As per the notification provided, the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) directed telecom service providers to suspend mobile internet access in areas within a 1.5-kilometre radius of Jantar Mantar on July 23. The order cited “public emergency”, “public safety” and the need to prevent “incitement to the commission of any offence” as grounds for restricting connectivity. The suspension, initially scheduled to remain in force until 4 pm, was later extended till midnight.

However, the disruption was not confined to the protest site. Areas including Mandi House, located nearly two kilometres from Jantar Mantar, also reported connectivity issues despite not being the centre of the demonstrations. According to The Indian Express, the shutdown affected office-goers, residents, businesses and commuters who happened to be in the area.

The consequences were immediate. Digital payments through UPI stopped working for several small businesses, forcing shopkeepers and street vendors to depend on cash transactions. App-based transport services, online communication platforms and navigation services were also affected. A roadside tea vendor told The Indian Express that his business suffered because customers were unable to make digital payments.

The latest shutdown came days after similar restrictions were imposed on July 20, when the student-led “Chalo Sansad” march was organised near Jantar Mantar during the opening of Parliament’s Monsoon Session. The march, called by the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP), sought to highlight concerns over alleged NEET irregularities, examination accountability and student distress. Notably, the July 20 notification for internet shutdown had not been made public on the same day.

Authorities refused permission for the march, imposed prohibitory restrictions under Section 163 of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), and deployed heavy security around central Delhi. Routes leading towards Parliament were sealed, while metro stations including Patel Chowk, Rajiv Chowk and Janpath were temporarily closed.

Challenge before Delhi High Court

The legality of the shutdowns has now been challenged before the Delhi High Court. A public interest litigation filed by the Software Freedom Law Centre, India (SFLC.in) has questioned the mobile internet suspension orders issued by the MHA on July 17, 20, 22 and 23 around Jantar Mantar.

As reported by LiveLaw, the petition argues that the orders are unconstitutional, disproportionate and fail to meet the safeguards prescribed under the Telecommunications Act, 2023 and the Telecommunications (Temporary Suspension of Services) Rules, 2024.

The petition contends that the authorities relied on vague references to “public emergency” and “public safety” without disclosing specific material demonstrating an imminent threat that justified cutting internet access. It argues that the government failed to establish why a complete suspension of mobile internet was necessary or whether less restrictive alternatives were considered.

Relying on the Supreme Court’s decision in Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India (2020), the plea states that restrictions on internet access must satisfy the principles of legality, necessity and proportionality. The judgment had held that indefinite internet shutdowns were impermissible and that any restriction must be subject to judicial scrutiny and periodic review.

The petition also challenges the lack of public disclosure of the suspension orders, arguing that affected citizens cannot effectively challenge restrictions if the basis for such orders remains inaccessible. It has sought directions requiring authorities to publish shutdown orders before or at the time of enforcement and has demanded production of official records, including file notings, intelligence inputs and Review Committee proceedings.

Under the Telecommunications (Temporary Suspension of Services) Rules, 2024, internet suspension orders can ordinarily be issued only by the Union Home Secretary or State Home Secretary, with limited exceptions allowing an officer of Joint Secretary rank to act in unavoidable circumstances. Such orders are also subject to review mechanisms.

The Delhi shutdowns have once again brought into focus the difficult balance between maintaining public order and protecting constitutional freedoms. While authorities argue that temporary internet restrictions prevent misinformation, mobilisation of violence and security threats, critics maintain that broad shutdowns risk becoming a disproportionate response to peaceful public assembly.

The issue is no longer limited to a single protest site. It raises a fundamental question for a digital democracy: when citizens gather to exercise their rights to peaceful assembly and expression, can the State respond by cutting off a basic channel through which people communicate, organise and access information?

Related:

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

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

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

The post Jantar Mantar Offline: Six internet shutdowns in a week appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Alam Khan outside his home in Barpeta

In an order delivered on January 6, 2026, the Foreigners Tribunal No. 1, Barpeta, presided over by Member Ms. Anurupa Dey, declared that Alam Khan is not a foreigner, concluding that he had successfully established his Indian citizenship through reliable documentary evidence, credible oral testimony and a consistent chain of records demonstrating that his family had been residing in Assam prior to the statutory cut-off date of March 25, 1971.

The decision represents another important legal victory for Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), which provided legal assistance to Alam Khan throughout the proceedings. The matter was argued by Advocate Abhijeet Choudhury, whose legal strategy addressed complex questions of lineage, documentary continuity and evidentiary burden arising under the Foreigners Act, 1946.

Alam Khan along with CJP Team Assam, outside his home

However, the significance of this decision extends beyond one individual’s relief. The Tribunal’s order is noteworthy for its careful appreciation of evidence, its refusal to allow administrative lapses to prejudice the proceedee, and its recognition that family circumstances such as divorce and remarriage cannot, by themselves, undermine a genuine claim to Indian citizenship.

A citizenship dispute dating back more than two decades

Alam Khan’s case originated as IM(D)T Reference Case No. 1371 of 2000, when the Superintendent of Police (Border), Barpeta, referred him as a suspected foreigner. Following the Supreme Court’s order striking down the Illegal Migrants (Determination by Tribunals) Act in Sarbananda Sonowal v. Union of India, pending references under the IM(D)T regime stood transferred to Foreigners Tribunals for adjudication under the Foreigners Act, 1946 and the Foreigners (Tribunals) Order, 1964. Alam Khan’s case was one such transferred proceeding.

Although the reference itself was over two decades old, Alam Khan received a fresh notice from the Tribunal only in October 2024, compelling him once again to defend his citizenship. For a daily wage labourer with limited financial means, this meant returning to prolonged litigation, collecting decades-old documents, tracing family records and proving facts that ordinarily no citizen is ever expected to establish.

