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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The order simultaneously questions and preserves the ordinary criminal process

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preserving evidence is necessary, but accountability requires more

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

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

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

The complete order may be read here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Detailed report may be read here.

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

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

— Saurav Das (@SauravDassss) July 28, 2026

URGENT STATEMENT

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

— Saurav Das (@SauravDassss) July 28, 2026

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

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

Jakira Bibi and Naseruddin Sheikh

For Naseruddin Sheikh and Jakira Bibi, an elderly couple from Shernagar village under Agomani Police Station in Dhubri district, that question arrived in the form of notices from the Foreigners Tribunal. The notices did not merely initiate legal proceedings; they brought an extraordinary degree of fear into the ordinary life of a family that had spent generations rooted in Assam.

The allegation against them was that they had entered India illegally from Bangladesh on or after March 25, 1971. The consequence of such an allegation is immense. For a person of limited means, an appearance before a Foreigners Tribunal can mean confronting a legal system that demands historical documents, family linkage, oral evidence and a coherent explanation of one’s identity and residence, often going back decades. The burden is particularly heavy for those who are elderly, poor, uneducated or physically unwell.

Naseruddin was an ageing handcart puller whose life had been spent in physical labour. Jakira was an elderly woman suffering from several health problems who had spent her life caring for her family. Neither possessed the resources to comfortably navigate a prolonged legal battle.

The couple therefore faced something far larger than two legal cases. They faced the possibility that the country in which they been born and lived, could question their allegiance and their lives could suddenly become a question mark.

Their story, however, is also a story of legal intervention, documentary evidence and persistence. With the assistance of the intrepid para-legal and legal team of the Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), the couple was able to place their evidence before the Foreigners Tribunal. After examining the materials and testimony presented in the respective proceedings, the Tribunals ultimately declared both Naseruddin Sheikh and Jakira Bibi “Not Foreigner.”

The two orders are significant not only because they brought relief to an elderly couple but also because they demonstrate how citizenship-related proceedings can turn on the careful reconstruction of family history, legacy linkage and documentary continuity—and how access to quality and sensitive legal assistance can be critical when ordinary citizens are required to defend themselves against allegations that challenge their very belonging. The final order in Naseruddin’s case is dated May 8, 2025, while the order in Jakira’s case was pronounced on November 1, 2025. It took the Assam team of Citizens for Justice and Peace, that provided this quality legal aid, eight months in accessing the order of the Foreigners Tribunal.

Foreigners Tribunal Court, Dhurbi

Naseruddin Sheikh: A man who spent his life pulling a handcart, now forced to defend his Indian identity

Naseruddin Sheikh is now close to 76 years old. His life has been shaped by hard work rather than privilege. Born on January 12, 1950, he belongs to Bidyadabri village in the Dhubri region and is the son of late Basaruddin Sheikh and grandson of Sukur Ali @ Khasar.

He never received an education and, from a young age, had to depend on physical labour for survival. For nearly three decades, he worked as a handcart puller in Agomani market, transporting vegetables, rice and other goods. At different times, he also worked as a daily wage labourer, taking whatever work was available to support his family.

His life was not one of comfort, but it was a life firmly rooted in the place he knew as home. Together with his wife, Jakira, he raised six children—three sons and three daughters. While he worked outside, she managed the household and cared for the family.

Today, Naseruddin’s body bears the consequences of decades of physical labour. Yet, even at an advanced age, he sometimes continues to pull his handcart because the economic circumstances of his family leave little room for retirement. It was against this background that the Foreigners Tribunal proceedings began.

The case against Naseruddin was registered as FT-9/113/GKJ/2019. The reference originated from the Superintendent of Police (Border), Dhubri, following a citizenship verification process and raised the question of whether Naseruddin was an illegal migrant or foreigner of the post-1971 stream or any other relevant stream. The Tribunal’s order records that Naseruddin appeared in response to notice, filed a written statement, produced documents and contested the allegation that he was a foreigner.

For Naseruddin, the proceedings were frightening not simply because of their legal implications but because of the practical reality of defending himself. A man whose daily existence depended upon manual labour was suddenly required to reconstruct his family history through documents and testimony. The cost of legal representation, travel to court and the loss of working days could have placed an unbearable burden upon him.

The legal system, however, required him to answer the allegation with evidence. That is where the intervention of CJP became crucial.

