What has unfolded over the past week, between June 19 to June 21, 2026, is the culmination of years of unresolved worker grievances, mounting concerns about the privatisation of public transport, chronic underinvestment in the bus system, growing dependence on contractual labour, and a broader policy debate over whether Mumbai still treats affordable public transport as an essential public service.

The strike has therefore become a flashpoint where labour rights, commuter interests, public finance, urban planning and transport policy have collided.

Notably, the three-day indefinite strike by Mumbai’s BEST bus employees was called off late Sunday night following a meeting with Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde. According to Hindustan Times, the decision to call off the strike was announced after the state government agreed to a monthly wage hike of ₹3,000 for permanent employees and ₹2,000 for contract workers, along with the release of pending gratuity payments from the current financial year’s budget. It also assured improvements in canteen and washroom facilities for employees.

Strike years in the making

The BEST Sanyukt Kamgar Kruti Samiti, a joint action committee representing all twelve major unions operating within the undertaking, is leading the agitation. The scale of participation itself is significant. Union representatives have claimed that workers across all 27 BEST depots have joined the movement, making it one of the most extensive industrial actions witnessed within the undertaking in recent years.

The immediate trigger may have been the failure of negotiations with the administration, but workers insist that the issues underlying the strike have accumulated over many years.

At the centre of their demands is the implementation of wage agreements that have remained unresolved despite prolonged negotiations. Union leaders have pointed out that wage settlements covering the period from 2016 onwards have not been fully implemented. Employees have also demanded the extension of benefits in line with the Seventh Pay Commission, arguing that workers of a public undertaking performing an essential service cannot be left behind while the cost of living in Mumbai continues to rise.

Equally significant are allegations that retired employees have been denied statutory dues for years. During the Dharavi protest that preceded the strike, union representatives stated that some retirees had not received payments due to them since 2022, forcing many into financial distress. Protesters also alleged that wait-listed workers continue to be denied even minimum wages despite performing essential functions within the undertaking.

As reported by The Indian Express, one of the unions’ principal demands is the implementation of wage agreements for the period 2016–2026 together with arrears and benefits in line with the Seventh Pay Commission recommendations. The unions have also repeatedly demanded that pending legal and statutory dues owed to retired employees be cleared in a lump sum.

Workers have also highlighted the plight of wait-listed and contractual employees who, according to the unions, continue to receive inadequate wages and lack the protections available to permanent staff. These concerns have been repeatedly raised over the years, but workers argue that little substantive action has followed.

For many employees, therefore, the strike is not simply a reaction to current conditions but a response to a long history of unmet commitments.

The Demand That Symbolises the Larger Conflict: Merger of BEST’s budget with the BMC

Among all the demands raised during the agitation, none has assumed greater symbolic importance than the call for the merger of BEST’s budget with the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation’s principal budget. Workers argue that this issue has remained unresolved despite years of discussions and despite approvals and resolutions at various levels. According to employee representatives, the proposal was effectively accepted years ago but remains stalled within government processes. The significance of the demand extends beyond accounting arrangements.

For unions, according to India Today, the merger represents recognition that public transport is an essential civic service and should be funded as such. They argue that BEST cannot continue to be expected to operate on commercial principles while simultaneously fulfilling social obligations that private operators would never undertake.

This position has received support from commuter groups and transport activists who argue that the financial crisis confronting BEST stems from a fundamental policy contradiction: the city depends on BEST to provide affordable transport to millions, yet repeatedly expects the undertaking to function without the level of public investment necessary to sustain such a service.

The unfinished question of BEST’s finances

The financial debate surrounding BEST has become one of the most contentious aspects of the current dispute. According to transport activists, as per The Indian Express, the problem is not that public money is being spent on BEST. The problem is that it is being spent inconsistently and often through mechanisms that deepen rather than solve the undertaking’s financial difficulties.

Aamchi Mumbai Aamchi BEST has pointed out that between 2019 and 2025, the BMC provided more than ₹10,400 crore to BEST largely in the form of loans rather than direct subsidies. Critics argue that treating support to public transport as debt merely shifts the burden onto the undertaking while doing little to strengthen its long-term viability.

The organisation has also highlighted what it views as a stark disparity in public funding priorities. While rail-based transport systems receive substantial public support as an essential service, BEST buses—which carry lakhs of passengers daily and provide critical last-mile connectivity—have often been subjected to a very different financial approach. The result is a perpetual cycle of deficits, debt and austerity.

Mumbai needs 12,000 buses; it has less than a quarter of that number

Perhaps the most striking issue emerging from commuter groups concerns the sheer inadequacy of Mumbai’s bus fleet. According to Aamchi Mumbai Aamchi BEST, a city of Mumbai’s size requires approximately 12,000 buses to adequately serve its population. Yet the city currently operates fewer than 3,000 buses. This shortfall has profound consequences.

It translates into overcrowded buses, long queues at bus stops, reduced route coverage, longer waiting times, irregular services and increasing pressure on other forms of public transport.

For residents living far from railway corridors and metro stations, the consequences are particularly severe. Buses remain the most affordable and accessible form of public transport for students, senior citizens, women, persons with disabilities, hospital patients, informal workers and millions of lower-income commuters.

Transport activists argue that instead of expanding bus services in line with population growth, policy choices over the last decade have steadily reduced public transport capacity.

As a result, many commuters have been pushed towards more expensive transport options or private vehicles, further contributing to congestion and inequality in urban mobility.

The wet-lease experiment and the growing backlash

No issue better captures the broader ideological dispute surrounding BEST than the wet-lease model. Over the past decade, the undertaking increasingly shifted towards buses owned and operated by private contractors. According to The Indian Express, unions have pointed out that of the approximately 2,800 buses currently operating in the fleet, only a small fraction are directly owned by BEST. The overwhelming majority are operated through wet-lease arrangements involving private contractors.

When introduced, the model was promoted as a solution to financial constraints and operational inefficiencies. Workers, however, argue that the promised benefits have failed to materialise. According to the unions, outsourcing has not solved BEST’s structural financial problems. Instead, it has created a two-tier workforce in which contractual employees often work under more precarious conditions and with fewer protections than permanent staff.

The unions also contend that outsourcing has weakened accountability within the transport system while transferring public functions into private hands.

For many workers, the strike represents a rejection of a model they believe has steadily undermined the institution.

Safety concerns and the human cost of outsourcing

The criticism of the wet-lease system is not limited to labour rights. Commuter groups have linked the model to growing concerns regarding public safety. Aamchi Mumbai Aamchi BEST notes that between January 2023 and December 2025, BEST buses were reportedly involved in 958 major accidents resulting in 77 deaths and 217 injuries. The organisation argues that the pattern points to deeper systemic issues.

According to the memorandum, contract drivers often work under difficult conditions while private operators have incentives to minimise expenditure on maintenance and training. The group contends that these pressures create risks not only for employees but also for passengers and pedestrians.

The memorandum further recalls earlier concerns raised regarding operational defects in electric buses, including braking issues, delayed door closure systems and battery-related problems.

Whether every accident can be attributed to outsourcing remains contested. However, the scale of the figures has strengthened demands for a comprehensive review of the current model.

The fight over depots and public land

Another major fault line concerns the future of BEST’s depots. Workers and transport activists have expressed strong opposition to proposals involving redevelopment and monetisation of depot lands through public-private partnerships. Their concern is not merely ideological. They argue that depots are critical pieces of transport infrastructure. They serve as maintenance facilities, operational centres, charging stations, worker facilities and storage spaces necessary for running a large bus network.

Once such land is transferred or leased for commercial development, critics warn, rebuilding equivalent infrastructure in a densely populated city like Mumbai may become virtually impossible. Previous monetisation exercises have failed to deliver the financial turnaround that was promised. They point to outstanding recoveries from earlier redevelopment projects and argue that selling public assets generates only temporary revenue while leaving underlying operational problems unresolved. For them, public transport land should remain dedicated to public transport purposes.

Mumbai’s urban priorities

The dispute has also revived broader questions about how Mumbai allocates public resources. Activists, as per MoneyControl, argue that the city has invested heavily in infrastructure designed primarily to facilitate private vehicle movement while neglecting the needs of millions who depend on public transport.

They point to a decade of road infrastructure expansion, flyovers and large transport projects alongside a shrinking bus fleet and deteriorating bus services.

The result, they argue, is an inversion of priorities: enormous investments benefit private mobility while the most accessible form of transport for ordinary residents struggles for survival. For commuter groups, the BEST crisis therefore reflects larger choices about the kind of city Mumbai is becoming.

What workers and commuters are ultimately demanding?

Despite differences in emphasis, workers’ unions and commuter organisations are advancing remarkably similar demands.

They seek:

• Immediate payment of pending retirement benefits and statutory dues.
• Implementation of wage agreements and Seventh Pay Commission recommendations.
• Regularisation and protection of contractual workers.
• Merger of BEST’s budget with the BMC’s main budget.
• Stable public funding rather than debt-based support.
• Absorption of wet-lease workers.
• A major expansion of the city’s bus fleet.
• Reversal of policies that have reduced direct public ownership and operation of buses.
• Protection of depots and transport infrastructure from commercial redevelopment.
• Recognition of public transport as an essential public service deserving long-term public investment.

Opposition silent on Mumbai woes?

While citizens forums like Amchi Mumbai have been pro-active even as Unions have collectively brought attention to the deliberate crippling of BEST Undertaking once an international display for a working and extensive public transport system. The relative inactivity of the Maharashtra Vikas Aghadi, read Shiv Sena (Udhav Balasaheb Thackeray-UBT) with 65 corporators and the Indian National Congress (INC) with 15 was expected by Mumbaikars to support, with its own cadre, this issue. Instead, BEST employees and their unions have been forced to raise this issue in isolation!

A crisis that cannot be resolved through negotiation alone

The strike may eventually end through negotiations over wages, benefits and working conditions. However, the questions it has raised will remain. For years, workers have complained of unpaid dues and broken commitments. Commuter groups have warned that the city is systematically underinvesting in bus transport. Activists have questioned outsourcing, depot monetisation and shrinking public ownership. Yet many of these concerns have remained unresolved. The current confrontation has brought all of those issues into a single moment.

What is now at stake is not merely the settlement of an industrial dispute but the future direction of Mumbai’s public transport policy itself. The central question confronting the state government and the BMC is whether BEST will continue to be treated as a struggling enterprise expected to fend for itself, or whether it will be recognised and funded as what millions of Mumbaikars already know it to be: an indispensable public service and one of the city’s last remaining democratic forms of mobility.

Here is the BEST memorandum for view:

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2025 in Protest: Across issues, across India

The post The BEST Strike: Years of unfulfilled promises, structural neglect and the future of public transport in Mumbai appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Cases emerging from Assam’s citizenship determination regime

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

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

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

Saleha Khatun: Citizenship claim rejected despite multiple lineage documents

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

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

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

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

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

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Sarbhanu Begum: Spelling variations become grounds for rejection

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

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

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

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Nureza Begum: Challenge to ex-parte declaration

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

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

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

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

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Basiram Nessa: Alleged non-consideration of documentary evidence

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

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

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

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

Aklima Khatun: Citizenship claim questioned despite NRC and electoral records

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

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

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

The Supreme Court order may be viewed here:

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

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

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

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

When documentary imperfections become grounds for exclusion

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

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

A question of evidentiary standards

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Background

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

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

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

Signed by:

Organisations:

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

Individuals:

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

The statement may also be read here.