The proceedings eventually culminated in January 2026, though the certified copy of the order reached Alam Khan only several months later. On July 16, 2026, CJP’s legal team, represented by Advocate Abhijeet Choudhury and Assam State In-charge Nanda Ghosh, formally handed over the order copy to him, marking the end of a legal battle spanning almost twenty-six years.

A case made difficult by family history rather than law

Unlike many Foreigners Tribunal proceedings where documentary continuity alone becomes the principal issue, Alam Khan’s case presented an additional layer of complexity arising from his family’s personal history. Alam Khan was born to Late Abdul Hakim Khan and Joytan Nessa. During his childhood, however, his parents divorced. Following the separation, his mother returned to her parental home, while Alam Khan continued residing with his father. Subsequently, his father remarried, and his stepmother, Jahura Khatun, became part of the family. These personal circumstances later translated into significant documentary complications.

By the time Alam Khan’s own name began appearing in electoral rolls, his father had already passed away. Consequently, subsequent voter lists reflected his residence alongside his stepmother rather than his biological mother. Since he did not possess a birth certificate, establishing the identity of his biological mother, and distinguishing her from his stepmother, became one of the most difficult factual questions before the Tribunal.

Ordinarily, such inconsistencies are capable of creating serious doubts in citizenship proceedings, particularly because the burden of proof under Section 9 of the Foreigners Act rests upon the proceedee. Had these inconsistencies remained unexplained, they could easily have undermined Alam Khan’s defence despite his genuine claim to citizenship. It was this challenge that shaped CJP’s legal strategy before the Tribunal.

CJP’s Legal Strategy: Addressing documentary gaps through credible evidence

Recognising that the case hinged not merely on producing documents but on explaining the circumstances behind apparent inconsistencies, CJP adopted a legal strategy that combined documentary evidence with carefully structured oral testimony. Representing Alam Khan, Advocate Abhijeet Choudhury sought to establish an unbroken narrative of lineage, residence and citizenship, while simultaneously demonstrating that the deficiencies in the documentary record arose from circumstances entirely beyond the proceedee’s control. The defence first addressed the most fundamental issue in the case—Alam Khan’s parentage.

To resolve the confusion arising from the divorce of his parents and his subsequent residence with his father and stepmother, CJP produced Joytan Nessa, Alam Khan’s biological mother, as Defence Witness No. 2 (DW-2). Through her sworn affidavit and oral testimony, she confirmed that Alam Khan was indeed her son and explained the family’s history, including her separation from Abdul Hakim and her return to her parental home. The Tribunal found that her evidence fully corroborated Alam Khan’s own testimony and expressly recorded that it found no reason to disbelieve her evidence.

This was a crucial intervention. In Foreigners Tribunal proceedings, discrepancies concerning parentage or family relationships often become decisive, particularly where birth certificates or other foundational documents are unavailable. By placing the biological mother in the witness box and allowing her testimony to withstand cross-examination, the defence transformed what appeared to be a documentary weakness into a coherent and credible explanation supported by oral evidence.

Equally significant was CJP’s response to another obstacle that had nothing to do with Alam Khan himself—the absence of certified electoral rolls for 1985 and 1989. The relevant Election Commission office was unable to produce certified copies of these electoral rolls because they had not been preserved. This was an institutional failure entirely attributable to the authorities. During the proceedings, Advocate Abhijeet Choudhury argued that a citizen cannot be expected to suffer adverse consequences because the State failed to preserve public records that were legally required to be maintained. The inability to produce those electoral rolls, therefore, could not be treated as evidence against the proceedee.

Instead of insisting upon documents that no longer existed, the defence invited the Tribunal to examine the continuity of evidence through earlier and subsequent electoral records, legacy documents and witness testimony. The Tribunal accepted this broader evidentiary approach, demonstrating that the absence of a particular document does not necessarily break the chain of proof where surrounding evidence establishes continuity.

Documentary evidence establishing citizenship

To discharge the burden imposed under Section 9 of the Foreigners Act, 1946, the defence produced an extensive body of documentary evidence tracing Alam Khan’s family across multiple decades. The foundation of the case lay in the 1951 National Register of Citizens (NRC). The Tribunal noted that Alam Khan’s grandfather’s name appeared in the 1951 NRC Legacy Data under Legacy Data Code No. 120-0041-8547, establishing that the family was residing in village Katla, Mouza Bhawanipur, long before the citizenship cut-off date prescribed under the Assam Accord. The documentary chain was then strengthened through certified electoral rolls spanning more than five decades.

The 1965 and 1970 voter lists contained the names of Alam Khan’s father, Abdul Hakim Khan, and his mother, Joytan Nessa. The 1970 electoral roll also reflected the presence of his stepmother following his father’s remarriage, a circumstance that aligned with the factual explanation advanced before the Tribunal. Alam Khan’s own name subsequently appeared in the electoral records from 1997 onwards, demonstrating continuity of residence in the same village. Certified copies of the voter list for 1997, 2005, 2010, 2019 and 2021 were produced before the Tribunal.

The defence also produced Alam Khan’s Voter Identity Card, land records (Khatian) and a certificate issued by the Gaonburah of Katla village. Significantly, the Gaonburah himself appeared before the Tribunal and proved the certificate, explaining that it had been issued after verification of the 1965 electoral records relating to Alam Khan’s father. This substantially enhanced the evidentiary value of the certificate, which was no longer merely a supporting document but one whose authenticity stood established through oral testimony.

An equally important aspect of the proceedings was the State’s own conduct. While Alam Khan examined three witnesses, including himself, and produced extensive documentary evidence, the State did not lead any evidence whatsoever to substantiate the allegation that he was a foreigner. The Tribunal specifically recorded that no witness appeared on behalf of the State to adduce evidence.

Tribunal rejects a mechanical approach to citizenship determination

The order is particularly significant because it rejects a narrow or mechanical assessment of documentary evidence in favour of a holistic evaluation of the entire factual record. Foreigners Tribunal proceedings are frequently characterised by intense scrutiny of documentary inconsistencies. Minor discrepancies in names, ages, family relationships or electoral records have often proved fatal to citizenship claims. In Alam Khan’s case, however, the Tribunal recognised that documentary records must be assessed in light of the social realities that produce them.