CJP Team Assam along with Jakira Bibi and Naseruddin Sheikh

When the CJP team came to his door: After receiving the notice, Naseruddin did not know where to turn. He was confronted with a legal proceeding whose consequences he could not fully understand and whose financial demands he could not easily meet. It was at this point that he came into contact with CJP Community Volunteer Ilias Sarkar, who connected him with the wider CJP team. State In-Charge Nanda Ghosh, Advocate Iskandar Azad and Community Volunteer Habibul Bepari became involved in assisting the couple.

The team visited Naseruddin’s home, examined the available records and began working to understand the documentary history of his family. This intervention was important because citizenship proceedings of this nature often require something that is not easy for ordinary people to provide on their own: the ability to transform scattered documents from different periods into a legally coherent narrative.

A voter list from decades ago may establish the presence of an ancestor. A later electoral roll may establish continuity. A land deed may support residence or possession of property. A witness may explain the relationship between generations. None of these pieces necessarily tells the whole story in isolation. Their significance emerges when they are connected into a credible chain of evidence.

For Naseruddin, the legal task was therefore not simply to produce an Aadhaar card or an EPIC card. The more fundamental challenge was to demonstrate the historical continuity of his identity and his connection to his family and to India.

CJP took responsibility for assisting him in the proceedings, and Advocate Iskandar Azad represented him before the Tribunal. The support gave Naseruddin something that he had been missing since the notice arrived: the confidence that he would not have to face the legal process alone.

As Naseruddin later recalled, “After getting the notice we did not understand where to go. Even with papers, people become foreigners here. So the fear remains, but after you came we got courage.”

His words capture the psychological reality behind the legal case. The presence of legal assistance did not merely provide representation; it restored a measure of confidence to a man who had suddenly been made to question his own security in the country where he had spent his entire life.

The legal strategy: The central challenge in Naseruddin’s case was to establish his connection with his family lineage and demonstrate the continuity of his presence in India. The evidence presented before the Tribunal therefore went back across generations.

One of the important pieces of evidence was a 1966 electoral roll of Bhamandanga Part-II, in which the name of Gerpu Sheikh, son of Sukur Ali, was recorded. Naseruddin identified Gerpu Sheikh as his paternal uncle and Sukur Ali as his grandfather. The Tribunal also considered a 1966 electoral roll from Jaldhoya, where the name of Naseruddin’s father, Basiruddin, was recorded.

The importance of these records lay in their historical character. They were not documents created for the purpose of the present litigation; rather, they were old electoral records that predated the proceedings by several decades. Their evidentiary value, therefore, arose from the fact that they could potentially connect Naseruddin’s present identity to members of his family who were recorded as voters in the relevant period.

The case was further supported by electoral rolls from 1994, 1997, 2005, 2015 and 2022, reflecting the names of Naseruddin and his wife in successive electoral records. The Tribunal’s order records these documents as part of the 13 exhibits produced by Naseruddin in support of his claim.

The defence also relied upon Registered Deed No. 473 dated 24 January 1976, together with Naseruddin’s EPIC, PAN and Aadhaar documents. A licence issued by the Agomani Gaon Panchayat for operating a push cart and certificates issued by the relevant Gram Panchayat were also placed on record.

The evidence was not confined to documents. Naseruddin himself appeared as DW-1 and gave evidence regarding his birth, his father and grandfather, the family’s movements between Assam and West Bengal, his father’s death, his subsequent residence and his own connection with the places in which he lived. His relative Yashomuddin Munshi was also examined as a defence witness.

The Tribunal therefore had before it a combination of historical electoral records, later electoral continuity, land documentation, identity records and oral testimony. Legally, the importance of this combination lies in the way the evidence was intended to work together. The case was not based upon the proposition that any single document, by itself, conclusively established citizenship. Rather, the defence sought to establish a consistent narrative of family lineage and residence through multiple sources of evidence spanning different periods. That approach was central to the Tribunal’s assessment.

Why the evidence was found sufficient in Naseruddin’s case: The Tribunal’s reasoning is particularly important from a legal perspective because it did not simply list the documents and declare the case proved. It examined the documentary record alongside the oral evidence.

The Tribunal scrutinised the 1966 electoral roll of Bhamandanga Part-II and the corresponding electoral evidence from West Bengal. It considered the oral evidence concerning Gerpu Sheikh and Basiruddin, whom Naseruddin identified as members of his paternal family. The Tribunal also noted that Naseruddin’s own testimony supported his existence in India from his birth in 1950.