Related:

Article 21 May Trump UAPA Bail Bar: Delhi High Court grants bail to Kashmiri rights defender Khurram Parvez after 4½ years in jail

UAPA: Delhi HC grants Bail to Kashmiri activist Khurram Parvez after close to 5 years in alleged terror funding case

50 HR groups appeal for unconditional release of Khurram Parvez, Irfan Meraj

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In January 2026, CJP had documented in detail this phenomenon, a report that had been used widely in the public interest litigation that resulted in the May 2026 judgement. That detailed exploration may be read here. In all the documented cases, the photos and videos of accused were shot and shared on social media to embarrass them further. In essence, the police started a social trial against the accused and violated their dignity.

Defining public shaming could be a tricky task as it manifests itself in various forms. It could be through sharing photos online, parading in public, making accused do undignified acts, or simply—by publicly flogging the accused. However, the essence of the act remains, i.e., humiliating or punishing the accused in a manner that in the eyes of society they turn into criminals before the Court pronounces them to be so.

Public shaming does not refer to a single act of physical or mental torture but instead is a broader term wherein the accused is ridiculed (by being publicly paraded, or by having their degrading photos shared online), beaten up, and socially becomes a criminal before the trial ends (in most cases, before the trial even starts). It can be construed to be an umbrella term for violent offences that police inflict upon accused publicly.

Public shaming by police has been on the rise in the last few years. In the recognition of this rise, one has to see who has been affected by such incidents the most. Unsurprisingly, it is Muslims and Dalits, who are at the short end of the stick. As per a report tiled “Status of Policing in India Report 2025” published by Common Cause India and Lokniti empirically shows that more often than not the victims of police brutality have been from these marginalised communities. The specific act of public shaming is not any different, a perusal of the petitioners in all the cases that are analysed below makes it abundantly clear that public shaming by police unfairly affects the already marginalised. Ergo, the matter of Public Shaming has to be understood as a manifestation of State Violence as an instrument to marginalise. By perpetuating a form of violence that induces shame in the victim and ridicule in the observer, the State is further marginalising the already marginalised. Therefore, Public Shaming by police is clearly part of the phenomenon, State sanctioned violence against the minorities.

The act of public shaming is fundamentally Kafkaesque. Kafka in his famous short story In the penal colony talks about a society where accused’s body is inscribed with the alleged offence using needles. This act is carried out by a commander who happens to be the police, the judge and the executioner. The various instances of public shaming as happening in India are the similar if not the same. The police usurp the role of the judge and violates the dignity of an accused by beating and shaming them publicly. It contravenes inter alia, doctrine separation of powers and fundamental rights of the individuals—the salient features of a constitutional democracy.

In fact, in hitherto settled Indian criminal law jurisprudence, even convicts who have been convicted of serious offences are accorded –or should be accorded at least—fair if not humane treatment.

In the face of increase in public shaming by the police in Rajasthan (a detailed report on such incidents can be found here) the State’s High Court in the 2025 Islam Khan judgement laid down several guidelines that have to be followed by the police to curb such instances. It further held the act of public shaming to be violative of the fundamental right to privacy.

This primer will first breakdown the recent, year-old Rajasthan High Court judgement (Islam Khan and Others v. State of Rajasthan and Others) and analyse various aspects of it, including the final guidelines that were pronounced.

The second half of the primer shall deal with other judicial decisions pronounced by other constitutional courts, that is several other HCs and also the Supreme Court.

Lastly, we will attempt to demonstrate that there is an inconsistency in how courts have adjudged this issue. Considering the legal, social and psychological ramifications of public shaming, there is clearly a need for a sounder legal framework that can mitigate such occurrences. 

2025: Islam Khan and Others v. State of Rajasthan and Others

On the face of increase in acts of public shaming in Rajasthan (read a report on such incidents here), the High Court delivered a comprehensive judgement that laid down certain guidelines with the aim of stifling the practice. In the instance under examination here, the police had arrested the accused, degraded and humiliated them. Their photos and videos were shot and shared on social media. The judicial pronouncement came in response to this.

The judgement does a commendable job in grounding the prohibition of public shaming in three distinct constitutional features—doctrine of separation of powers, presumption of innocence, and respect of individual dignity. On the aspect of separation of powers, the Court starts with emphasising that the rule of law cannot be maintained without a functional separation of power. The invocation of this doctrine is important and novel, for it tacitly collapses the difference between a convict as per the court and a convict as per the media trial instigated by the police. The Court defines such a media trial engineered by the police to be “…a State-engineered narrative, wherein the police machinery, through press conferences, orchestrated disclosures, circulation of photographs, and at times even staged representations of arrest, seeks to project an accused person as culpable even before the due process of law has had an opportunity to unfold” (Paragraph 14)

The Judgement further reads, “Any transgression by the police into the judicial sphere, whether by declaring an accused guilty in the public domain, conducting actions that prejudice a fair trial, or exercising powers not sanctioned by law, would not only be without jurisdiction but would also strike at the very heart of due process” (Paragraph 13.2)

The Court by holding that media trial by police disturbs the constitutional doctrine of the separation of powers, implicitly held that media trial’s declaration of an accused as guilty is equally socially isolating and harmful as that of a court trial’s declaration, i.e., the mental or psychological effect is similar. Regardless of what the trial later proves, the accused in the eyes of the society becomes a criminal because of police actions that portrays them as convicts–or worse, sub-humans. The Court pegged the police action to its constitutional mandate of administrating law, not pronouncing guilt. The Court’s holding that merely showing an accused to be guilty amounts to a usurpation of judicial duties is crucial: in the context of public shaming particularly so; because the Police has repeatedly portrayed “accused” to be criminals in the eyes of the public. Such unprofessional, often partisan police conduct reduces public confidence in both the Police and Courts, eventually.

Making a logical extension of the aforesaid argument –separation of powers, the Rajasthan High Court went further to hold that criminal declarations vis a vis the accused by the police impacts the cardinal principle of presumption of innocence (until proven guilty). Media trials by the police displace the concept of presumption of innocence and whip up public prejudice and anger. Punishment precedes the conviction, and completely displaces the presumption of innocence.

Last not least, the force of this judgement lies in its assertion that the act of public shaming is a violation of human dignity. The Court recognises that acts of public shaming are ipso facto in contravention of human dignity. Dignity is the cornerstone of human rights. This is how dignity is acknowledged as a manifestation of human rights. The Preamble of the Constitution contains a solemn promise to secure the dignity of the individual as its framers were aware that the Constitution is an outcome of a long arduous struggle, which must value the dignity of an individual, independent of his social status.

The Court here grounded the inappropriateness of public shaming not just in Article 21 of the Constitution, but went a step further in the right direction, and held it to be violative of dignity itself. The effect of such a finding is that no law, circumstance, judicial pronouncement (that are often marred with legal hula-hoops to justify abhorrent actions) can justify public shaming by police. Its very existence is held to be impermissible. This is a crucial finding by a constitutional court.

However, it is the guidelines that the judgement lays down that sets it apart and hence its import. These guidelines are aimed to restrict if not stop public shaming from happening.  It is the first judicial pronouncement that explicitly lays down directions that ought to be followed by the police in the context of public shaming specifically. The guidelines require every police officer to follow the Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) prescribed by the authorities. It further emphasises that no arrestee shall be subject to misbehaviour, mishandling, manhandling, harassment, or any form of coercion under any circumstances.

Crucially, the Court held in these guidelines that “any act of social media condemnation orchestrated or facilitated by police authorities, which results in public humiliation of an individual, shall be construed as a form of punishment” (Paragraph 18[iii]).

By construing public shaming as a form of punishment itself, the Court effectively made sure that no police officer can engage in the same because it would contravene both presumption of innocence (as it would lead to punishing before conviction) and doctrine of separation of power (as it would lead to police usurping the judges’ roles of sentencing a punishment).

While the judgement— specifically the guidelines, prima facie, lay down what appears to be an effective deterrent to public shaming, a closer look at it reveals no concrete steps—an absence of enforceability. A logical extension to the guidelines could have been a) compensation for the accused subject to such acts; b) institutional correction and actions against offending police officers and c) any other.

Post May 2025, less than a month after the Islam Khan judgement, the Rajasthan High Court was again asked to adjudicate on an incident of public shaming by police (Puranmal vs State of Rajasthan and Ors.). The accused was arrested, and before producing him before the competent Court, the police forcibly shaved his head, dressed him in women’s clothes, and paraded him through a crowded market, while photographs and videos of the incident were circulated on social media and news channels. Unfortunately, unlike in the case of Islam Khan findings in the Puranmal judgement were diluted. The same court that had the benefit of the guidelines laid down in Islam Khan, (both were single judge benches), the Court in Parunmal held that police’s promise of not repeating such incidents hereinafter, is sufficient. No action was taken. Even in the previous Islam Khan, despite laying such guidelines, the Court had merely asked the police to remove the videos where the accused is degraded from Social Media sites and other platforms. No proceeding was started against the police. Therefore, while the guidelines are welcome, their effectiveness remain in question.

Similarly, various High Courts and Supreme Court over the years have given different judgements on the same issue of public shaming.

Other Judicial Responses to Public Shaming

The case of public shaming was also discussed by the Supreme Court in its 2012 judgement of Dr. Mehmood Nayyar Azam Vs. State of Chattisgarh and Ors. The Court was called to decide whether compensation should be granted to a victim of such public shaming, the Court held in affirmative and made a distinction between defamation and public shaming.

The Court held that public shaming is distinct from defamation, public shaming causes mental and physical agony. The Court added that “[because of public shaming] the hurt develops a sense of insecurity, helplessness and his self- respect gets gradually atrophied” (Paragraph 40).

Further, the Court held that, “The payment of compensation in such cases is not to be understood, as it is generally understood in a civil action for damages under the private law but in the broader sense of providing relief by an order of making ‘monetary amends’ under the public law for the wrong done due to breach of public duty, by not protecting the fundamental rights of the citizen. The compensation is in the nature of ‘exemplary damages’ awarded against the wrongdoer for the breach of its public law duty and is independent of the rights available to the aggrieved party to claim compensation under the private law in an action based on tort, through a suit instituted in a court of competent jurisdiction or/and prosecute the offender under the penal law” (Paragraph 43)

Later, in In-Re Banners Placed On Road Side In The City Of Lucknow (2020), the Allahabad High Court took suo moto action against the banners placed by the UP Police on the streets of Lucknow which contained several individuals’ photographs, name and address. The context is/was the the Uttar Pradesh government’s controversial “name and shame” billboards that had publicly displayed the names, photographs, and residential addresses of individuals accused of vandalism during the anti-CAA protests in December 2019. The administration demanded compensation for public property damages, threatening to seize assets if unpaid!. The Allahabad High Court had, in a judgement, strongly condemned the actions, ordered the removal of all banners that ‘named and shamed’ holding that these acts were a violation of privacy; when the matter was carried to the Supreme Court of India, the court without staying the HC’s finding referred the matter to a constitutional bench. A report may be read here. Clearly, however this judicial rap means little to the UP state administration that had in December 2024 revived this practice that was condemned by the Allahabad HC in 2020 and which, moreover targets privacy and due process. During the violence in Sambhal in western UP, incited because of the controversial attacks on the Shahi Jama Masjid there, the administration had publicly named and shamed over 400 so-called accused! A report may be read here.