Rather than treating the absence of a birth certificate or the appearance of a stepmother’s name in later electoral rolls as circumstances adverse to the proceedee, the Tribunal examined whether those circumstances had been satisfactorily explained through credible evidence. Finding that they had, it accepted the explanation offered by the defence.

This approach reflects an important principle in citizenship adjudication: documentary evidence does not exist in isolation. Electoral rolls, family records and legacy documents must be read together with oral testimony and surrounding circumstances. Where the evidence collectively establishes a coherent and credible narrative, isolated inconsistencies cannot automatically justify declaring an individual a foreigner. That reasoning is one of the most significant aspects of the order and reinforces the principle that citizenship determinations must rest on a comprehensive appreciation of evidence rather than on rigid technicalities.

Tribunal finds Alam Khan successfully discharged the burden under Section 9 of the Foreigners Act

One of the most important aspects of the decision lies in the Tribunal’s application of Section 9 of the Foreigners Act, 1946, which places the burden of proving Indian citizenship upon the proceedee once a reference is made against them. While the statutory burden remained upon Alam Khan, the Tribunal emphasised that this burden had to be assessed on the basis of the quality, credibility and cumulative effect of the evidence rather than through a piecemeal examination of individual documents.

After considering the oral testimony and documentary record together, the Tribunal held that Alam Khan had successfully discharged this burden. It observed that the evidence placed on record was trustworthy, internally consistent and sufficiently established that he was born to Indian parents who had been residing in Assam prior to March 25, 1971.

This finding is significant because it reiterates an important evidentiary principle governing Foreigners Tribunal proceeding. Although Section 9 reverses the ordinary burden of proof, it does not authorise a mechanical rejection of citizenship claims merely because every conceivable document is unavailable. Instead, what is required is a credible evidentiary chain capable of establishing ancestry and residence. The Tribunal found that Alam Khan had done precisely that.

Oral evidence receives equal evidentiary weight

The order is equally noteworthy for the importance it accords to oral testimony. Citizenship cases before Foreigners Tribunals often become document-centric, with oral evidence receiving comparatively little attention. In Alam Khan’s case, however, the Tribunal carefully evaluated the testimony of both the proceedee and his witnesses instead of confining itself to documentary records alone.

The evidence of Joytan Nessa (DW-2) proved particularly decisive. Her testimony not only established that she was Alam Khan’s biological mother but also explained the family’s circumstances following her divorce from Abdul Hakim. The Tribunal categorically recorded that her affidavit corroborated Alam Khan’s own evidence and that there was no reason to disbelieve her testimony.

Similarly, the Gaonburah of Katla village, who had issued the hereditary certificate relied upon by the defence, appeared before the Tribunal and proved its contents. The Tribunal specifically noted that the certificate had been issued after verification of the 1965 electoral records relating to Alam Khan’s father, thereby enhancing both its authenticity and evidentiary value.

Together, these witnesses bridged the documentary gaps that arose because of divorce, remarriage and the absence of a birth certificate. Rather than treating oral evidence as secondary, the Tribunal relied upon it to contextualise and reinforce the documentary record.

Administrative negligence cannot defeat citizenship

The proceedings also exposed a troubling administrative lapse. During the course of the case, certified copies of the 1985 and 1989 electoral rolls could not be produced because the Election Commission had failed to preserve those records. This was not a case where Alam Khan had failed to produce documents in his possession; rather, the relevant public authority itself was unable to furnish records that ought to have been maintained.

Recognising the implications of this failure, CJP argued that a citizen cannot be deprived of his legal rights because of omissions committed by the State. The absence of public records attributable to administrative negligence cannot be converted into evidence against the very citizen who seeks to rely upon them.

Although the Tribunal’s written opinion ultimately rested on the strength of the remaining documentary and oral evidence, its acceptance of the defence case effectively recognised that missing public records, when unavailable due to official lapses, cannot by themselves negate an otherwise credible claim of citizenship. The decision therefore reflects a fair and pragmatic approach to evidentiary evaluation in citizenship proceedings.

This aspect of the case is likely to assume wider significance. Across Assam, numerous citizenship proceedings have been complicated by missing electoral rolls, damaged records and administrative deficiencies that are entirely beyond the control of the persons facing proceedings. The reasoning adopted in Alam Khan’s case reinforces the principle that such institutional failures should not become instruments for denying citizenship.

A holistic appreciation of evidence

In this order, rather than isolating each document and asking whether it independently established citizenship, the Tribunal examined the evidence as a connected chain extending across several decades. It considered the 1951 NRC legacy data, the certified electoral rolls from 1965, 1970, 1997, 2005, 2010, 2019 and 2021, the voter identity cards, the land records, the Gaonburah’s certificate and the oral testimony of the proceedee and his witnesses. None of these documents, viewed in isolation, answered every question raised in the proceedings. Taken together, however, they established a consistent narrative regarding Alam Khan’s ancestry, family history and continuous residence in Assam.

The Tribunal expressly recorded that the evidence relied upon by Alam Khan appeared trustworthy, that there was nothing on record to disbelieve his version, and that the documents produced were admissible and duly proved. On that basis, it concluded that he had been born and brought up through genuine Indian parents and, being their descendant, could not be termed a foreigner.

“The evidence of Proceedee, coupled with the above-mentioned documents relied upon by him appears to be trustworthy and there is nothing on record to disbelieve him. I find sufficient proof on record to come to a definite conclusion that the Proceedee was born and brought up through genuine Indian Parents and as such, he being the descendent of his Indian Parents cannot be termed as a foreigner as alleged in the above-mentioned case.” (Para 8)

In doing so, the Tribunal reaffirmed an important legal principle: citizenship adjudication is ultimately an exercise in evaluating the totality of evidence. The law does not require perfection in documentation; it requires credible proof. Where multiple independent pieces of evidence corroborate one another and collectively establish the proceedee’s claim, isolated inconsistencies or documentary gaps cannot outweigh the cumulative force of the record. That is precisely the approach adopted in Alam Khan’s case, making the decision an important example of reasoned and evidence-based adjudication under the Foreigners Act.