The Tribunal also considered Naseruddin’s account of his father’s movements between Assam and West Bengal. His evidence was that his father had moved to Jaldhoya in Cooch Behar in the mid-1950s, remained there for a period and had cast his vote in the West Bengal electoral roll, before returning to Assam and subsequently residing in the Bhamandanga area. Naseruddin further described the circumstances following his father’s death and his own later residence in Shernagar.

This is legally significant because the Tribunal was required to assess not only whether individual documents existed but whether the overall evidence formed a credible and consistent account. The Tribunal ultimately found that the historical electoral evidence, together with the oral testimony, supported the existence of Naseruddin in India from birth and established the parental linkage relied upon by him. The evidence of his defence witness was also considered in support of his version.

The significance of the decision, therefore, lies in the Tribunal’s acceptance of a cumulative evidentiary approach. Historical voter records, family linkage, oral testimony and subsequent documentary continuity were considered together rather than in isolation.

The final conclusion was unequivocal: Naseruddin did not appear to be a foreigner of the post-1971 stream or of any other stream, and the reference against him was answered in the negative. In practical terms, Naseruddin Sheikh was declared “Not Foreigner.”

For a man who had spent his entire life working with his hands, the order represented the end of an extraordinary legal ordeal. It meant that the elderly handcart puller who had always said, “I was born here, my father was born here, my grandfather was also born here,” had succeeded in placing before the Tribunal the evidence necessary to support that claim.

The complete order may be read below:

Jakira Bibi: When an ailing elderly woman had to defend the home she had always known

While Naseruddin fought his legal battle, his wife, Jakira Bibi, was facing a Foreigners Tribunal proceeding of her own. Jakira is above 60 years old and suffers from several health problems. Her life, like her husband’s, has been one of family responsibilities and modest means. She was born on July 12, 1964 in Shernagar village, the same region where her family had long been rooted.

Her father was Bataullah Sheikh, also referred to in the proceedings as Batasulla Sheikh, and her mother was Jelmoti Bibi. Her family history, as presented before the Tribunal, extended through historical electoral records and NRC legacy data.

Jakira’s case was registered as FT-9/112/GKJ/2019. The reference alleged that she had entered India illegally from Bangladesh on or after March 25, 1971. The order records that the reference originated from the Superintendent of Police (Border), Dhubri, and that Jakira contested the allegation, asserting that she was an Indian citizen by birth and that her parents and family were rooted in Assam.

For Jakira, the proceedings came with a particularly heavy physical burden. She was an elderly woman living with health problems, while her husband was himself an ageing daily wage worker. The prospect of travelling, collecting documents and participating in litigation was therefore not merely inconvenient—it was a serious hardship. But the evidence in her case was substantial.

Her defence sought to establish her identity through her parents, her family lineage and her own long history of residence and participation in the electoral process.

The evidence in Jakira’s case: The legal case presented on behalf of Jakira was built around a combination of historical electoral records, family linkage, land documentation and oral evidence. The Tribunal considered a 1958 electoral roll of Shernagar in which the names of Jakira’s parents, Batasullah Sheikh and Jelmoti Bibi, were recorded. The defence also relied upon a 1966 electoral roll, which reflected the name of her mother along with her stepfather, Goher Ali. Later electoral records from 1985, 1994, 1997, 2005, 2015 and 2022 were produced to demonstrate continuity of the family’s presence and Jakira’s own electoral history.

The defence further relied upon 1951 NRC legacy data, which was cited in support of the family linkage, as well as Registered Sale Deed No. 456 dated 20 January 1983, relating to ancestral land. Jakira’s own EPIC, PAN and Aadhaar documents were also placed on record. Importantly, the case did not rest solely upon documentary evidence. Jakira herself appeared as DW-1, while her elder brother Jahir Ali appeared as DW-2 to support the family linkage and her account of the family’s presence in India.

The Tribunal’s order records that Jakira produced as many as 16 exhibits in support of her claim, including historical and subsequent electoral rolls, the 1983 registered deed, identity documents and the identity documents of her brother. The evidentiary structure of the case is important.

The older electoral records were relevant to establishing the presence of Jakira’s parents and family in the earlier period. The later electoral records helped demonstrate continuity. The land deed supported the family’s connection to property in the area. Her own testimony and that of her brother addressed the relationship between the generations. Thus, as in Naseruddin’s case, the legal significance lay in the cumulative effect of the evidence.