In another ruling delivered in January 2021, the Allahabad High Court condemned the act of displaying a list of so-called ‘top criminals at different police stations in various districts of UP (Jeeshan and Ors. Vs. State of U.P. and Ors.) The Court not only took a dignitarian approach and condemned the State authorities, but also granted compensation for the violation of public shaming. Moreover the Court directed all the Police stations to remove the list, and warned them that if such action is repeated, criminal proceedings and monetary compensation shall follow.

The matter of public shaming has been dealt by Gujarat High Court differently.

In the case of Bhautik Vijaybhai Bhatt Vs Director General Of Police & Ors. (the case involved a bunch of instances of public shaming) in 2019, the Court deferred to the powers of the executive. The Court further held that since departmental actions for the offence had been already initiated by the higher authorities against the police officers, this was a sufficient remedy. As opposed to such a deferential attitude, the same court in the 2023, Jahirmiya Rehamumiya Malek Vs State of Gujarat judgement, held the officers in contempt. In this case, police officers had arrested the accused, tied them to a public pole and beaten them up. Recordings of these offences by the police were uploaded on social media sites. The Court held that such arrest was a violation of the DK Basu judgement (1997), and as the police officers violated Supreme Court guidelines, they ought to be held in contempt

The Madhya Pradesh High Court took a unique approach altogether. In the case of Sangram Singh Rajoot v. State of Madhya Pradesh, the petitioners were forced to walk from police station to Court on foot. The Court held that this act cannot be considered ipso facto, an act of public shaming. The Court gave a wide margin of deference to the police when it instructed the same authority (police) to “internally inquire” about the incident and find if “malice” can be attributed to the police officers! The Court observed that the representations submitted by the accused indicated that a grievance was raised before the authorities, mere non-action on such representations would not automatically warrant issuance of a writ of mandamus for initiating disciplinary proceedings, unless a prima facie case of misconduct is established. The Court delegated all its duties to the executive and did not even issue a writ of mandamus honouring the higher judiciary’s role in checking misuse of power and authority by the executive/administration.

A perusal of this catena of judgements around public shaming from 2012 (SC) to 2025-26, we observe no consistent discernable pattern. While constitutional courts have, in recent times, in some states like Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan and even some orders from Gujarat, held the act of public shaming to be condemnable and directed corrective measures, social sanction for such shaming persists. The phenomenon of social media and its intrusive, sometimes unregulated character adds more complex dimensions. There appears a greater imperative on the Court, to intervene not just clearly but swiftly to restore the balance —in favour of the Rule of Law.

Conclusion

The foregoing analysis makes it evident that the practice of public shaming by the police is no more an aberration but has increasingly become a baton wielded by an overarching, often authoritarian and unaccountable executive. ‘Elected governments’ are choosing to use this as a  systemic feature of India’s law enforcement architecture. The legal, social, and psychological harms it engenders are profound, recurring, and largely unaddressed.

Decades ago, when such practices certainly existed but were considered an aberration not the norm[1], did the Courts rule more assertively? The Supreme Court in Prem Shankar Shukla v. Delhi Administration (1980) was categorical in holding that handcuffing is prima facie inhuman, unreasonable, over-harsh, and arbitrary, and to inflict irons without fair procedure is to resort to zoological strategies repugnant to Article 21. The Court’s ruling was clear that freedom from handcuffs during transit between the prison and the court must be the rule and not the exception. Public shaming, in its various forms, is a direct descendant of the very practice Prem Shankar Shukla condemned. The DK Basu guidelines (1997) compounded this protection by laying down that custodial violence including torture and physical assault infringes Article 21, and that interrogation, though essential, must be conducted on scientific and humane principles, with third-degree methods being totally impermissible.

Yet, as the analysis of the Rajasthan, Gujarat, and Madhya Pradesh cases demonstrates, these guidelines are honoured more in their breach than in their observance. What the Prem Shankar Shukla and DK Basu guidelines could not anticipate was the peculiar, performative nature of public shaming in the age of social media, where the degradation of an accused: these acts are not merely incidental to an arrest but are part and parcel of the deliberate and orchestrated objective of the police action itself.

The social and psychological ramifications of this practice are equally severe, and they do not resolve themselves once the accused is acquitted. The Supreme Court in Dr. Mehmood Nayyar Azam observed that because of public shaming, the individual “develops a sense of insecurity, helplessness and his self-respect gets gradually atrophied.” Public humiliation, particularly when state-orchestrated and digitally disseminated, produces lasting trauma. The accused is no longer merely a person under trial. In the eyes of his community, employer, and family, he has been declared a criminal. His social reintegration becomes near impossible, irrespective of what the trial later concludes. The damage is therefore permanent, and the law currently has no instrument to make the victim whole. Monetary compensation, while progressive, cannot undo the viral spread of a degrading video.

The empirical picture is no less alarming. The incidents are not isolated and they are increasing. In Rajasthan alone, police officers in Sikar, Udaipur, Nagaur, Jhunjhunu, and Dausa have repeatedly forced accused men into women’s clothing, half-shaved their heads, and paraded them before crowds, with these unlawful acts being visually documented through 2025. The problem is not geographically contained. In Jammu, within a single month in 2025, there were at least two widely reported incidents of public shaming, one involving a theft accused being made to sit on the bonnet of a moving police vehicle with his hands tied and shoes garlanded around his neck, and another involving three men being publicly thrashed by police personnel after arrest, reigniting debate over the increasing tendency of law enforcement to resort to performative justice. The situation has deteriorated to such an extent that a group of advocates in Jammu lodged a complaint with the National Human Rights Commission alleging that law enforcement authorities are bypassing constitutional safeguards and replacing lawful investigation procedures with performative public punishment, leading to irreversible damage to the dignity and fundamental rights of the accused.

In light of all of this, the conclusion is inescapable. Indian criminal jurisprudence (analysed above related to Islam Khan 2025 and other verdicts) needs to be widely discussed, even as citizens, civil rights groups and the media discuss and deliberate on the serious ramifications of this deliberate executive-police fracture and capture of the ‘Rule of Law.’ What are the steps that need to be taken so we return the debate to conduct accountability by the Indian Police?

Is then what is needed is a centralised statutory or Supreme Court-mandated framework that defines public shaming exhaustively, prescribes mandatory consequences for violations including automatic contempt proceedings and compensation, and places a structural obligation on States to train and supervise their police forces accordingly? Without such a framework, the courts will continue to pronounce guidelines that are ignored, and the accused will continue to be paraded, shamed, and broken, long before any verdict is returned.

Relevant Judgements

[1] The 1979-1980 “Bhagalpur blindings” refer to a horrific series of human rights abuses in Bihar, India—when the Police deliberately blinded 31 undertrial and convicted prisoners by puncturing their eyes with needles and pouring acid into the sockets

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Hamzah Patel)

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The post The Court spoke, the police paraded anyway appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

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

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

The hidden crisis behind atrocity statistics

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

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

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

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

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

Uttar Pradesh: The limits of legal protection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hundreds of cases, no convictions

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

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

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

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

Haryana and the Bhagana struggle

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

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

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

Uttarakhand: When administrative structures complicate justice

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

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

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

The Larger Lesson: The problem is enforcement

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

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

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

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

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

The complete chapter may be read below:

The complete report may be read below:

Detailed story on the complete report may be accessed here.

Related:

UP: 14-Year-Old Dalit Content Creator Ashwamit Gautam faces arrest, FIR over strong dissenting social media videos

‘We Were Promised Rehabilitation’: Gurugram’s oldest Dalit settlement bulldozed after decade long battle; police violently beat and detain residents for protesting

CJP flags casteist, anti-Dalit videos on YouTube targeting CJI Gavai; seeks urgent takedown

Unending Violence: Caste atrocities haunt Uttar Pradesh’s Dalit communities

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

Dalit Justice Demanded: CJP exposes 30 brutal anti-Dalits atrocities, urges NCSC to confront nationwide caste violence under Article 338

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The Court answered that question in the affirmative.

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

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

A case that was never really about Telegram

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

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

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

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

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

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

Transforming Section 69A into a platform-blocking power

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The extraordinary expansion of “Public Order”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The curious treatment of proportionality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The forgotten rights of 150 million users

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

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

There is almost no sustained analysis of:

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

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

Architecture as a basis for restriction

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

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

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

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

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

Preventive regulation and the message-editing feature

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

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

A judgment likely to impact India’s digital future

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

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

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

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

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

The complete judgment may be read below:

Related:

Censorship After NEET: A substitute for accountability

When Morality Meets Surveillance: The court’s push toward state-regulated digital content

Repeal recent amendments to the RTI act, 2005: Justice A.P Shah in an Open Letter

Safe harbour or shadow censorship? The battle over India’s digital speech

State-sponsored attacks of surveillance reveal an erosion on Indians’ right to privacy, especially journalists, political opposition

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

You came into this world having already lost your mother and were raised by your father alone. Life could not have been easy, but you lived it—fretted, cursed, and loved through it all.

You studied only up to the 10th standard, yet through sheer hard work, courage, and instinct, you built a successful saree business. Long before people spoke about women’s empowerment, you were living it every day. You would probably never have thought yourself a feminist but you taught through the life you lived, to be capable, to be self-reliant, earn your own money, make your own decisions, and never surrender your self-respect.

When Appa was making his film and money was scarce, you stepped in without a second thought. You cooked and catered for the entire shoot, feeding what felt like a small army. You never sought recognition for it, simply doing what needed to be done.

But your greatest achievement was not your successful work or even the home you built by yourself. It was the values you gave Gauri and me.

You drilled into our heads—sometimes gently, but more often not—that we had to be independent, financially and emotionally. Having lived life on your own terms, you understood how important it was for women to have their own money, their own voice, and their own sense of self. You taught us that true independence is about dignity: the freedom to choose, the freedom to walk away when necessary, and the ability to stand tall without relying on anyone else to define our worth.

And then there was Esha.

You absolutely adored your granddaughter. After Gauri passed away, then thirteen-year-old Esha became your anchor. In your eyes, she could do no wrong—which, to be fair, she rarely did. And in her eyes, you could do no wrong either.

The bond the two of you shared was something else. Through your influence, and through the example that you, Gauri, and I tried to set, Esha has grown into a mature, caring, and fiercely independent young woman.

But you were not perfect.

Perhaps all the hardships you endured left their mark. You could be suspicious, a little feudal in your thinking, and often inclined to see the worst before the best. Living with you was not always easy. In fact, Gauri used to joke that she wanted to start a group called “Amma Andre Nange Kashta” and appoint herself its founding chairperson.

I had my own joke. I used to say that even if you made it to heaven, it wouldn’t be long before you found fault with something there. You would complain about the food, the arrangements, or how things were being run. Before long, the gods would throw up their hands in defeat and send you right back.

You could be demanding, stubborn, censorious and exhausting in ways that only a mother can be. But I guess the same experiences that made you cautious also made you resilient. The same stubbornness that frustrated us was the stubbornness that helped you survive, persevere, and build a life against difficult odds.

Today, I don’t remember you as a perfect person. I remember you as my Amma.

Strong. Tough. Loving. Generous. Infuriating. Impossible. Irritating. Unforgettable.
And somehow, all of those things together are exactly what made you beautiful.