The Final Verdict: Tribunal declares Alam Khan ‘not a foreigner’

Having examined the oral testimony, documentary evidence and the submissions advanced by both sides, the Foreigners Tribunal unequivocally held that the allegations made against Alam Khan could not be sustained. The Tribunal observed that the proceedee’s testimony, read together with the evidence of his biological mother and the documentary record produced before it, constituted a credible and reliable chain of evidence. It found no material on record that cast doubt upon the authenticity of the documents or the veracity of the witnesses. On the contrary, the Tribunal held that the evidence consistently established that Alam Khan belonged to a family that had been residing in Assam long before the statutory cut-off date and that he was the descendant of genuine Indian citizens.

Accordingly, by its order dated January 6, 2026, the Tribunal answered the reference in the negative, holding that Md. Alam Khan, son of Late Abdul Hakim Khan of village Katla, Barpeta, is not a foreigner within the meaning of the Foreigners Act, 1946.

The decision finally brought an end to a proceeding that had remained unresolved for over two decades, restoring to Alam Khan what should never have been placed in doubt—his recognition as an Indian citizen.

Alam Khan holds up the Foreigners’ Tribunal Order

Why this order matters

While the order grants relief to one individual, its importance lies in the principles it reinforces for citizenship adjudication before Foreigners Tribunals. First, the order demonstrates that family complexities cannot be viewed in isolation from social realities. Divorce, remarriage and blended family structures are lived realities across society. The absence of a birth certificate or the appearance of a step-parent’s name in electoral records cannot automatically negate a person’s citizenship. By accepting oral evidence that satisfactorily explained these circumstances, the Tribunal adopted an approach rooted in evidentiary fairness rather than technical formalism.

Secondly, the case highlights the consequences of administrative negligence. The inability to produce certain electoral records did not arise because Alam Khan had failed to preserve them; rather, the relevant public authority itself had failed to maintain those records. Had the Tribunal adopted an inflexible documentary standard, Alam Khan could have been penalised for omissions committed entirely by the State. Instead, the Tribunal assessed the available evidence in its entirety and declined to allow institutional lapses to determine the outcome of the proceedings.

Thirdly, the decision reiterates that the burden under Section 9 of the Foreigners Act is discharged through credible and cumulative evidence, not through the production of any one document in isolation. Legacy data, electoral rolls spanning several decades, land records, voter identity documents, certificates issued by local authorities and reliable witness testimony together formed an unbroken chain that satisfied the Tribunal. The order therefore reinforces the settled principle that citizenship claims must be evaluated on the basis of the totality of evidence rather than isolated discrepancies.

Finally, the order underscores the importance of effective legal representation in Foreigners Tribunal proceedings. Citizenship litigation often turns upon nuanced questions of evidence, lineage and documentary continuity. Alam Khan’s case demonstrates how careful legal strategy, supported by thorough documentation and credible witness testimony, can overcome seemingly insurmountable evidentiary hurdles.

A victory beyond the courtroom

For Alam Khan, the order marks far more than the conclusion of litigation. For years, the proceedings imposed severe emotional, social and financial burdens on a man whose livelihood depended on daily labour, farming and fishing. Living on the banks of the Dhumarkur River, Alam Khan has long battled forces beyond his control. Every monsoon, floodwaters enter his home, eroding both land and livelihood. Yet, for over two decades, nature was not his only adversary. As he poignantly puts it, “On one side, the floods threaten to wash away my home. On the other, the government sought to take away my citizenship.” His victory before the Foreigners Tribunal has ended one of those battles, even as the other returns with every monsoon.

Like countless individuals facing citizenship proceedings in Assam, he lived with the uncertainty that accompanies every notice, every hearing and every adjournment. The prolonged litigation affected not only his legal status but also his ability to live with dignity and security.

Upon learning of the Tribunal’s decision, Alam Khan broke down in tears. Describing the years of mental distress and financial hardship that accompanied the proceedings, he acknowledged that without the legal support extended by Citizens for Justice and Peace, it would have been extremely difficult for him to establish his citizenship and secure justice.

On July 26 2026, Advocate Abhijeet Choudhury and CJP Assam State In-charge Nanda Ghosh formally handed over the certified copy of the order to Alam Khan, symbolising the end of a legal struggle that had lasted almost twenty-six years.

CJP’s continuing commitment

Alam Khan’s case is another reminder of the indispensable role that sustained legal aid plays in protecting the rights of vulnerable communities facing citizenship proceedings in Assam. Over the years, Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP) has represented hundreds of economically and socially marginalised individuals before Foreigners Tribunals, assisting them in tracing legacy documents, reconstructing family histories, producing witnesses and navigating a complex legal process that is often inaccessible to those with limited means.

The organisation’s intervention in Alam Khan’s case illustrates that citizenship litigation is not merely about producing documents; it is about reconstructing lives, explaining family histories, addressing administrative failures and ensuring that constitutional guarantees are not defeated by poverty, illiteracy or bureaucratic lapses.

With this order, another individual has been spared the devastating consequences of an erroneous declaration of foreigner status. Yet the case also serves as a broader reminder that citizenship adjudication must remain anchored in fairness, careful appreciation of evidence and the rule of law.