The legal significance of Jakira’s victory: The Tribunal’s order makes an explicit reference to Section 9 of the Foreigners Act, 1946, observing that the burden was upon the proceedee to prove her nationality and that, accordingly, the liability of the prosecution was dispensed with.

In a Foreigners Tribunal proceeding, the legal question is not merely whether a person possesses contemporary identity documents. The person proceeded against must establish the case put forward regarding their nationality and status in accordance with the applicable legal framework. That makes historical evidence especially important when the allegation concerns illegal entry after the March 25, 1971 cut-off.

Jakira’s case therefore required her to establish more than her present-day identity. Her evidence sought to demonstrate her familial and historical connection to Assam, beginning with the electoral presence of her parents and continuing through her own life and electoral records.

The Tribunal examined the historical voter lists and the oral evidence of Jakira and her brother. It noted that her father and mother had cast votes in Assam and that the relevant electoral records supported the defence version. The Tribunal also considered the subsequent electoral rolls in which Jakira and her husband were recorded as voters.

The Tribunal further noted that the Election Office, Dhubri, had confirmed the authenticity of the exhibited electoral rolls. This was an important corroborative element because it strengthened the evidentiary reliability of the historical electoral records relied upon by the defence.

The Tribunal also considered the oral evidence of Jakira’s brother, Jahir Ali, regarding her paternal linkage. His testimony was treated as corroborating Jakira’s own evidence, and the Tribunal found that the parental linkage with Batasullah Sheikh had been established adequately.

The legal significance of this reasoning lies in the Tribunal’s reliance on multiple mutually supporting forms of evidence. The historical electoral records established the presence of the family; the later rolls demonstrated continuity; the land record supported the family’s connection to the area; and the oral evidence provided the relational bridge linking Jakira to her parents.

The Tribunal ultimately found that Jakira was a descendant of genuine Indian parents and that she had successfully discharged the burden placed upon her. She was declared “Not Foreigner.”

The complete order may be read below:

What triggered the proceedings against them?

The question of how a person first comes to be referred to a Foreigners Tribunal is an important part of every citizenship case. The legal battle before the Tribunal is only one stage of the process. Before that, there must be a basis for the initial reference and the decision to question the person’s nationality.

In the case of Jakira Bibi, the reference was originally forwarded by the Superintendent of Police (B), Dhubri, through SP (Border) I(M)DT Case No. 2389/98. The order records that the reference was made on the basis of a doubt regarding her nationality, with the purpose of determining whether she was or was not an illegal migrant. The matter was subsequently re-numbered before Foreigners Tribunal No. 2, Dhubri as F.T. Case No. 3494/GKJ/2011, under the provisions of the Foreigners Act, 1946, read with the Foreigners (Tribunals) Order, 1964.

In Naseruddin Sheikh’s case, the order provides a somewhat more specific description of the origin of the reference. It states that the case was originally forwarded by the Superintendent of Police (B), Dhubri, Assam, vide IM(D)T Case No. 2388/1998, on the basis of a report made by the Local Verification Officer for determination of his citizenship. The case was initially registered before the Foreigners Tribunal No. 2, Dhubri and was later transferred to the present Tribunal following the constitution of additional Tribunals.

The order further records that, upon consideration, the Tribunal found “sufficient grounds to proceed” and accordingly issued notice to Naseruddin, providing him an opportunity to show cause in respect of the matter. These details are significant because they bring the question of the “first cause of action” into focus.

In Naseruddin’s case, the order specifically refers to a Local Verification Officer’s report as the basis for the original reference for determination of his citizenship. In Jakira’s case, the order states that the reference arose from a doubt regarding her nationality. The documents, however, as quoted above, do not themselves set out the substantive contents of the Local Verification Officer’s report in Naseruddin’s case or explain in detail what specific material gave rise to the doubt regarding Jakira’s nationality.

Two Cases, One Common Lesson: Citizenship proceedings are often about reconstructing a life through evidence

The cases of Naseruddin Sheikh and Jakira Bibi are legally distinct proceedings, but their evidentiary journeys reveal a common pattern. In both cases, the defence had to reconstruct a family history that stretched back decades. In both, historical electoral rolls played an important role, electoral records helped demonstrate continuity, and oral testimony was used to establish family relationships and explain the documentary record. And in both, the evidence was considered not as isolated pieces but as part of a larger narrative of identity, ancestry and residence.