And, I hope you feel that you lived your life to the fullest. At 83 years old, in just the last month, you came all the way to Delhi to see Esha graduate; you watched the beautiful play” Love Letters “and fell in love with actor Kishore. On your birthday, June 2nd, you celebrated relishing rose cake and a Whiskey Old Fashioned Esha made you.

Thank you for everything you gave us. Thank you for the strength you passed on to us. Thank you for loving us in the way you knew how.

For all the arguments, all the exasperation, all the laughter, and all the love—thank you.
I will miss you.
Every day.
Yours
Baby

(Kavitha Lankesh)

Editor’ Note: A year after the brute assassination of Gauri Lankesh on September 5, 2017, Teesta Setalvad Secretary CJP had brought out this small anthology of Kavitha’s poems to her sister: all written in one year. They were published in a booklet Akka. The booklet may be accessed here.

Related

My Sister, My Soul Mate: A Poem for Gauri by Kavita Lankesh

The post From a daughter to her mother Indiramma, Kavitha Lankesh writes, “I will miss you. Everyday.” appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

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

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

A forest department that created settlements now calls their residents encroachers

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

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

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

The forgotten history of the Taungya system

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Forest Rights Act, 2006 explicitly recognises Taungya Villages

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

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

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

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

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

AIUFWP’s case against the evictions

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

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

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

The complete document may be read here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Supreme Court’s 2019 intervention strengthens the protection

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

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

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

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

Historical records undermine the “encroacher” narrative

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

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

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

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

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

Assam’s longstanding failure to implement the FRA

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

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

The constitutional dimension

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

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

What the law requires now

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

AIUFWP to LoP Rahul Gandhi: Act now on forest rights

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

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

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

The post A test for the Forest Rights Act in Assam appeared first on SabrangIndia.

With an absence of transparency –names and identities – of deleted and new voter influx—the question we ask is this:

Are new voter registrations transparent following due process, and what criteria were implemented to simply deny existing voters their right to vote?

The Election Commission’s Special Intensive Revision (SIR) shows clear data errors across the country. Instead of a clear, transparent and logical process, the official figures leave 2.79 crore voters (27.9 million) unaccounted for. This means that millions have been disenfranchised without either explanation, reasons given or judicial scrutiny: besides this huge number of Indian electors have not even been properly categorised in the act of removal/deletion: are they deceased, have they shifted/moved their location (?) or do they have duplicate entries? This unilateral and arbitrary deletion/exclusion has already –in states ruled by the right-wing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) – cost them survival besides the right to vote: People removed from these lists are today in danger of losing their government benefits we repeat, without any independent scrutiny by an independent judicial authority.

In West Bengal and Bihar alone, the state governments –elected on the basis of this faultily implemented SIR–have simply announced –without policy discussion or judicial scrutiny –that the ‘new voters lists’ will be regarded as the final electoral list and linked this to welfare programmes. Both states are now ruled by the extreme right Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), a political behemoth that has –in close collusion with a non-transparent Election Commission of India (ECI) been a “beneficiary” of this SIR process.

Put clearly, if a person’s name is removed from the voter list, their ration card is deactivated, monthly cash transfers are stopped, and even their bank accounts face cancellation. There are also local reports of the possibility of unilateral deletion from agricultural land records, especially if you are a disenfranchised voter from Murshidabad and Malda, Muslim majority districts! This policy effectively treats a deleted voter as someone who has lost their official status as a citizen without the final adjudication of their citizenship status.

State & UT wise deletion data discrepancy

The ECI’s entire 2025-2026 SIR process was/is 3-layered:

• Enumeration Phase
• Publication of Draft Roll, Claims and
• Objections Period and publication of the Final Roll.

A close scrutiny of the official electoral data spanning 14 States and Union Territories where the SIR was hurriedly conducted tells a mathematically impossible story.

This exclusive deep-dive investigation by Vote for Democracy and SabrangIndia reveals the dark holes behind the mass deletions.

The official SIR data released by the ECI for 14 States and UTs contains significant inconsistencies. While the ECI has published aggregate figures of additions and deletions, it has not provided complete details explaining how the final electoral rolls were arrived at. This makes independent verification of the data difficult.

According to the ECI final data, 5.29 crore electors were deleted during the SIR exercise. However, the ECI has not disclosed complete details regarding these electors, including the categories under which they were deleted, their constituency-wise distribution, whether all such deletions attained finality, or whether any cases remained under adjudication, appeal, or other verification processes at the time of publication of the final rolls.

1. The ECI has reported that 1.87 crore new electors were added through Forms 6 and 6A applications^[1]. However, it has not specifically disclosed the categories to which these electors belong, whether they were first-time voters, previously deleted electors seeking re-enrolment, migrated voters, overseas electors, or any other category. Nor has it disclosed the district-wise and constituency-wise break-up of these additions.
2. The SIR exercise began with 61.38 crore electors. After deleting 5.29 crore electors and adding 1.87 crore electors, the final electoral roll should have contained approximately 57.96 crore electors. However, the final electoral rolls published by the ECI show only 55.17 crore electors including 1.87 crore newly added electors, leaving an unexplained gap of about 2.79 crore “Vanished Electors”
3. Further, a total of 7.16 crore electors (5.29 crore deletions and 1.87 crore additions) were affected by the SIR process, yet the ECI has not disclosed sufficient particulars regarding their status, category, or basis of inclusion/deletion. The absence of such information raises serious concerns regarding transparency, accuracy, and the reliability of the published electoral data.

Note: We have attempted to rely on figures and facts available from the Election Commission of India (ECI) and the respective Chief Electoral Officers (CEOs). Wherever neither the ECI nor the CEOs have provided the relevant data, we have been compelled to rely on information reported in the press, as no official alternative is available to the public. Since the ECI has not made the complete data available in a scientific and statistically verifiable format, it has become necessary to depend on multiple secondary sources for the purposes of this analysis.

Who then are these unexplained 5.29 crore final voters from 14 states, what has been the process followed for their inclusion into the final Voter’s List? The Table below explains the illogical process of deletions/inclusions, state-wise[2]:

Total deletion in SIR across the 14 States/UTs and Form 6/6A/additions

Bihar

The final press release^[4] of the ECI related to Bihar dated September 30, 2025 stated 3.66 lakh names were permanently deleted after detailed statutory verification, while 21.53 lakh eligible electors were added through Form-6 (First Time Voter) applications during claims-and-objections process. We have downloaded the press release and it may be accessed here. As a result, the final electoral roll stood at approximately 7.42 crore electors. At first glance, the Commission presented these figures as evidence of a successful correction mechanism that enabled genuine electors to re-enter the electoral database. However, a closer examination of the numbers reveals a significant discrepancy.

The pre-SIR electoral roll contained 7.89 crore electors, whereas the finalised roll contained 7.42 crore electors. This represents a net reduction of approximately 47 lakh electors. Yet the numerical explanation offered by the Commission does not fully account for this decline.

If 3.66 lakh names were permanently removed after verification and 21.53 lakh electors were subsequently added, the total deletions and additions totals 25.19 lakh electors. However, the final roll has an unexplained deficit of 21.81 lakh Voters whose removal/absence has simply not been explained by the ECI!

Questions raised in Investigation:

• Who are these Voters, from which Districts in Bihar and what is their gender and other identity?
• Do the Bihari and Indian people not deserve to know?

Conclusion: The entire SIR process therefore has been clouded in opacity. Reasons are that there has been absence of any clarity on the following category-wise distinctions and therefore no reconciliation of possible overlaps:

A. The ECI has not disclosed who these newly added electors are or the districts and constituencies in which they have been added. This information is crucial for understanding the impact of the SIR process.

B. The ECI has stated that electors whose names were deleted during the SIR Enumeration process may seek re-enrolment by filing Form 6

C. However, Form No. 6 [only for the registration of new voter as amended], as amended[5] by the Ministry of Law and Justice through the Notification dated 17.06.2022, requires every applicant to declare that he or she has never been enrolled as an elector before. This creates a serious difficulty for persons whose names were deleted during the SIR process. Such individuals were previously registered voters and therefore cannot truthfully make a declaration that they were never electors.

D. The requirement effectively compels deleted electors to submit a false declaration in order to seek re-enrolment. This is particularly concerning because the ECI’s own guidelines warn against furnishing false information or making incorrect declarations in electoral forms.

E. Form 6a additions ( Overseas Voters-(New Voters post 2011/shifted Voters) who and in which districts/constituencies they have been added: Form 6a additions ( Overseas Voters) who and in which districts/constituencies have this category of voters been added

F. Form 7 (permanent deletions by a process initiated by others) with no details of the veracity or transparency of the process – who has been removed and from which districts/constituencies they have been removed;

G. Form 8 relates to shifting of residence/correction of entries in existing electoral roll)– which Voters have been removed on accordance of shifting and from which districts/constituencies they have been removed & which Voter details have been corrected.

Please note that giving any false statement made in the DECLARATION portion is a punishable offence under Section 31 of the Representation of People Act 1950 with imprisonment with term which may extend to one year or with fine or with both);

Declaration form can be seen/accessed here.

West Bengal

On February 28, 2026, the Chief Electoral Officer, West Bengal, released a press release^[6] announcing the publication of the final electoral roll and electorate data. In West Bengal, the baseline electorate started at 7,66,37,529 names. The Commission notified deletions in the Draft Roll of 58,20,899 Voters, which, thereafter, inexplicably ballooned to a Final Deletion figure of 83.86 Lakh names—an un-categorised surge of over 25.65 Lakh voter removals.

When applying the documented Final Deletions and adding the 1,82,036 new voters from Form 6/6A, the mathematically expected final roll should logically total 6,84,33,565 (7,66,37,529 – 83.86 Lakh + 1,82,036). Instead, the published data of General Electors post SIR in West Bengal[7] depicts the same to be 6,44,52,609.

This creates an unexplained expulsion/ decrease in the Electoral Rolls of 39,80,956 electors, proving that the final published database does not reconcile with the documented additions and removals.

Questions raised in Investigation:

• Who are these 39, 80, 956 Voters, from which Districts in Bengal and what is their gender and other identity?
• Do the Bengali and Indian people not deserve to know?

(Even if we count the 27.10 lakh removed on basis of “logical discrepancies”, the figures leave an unexplained gap of 12, 70, 956 electors, a number still unexplained given the mathematical subtraction.)[8]

Conclusion: The entire SIR process therefore has been clouded in opacity. Reasons are that there has been absence of any clarity on the following category-wise distinctions and therefore no reconciliation of possible overlaps:

Uttar Pradesh

The electoral database for Uttar Pradesh began with a pre-SIR electorate of 15, 44, 30,092 voters (15.44 crore). According to the Election Commission’s final SIR data published on April 10, 2026[9], 2, 88, 74, 067 names were deleted from the Draft Roll, while 2, 04, 45, 300 names were ultimately deleted in the Final Roll. The Commission therefore recorded that there has been an addition of 84, 28, 767 electors between the Draft and Final Rolls which may have occurred due to redressal hearings, or registrations through Forms 6 and 6A. However, the ECI has failed to published the category wise addition of 84, 28, 767 electors in the Final Electoral Roll that now stands at 13, 39, 84,792 voters (13.40 crore).