The complete order may be read below:

Related:

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 26-Year Citizenship Battle Ends: Barpeta Tribunal rules Alam Khan is Indian appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Recent decisions of three different High Courts, the Bombay High Court, the Madhya Pradesh High Court and the Allahabad High Court, although arising from entirely different factual situations, reveal a remarkably consistent judicial approach towards police accountability. Each case concerns a distinct stage of the criminal process. The Bombay High Court examined the legality of custodial violence committed during investigation and the extent to which statutory protection under Section 197 of the Code of Criminal Procedure could shield police officers accused of assaulting a suspect. The Madhya Pradesh High Court dealt with compliance with the newly enacted Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita and the constitutional requirement that every arrested person be informed, in writing, of the grounds of arrest. The Allahabad High Court, on the other hand, addressed what appeared at first glance to be a routine bail application but eventually transformed it into an inquiry into police negligence that had delayed adjudication of the applicants’ liberty.

Viewed independently, each judgment addresses a different procedural or substantive question. One concerns custodial violence, another concerns arrest procedure, and the third concerns administrative negligence in criminal proceedings. Yet, when read together, these decisions reveal an emerging constitutional narrative that extends well beyond their immediate facts. Collectively, they reject the notion that police accountability is confined to instances of spectacular misconduct such as torture or illegal detention. Instead, they emphasise that accountability permeates every stage of criminal administration—from the manner in which investigations are conducted, to the procedural safeguards accompanying arrest, to the institutional obligation of police authorities to cooperate with courts in the timely administration of justice.

Significantly, none of these judgments merely reiterates settled legal principles. Each court fashions remedies that seek to strengthen institutional compliance. The Bombay High Court refuses to allow police officers to invoke statutory immunity where allegations concern custodial assault to extract a confession, thereby reaffirming that violence cannot be characterised as an act performed in discharge of official duty. The Madhya Pradesh High Court, while declining to invalidate the arrest on the peculiar facts before it, nevertheless directs the Director General of Police to issue fresh circulars, warns that future violations of constitutional safeguards may invite departmental action, and treats repeated non-compliance with binding precedent as a matter of grave institutional concern. The Allahabad High Court goes a step further by imposing monetary costs on the State for police negligence that delayed adjudication of a bail application and permitting recovery of those costs from the erring officials after departmental enquiry.

What unites these judgments is not merely judicial criticism of the police. Courts have, on numerous occasions, criticised investigative lapses, custodial violence and administrative inefficiency. The significance of these three decisions lies in the manner in which the High Courts conceptualise police accountability. Rather than treating constitutional guarantees as abstract ideals, they recognise that the rule of law depends upon everyday institutional compliance. A police officer who assaults a suspect during investigation, an investigating officer who disregards mandatory constitutional safeguards while effecting an arrest, and officials whose negligence prolongs a person’s incarceration each undermine the administration of criminal justice, albeit in different ways. The constitutional injury is not confined to physical violence or illegal detention; it also extends to procedural disregard and bureaucratic indifference that compromise personal liberty and erode public confidence in the justice system.

Equally noteworthy is the evolving understanding of judicial supervision reflected in these decisions. Traditionally, courts have confined themselves to determining the legality of individual executive actions. These judgments demonstrate a willingness to move beyond adjudication of individual disputes towards ensuring institutional compliance. Directions to police headquarters, recommendations for departmental action, warnings of disciplinary proceedings, recovery of costs from erring officers, and rejection of statutory immunities collectively indicate that High Courts are increasingly employing their constitutional jurisdiction not merely to remedy individual violations but also to improve systemic functioning of law enforcement agencies. In doing so, they reaffirm the constitutional proposition that executive discretion remains subordinate to judicially enforceable standards of legality.

Another common feature is the courts’ refusal to permit procedural or statutory provisions to become instruments of impunity. In the Bombay case, Section 197 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, intended to protect honest public servants from vexatious litigation, is interpreted in a manner that prevents its misuse as a shield against allegations of custodial torture. In the Madhya Pradesh case, Section 47 of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita is read in harmony with Article 22(1) and Supreme Court precedent, emphasising that communication of grounds of arrest is not a technical formality but a substantive constitutional guarantee. In the Allahabad case, the Court treats delays caused by police negligence not as mere administrative lapses but as failures that directly affect the timely adjudication of liberty.

These developments assume particular importance in the context of India’s ongoing transition from the Code of Criminal Procedure to the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita. While legislative reform has altered statutory language and introduced procedural modifications, these judgments underscore that the constitutional foundations governing criminal procedure remain unchanged. Police powers continue to derive their legitimacy from constitutional limitations rather than statutory discretion alone. Neither investigative convenience, administrative inefficiency nor claims of official duty can dilute the guarantees embedded in Articles 14, 21 and 22.

Against this backdrop, the three decisions merit close examination—not merely as isolated judicial pronouncements, but as markers of an emerging jurisprudence that insists upon constitutional discipline at every stage of policing. Each judgment contributes a distinct dimension to that jurisprudence. Read together, they illuminate how High Courts are increasingly deploying constitutional principles to strengthen police accountability, reinforce procedural safeguards, and preserve the rule of law in everyday criminal administration.

Custodial Violence Is Never ‘Official Duty’: Bombay High Court

The first judgment in this piece comes from the Bombay High Court, which reaffirmed a fundamental constitutional principle: the authority to investigate crime does not include the authority to use violence. In Sanjay Bapuso Dalvi & Ors. v. State of Maharashtra, the Court held that assaulting a suspect to extract a confession can never constitute an act performed in the discharge of official duty, thereby denying police officers the protection of Section 197 of the Code of Criminal Procedure.

Facts and the question before the court: The case arose from allegations that a man summoned to the Shivaji Nagar Police Station in Ichalkaranji during a murder investigation in November 2008 was detained overnight, assaulted and forced to confess. Following medical evidence and the complainant’s allegations, the Magistrate issued process against the police officers for offences including voluntarily causing hurt, wrongful confinement and criminal intimidation. The Sessions Court refused to discharge them.

Before the High Court, the officers argued that the alleged acts occurred during investigation of a cognisable offence and therefore attracted the protection of Section 197 CrPC, which bars prosecution of public servants for acts committed while acting or purporting to act in the discharge of official duty without prior governmental sanction.