In citizenship proceedings, the strength of a case may lie not in one document but in the consistency between several independent sources of evidence. A historical electoral roll may establish the presence of a parent or grandparent. A later electoral roll may demonstrate continuity. A land document may reinforce residence and family connection. A witness may explain the relationship between individuals appearing in different records.

The value of legal representation, therefore, is not limited to arguing before the Tribunal. It also lies in identifying which documents matter, tracing family linkage, locating historical records and presenting them in a manner that allows the Tribunal to assess the evidence as a coherent whole. For Naseruddin and Jakira, the CJP team’s intervention helped transform a collection of old documents and family memories into a structured legal defence. That is where access to justice becomes particularly important.

The human cost behind the case numbers

Behind FT-9/113/GKJ/2019 and FT-9/112/GKJ/2019 were not merely two case files. There was an elderly man who had spent his life pulling a handcart to feed his family. There was an elderly woman who was already battling illness. There were six children whose parents were suddenly living under the shadow of a citizenship proceeding.

There was a family that had to search through decades of records to prove a history that had always been part of their everyday lives. The legal proceedings also reveal the disproportionate impact that such litigation can have on people living in poverty.

For Naseruddin, appearing in court could mean losing the day’s earnings. For Jakira, the physical strain of participating in proceedings was compounded by her health problems. For both, the financial cost of engaging a lawyer could have been beyond their means. This is why legal aid in citizenship proceedings is not simply a matter of convenience. It can determine whether a vulnerable person is able to meaningfully participate in the legal process.

A person may possess relevant documents but not know which ones are legally significant. They may have a family connection but lack the ability to explain it in the form required by a legal proceeding. They may have old electoral records but not understand how those records can establish a historical linkage. Legal assistance can bridge that gap. In Naseruddin and Jakira’s cases, that bridge ultimately helped them present their evidence before the Tribunal.

The day the order came home

On July 18, the CJP team visited the couple’s home to deliver copies of the order. The team included Advocate Iskandar Azad, Office Driver Asikul Hussain, Community Volunteers Ilias Sarkar (Rabbi), Habibul Bepari, Deep Ghosh and Ilias Rahman, along with State In-Charge Nanda Ghosh. This time, they did not arrive with another notice; they came carrying the order.

For the couple, the moment represented the end of months of uncertainty and fear.  Naseruddin had feared that the proceedings might eventually lead to detention. Jakira had endured the physical and emotional burden of litigation despite her health problems. Together, they had lived through the uncertainty of not knowing whether the country they had always called home would continue to recognise them as belonging to it. When the order were placed in their hands, the relief was overwhelming.

Naseruddin recalled the terror he had experienced when the notice first arrived and how the support of CJP had given him the courage to continue. Jakira expressed her gratitude through tears, remembering how the team had come to their home, helped organise their documents and ensured that they had legal representation. Their words reveal something that legal orders alone cannot capture.

A favourable order may end a proceeding, but it cannot immediately erase the fear created by the proceeding itself. The couple had won, but the memory of having been forced to defend their belonging would remain.

Beyond Two Victories: The larger citizenship question

The legal victory of Naseruddin and Jakira is deeply significant to them and their family. But their cases also raise broader questions about how citizenship proceedings affect ordinary people, particularly those who live on the margins of society.

A person may have lived in a village for decades and still be required to reconstruct their family history through records that may be more than half a century old. Historical documents may contain variations in names or spellings. Families may have moved between districts or across state boundaries. Electoral records may exist in different places. Land may have been acquired, sold or requisitioned. All of these factors can make the process of establishing continuity complex.

The two cases demonstrate why citizenship proceedings cannot be viewed purely as administrative exercises. They involve questions of identity, family history, dignity and belonging. They also raise crucial questions of maintainability, accountability and mala fide by authorities, unused to being questioned on these foundational aspects.

The legal orders also demonstrate the importance of the evidentiary process. In both cases, the Tribunals considered the documentary record alongside oral evidence and assessed whether the evidence, taken as a whole, was sufficient to discharge the applicable burden.

In Naseruddin’s case, the Tribunal accepted the evidentiary chain connecting him to his paternal family and his presence in India. In Jakira’s case, the Tribunal accepted the evidence establishing her parental linkage and the family’s historical presence in Assam.