Link to the downloaded document: https://x.com/ceoup/status/2042536090402459712?s=20

The official figures for Uttar Pradesh reveal a striking anomaly! The electorate, after the conduct of the SIR in the state,  exactly equals the pre-SIR electorate minus the final deletions (15, 44, 30, 792 – 2,04,45,300 = 13,39,84,792). In other words, the final roll can be fully explained without accounting for a single one of the 84, 28, 767 newly added electors. This implies an unexplained increase of 84, 28, 767 electors (84.29 lakh)—a figure for which no corresponding category of deletion or adjustment has been disclosed in the published data.

Questions raised in Investigation:

Again, vis a vis Uttar Pradesh (UP) we ask who are these 84, 28, 767 voters and do the people of UP and India not deserve to know their names and the districts where they have been added/included as Voters?

Conclusion: Such a massive number of additions without granular data on categories deleted and added, and how, raised more questions than it answers

Link to the downloaded document: https://x.com/ceoup/status/2042535765822050811?s=20

Assam

Similarly, in Assam[10] what was conducted was a different process. Here, in this state already racked by a Citizenship Crisis of unspeakable dimensions, what took place was a Special Revision (SR) of the rolls. The difference between the SIR and SR is this: Updation of the existing Electoral Rolls takes place through house-to-house visits. Hence in this north-easten state, as many as 29656 BLOs (Block Level Officers) conducted the exercise and visited the homes of 2,52,02,775 electors present in the pre-SR rolls. In addition a new category of persons, BLAs (Block Level Agents) assisted the process. [This category of persons while open to all political parties was criticised as favouring the ruling BJP who have a formidable network of “Panna Pramukhs” (area wise agents). These BLAs were “trained” by the Election Commission through a new initiative.]

Link to the downloaded document: https://newsonair.gov.in/eci-publishes-final-voter-list-for-special-revision-in-assam-extends-west-

The Draft electoral rolls published on December 12, 2025 after the Special Revision contained 2, 52, 01, 624 electors. Only 1151 electors, according to the ECI were deleted in total at this stage from the existing rolls. However, a scrutiny of the Final Rolls published on February 10, 2026 contained 2, 49, 58.139 electors. This significant deletion, that is the removal of 2, 43, 485 electors after the Draft Rolls were published has not been explained or defined by the ECI.

Reasons for the removal of these Voters and details of the hearings and adjudications have not been made public. No details are available about the persons and process who filed objections for such a large number of electors after the publication of the Draft Roll in Assam. The actual published final roll is 2,49,58,139, presenting a structural reduction of 2,44,636 electors that are missing from the final elector roll.

Questions raised in Investigation:

Put differently, our investigation of the available official numbers from the ECI shows that as many 2,44,636 Voters have disappeared from the Final Voters list and these include some of those originally dropped at the Draft Roll stage as also some from the Form 6/6A additions!

• Do the people of Assam and India not deserve to know who the deletion voters are (their names) and from which districts in Assam they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Gujarat

Pre-SIR, the state of Gujarat contained 5,08,43,436 electors. However, the Draft Electoral Rolls published the names of 4,34,70,109 electors. Around 73.7 Lakh (73,72,711) names of the electors were deleted in the Draft Roll initially, in the final roll published^[11] on February 17, 2026 the number recorded was 4,40,30,725 electors ECI’s official figures reveal that there were 5.60 Lakh additions through various modes including Form 6/6A.

Link to the downloaded document: https://newsonair.gov.in/election-commission-of-india-releases-final-electoral-roll-for-gujarat/

Question raised in Investigation:

Examining these figures leads to the following mathematical conclusion: an expected final electoral database of 4,40,30,725 electors and 68,12,711 were the final deleted voters. (68,12,711 + 5.60 Lakh = 73,72,711 electors).

The Gujarat figures reveal that the initial draft deletion of 73,72,711 electors in the Draft Roll and 68,12,711 final deletions & about 5.60 lakh additions in the Final Roll. However, the published data does not clarify whether these 5.60 lakh additions were entirely fresh inclusions through Forms 6/6A or whether some were electors initially omitted from the Draft Roll and later restored/re-enrolled. The Election Commission has also not published a category-wise reconciliation showing how many deletions occurred through Form 7, how many claims were accepted, how many cases remain under adjudication, or how many electors were restored. In the absence of such data, the movement of electors between deletion, restoration, and addition categories cannot be independently verified.

Question raised in Investigation:

However, the published SIR Final Roll is 4,40,30,725. This again leaves an unexplained decline in deletions of a 5.60 lakh Voters.

Do the people of Gujarat and India not deserve to know who the deletion voters are (their names) and from which districts in Gujarat they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Madhya Pradesh

Before the SIR exercise, Madhya Pradesh had 5.74 crore registered voters. After the draft voter list was published on December 23, 2025, the Election Commission reported having received enrolment forms of 5,31,31,983 electors: ECI explained that as many as 42,74,160 deletions were carried out due to non-receipt of forms. A point to note is: It is strange that not even a single enrolment form received was rejected!. Another curious fact is that in MP –something not observed from an analysis in other states–as many as 8, 49, 082 electors who failed to submit enrolment forms were permitted “re-entry” into electoral rolls during the adjudication process after the publication of the Draft Rolls.

The final figures for the state, released by the ECI on February 21, 2026[12], the Commission recorded 34,25,078 final deletions and 8,49,082 new voters added through various modes including acceptance of Forms 6 and 6A.

Link to our document: https://x.com/PTI_News/status/2025184572451836070?s=20

Despite the abovementioned figures, the published Final Voter List contains only 5,39,81,065 voters.

Question Raised in Investigation

The Madhya Pradesh (MP) figures do not fully reconcile. Starting SIR with 5.74 crore electors and after 34,25,078 final deletions and 8,49,082 additions, the expected final electorate should be significantly higher than the published figure of 5,39,81,065.

The data also shows that 8,49,082 electors who had initially not submitted enrolment forms were later brought back during adjudication. However, the Election Commission has not explained how these electors were classified, nor has it accounted for the gap between the expected and published final figures, leaving a portion of the electorate mathematically unexplained.

Do the people of Madhya Pradesh (MP) and India not deserve to know as to what were the specific factors that created such an accurate process (unlike other states) that reflected the fact that all enrolment form were absolutely in-order?

Do they not have any right to know as to who were the actual new electors added through the SIR process and from which districts in Madhya Pradesh (MP) they fall?

Also, who were such old electors who had been compelled to re-enrol through the Form 6 and 6A process that essentially entails making a false declaration that they were not previous voters and from which districts in Madhya Pradesh (MP) they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Chhattisgarh

Before the SIR exercise, Chhattisgarh had about 2.12 crore registered voters. The Draft Electoral Rolls published after the first stage of scrutiny by the ECI published 1, 84, 95, 920 names. Thus, the Draft Voter List recorded 27.34 lakh deletions.

In the final figures published on February 21, 2026, the Election Commission reported a further deletion of 1,08,807 electors from the Draft Rolls while at the same time it added 2, 34, 994 new voters added through inclusions of the Forms 6 and 6A categories. Based on these numbers, voters clearly have been deleted without any category-wise explanation for the deletions.

However, the published final voter list contains only 1, 87, 30, 914 voters. This leaves an unexplained gap of nearly 25.95 lakh voters whose status is not explained in the published data. The figures do not clarify whether these voters were deleted, carried forward, kept under adjudication, or removed through any other category.

Link to our document: https://x.com/PTI_News/status/2025108711291650148?s=20

Question Raised in Investigation

• Do the people of Chhattisgarh and India not deserve to know who the deletion voters are (their names) and from which districts in Chhattisgarh they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Rajasthan

The SIR data of Rajasthan presents one of the clearest inconsistencies in the published figures. Before the SIR exercise, the state had 5,48,84,479 registered voters as per the ECI figure. The electors published in the Draft Electoral Rolls were 5,04,71,324 voters. The number of electors reflected in the final figures published^[13] on February 21, 2026 showed total 31,36,286 deletions and 2,42,760 further deletions from the draft rolls and 12,91,365 additions through Forms 6 and 6A but the status of the rest 8,56,304 electors remains unclear due to the lack of any specific classification or explanation regarding these addition) in those rolls.

There are discrepancies however. The Voters s shown by the ECI before the conduct of the SIR is less by 2,28,264 electors than the figure shows by the central CEO in its press releases. The data also fails to clearly account for the whereabouts and categorised figure of over 31 lakh-deleted electors. This discrepancy itself raises more questions than it answers!

Link to our document: https://cms.patrika.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/SIR-Final-Publication-Rajasthan.pdf

Question Raised in Investigation

The published data does not explain this difference or whereabouts of deleted voters nor the reasons behind deletions/discrepancies.

• Do the people of Rajasthan and India not deserve to know who the deletion voters are (their names) and from which districts in Rajasthan they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Tamil Nadu

Tamil Nadu began the SIR exercise with 6,41,14,587 voters. The Draft Voter List removed 97, 37, 831 names, reducing the electorate to 5,43,76,756. During the claims and objections period, 27.53 lakh voters were added through Forms 6 and 6A, while another 4.23 lakh names were deleted.

The Final Voter List published on February 23, 2026[14] stood at 5,67,07,380 voters, reflecting a net and unexplained deduction of 74,07,207 voters from the pre-SIR electorate.

Link to our document: https://x.com/airnewsalerts/status/2025924114599600147?s=20\

Question Raised in Investigation

• Do the people of Tamil Nadu and India not deserve to know who the deletion voters are (their names) and from which districts in Tamil Nadu they fall?

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Kerala

Kerala had 2,78,59,855 voters as per CEO Kerala when the SIR exercise began in November 2025. The Draft Voter List published^[15] on December 23, 2025 excluded 24,17,503 names classified as absent, dead or shifted, bringing the electorate down to 2,54,42,352 in the draft list. During the verification process, notices were issued to 19.32 lakh voters to establish their link with the 2002 electoral roll, while 17.56 lakh voters underwent hearings over logical discrepancies.

After objections were considered, 15, 11, 292 voters were added and 53,229 more names were deleted. The Final Electoral Roll published^[16] on February 21, 2026 contains 2,70,52,007 voters, a net reduction of 9,59,440 voters from the pre-SIR electorate that is unexplained by category or reasoning.

Link to our document: https://www.ceo.kerala.gov.in/uploads/sir-2026/draft-electorate-23-12-2025.pdf; https://www.ceo.kerala.gov.in/uploads/sir-2026/final_electorate_sir_2026.pdf

Question raised in Investigation:

In the absence of transparency and clear reasoning given by the ECI nor categories of additions/deletions, people of Kerala and India are in the dark of who these deleted voters are (names) and from which districts of the state they fall!

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

Goa and Andaman & Nicobar Islands

Goa had 11,85,034 registered voters before the SIR exercise. The Draft Voter List published on December 16, 2025 removed 1,00,042 names, bringing the voter count down to 10,84,992. The Election Commission also identified 1,82,403 voters as “unmapped” and 58,923 voters as having “logical discrepancies”, whose cases were later examined through notices, hearings and document checks. During the claims & objections period, 12,166 new voters were added (Form 6,6A), while 39,592 names were finally deleted, including 35,780 voters declared ineligible after scrutiny.

The final voter list published^[17] on February 21, 2026 contained 10, 57, 566 voters.

