Acid attacks in India occupy a paradoxical position within criminal and constitutional law. They are governed by one of the most developed bodies of survivor-centric jurisprudence, yet remain among the most poorly implemented domains of criminal justice. Nearly two decades after the Supreme Court’s intervention in Laxmi v. Union of India, courts continue to be seized of matters concerning unregulated acid sales, inordinate delays in trials, and the failure of States to ensure compensation and rehabilitation.
Recent judicial interventions—particularly the Supreme Court’s directions to High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack trials and the Allahabad High Court’s decision to convert a long-pending PIL on acid sale regulation into a suo moto proceeding—underscore that the crisis is no longer doctrinal but institutional as per reports in LiveLaw. Despite pathbreaking jurisprudence laid down after a decade long legal battle in the Laxmi case, the Supreme Court was compelled, in 2025, while hearing a petition highlighting a 16-year delay in an acid attack trial, to describe the situation as a “shame on the system” and a “mockery of justice”. The SC then directed all High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack cases.
This Legal Resource examines acid attack jurisprudence not as a static body of law but as a pattern of repeated judicial correction, necessitated by persistent failures of implementation. Drawing from case law, legislative history, policy frameworks, and scholarly critiques, it argues that acid attack jurisprudence today reveals the limits of law when administrative and procedural systems fail to internalise constitutional mandates.
Laxmi v. Union of India: Constitutionalising Survivor-Centric Justice
The jurisprudential foundation of acid attack regulation in India was laid by Laxmi v. Union of India, a public interest litigation (PIL) filed in 2006 by survivor Laxmi Aggarwal. Laxmi was 15 yrs old in 2005 when a 32-old man, Naeem Khan, approached her with a marriage proposal. After she rejected him, nearly ten months later, Naeem again proposed to her; upon her second refusal, he attacked her by throwing acid on her face, with his brother Kamran aiding him in the act.
Argued consistently by Senior Advocate Aparna Bhat, the petition reframed acid violence as a failure of State regulation rather than an isolated criminal act. The Supreme Court accepted this framing, holding that the unrestricted availability of acid, absence of medical support, and lack of compensation mechanisms violated Article 21 of the Constitution (see Laxmi v. Union of India, (2014) 4 SCC 427).
Across multiple orders, the Court issued structural directions mandating the regulation of acid sales, free medical treatment for survivors in both public and private hospitals, and minimum compensation of ₹3 lakh. These directions were significant not merely for their content but for their constitutional logic: dignity, bodily integrity, and rehabilitation were recognised as enforceable rights, not discretionary welfare measures.
This shift has been closely analysed in legal scholarship. The NLS Law Journal notes that Laxmi represents a rare moment where Indian courts explicitly connected criminal law reform with long-term socio-economic rehabilitation, recognising acid attacks as producing lifelong disabilities requiring sustained State intervention rather than one-time relief (see Ajita Tandon, Acid Attacks in India: A Judicial and Legislative Response, NLS Law Journal, Vol. 13, available here).
From Judicial Directions to Statutory Reform: Codification Without Capacity
Following Laxmi, the Law Commission of India was impleaded and submitted Report No. 226 (2008), recommending a distinct offence for acid attacks and stronger regulation of corrosive substances (report available here). These recommendations later informed the Justice Verma Committee Report (2013), which acknowledged acid violence as a gendered crime requiring specific legislative recognition.
This culminated in the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013, which inserted Sections 326A and 326B of the IPC, along with Section 357B of the CrPC, mandating compensation in addition to fines. On paper, these provisions created a comprehensive framework combining punishment, deterrence, and victim relief. The specific recognition of acid attacks introduced via Sections 326A and 326B of the IPC has been largely preserved in the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) to maintain the gravity of the offense. These translated into Sections 124(1) and 124(2) under the BNS, 2023, which read as –
- (1) Whoever causes permanent or partial damage or deformity to, or burns or maims or disfigures or disables, any part or parts of the body of a person or causes grievous hurt by throwing acid on or by administering acid to that person, or by using any other means with the intention of causing or with the knowledge that he is likely to cause such injury or hurt or causes a person to be in a permanent vegetative state shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which shall not be less than ten years but which may extend to imprisonment for life, and with fine:
(2) Whoever throws or attempts to throw acid on any person or attempts to administer acid to any person, or attempts to use any other means, with the intention of causing permanent or partial damage or deformity or burns or maiming or disfigurement or disability or grievous hurt to that person, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which shall not be less than five years but which may extend to seven years, and shall also be liable to fine.
However, scholarship consistently highlights that legislative codification did not translate into institutional readiness. As Ajita Tandon’s analysis points out, while the law “responded swiftly in text,” the administrative machinery required for compensation disbursal, rehabilitation, and prioritised trials remained fragmented and uneven across States.
Trial Delays and the Right to Speedy Justice: A Systemic Breakdown
The most severe manifestation of this institutional failure has been the extraordinary delay in criminal trials involving acid attacks. In 2025, the Supreme Court, while hearing a petition highlighting a 16-year delay in an acid attack trial, described the situation as a “shame on the system” and a “mockery of justice”, and directed all High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack cases, reported by LiveLaw.