The central issue was whether custodial assault allegedly committed to extract a confession could be regarded as an act connected with official duty.

Section 197 protects official functions, not abuse of power: Justice Sandesh Patil answered the question in the negative. The Court reiterated the settled principle that Section 197 is intended to protect honest public servants from vexatious litigation arising out of acts reasonably connected with their official responsibilities. It is not a substantive immunity from prosecution but a procedural safeguard available only where the impugned act bears a reasonable nexus with official duty.

Drawing upon the Constitution Bench decision in Matajog Dobey v. H.C. Bhari and subsequent rulings including Ganesh Chandra Jew v. State of Orissa, Om Prakash v. State of Jharkhand and Devinder Singh v. State of Punjab, the Court reaffirmed that even acts committed in excess of authority may require sanction if they remain connected to lawful official functions. However, criminal conduct wholly divorced from those functions cannot claim statutory protection merely because it occurred during official employment.

The distinction was decisive in the present case. Investigation of offences is undoubtedly an official function. Assaulting a suspect to secure a confession is not. The Court therefore rejected the argument that every act committed during an investigation automatically becomes an official act. The setting of the misconduct cannot determine its legal character.

Drawing a constitutional boundary: The Court emphasised that the police possess statutory authority to interrogate suspects, collect evidence and investigate offences, but no law authorises “third-degree” methods or custodial violence. Such conduct is not an excess committed while performing official duty; it is conduct wholly outside the scope of lawful police functions.

Justice Patil accordingly held that assaulting a suspect for a confessional statement “would never be said to be an act in discharge of official duty.” Accepting the prosecution case at face value—as required at the stage of issuance of process—the requirement of prior sanction under Section 197 had no application.

Importantly, the Court confined itself to the legal issue before it. It did not determine the guilt of the accused officers but only whether the prosecution could proceed without governmental sanction. Questions relating to the truth of the allegations were left to trial.

Constitutional significance: Although framed as a dispute over Section 197 CrPC, the judgment is rooted in the broader constitutional prohibition against custodial violence. It aligns with the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence in D.K. Basu v. State of West Bengal, Nilabati Behera v. State of Orissa and Nandini Satpathy v. P.L. Dani, all of which recognise that coercive interrogation is incompatible with Articles 20(3) and 21 of the Constitution.

The decision also reinforces the evidentiary policy underlying the law governing confessions. Indian criminal law has long treated police-obtained confessions with suspicion, recognising the dangers of coercive investigation. By refusing to extend statutory protection to allegations of custodial assault, the Bombay High Court ensures that Section 197 cannot become a procedural shield against accountability for torture.

More broadly, the judgment restores Section 197 to its intended purpose. The provision exists to protect bona fide exercise of public functions, not to immunise criminal misconduct. Had the Court accepted the petitioners’ argument, virtually every allegation of custodial violence could have been insulated behind the requirement of prior sanction simply because it occurred during an investigation.

Instead, the Court reaffirmed a fundamental constitutional proposition: official authority ends where illegality begins. Police powers derive legitimacy from law, and once those powers are exercised through violence or coercion, they cease to be protected as official acts. In doing so, the Bombay High Court laid down the first principle that runs through all three judgments—constitutional policing begins with recognising that the State’s coercive powers are always subject to constitutional limits.

The complete judgment may be read below:

Procedural Safeguards Are Constitutional Guarantees: Madhya Pradesh High Court

If the Bombay High Court’s decision placed substantive limits on police power, the Madhya Pradesh High Court focused on how that power must be exercised. In Dharmendra Lodhi v. State of Madhya Pradesh, the Court examined the constitutional requirement that an arrested person be informed of the grounds of arrest in writing under Section 47 of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), while issuing far-reaching directions to ensure institutional compliance by the police.

Facts and the legal issue: The petitioner challenged his brother’s arrest under the NDPS Act through a habeas corpus petition, contending that the arrest was illegal because the investigating agency had failed to communicate the grounds of arrest in writing, as mandated by Section 47 BNSS and the Supreme Court’s decisions in Pankaj Bansal v. Union of India, Mihir Rajesh Shah v. State of Maharashtra and Vihaan Kumar v. State of Haryana.

The State argued that although no separate written memorandum of grounds of arrest had been served, the accused had received a written notice under Section 50 of the NDPS Act, the seizure memo recording recovery of 86.85 kilograms of ganja, and information regarding the arrest had been conveyed to his family. The question before the Court, therefore, was whether these documents constituted sufficient compliance with the constitutional requirement.

Section 47 BNSS gives statutory effect to Article 22: The Division Bench of Justices G.S. Ahluwalia and Anuradha Shukla treated Section 47 BNSS not as a mere procedural provision but as a statutory expression of Article 22(1) of the Constitution, which guarantees every arrested person the right to be informed of the grounds of arrest.

Relying on Pankaj Bansal, Mihir Rajesh Shah and Vihaan Kumar, the Court observed that the requirement of written communication is intended to eliminate disputes over whether the grounds of arrest were actually conveyed. Written communication enables an arrested person to effectively challenge detention, seek legal representation, oppose remand and apply for bail, thereby making Article 22 a meaningful safeguard rather than an empty formality.

Substantial compliance, but a strong institutional warning: On the facts, however, the Court declined to invalidate the arrest. It held that the Section 50 NDPS notice, the seizure memo signed by the accused and the communication made to his brother sufficiently informed him of the reasons for his arrest. Although no independent document titled “grounds of arrest” had been furnished, the constitutional objective underlying Section 47 BNSS stood substantially fulfilled.

The significance of the judgment, however, lies less in this conclusion than in what followed. The Bench expressed serious concern that investigating officers continued to violate binding constitutional requirements despite repeated Supreme Court decisions, earlier High Court rulings and even a circular issued by the Madhya Pradesh Police Headquarters directing strict compliance. Such repeated lapses, the Court observed, pointed either to negligence or deliberate disregard of constitutional safeguards—both of which it described as “alarming”.