Link to our document: https://ceogoa.nic.in/PDF/SIR2026/press-note-Final-publication.pdf

Question raised in Investigation:

However, the figures raise a basic question that if 1, 00, 042 names were removed in the Draft List, why do the final figures show only 39,592 deletions? The published data does not clearly explain what happened to the remaining voters who were initially removed, or how the large number of unmapped and discrepancy-flagged voters were ultimately accounted for in the final roll.

• In the absence of clear reasoning given by the ECI nor categories of additions/deletions, people of Goa and India are in the dark of who these deleted voters are (names) and from which districts of the state they fall!

Conclusion: This opacity and non-transparency regarding the fundamental right to Vote creates suspicion, as if the entire process has been conducted in a pre-determined and partisan manner.

The Andaman & Nicobar Islands[18] had 3,10,404 registered voters before the SIR exercise. The draft voter list published on December 23, 2025 removed 64,014 names, reducing the electorate to 2,46,390. During the claims and objections period, 16,919 voters were added through Forms 6, 6A and 8, while 5,269 names were deleted.

The final voter list published on February 21, 2026 contains 2,58,040 voters, matching the additions and deletions recorded after the draft stage. However, compared to the pre-SIR electorate, the final roll is lower by 52,364 voters. While the final deletion figure records only 5,269 removals, the published data does not explain how this overall reduction of 52,364 voters was arrived at, or how many of the 64,014 names deleted in the draft list were restored after verification or not.

Linkto our document: https://x.com/Andaman_Admin/status/2025442063752511792?s=20

Question raised in Investigation:

In the absence of clear reasoning’s given by the ECI nor categories of additions/deletions, people of Andaman & Nicobar and India are in the dark of who these deleted voters are (names) and from which districts of the state they fall!

Puducherry

Puducherry had 10, 21,578 registered voters before the SIR exercise. The draft voter list published on December 16, 2025 removed 1,03,467 names, reducing the electorate to 9,18,111 voters. During the claims and objections period, 41,492 voters were added, 16,619 more names were deleted, and 1,227 voters were marked as shifted outside the state.

Link to our document: https://x.com/ceopuducherry/status/2022544949041074407?s=20

The final electoral roll published on February 14, 2026[19] contains 9,44,211 voters. While the final figures broadly reconcile with the draft roll and subsequent additions, the data leaves key questions unanswered. Of the 1,03,467 voters removed at the draft stage, the final roll remains lower than the pre-SIR electorate by 77,367 voters. The published data does not explain how many of the initially deleted voters were restored, how many of the 41,492 additions were genuinely new voters or some of were existing voters? and how many were previously deleted electors who were later reinstated after verification.

Question raised in Investigation:

In the absence of clear reasoning’s given by the ECI nor categories of additions/deletions, people of Puducherry and India are in the dark of who these deleted voters are (names) and from which districts of the state they fall!

Lakshadweep

Lakshadweep had 57,813 registered voters before the SIR exercise. The draft voter list published^[20] on December 16, 2025 removed 1,429 names, including 705 deceased voters, 210 permanently shifted voters, 472 duplicate enrolments, 41 untraceable or absent voters, and one voter who refused to sign, reducing the electorate to 56,384 voters.

Link to our document: https://www.facebook.com/100064880013259/posts/press-note-14022026-publication-of-final-electoral-roll-2026election-commission-/1363754245797230/

During the claims and objections period, 1,270 voters were added and 47 more names were deleted. The final electoral roll published on February 14, 2026 contains 57,607 voters. While the final figures broadly reconcile, the electorate remains 206 voters lower than the pre-SIR roll. The published data does not indicate whether these 206 voters were deleted during verification, shifted to another category, or excluded for any other reason.

Note: It was difficult to obtain all the relevant PDFs and official records, as several final press notes, bulletins and related documents were not readily available on the ECI website. For this reason, data was compiled from official social media posts of the Election Commission and Chief Electoral Officers (CEOs), CEO websites, press notes, and other official source links. References to the deletion of SIR bulletins and press notes from the ECI website have not been included here, as the analysis relies only on documents and data that could be independently accessed from official sources.

The major difficulty in the data analysis has been the inconsistency between the data published by the Election Commission of India (ECI) and the respective Chief Electoral Officers (CEOs) on the same issue. In many instances, explicit data has not been provided, and even the data released by the ECI reveals discrepancies. Further, the data has not been presented in a uniform format across States and Union Territories. The ECI has failed to adhere to basic principles of data management and statistical reporting, as the data should be presented in a consistent, sequential, and standardised manner to enable accurate analysis and comparison.

No final transparency or clarity on what were the categories of removals

A macro-analysis of the database across all 14 States and UTs (except Assam) reveals a severe systemic failure in the reconciliation of electoral figures, showing that there is absolutely no final match or clarity on what were the categories of removals.

In sum, the pre-revision electorate across these States/UTs stood at 61.38 Crore. While subtracting the officially declared total “Final Deletions” of 5.29 Crore and adding the 1.87 Crore newly added Form 6 and Form 6A voters etc.—the expected final database should logically rest at 57.96 Crore.( Leaving aside Assam).

However, the officially published SIR Final Roll aggregates to a figure which is at variance and the figures given by various CEOs and the ECI at different occasions does not match and different claims are made that makes the picture too hazy to be recognized.

This failure to mathematically bridge the gap between the initial and final rolls leaves a staggering, un-reconciled macro-level discrepancy of Crores of electors. Every single state exhibits this structural dissonance. These unexplained numerical variances expose a hidden layer of alleged database manipulation. The officially recorded final deletions are completely out of consonance with the initial draft deletions 7.33 Crore and the actual net modifications executed on the ground.

Instead of providing a transparent, categorised breakdown of these removals—such as designating them as deceased, permanently shifted, or duplicate entries—the data reflects opaque, un-categorised bulk adjustments. The introduction of the clause of logical discrepancies midway in West Bengal , that to applied discriminately and arbitrarily makes the exercise smack of pre-determination and partisan administrative “purging” of the Electoral Roll and therefore the Constitutional Right to Vote!

SIR deletions linked to welfare benefits

The newly elected BJP governments in West Bengal and Bihar indicated that persons whose names were deleted from electoral rolls might also lose access to welfare benefits. In West Bengal, ministers stated that individuals removed through the SIR process would not be eligible for government schemes, though those whose cases are pending before appellate tribunals and certain applicants under the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) would continue to receive benefits

The West Bengal government has weaponised the outcomes of the SIR to aggressively filter beneficiaries under the public distribution system. By instructing the food and supplies department to mark the ration cards of deleted voters as inactive, the state has explicitly equated electoral exclusion with nutritional deprivation.

Individuals marked as absent, shifted, duplicate, or dead in the draft lists, alongside unmapped voters and those removed post-adjudication, now face immediate ineligibility for fundamental food security. While temporary reprieves exist for those navigating the labyrinthine appellate tribunals or seeking refuge under the Citizenship Amendment Act, these are mere pauses in a broader trajectory of exclusion. These administrative decisions post-SIR extends beyond food supplies, with over thirty lakh beneficiaries of a targeted cash transfer scheme for women also rendered ineligible following their removal from the voter database in West Bengal.

In Bihar, Chief Minister Samrat Choudhary said that persons deleted from the electoral roll would be ineligible for ration and other welfare schemes, and even suggested that their bank passbooks could be cancelled in due course. The announcements have sparked concerns because the Election Commission has consistently maintained before the Supreme Court that exclusion from the electoral roll does not amount to a determination of citizenship and does not terminate an individual’s citizenship status. The move to link deletion from the electoral roll with denial of welfare benefits raises serious legal concerns, as it effectively treats exclusion from the voter list as proof of non-citizenship without any formal determination of citizenship status.

ECI launched SIR Phase-III

Following the unexplained mass deletion of voters in earlier phases, the Election Commission has now launched the controversial SIR Phase-III across 16 States and 3 UTs. The states included in this phase are Andhra Pradesh, Arunachal Pradesh, Haryana, Jharkhand, Karnataka, Maharashtra, Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland, Odisha, Punjab, Sikkim, Tripura, Telangana, and Uttarakhand. The Union Territories covered are the National Capital Territory of Delhi, Chandigarh, and Dadra and Nagar Haveli, Daman & Diu and temporarily leaving out only Himachal Pradesh, Jammu & Kashmir, and Ladakh. The above States/UTs covering a total electorate of 36.73 crore voters.

While the reasons behind the deletions in the first two phases remain unclear, the exercise is now being expanded to a much larger population based on the same non-transparent and unaccountable process. The SIR process conducted in 2025-26 and now expanded to other states is a violation of both Election Law and Rules.

The Commission must account for every voter affected by the revision process. In an exercise of this scale, even a single voter cannot disappear into the statistics. The responsibility lies squarely with the Election Commission to ensure that no citizen is wrongly removed from the electoral rolls and deprived of the right to vote through a hurried and heavy handed revision process.

Instead what the ECI has already done is snatched away the Right to Vote from 27.9 million Indians without rigour or reason.

^[1] New 18 years plus voters, However ECI wanted those who were deleted in SIR Enumeration to apply on Form No. 6 and Supreme Court directed the Political Parties to activate their BLAs to help such electors who stood deleted

[2] https://www.elections.tn.gov.in/ASD_19122025.aspx

^[3] General electors notified post SIR in declaration of election

^[4] https://www.pib.gov.in/PressReleasePage.aspx?PRID=2173316&reg=48&lang=2

[5] https://ceoodisha.nic.in/en/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Amendments-ER-Press-Points-.pdf

^[6] https://ceowestbengal.wb.gov.in/Downloads/News/Final%20Press%20Note%20CEO-PN-05-2026.pdf: in the declaration of elections vide release dated 15.03.2026 by ECI

[7] https://ceowestbengal.wb.gov.in/Downloads/News/Final%20Press%20Note%20CEO-PN-05-2026.pdf

[8] When this staggering number of 27. 10 lakh of Voters excluded under the vague/unexplained category of “logical discrepancy was pointed out to the Supreme Court, the SC inexplicably ruled that they could be denied their right to vote this election, 2026, and brought back in the next election if their case is found to be genuine!!

[9] https://x.com/ceoup/status/2042535765822050811?s=20

[10] https://newsonair.gov.in/eci-publishes-final-voter-list-for-special-revision-in-assam-extends-west-

^[11] https://newsonair.gov.in/election-commission-of-india-releases-final-electoral-roll-for-gujarat/

[12] https://x.com/PTI_News/status/2025184572451836070?s=20

^[13] https://cms.patrika.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/SIR-Final-Publication-Rajasthan.pdf

[14] https://x.com/airnewsalerts/status/2025924114599600147?s=20\

^[15] https://www.ceo.kerala.gov.in/uploads/sir-2026/draft-electorate-23-12-2025.pdf

^[16] https://www.ceo.kerala.gov.in/uploads/sir-2026/final_electorate_sir_2026.pdf

^[17] https://ceogoa.nic.in/PDF/SIR2026/press-note-Final-publication.pdf

[18] https://x.com/Andaman_Admin/status/2025442063752511792?s=20

[19] https://x.com/ceopuducherry/status/2022544949041074407?s=20

^[20] https://ceolakshadweep.gov.in/Users/download_pdf_press_notes/UHJlc3MgTm90ZS0gUHVibGljYXRpb24gb 2YgRHJhZnQgRWxlY3RvcmFsIFJvbGwgKDEpLnBkZg==

Related:

Judgement delivered, paradox prevails: every voter a citizen, but what is the fate of 51.8 million excluded?