The outcomes therefore underline the importance of access to legal assistance, preservation of historical records and the careful presentation of evidence. At the same time, the emotional experiences of the couple remind us that the human consequences of citizenship proceedings extend far beyond the courtroom. For the poor and elderly, the process itself can become a source of profound anxiety. The question, therefore, is not only whether justice can ultimately be obtained. It is also whether vulnerable people have the support necessary to reach justice in the first place.

From Fear to Dignity: The meaning of “not foreigner”

For Naseruddin Sheikh and Jakira Bibi, being declared “Not Foreigner” means more than winning a legal case. It means that the fear and uncertainty they lived with after receiving the notices have finally come to an end.

The judgments have brought them relief and restored their sense of security. The evidence they collected, the family records they preserved and the testimony they gave were accepted by the Tribunals.

Naseruddin is still the elderly man who spent decades pulling a handcart in Agomani market. Jakira is still the woman who devoted her life to caring for her family. But now, they can return to their home without the fear that once followed them. Their story is about belonging, but it is also about the importance of having the chance to be heard and to present one’s evidence before the law. For both, the journey began with fear. It continued through old electoral rolls, land records, family documents and witness testimony, supported by legal assistance and the determination to prove their history. And it ended with two words that brought them immense relief: “Not Foreigner.”

or CJP, the victory of Naseruddin Sheikh and Jakira Bibi is not the end of the struggle, but a reminder of why access to justice and legal support remain so important for Assam’s poor and marginalised communities. The CJP team says it will continue to stand with those whose citizenship and dignity are challenged, with the hope that no Indian will ever have to face the fear of proving that they belong to their own country.

Today, Naseruddin and Jakira can finally smile without the shadow of the notices hanging over them. After a long journey of fear, uncertainty and legal struggle, they can return to their home with renewed confidence and say what they have always believed: “We are Indian.”

 Related:

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

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

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

Gauhati High Court upholds foreigner declaration, rejects mental illness plea

When a Spelling Error Can Cost Citizenship: Supreme Court stays deportation of five Assam women

The post The country they called home, the identity they had to defend appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Revolution has begun…But is it from the frying pan into the fire? The appointment of another hard-core RSS man, Prahlad Joshi, to succeed Pradhan is certainly no solution. Everyone knows that! In March 2022, in the height of the Russia-Ukraine war, when Indian students studying there had to be brought back. Joshi famously said, “Ninety per cent of Indians who study medicine abroad fail to clear qualifying exams in India.”  He hurt the sentiments of many then. When the rapists of Bilkis Bano and the ones who brutally murdered her kith and kin were prematurely released a few years ago, it was he who defended their premature release. The Supreme Court then annulled the remission period granted to these rapists and murderers. To think that this man now presides over the education and future of our youth is, for most, totally unacceptable.

The Revolution has begun…the youth protesting in Jantar Mantar and elsewhere were loud and clear. They would never allow xenophobia, exclusivism, sectarianism or any form of bigotry to permeate their ideals, their dreams, their hopes for a better future. They visibly and vocally demonstrated in no uncertain ways that they were first and foremost citizens of the country, students and youth. They were with one heart and one mind, transcending the confines of every religion. They belonged to every strata of society. No one could divide them and pit them against each other.  Not the fascist, fundamentalist agenda of the regime. They were determined not to fall prey to insidious designs. With the Constitution in hand, they chanted in unison, ” We are one, we shall overcome!” Hum Honge Kaaba!”

The Revolution has begun…Arundhati Roy is one of the most celebrated and renowned Indian personalities today. In a hard-hitting and incisive article in ‘The Wire’ (dtd. July 22, 2026) entitled ‘Cockroach Democracy: Unarmed and Dangerous’, she writes, “For the first time in years, it feels wonderful to be Indian. Just when hope seemed lost, they came. Young roaches riding in on the rain. The progeny of the unholy union between a judge and a joke…. The cockroaches took the capital city by storm. They came by train, by bus, by air, by metro, their numbers increasing by the hour. Hours before the first rays of sunlight lightened Delhi’s monsoon skies, they began to pour into Jantar Mantar in the tens of thousands. By sunrise it was clear that a generation of desperate and furious young people who have seen their future snuffed out before their eyes was going to reclaim what their parents and grandparents’ generations had conceded: our dignity as a people and as a country. Our rights as citizens of a democracy.