In one of its strongest observations, the Court remarked that if investigating officers routinely ignored mandatory procedures, the police department had to introspect whether it was inadvertently helping offenders secure release through illegal arrests rather than effectively prosecuting them. Procedural safeguards, the Bench emphasised, strengthen criminal investigations; they do not weaken them.

From individual relief to institutional accountability: Recognising that constitutional rights cannot depend solely upon post facto judicial intervention, the Court issued prospective directions to the Director General of Police to circulate fresh instructions requiring strict compliance with Section 47 BNSS and the Supreme Court’s decisions. It further directed that where investigating officers violated these requirements, the department should ordinarily presume deliberate non-compliance, initiate departmental proceedings and consider suspension and major penalties.

These directions mark an important shift from correcting individual violations to addressing institutional deficiencies. Rather than treating procedural lapses as isolated mistakes, the Court sought to embed constitutional compliance within police administration itself.

Significance of the decision: The judgment expands the understanding of police accountability beyond cases of excessive force or illegal detention. It recognises that constitutional policing also demands faithful adherence to procedural safeguards governing arrest. By reading Section 47 BNSS as a statutory embodiment of Article 22, the Court reaffirmed that procedural requirements are not technicalities but constitutional guarantees protecting personal liberty.

Although the Court upheld the arrest on the peculiar facts of the case, it left no ambiguity about the law going forward. Police powers remain legitimate only when exercised in accordance with constitutional procedure. Compliance with written grounds of arrest is therefore not a matter of administrative convenience but an indispensable component of due process.

In doing so, the Madhya Pradesh High Court adds a second dimension to the emerging jurisprudence on police accountability. While the Bombay High Court held that custodial violence can never be protected as official duty, the Madhya Pradesh High Court emphasised that even lawful police powers lose constitutional legitimacy when exercised without scrupulous adherence to mandatory procedural safeguards.

The complete judgment may be read below:

Administrative Negligence as a Constitutional Wrong: Allahabad High Court

If the Bombay High Court’s decision drew a constitutional boundary around the misuse of police power, and the Madhya Pradesh High Court underscored that lawful policing is inseparable from procedural fairness, the Allahabad High Court’s decision introduces a third, and equally significant, dimension to constitutional policing. It recognises that the rule of law may be undermined not only through abuse of authority or violation of procedural safeguards, but also through institutional indifference, bureaucratic inertia and administrative negligence.

Unlike the previous two cases, the controversy before the Court did not concern custodial violence, illegal arrest or investigative excesses. It arose from what appeared to be an ordinary bail application. Yet, in deciding that application, Justice Arun Kumar Singh Deshwal transformed a routine criminal proceeding into a broader examination of how police inaction can obstruct judicial administration and unnecessarily prolong deprivation of personal liberty.

The judgment is important because it expands the constitutional understanding of police accountability beyond the exercise of coercive powers. It reminds that the constitutional obligations of investigating agencies do not end with lawful arrest or fair investigation. They equally encompass timely cooperation with judicial proceedings. Where police negligence delays adjudication of liberty, the constitutional injury is no less significant merely because it results from omission rather than affirmative abuse of power.

Facts and background: The proceedings arose from a bail application filed by the parents-in-law of a deceased woman, who were accused of offences under Sections 80(2) and 85 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita read with Sections 3 and 4 of the Dowry Prohibition Act.

Upon examining the material on record, the Court found no sufficient evidence indicating that the applicants had subjected the deceased to cruelty or harassment for dowry soon before her death. The statements of independent witnesses pointed instead to ordinary matrimonial discord between the husband and wife. Finding no material to sustain the allegations against the parents-in-law, the Court concluded that they were entitled to bail.

Ordinarily, the matter would have ended there. Instead, before disposing of the application, the Court turned to an entirely different question—why a bail application that could have been decided much earlier had remained pending for more than ten additional days.

The answer, according to the Court, lay not in judicial delay or legal complexity, but in the repeated failure of the investigating agency to furnish the necessary instructions and case diary despite repeated communications from the High Court. It was this administrative lapse, rather than the merits of the bail application itself, that became the central focus of the judgment.

The institutional failure that prompted judicial intervention: The chronology recorded by the Court revealed a sustained pattern of administrative indifference rather than an isolated procedural lapse.

The Office of the Joint Director (Prosecution), attached to the Allahabad High Court, supplied a copy of the bail application to the police pairokar on June 17, 2026. This was followed by an alert to the Superintendent of Police on June 19 and a reminder on June 29. Despite these repeated communications, the investigating agency failed to furnish the necessary instructions to enable the Government Advocate to assist the Court.

Even when the matter was taken up on 3 July 2026, the Court attempted to facilitate compliance by directing the prosecution to obtain the case diary electronically through the Crime and Criminal Tracking Network and Systems (CCTNS), thereby eliminating any practical difficulty in transmitting records.

Yet even this direction went unheeded. Instead of producing the case diary, the police supplied only the criminal antecedents of the accused, leaving the Court without the material necessary to decide the bail application. The sequence demonstrated that the delay was not the consequence of unavoidable administrative constraints. The High Court had repeatedly reminded the investigating agency, suggested alternative methods of compliance and afforded ample opportunity to furnish the requisite records. Nevertheless, the necessary instructions remained unavailable, preventing timely adjudication of a matter directly affecting personal liberty.

Translating judicial censure into institutional accountability: Having concluded that the delay in deciding the bail application was attributable solely to police negligence, the Court declined to treat the lapse as a matter warranting only administrative criticism. Instead, it imposed costs of ₹50,000 upon the State Government, directing that the amount be paid to the applicants. Simultaneously, it granted the State liberty to recover the amount from the erring officials after conducting an appropriate departmental enquiry.