SC greenlights SIR, upholds ECI’s power to revise electoral rolls

The Bihar Verdict 2025: How an election was engineered before votes were cast

The post Exclusive Investigation SIR: How many voters did the ECI actually disenfranchise? Why do final figures show inexplicable ‘additions’? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

But when sites are both protected monuments and continued religious spaces, questions of access, maintenance, and control between different governing bodies begin to surface. Who decides how these spaces are used? Who is responsible for their upkeep in practice? And what happens when regulation begins to reshape everyday practices of faith? This report examines these questions through a set of monuments that sit at the intersection of law, history, and lived experience—where protection does not always guarantee accessibility, and recognition does not always ensure care.

Paying to Pray: Firoz Shah Kotla Fort

The citadel of Firoz Shah Kotla Fort was built in the 14th century by Firoz Shah Tughlaq, the third ruler of the Tughlaq dynasty. In 1354, he established the city of Firozabad along the Yamuna, with the Kotla serving as its grand citadel. At its centre lies the Jami Masjid—one of the largest mosques constructed during his reign.

The site today is a centrally protected monument under the Ancient Monuments & Archaeological Sites and Remains Act 1958, with the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) responsible for its conservation and management. The Act, enacted to preserve monuments of national importance, also regulates how such spaces are accessed and used. Under its provisions—and subsequent amendments—strict controls govern activity around protected monuments.

​Construction is prohibited within 100 metres of a monument and regulated within a further 200 metres, with any intervention requiring permissions from designated authorities. The law also allows the ASI to control access to protected sites, including regulating which areas remain open to the public.

​Within this framework, the Jami Masjid at Firoz Shah Kotla continues to function as a place of worship, with prayers offered during Zuhr (noon), Asr (late noon), and Maghrib(evening). Yet, in recent years, access to this space has become a point of contention.

In 2022, the ASI introduced ticketed entry to the fort for all visitors, including those coming to offer namaz. The move, reportedly linked to restoration work and post-pandemic site management, has since altered how people interact with the space.

For many, this shift has had tangible consequences. Qamarjahan, a resident of Seelampur, said the number of visitors has declined. “The ticket costs 25 rupees. First you spend on travel, then you pay again here—how often can someone keep coming?” she said, adding that she was once a frequent visitor but has since stopped.

Thursdays, in particular, held a distinct significance at Firoz Shah Kotla. ​​​​

For decades, the site drew visitors not only for prayer but also for supplication tied to local belief systems. Many believe that the ruins- especially the structure housing the Ashokan pillar, locally referred to as the Minar-e-Zarin- are inhabited by djinns who could grant wishes. People write letters detailing their desires and tie them to the railings, often returning with food offerings if their wishes were fulfilled.

While this practice continues, several visitors say that the introduction of ticketing has reduced the scale and frequency of these gatherings.

At the same time, some visitors point to visible improvements. Chandramohan Joshi, who has been visiting the fort since childhood, said that the introduction of ticketing has improved cleanliness and upkeep.

“Ibadat ka ghar hai ye, jab hum pooja karne aarahe hai toh saaf kapde pehen rahe hai toh jagah bhi saaf rakhni chahiye. (It is a place of worship—if we come here in clean clothes, the space should also be kept clean) ” he said.

His observation also reflects a shift in the character of the site—from an open, informal space shaped by gatherings and offerings to a more regulated monument with controlled access.

However, Joshi also questioned the principle of charging for prayer. “One does not have to pay to enter a temple or a gurdwara. Those coming specifically for namaaz should be exempted from paying,” he added. ​​

The issue becomes more pronounced during Eid, when large congregational prayers have traditionally been held at the mosque for decades. Worshippers are required to purchase tickets even on these occasions. This year, Aaley Mohammed Iqbal intervened by purchasing tickets for worshippers, allowing them to enter without paying individually. He has since been vocal about the need for a long-term solution, with discussions being done with the ASI in the past.

“Namaaz has always been happening here; foreigners had to pay for the tickets, however, post COVID-19, the ASI started ticketing worshippers as well. People from all backgrounds come to pray here; it is not feasible for a person earning Rs. 200-300 per day to pitch out Rs. 25 each time he wants to pray”, he said, emphasising the need for a permanent solution.

​​​​​​The question of prayer at protected monuments remains governed by ASI regulations. According to officials, permission for religious activity is often determined by whether continuous worship at a site can be historically established. In practice, only three mosques, Neeli Mosque, Palam Mosque and Sunehri Mosque, are formally recognised for offering prayers. ​​​​​​​​

An RTI filed by Sheikh Sartaj Ahmed Masoodi, president of the Muslim Welfare Organisation, Delhi, has raised further questions about how these rules are applied. The response indicated that while the ASI is responsible for maintenance and protection, it does not uniformly permit prayers across all protected mosques, pointing to inconsistencies in decision-making. ​The response also mentioned that permission for religious activity is determined by whether continuous worship at a site can be historically established. Three mosques, Neeli, Palam and Sunehri Mosque, are recognised for offering prayers.

Heritage sites that continue to function as active places of worship present a unique challenge, according to historian and author Swapna Liddle. “If a site remains active, people require amenities like running water, electricity and other facilities, which may not always be in keeping with the heritage character of a 14th-century monument,” she said. Liddle added that this tension is one reason why the ASI is often reluctant to allow monuments that are no longer in religious use to become active worship spaces again.

​At Firoz Shah Kotla, where history, faith, and long-standing practices intersect, the introduction of ticketing has not only affected access to prayer but also reshaped how the space is used. What was once an open site of regular gathering—religious and otherwise— now operates within a more tightly regulated framework, raising questions about who such spaces are ultimately meant for.

Caught Between Authorities: Sunehri Masjid

Tucked away in a corner of the parking complex of the Red Fort stands the Sunehri Masjid—easy to miss, yet still in active use. Built in 1751 A.D. by Qudsia Begum, the mosque is distinguished by its three domes and flanking minarets, a modest but enduring remnant of late Mughal architecture.

Today, the mosque exists in a state of administrative overlap. It is a protected monument under the Archaeological Survey of India and was among the 123 sites in Delhi previously registered as waqf properties that came under scrutiny during the Waqf Amendment Act. Following the Supreme Court’s refusal to stay the amendment, such claims stand void for protected monuments, placing the mosque firmly under ASI’s jurisdiction.

Despite this, it continues to function as a place of worship for local residents and visitors.​

This arrangement is shaped by laws governing protected monuments. Under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains (AMASR) 1958, amended in 2010, construction is prohibited within 100 metres of a monument and regulated in the surrounding 200-metre zone, with oversight by the National Monuments Authority.

On the ground, however, these protections do not always translate into adequate facilities. Dr. Mohammed Irshad, who has been visiting the mosque for over two decades, described the challenges faced by worshippers. “There is no proper shade,” he said, pointing out that rain often disrupts prayers, while the lack of cover makes it difficult to gather during extreme summers. The ablution (wudhu) area, he added, is too small—only able to accommodate around 50 people, despite Friday footfall reaching nearly 500. Uneven flooring and broken tiles further make it difficult to perform sajda (prostration).

An official at the site, who requested anonymity, said that while the ASI oversees the monument, routine maintenance often depends on contributions from worshippers. “The roof leakage was fixed by ASI,” he noted, “but other issues like the wudhu area and flooring remain unaddressed.”

Another long-time staff member at the mosque said that restoration work on the roof, stairs, and boundary structures was carried out roughly a year and a half ago. Plans to repair the flooring and gate were also reportedly approved but have yet to be implemented due to budgetary constraints. He added that ASI officials, including engineers and conservation officers, visit the site regularly—particularly on Fridays—given its proximity to the Red Fort.

Despite these visits, basic infrastructure remains inadequate. A single, non-functional washroom and damaged flooring continue to inconvenience worshippers, particularly during peak prayer times.

The Sunehri Masjid thus reflects a larger pattern: while legally protected and actively used, it exists in a state of partial maintenance. Its dual identity—as both a monument and a living place of worship—places it in a grey zone, where responsibility is defined, but not always fully realised.

Heritage sites that continue to function as active places of worship present a unique challenge, according to historian and author Swapna Liddle. “If a site remains active, people require amenities like running water, electricity and other facilities, which may not always be in keeping with the heritage character of a 14th-century monument,” she said. Liddle added that this tension is one reason why the ASI is often reluctant to allow monuments that are no longer in religious use to become active worship spaces again.
ASI officials declined to comment on the status of conservation of the mosque.

Protected yet Abandoned: Begumpur and Khirki Masjid

A Monument Left Behind

Nestled within the narrow lanes of Begumpur in South-East Delhi’S Malviya Nagar lies the Begumpur Masjid, an Archaeological survey of India (ASI) protected monument dating back to the 14th-century Tughlaq period. Once a central place of worship—and believed to have served as the Jama Masjid of Jahanpanah, the fourth city of Delhi—it now stands in a state of prolonged neglect, with sections of its domed structure lying in ruins.

According to available archival references, the mosque was declared a monument of national importance in 1920. More recently, in 2017, the then Minister of State for Culture, Mahesh Sharma, reiterated its status in the Rajya Sabha under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains Act 1958. However, on the ground, these designations appear to have had limited impact on its condition.

A visit to the site reveals a structure marked by visible decay. While traces of restoration work can be seen, large sections remain damaged. The roofs on three sides of the mosque have partially collapsed, several pillars show signs of weakening, and the plaster has deteriorated. The ceiling appears darkened and patchy, indicating prolonged exposure and lack of maintenance.​​ As per a report in The Hindustan Times.

The central courtyard—vast in scale—is littered with cigarette butts, plastic waste, broken glass, and debris. Weed has grown through cracks in the flooring, making parts of the space difficult to access. On the northern side of the mosque, groups of men gather, often using the structure as a secluded spot to smoke and drink. Discarded liquor bottles and other remnants of such activity are visible across the site.

​Vikram Guleria, a resident who lives across the mosque, alleged that the space is frequently misused. “The site is not maintained properly. People come here to drink and take drugs. The authorities don’t object,” he said.

Another local, Mohanlal, 78, who runs a business in the area, said that the site is not safe enough for women to go alone and advised visiting it in groups. “A lot of people, especially tourists, come to explore the mosque, but I have lived here for a long time, so I know that it is not safe to go alone inside. I always tell new people to explore in groups,” he said.

Swapna Liddle, an Indian historian and author, said, “Begumpur Masjid is more like a 14th-century ruin, and it should be preserved as a ruin. The best thing that can be done is to invite and encourage people to visit there. I do not think the ASI does anything like that.” On the northern side of the mosque, groups of men gather, often using the structure as a secluded spot to smoke and drink. Discarded liquor bottles and other remnants are visible across the site.

On whether sites like Begumpur Masjid or Khirki Masjid could be better maintained if they were repaired and people visited or offered prayers there, Liddle says, “In places that are in active use for prayers, issues of management often arise. If people start using Begumpur Masjid for prayers, they will have to transform the place to add basic amenities or paint the structure. This was not there in the 14th century, so the question of preserving the heritage character became an issue for the ASI.”

​An official from the Archaeological Survey of India declined to comment on the condition of the mosque and conservation efforts being made there. Security personnel present at the site said that while warnings are issued against such activities, enforcement remains difficult. “We are often alone here, and most of the people are locals. There have been instances where we are threatened,” the official said.

