reveal failures that governments, protected by electoral victories and administrative power, may overlook. A confident democracy does not fear criticism; it uses criticism to correct itself. Revising a policy after hearing citizens is not weakness, but it shows that democracy remains capable of engagement.

India’s recent protest movements reaffirm a constitutional truth often forgotten by those in power: electoral mandates provide the authority to govern, but they do not provide immunity from scrutiny. From the repeal of the farm laws to the resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan, these episodes demonstrate that democratic resistance remains one of the strongest safeguards against unchecked power.

The greatest democratic victories are not always the defeat of governments or political opponents. They are moments when citizens compel power to listen, reflect and correct itself. From farmers’ fields to university campuses, Indians continue to defend a foundational constitutional principle: sovereignty ultimately belongs to the people.

Democratic protest does not weaken governments; it reminds them of their responsibility. It is through such moments of public accountability that power remembers whom it exists to serve.

(The author is an Indian author (his first book being The Essential,2023), policy analyst, and columnist. His research and commentary regularly appear in scholarly and popular publications. Follow @ens_socialis)

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Detailed report on actions taken by Maharashtra police against student protesters may be read here, here and here.

According to The Indian Express, the Chief Minister’s directions have also been communicated to the Director General of Police, with officials indicating that, broadly, there would be no detentions, no police visits to the homes of those named in the FIRs and no coercive measures while the government works through the legal process for withdrawing the cases.

The protests, held largely on July 23 and 24 across Mumbai, Pune and Nagpur, were organised in solidarity with the brute police action against student protesters and youth led-Cockroach Janata Party’s (CJP) agitation at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar over alleged irregularities in the NEET examination and demands for the resignation of former Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. According to PTI, most of the cases registered in Maharashtra relate to allegations of unlawful assembly and violations of prohibitory orders.

By the time the withdrawal process was announced, Mumbai Police had registered around 20 FIRs across police stations including Worli, Dadar, Sion, Mahim and Shivaji Park, with more than 1,000 students, youth and protesters booked under bailable offences such as unlawful assembly and violations of prohibitory orders under the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS). Hundreds of those booked later received notices, many delivered through WhatsApp, directing them to appear before investigating officers.

According to Hindustan Times, Fadnavis directed the Home Department to begin the process of withdrawing cases against participants in the CJP protests, fulfilling one of the key assurances given after the party suspended its nationwide agitation. However, government officials stressed that the announcement does not automatically terminate the FIRs.

“Once an FIR is registered, the government cannot suo motu withdraw the case. It can only initiate the process for withdrawal, which has to be completed in accordance with the legal procedure and requires scrutiny as well as court approval,” a senior official told Hindustan Times.

Officials told The Indian Express that while such cases are ordinarily withdrawn after a chargesheet has been filed and the prosecution seeks permission from the court, the government is also examining whether filing closure reports may be legally feasible in some cases. They emphasised that the Chief Minister’s announcement by itself does not bring the investigations to an end.

The government’s decision follows sustained pressure from student organisations, opposition parties and the CJP, which had repeatedly warned that it would resume nationwide protests if governments failed to honour assurances to withdraw all FIRs against peaceful demonstrators. Earlier, the Bihar and Assam governments had also announced the withdrawal of cases registered against participants in the CJP-led protests.

Despite the government’s announcement, confusion has continued on the ground. According to The Free Press Journal, Mumbai Police have maintained that investigation procedures cannot be halted until they receive formal legal instructions. Police officials said they are still required to record statements of accused persons and witnesses, conduct panchnamas and complete other statutory procedures because the FIRs remain legally in force.

The decision to withdraw the cases followed representations by a joint delegation of the All India Students’ Federation (AISF), which met the Director General of Police and the Mumbai Police Commissioner seeking an end to police action against peaceful protesters. While welcoming the government’s decision, AISF has maintained that the struggle will continue until every FIR, notice and legal proceeding against student protesters is withdrawn.

AISF Mumbai President Aamir Kazi told The Free Press Journal that students continued to receive calls and notices from police even after the government’s announcement, creating fear and uncertainty. He said the Director General of Police advised the organisation to submit a representation to the Mumbai Police Commissioner requesting that no further notices be issued and that students not be summoned to police stations while the withdrawal process is underway.

Student organisations have also alleged that police action continued despite the government’s announcement. According to The Free Press Journal, members of the Harsha Disha student organisation said that beginning around 9:30 a.m. on July 28, several students who had participated in the protests received FIR notices through WhatsApp. In a statement, the organisation accused the Mumbai Police and the BJP-led government of attempting to intimidate students and discourage future protests, and urged the CJP to continue its agitation until every FIR is withdrawn and police officials allegedly responsible for violence against protesters are held accountable.

Officials further indicated that the current government resolution authorising withdrawal of such cases remains valid until July 31. As several investigations are still underway and many chargesheets may not be filed before then, an extension of the resolution is likely to be considered. Police officials said the sooner chargesheets are completed, the sooner the formal withdrawal process can begin.

The issue has also played out differently in other states. The West Bengal government stated that it would not take coercive action against students but clarified that this protection would not extend to persons with criminal antecedents, citing the Supreme Court’s order. The state said that one police case had been registered, in which 16 people were arrested before subsequently securing bail. Six additional cases remain pending on complaints filed by journalists alleging they were assaulted during the protests.

In Kerala, the Congress-led government has directed the Home Department to examine the demand for withdrawal of cases after the Leader of the Opposition wrote to the Chief Minister seeking similar relief for protesters.

Detailed report may be read here.

Meanwhile, the CJP has expressed concern over the Supreme Court’s observation permitting investigations in existing FIRs to continue. The organisation argued that the direction was inconsistent with the assurances allegedly given by governments that cases against peaceful protesters would be withdrawn. CJP leader Saurav Das said the executive retained the power to withdraw the FIRs, as demonstrated by Bihar and Assam, and called for complete transparency in the process.

The Supreme Court cannot be politicised for government’s gains. Its orders cannot be weaponised to achieve those gains. A solemn guarantee was given before the nation. Those ought to be honoured. All FIRs ought to be withdrawn. If criminals roamed, police must apply for…

— Saurav Das (@SauravDassss) July 28, 2026

URGENT STATEMENT

The interim order passed by the Supreme Court of India in the batch of PILs related to the CJP protest must ring alarm bells across the country. In particular, Direction No. 4, which permits governments to proceed with existing FIRs and carry out…

— Saurav Das (@SauravDassss) July 28, 2026

The Maharashtra government’s announcement comes in the backdrop of the Supreme Court’s earlier direction that no coercive action be taken against student protesters across states and that any detained minors be released immediately. Even as the state has publicly committed to withdrawing the FIRs, the legal process remains ongoing, meaning students may continue to receive notices and be required to participate in investigation procedures until the statutory process is completed and the courts formally approve the withdrawal of the cases.

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The post Maharashtra: After backlash, govt. moves to withdraw FIRs against student protesters but questions remain appeared first on SabrangIndia.