The Revolution has begun…thousands of students, youth and others have come out on the streets all over the country: in perhaps every big city and small town, in district headquarters and even in villages. This was not a paid mob mobilisation – as this current Government does so often!  It was a spontaneous uprising, giving rise to their angst, their sense of outrage at what is happening to them, to the whole educational system, to the fact that twenty-one students had committed suicide because of the NEET paper leakage. It reminded one of the ‘Arab Spring’, of what happened not too long ago in neighbouring Nepal and Sri Lanka, and they have come out in hordes everywhere in protest. Besides, in several countries across the world there have been protests in solidarity with what is happening in India. All major civil society organisations and movements have issued powerful statements of support to the students.

The Revolution has begun…in Ahmedabad, in Gujarat, the sight was unbelievable. Something never seen in recent years. Groups of students walking together, singing as though they were on a picnic. There were droves of them. Shouting slogans, of course: “Modi hatao! Desh Bachao!” People were rubbing their eyes and ears! This in Ahmedabad of all places! Well, it is happening! Some were detained! There were thousands of police and security (with guns and armoured vehicles) in the Gujarat University area. They could do nothing. The students/youth were not ‘in assembly’ – just walking. And can anyone stop people walking? They were walking for change! The political masters, of course, will never forget the ‘Nav Nirman’ agitation of 1974 and how a Government was overthrown!

The Revolution has begun…Indian academic and social analyst Pratap Bhanu Mehta, in an article, ‘Cockroaches’ have shown us what it means to be courageous citizens — not subjects’ (Indian Express dtd July 27, 2026), does plain speaking, saying, “The farmers’ agitation had made the government withdraw legislation. But this is the first time that the government has acknowledged the need for taking responsibility and being held accountable…There are glorious moments when the youth of the nation demonstrate that they are indeed the genuine trustees of posterity, to borrow Benjamin Disraeli’s phrase. A generation that has been catastrophically failed by their elders, who bequeathed to them authoritarianism, communalism, a failing education system, an administrative state marked by impunity, and an atmosphere of suffocating fear, decided to take their future into their own hands. They made a regime and Prime Minister Narendra Modi, intoxicated with fantasies of total power, look out of touch, small and ridiculous. By itself, the resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan will not bring change. But India’s young have shown that the regime is vulnerable. We can still pull back from the abyss.”

The Revolution has begun… Rhiya Ahir courageously demonstrated the power of one: the power of youth, the power of women!  On July 22, she went to the protest rally in Shivaji Park, Mumbai.  As she was walking towards the venue, she noticed a police van packed with youth who were detained by the police. The sight immediately disturbed her, and she says, “The van was stuffed from the front to the back. There was no space to stand.” She did not know anyone inside. She plucked up courage to stand in front of the van, not allowing it to proceed. What followed was a heated exchange with the police. They knew they were wrong, Rhiya asserts. They finally relented and released all the youth they had detained. The defining pictures and videos of Rhiya preventing the police van from moving went viral!

The Revolution has begun… godimedia has been singing the tunes of the ruling regime to no end. The mainstream media has been bought up, corrupted, co-opted, and threatened. For several days, they did not take cognisance of the Jantar Mantar protest. The prestigious UK newspaper ‘The Guardian’ (July 26, 2026) in a lead analysis piece, ‘India’s Cockroach Janta party protest victory signals trouble ahead for Modi’, puts it succinctly, “Modi had also lost another medium critical to the BJP’s domination over the national narrative – the mainstream TV news channels widely acknowledged to have been co-opted by the BJP government over the past 12 years and turned into mouthpieces for its right-wing Hindu nationalist ideology. Initially, the channels ignored the protests, and when they did cover them, it was to suggest the protesters were being bankrolled by sinister foreign forces and Pakistani terror groups. In response, the protesters turned on the channels, using social media to expose their “lies”. When the protests escalated, Modi remained conspicuously absent from the airwaves. Interestingly, since times are changing, godified media, like a chameleon, is also changing colours. Foreign media have editorials and articles on this!

The Revolution has begun…the ‘Sansad Chalo’ march to Parliament on 20 July was proof enough of this fact! The fact that hundreds of thousands, from all walks of life, began this historic march was a breakthrough in the recent annals of the country. There was panic among the ruling regime. They spared no efforts to stop the march. All police and paramilitary forces were called out. Thousands of the marchers were baton-charged, beaten, and pellet guns were used against them. Many had to be hospitalised.  This ensured a groundswell of protests all over the country. On July 27, the Supreme Court said, “The right to peaceful, lawful protest absolutely guaranteed under the Constitution. So long as it is peaceful agitation, merely because there is agitation, there can’t be lathi-charge. Police excesses must be inquired into.” The Bihar youth are still under attack by the ruling regime. They seem to have forgotten that in 1974, the JP Andolan began in Patna, Bihar!