​​​​​​​​The locality surrounding the mosque has also changed significantly over time. The area is densely built, with houses constructed close to the monument, leading to encroachment around the site. Over the years, surrounding developments have raised ground levels, leaving the mosque in a relatively low-lying position. Ongoing road construction in the area has further altered access to the site.

Built as a grand congregational space, it now stands largely overlooked—protected in law, but neglected in practice.

Like Khairul Manazil, its entrance is from the eastern side, opening into a large courtyard aligned with the western prayer wall. The western façade features a prominent central arched alcove, flanked by smaller ones. These recessed, shadowed spaces now provide cover and privacy, often facilitating misuse.

The Crumbling State of Khirki Mosque

​Tucked within the narrow, crowded lanes of South Delhi’s Khirki village, the Khirki Masjid rises unexpectedly—it’s heavy stone walls and shadowed arches giving it the appearance of a fortress more than a mosque. For many who live around it, that is exactly what it is: not a place of worship, but a neighbourhood fort.

Built between 1351 and 1354 by Khan-i-Jahan Junan Shah, the prime minister of Firoz Shah Tughlaq, the mosque is a striking example of Tughlaq architecture. Its name—Khirki, derived from the Urdu word for “window”—comes from the distinctive perforated openings that once allowed light and air to filter into its enclosed structure. Today, it stands as a protected monument under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains Act 1958, with the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) responsible for its upkeep. Reported The Wire.

On the ground, however, the experience of the monument tells a different story. Years of neglect have left visible marks—crumbling domes, broken pillars, and decaying stone surfaces. Residents also point to a persistent bat infestation that has, over time, altered both the physical condition and usability of the space.

Rameshwar Prasad, a tea vendor who has lived near the mosque for over three decades, described the conditions inside. “Cleanliness is a major concern. There are a lot of bats and a constant foul smell,” he said, adding that parts of the monument also get flooded during the rainy season.

Despite being classified as a Grade ‘A’ monument by the conservation body, Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage for its historical and archaeological significance, Khirki Masjid remains largely disconnected from the community around it. Many residents say they have never stepped inside. As per a report in The Times of India.

Yogesh Singh, who has lived in the area for 27 years, said the condition of the monument keeps people away. “Many of us haven’t even gone inside. The insects and the smell from the bats make it difficult,” he said.

The mosque’s current state also reflects a shift in how it is used. Once a functional religious space, it no longer sees regular prayer. Personnel at the site, requesting anonymity, said visitors now come primarily as tourists. “People don’t come here to pray anymore. I usually accompany visitors because there are bats in the darker corners,” he said, adding that some maintenance work is underway.

For others, the issue is not just neglect, but safety. A domestic worker living nearby, requesting anonymity, said the place, at times, is used by drunkards and drug users. “I avoid coming here, especially at night. It doesn’t feel safe,” she said.

According to an ASI official, the bat infestation itself has contributed to the monument’s deterioration. “Bat droppings are harmful as they cause corrosion to the pillars,” she said on the condition of anonymity. The ASI official added that the conservation work has been initiated at the site in response to concerns raised by residents and historians.

​​Yet, for now, Khirki Masjid stands in an uneasy state protected on paper, but struggling in practice.

Historian Swapna Liddle said, “When the ASI acquired the Khirki mosque in the early twentieth century and removed the villagers, they designated it a protected monument rather than a place of worship. The continuity as a place of worship had already been broken for centuries, so worship was not resumed. The case of Begumpur and the case of Khirki are pretty identical in that way.”

The Legal gray zone

Worship, Heritage and Control Collide

In Delhi, some monuments are not just remnants of the past. They continue to function as places of prayer, remain part of neighbourhood life, and exist within an ongoing struggle over who owns them, who maintains them, and who decides how they may be used.

At the centre of this dispute are 123 properties in Delhi that were claimed by the Waqf Board as Waqf properties, even as the Centre has maintained that these sites were acquired by the government between 1911 and 1914, with compensation paid and ownership transferred to the Government of India. These include mosques, dargahs and graveyards—several of them also protected by the Archaeological Survey of India.

​This overlap took on sharper legal meaning with the Waqf Amendment Act, 2025. Through Section 3D, the law states that any property already declared a protected monument under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains (AMASR) Act, 1958 cannot be treated as waqf property. In September 2025, the Supreme Court refused to stay this provision, while also recognising that protected-monument status does not automatically erase customary religious practices at such sites.

​A similar position has been reflected in earlier judicial decisions. In Zeeshan Ahmed Rizvi v. CEO Waqf (Burhanpur case), the Madhya Pradesh High Court held that a monument protected under earlier heritage laws could not subsequently be reclassified as waqf property. It noted that such monuments remain under government guardianship unless formally relinquished—placing state protection above retrospective waqf claims under Section 11 of the 1904 law.​

The scale of this overlap extends beyond Delhi. The ASI protects 3,679 monuments of national importance across India. Under Sections 20A and 20B of the AMASR Act, a 100-metre prohibited zone and a 200-metre regulated zone surround each monument, restricting construction and development. According to the Joint Committee on the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2024, 254 protected monuments – nearly 7 per cent of the total—were listed as Waqf properties, including dozens in Delhi. The overlap between heritage protection and religious claims, therefore, is not incidental; it is structural.

​With the Supreme Court allowing Section 3D to stand, such monuments now fall clearly under the authority of the ASI and the Central Government for their maintenance and regulation. Yet, this legal clarity sits uneasily beside another national problem: disappearance and neglect. The Comptroller and Auditor General’s 2013 audit found that 92 centrally protected monuments were missing – around 6 per cent of those examined–a number it said was “far higher than the number communicated to Parliament by the ASI.” Later Press Information Bureau statements and government replies showed attempts to trace some of these missing sites, but the report exposed how fragile “protection” can be even on paper.​

At Firoz Shah Kotla Fort, this tension becomes visible at the point of entry.

​The Jami Masjid within the complex continues to host Friday prayers and Eid namaz, yet worshippers have been required to purchase tickets to access it. The legal basis for this lies in Section 18 of the AMASR Act, which allows public access to protected monuments “subject to rules,” including entry fees imposed by the ASI.

At the same time, the law explicitly protects religious practice. Section 5(6) of the AMASR Act states that “nothing… shall affect the use of any protected monument for customary religious observances.” Section 16(1) further specifies that a protected monument that is a place of worship “shall not be used for any purpose inconsistent with its character.”

​This creates a tension that extends into constitutional guarantees. Article 26 of the Indian Constitution grants religious denominations the right to manage their own affairs in matters of religion, including places of worship. Article 27 adds that no person can be compelled to pay taxes specifically for the promotion or maintenance of any particular religion. Together, these provisions raise a difficult question: if prayer is protected, can access to that prayer be made conditional upon payment?

At Sunehri Masjid, the issue shifts from access to upkeep.

​Under Sections 16 and 19 of the AMASR Act, once a monument is declared protected and maintained by the Central Government, the responsibility for its preservation lies with the state. Section 19 is explicit: “The Central Government shall maintain every monument.”

Historian Swapna Liddle notes, however, that ASI’s approach to maintenance has historically not meant rebuilding monuments to look new. For years, she says, the organisation followed a policy of what conservation experts call “conserve as found” —preserving a monument in the condition in which it exists rather than reconstructing missing portions. “As you find the monument, you try to preserve it in that form,” she explains, “not to try and make it new.”

According to Liddle, this approach began to shift more visibly after restoration work around Humayun’s Tomb, where larger interventions became more common. She points to Khirki Masjid as an example, where a section that had collapsed centuries ago has reportedly been rebuilt by ASI This complicates the question of neglect. What may appear to worshippers as abandonment can sometimes reflect a deliberate conservation choice. However, for those using these spaces every day, broken flooring, unfinished roofing and inaccessible prayer areas remain practical barriers, regardless of conservation philosophy.

Yet the condition of the mosque suggests a gap between this obligation and its implementation, with worshippers continuing to navigate incomplete repairs and inadequate facilities. A similar pattern emerges at Begumpur Masjid and Khirki Masjid. Both are protected monuments, yet both show visible signs of neglect—ranging from structural damage to lack of upkeep and limited oversight. Protection exists in law, but not always in practice.

This gap between law and implementation is not new. In 2009, the Union government stated that prayers would be permitted only at a limited number of ASI-protected monuments where a “de facto status quo” already existed. The position resurfaced in 2023 before the Delhi High Court in the Mughal Masjid case near the Qutub complex, where the ASI argued against allowing prayers in protected monuments. Justice Prateek Jalan questioned that blanket stand and asked ASI to clarify its policy, observing that if the statute itself allowed continuation of prayers in a protected monument, that position would need to be respected. The court also sought old records relating to the site’s protected status, signalling that whether prayers could continue depended not on a universal ban, but on the monument’s legal history and prior use.

What emerges, then, is not a single conflict but a layered one. The Indian Express, reporting on the Martand Sun Temple controversy in 2022, noted the same distinction in ASI practice: worship is generally disallowed unless the site is a “living monument” where prayers were already being offered at the time protection was declared. In such cases, worship may continue, but ASI treats new or revived religious activity as a violation of conservation norms. The written law preserves customary worship. The authority managing the monument often treats conservation control as overriding unless continuity of prayer can be historically proven. The law says prayer survives protection; ASI’s working position often says protection limits prayer unless a narrow exception already exists.

​This ambiguity becomes sharper when viewed against the ASI’s own internal classification of monuments.

An RTI response accessed for this project lists “living” and “non-living” monuments under the ASI’s Delhi Circle. Only a small number of sites – including Firoz Shah Kotla’s Jami Masjid and Sunehri Masjid near Delhi Fort – are officially categorised as “living (prayer)” monuments where worship continues. The majority, including sites such as Begumpur Masjid and Khirki Masjid, are marked as “non-living”.

​The classification, however, does not find explicit mention in the AMASR Act. Nowhere does the law define a “living monument” or prescribe different legal standards based on such a distinction. Instead, the Act uniformly protects “customary religious observances” at any protected monument that functions as a place of worship.

​This creates a gap between law and administration. While the statute protects continuity of worship, ASI’s internal categorisation effectively determines where prayer is treated as legitimate and where it is not. In practice, this shifts the question from what the law allows to what the authority recognises. The RTI list further shows that several monuments currently marked as “non-living” were historically functional religious spaces, raising questions about how and when such classifications were made, and whether they can override the statutory protection of customary practice.

In effect, the distinction between “living” and “non-living” monuments – central to ASI’s operational policy – exists outside the text of the law, but shapes how the law is implemented on the ground.

​The law preserves prayer. Regulation governs access. Maintenance remains uneven. Between these, worshippers navigate a shifting reality – paying to enter a mosque, praying within partially restored structures, or standing in spaces that are legally protected but materially neglected.​

Delhi’s historic mosques are not only being debated in courts. They continue to be used, inhabited, and negotiated every day-existing somewhere between monument and mosque, where neither identity is fully resolved.

Ifrah Asim, Shariya Ahmed, Jess Jojan, Devika Magu

(The authors are freelance journalists and postgraduate journalism students at AJK MCRC, Jamia Millia Islamia).

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The post Delhi: Between Protection & Prayer: Stories of revered sites now under the protection of ASI appeared first on SabrangIndia.