This intervention is constitutionally significant. Acid attack cases engage the right to speedy trial under Article 21 in its most aggravated form: survivors suffer irreversible physical harm, prolonged psychological trauma, and social stigma, all of which are compounded by procedural delay. The Court’s insistence on national data collection implicitly acknowledges that delay itself functions as a form of secondary victimisation.
The consequences of such delay are visible in outcomes. In a 2009 acid attack case, a Delhi court acquitted the accused after nearly 16 years, citing evidentiary weaknesses that had emerged over time—an outcome widely reported as emblematic of systemic delay undermining prosecution itself, as per a report in The Times of India.
While the recent SC directives may we welcome, the issues and failures are systemic. One after another of human rights issues, whether it be the transparency within police conducts in police stations (SC directive on installation of CCTVs in all Police Stations)[1] or right of the accused to fair trial (directives laid down in DK Basu)[2], the police and administration have consistently ignored the breakthroughs made by the court. This amounts to institutional amnesia or downright defiance.
Regulation of Acid Sales: Judicial Supervision in the Face of Executive Inertia
Despite unequivocal directions in Laxmi, regulation of acid sales remains inconsistent. This failure came sharply into focus when the Allahabad High Court converted a decade-old PIL on acid sale regulation into a suo motu proceeding, holding that issues of acid regulation and survivor compensation implicate continuing public interest and cannot be abandoned due to petitioner withdrawal, reported LiveLaw.
The Court also reiterated that compensation cannot be made contingent on the identification or conviction of the offender, reinforcing the constitutional principle that survivor relief flows from State obligation, not prosecutorial success. This episode exemplifies a recurring pattern in acid attack jurisprudence: courts are repeatedly forced to re-enter regulatory terrain they have already mapped, due to executive inaction.
Compensation and Rehabilitation: Between Entitlement and Administrative Apathy
Compensation has remained central to acid attack jurisprudence since Laxmi, yet its implementation has been deeply uneven. The Ministry of Home Affairs’ 2024 guidelines reiterate that acid attack survivors are entitled to a minimum compensation of ₹3 lakh and free medical treatment (guidelines available here). However, High Court interventions reveal persistent delays and bureaucratic indifference.
For instance, the Allahabad High Court has censured the Uttar Pradesh government for delays extending over a decade in disbursing compensation to acid attack survivors, describing such conduct as insensitive and violative of constitutional obligations, reported by The Times of India.
Socio-legal scholarship criticises this model for reducing rehabilitation to symbolic monetary relief, often divorced from the realities of lifelong medical care, psychological counselling, loss of livelihood, and social reintegration (see IJLMH, A Socio-Legal Analysis on Acid Attacks in India, available here).
NCRB data provides only a partial picture of acid attack violence. While annual figures record reported cases, they offer little insight into trial duration, pendency, or access to compensation. Recent analyses indicate that a substantial majority of acid attack cases remain pending for years, while conviction rates remain low.
Scholars caution that these figures significantly understate the scale of the problem due to under-reporting driven by stigma, fear, and lack of institutional support—concerns repeatedly flagged in academic literature.
The Cultural Lens: Chhapaak
The 2020 film Chhapaak, while a significant cultural milestone in sensitising the public to the horrors of acid violence, also became a focal point for a profound legal debate regarding the “moral rights” and visibility of legal professionals. Advocate Aparna Bhat, who represented Laxmi Agarwal for over a decade—from the initial trial at Patiala House Courts to the landmark Supreme Court PIL—approached the Delhi High Court when the filmmakers failed to acknowledge her contribution in the credits. This omission raised a critical ethical and legal question: can the labour of a lawyer, which provides the very documentary and procedural backbone of a “true story,” be erased in its cinematic retelling? The Delhi High Court, invoking the doctrine of promissory estoppel, ruled in Bhat’s favour, noting that her assistance was provided on the assurance of recognition. Bar and Bench reported that the court directed that the line, “Inputs by Ms. Aparna Bhat, the lawyer who represented Laxmi Agarwal, are acknowledged,” be added to the film. This intervention was not merely about a “thank you”; it was a judicial validation of the role of legal activists in translating personal trauma into transformative constitutional reform.
Conclusion
The trajectory of acid attack jurisprudence in India reveals a striking pattern. Courts have articulated robust constitutional principles, legislatures have codified them into law, and yet survivors continue to face delay, neglect, and regulatory failure. The problem today is not doctrinal uncertainty but institutional inertia.
Without administrative accountability, procedural reform, and sustained investment in survivor rehabilitation, even the most progressive jurisprudence risks becoming symbolic. Acid attack law in India now stands at an inflection point: its future efficacy will depend not on further judicial creativity, but on whether the State finally honours the constitutional commitments already laid down by the courts.
(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Shyamli Pengoriya)
[1] This earlier resource explores the suo motu by SC in September 2025 action highlights how weak compliance with its own (SC) 2020 CCTV directions has left detainees vulnerable and accountability elusive.
[2] Another judicial directive that spanned decades, DK Basu,but which directives stand un-implemented.
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