The Revolution has begun… The Jantar Mantar protest was about reclaiming shrinking democratic space in the country. And wow, it succeeded tremendously – with a profound impact everywhere. The right to dissent is back on the big canvas. People are out on the streets. It is significant that whilst delivering the fourth Justice GP Singh memorial lecture at the National Law Institute University in Bhopal on July 25, Supreme Court Justice Ujjal Bhuyan referred to the right to dissent. He said, “It will not be an exaggeration to say that public space for expressing divergent opinion is shrinking in India. The right to express one’s views and to demonstrate peacefully are fundamental freedoms guaranteed to citizens. Debate and dissent are the essence of democracy…Unfortunately, even normal activities are being criminalised. Students protesting on campuses are arrested, and they do not get bail for 30 to 40 days. They are suspended, for which they have to go to court. It takes time. These issues raise serious questions.” The last thirty-five days are changing things! 

The Revolution has begun… against corruption. The youth are not going to take things lying down anymore.  Not only corruption in education, but which has permeated every strata of society. Beginning right at the top. There is a lack of accountability and transparency. Much has to be addressed, like demonetisation, electoral bonds, the PM Cares fund, and now the E20 (The E20 Janata Party is on the rise). More questions will be asked. Where did the RSS and BJP get the enormous amounts of money to put up palatial buildings everywhere? What about the crony capitalist friends who profiteer at the cost of the poor and by looting the country? What about electoral malpractices: the manipulation of the EVMs and the meticulous disenfranchisement, through SIR, of thousands of legitimate citizens everywhere.

The Revolution has begun …In a strongly worded statement on July 27, the Cockroach Janata Party said, “We are observing a complete breach of the agreement regarding no police action against the protestors. Hundreds of students have been arrested in Bihar and Bengal, and hundreds are being shrivelled/harassed in Delhi and other states. Multiple reports are emerging in Delhi around the detention of volunteers supporting protestors with logistics. We demand that all the FIRs against the protestors be immediately withdrawn, students be released, and no future FIRs be filed (in line with our agreement) by Delhi police / Central investigative agencies / Police in BJP-allied states, FAILING WHICH WE WILL BE FORCED TO SIT ON PROTEST AGAIN. We also demand that the written agreement around legal cases be shared with us by tomorrow, along with the aligned timelines with the Government of India.” Yes, the protests, are not a flash-in the- pan!

One has had enough of references to the past: from the French Revolution to the Quit India Movement! The Revolution has begun indeed…. And there is no looking back!

July 27 2026

 (The author is a human rights, reconciliation and peace activist & writer)

The post The Revolution has begun….! appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

— khalid Chougle (@ChougleKhalid) July 25, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

— Imran Pratapgarhi (@ShayarImran) July 27, 2026

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

The volunteer behind the community kitchen

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

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

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

The night everything changed  

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

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

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

Claims of harassment

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

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

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

Police response

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

From volunteer to petitioner

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

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

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

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

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

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

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

Bihar: first state to formally withdraw cases

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

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

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

Neha Bora: “The movement will not stop”

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

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

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

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

— Neha (@neha_aisa) July 27, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

— AISA (@aisa_official_) July 27, 2026

Assam follows with similar assurance

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

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

Bengal remains the key test

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

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

CJP says Delhi calm, updates expected from three states

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Ratna Singh (@whattalawyer) July 28, 2026

Agreement must be honoured

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

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

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

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

Allegations of excessive force continue

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

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

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

A fragile truce

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

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

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

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

Detailed report may be read here.

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where does the problem lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there a better way to handle crowds?

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

How do we ensure Accountability and Transparency?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

Related:

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

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

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

The post Reforming policing beyond force appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

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

The Centre’s assurance and the FIRs that followed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From tear gas and barricades to alleged pellet injuries in Delhi

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

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

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

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

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

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

The State’s response did not stop at the barricades

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Muslim protester and the question of unequal policing

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

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

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

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

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

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

West Bengal and the Invocation of the Goonda Act

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bihar and the problem of the government’s promise

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

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

The political language around protest is changing

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

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

The protest has ended; the questions have not

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

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

The exam crisis that became a battle for accountability

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

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