This direction is perhaps the most significant aspect of the judgment. Indian courts have frequently expressed dissatisfaction with administrative inefficiency or investigative lapses, but far fewer decisions translate such criticism into enforceable consequences. By imposing monetary costs, the Court recognised that bureaucratic negligence is not a victimless administrative failure. Where executive inaction delays adjudication of liberty, the prejudice is suffered by litigants whose incarceration continues solely because the State failed to discharge its institutional obligations.

Equally significant is the Court’s refusal to allow the burden of that negligence to remain permanently upon the public exchequer. By permitting recovery from the responsible officials after due enquiry, the judgment carefully distinguishes between institutional liability and individual accountability. The State remains constitutionally answerable for the functioning of its agencies, but the financial consequences of proven negligence need not ultimately be borne by taxpayers. In doing so, the Court fashioned a remedy that simultaneously compensates those affected, reinforces governmental responsibility and preserves personal accountability within the police hierarchy.

More importantly, the order signals that constitutional accountability is not exhausted by declarations of illegality. Administrative indifference that obstructs judicial proceedings may itself attract tangible consequences. The judgment therefore moves beyond symbolic judicial disapproval and adopts a remedial approach aimed at improving institutional discipline within the criminal justice system.

The complete judgment may be read below:

Police Accountability: From individual misconduct to institutional constitutionalism

At first glance, the three High Court decisions appear to address entirely different questions. The Bombay High Court considered whether police officers accused of custodial assault could invoke the protection of Section 197 CrPC. The Madhya Pradesh High Court examined whether the constitutional requirement of communicating the grounds of arrest in writing under Article 22 and Section 47 BNSS had been complied with. The Allahabad High Court dealt with police negligence that delayed adjudication of a bail application.

Read individually, each judgment resolves a distinct procedural issue. Read together, however, they articulate a broader constitutional doctrine on police accountability. The common thread running through all three decisions is that the legitimacy of policing does not flow merely from statutory powers but from faithful adherence to constitutional limitations. Police accountability is no longer confined to punishing overt abuse such as custodial violence or illegal detention. It now extends to every stage of the criminal justice process—from investigation and arrest to procedural fairness, administrative diligence and cooperation with judicial institutions.

The Bombay High Court establishes the first principle: official duty cannot be used as a shield for unconstitutional conduct. Custodial assault and coercive violence are fundamentally incompatible with lawful policing and therefore fall outside the protection of Section 197 CrPC. The decision reinforces that statutory immunity exists to protect bona fide public functions, not acts that violate Article 21.

The Madhya Pradesh High Court adds a second dimension by treating procedural safeguards as constitutional guarantees rather than technical formalities. Reading Section 47 BNSS through Article 22 and the Supreme Court’s decisions in Pankaj Bansal, Mihir Rajesh Shah and Vihaan Kumar, the Court holds that informing an arrested person of the grounds of arrest in writing is integral to constitutional fairness. More importantly, it moves beyond the individual case to address systemic police non-compliance, directing institutional reforms and departmental accountability so that constitutional safeguards become part of everyday policing rather than case-specific judicial corrections.

The Allahabad High Court completes the trilogy by recognising that constitutional injury may arise not only from misuse of power but also from administrative indifference. Police accountability includes the obligation to assist the administration of justice with diligence and efficiency. By imposing costs of ₹50,000 on the State for avoidable delay in deciding a bail application, directing payment to the applicants, permitting recovery from erring officers after departmental enquiry, and ordering an inquiry into the lapses, the Court converts bureaucratic negligence into a matter of constitutional accountability. Administrative omissions that unnecessarily prolong deprivation of liberty are treated as inconsistent with Article 21 no less than affirmative executive misconduct.

Collectively, these judgments also demonstrate the evolving role of constitutional courts. Rather than merely correcting completed legal wrongs, the High Courts increasingly function as institutional supervisors, issuing directions aimed at improving governance, strengthening internal accountability mechanisms and embedding constitutional discipline within police administration. Whether by denying statutory protection to officers accused of custodial violence, directing police authorities to institutionalise compliance with arrest safeguards, or imposing financial consequences for administrative negligence, the courts are moving beyond dispute resolution towards structural constitutional oversight.

Equally significant is the continuity they establish despite the transition to India’s new criminal laws. Although the BNSS has replaced the Code of Criminal Procedure, these decisions affirm that legislative reform cannot dilute constitutional guarantees. The Constitution—and particularly Articles 21 and 22—continues to provide the normative framework within which every police power must be exercised.

Taken together, the three judgments articulate an emerging constitutional ethic of policing founded upon three interconnected propositions:

• Police powers cannot be exercised through violence or coercion that falls outside lawful investigation.
• Every exercise of coercive authority must comply with constitutional and statutory procedural safeguards protecting personal liberty.
• Police institutions bear a continuing obligation to function diligently, transparently and responsibly in aid of the administration of justice.

The cumulative message is both simple and profound. Constitutional policing is measured not merely by the absence of abuse, but by affirmative fidelity to the rule of law at every stage of the criminal justice process. In reaffirming that principle, the Bombay, Madhya Pradesh and Allahabad High Courts have collectively advanced an important and evolving doctrine of institutional constitutionalism—one in which police legitimacy derives not from the breadth of statutory power, but from disciplined adherence to constitutional values.

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The post Three High Courts, One Message: Police power has constitutional limits appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Delhi Police subsequently clarified that the order was not connected to the ongoing protests. In an official statement, the police said the authorisation was a “routine, quarterly extension” of powers under the NSA, issued on July 7, 2026, before the CJP protests began. The police maintained that no separate request had been initiated in relation to the protests and that the order had been “misinterpreted out of context.” The ANI post was later removed.

“Misleading information is circulating on social media claiming that the Commissioner of Police, Delhi, has been granted detention powers under the National Security Act (NSA) specifically to suppress the ongoing CJP protests. 

In this regard, it is officially clarified that the order in question is a routine, quarterly extension of powers under the NSA, which is conventionally renewed every three months. The current renewal was issued on 07.07.2026 for the period effective from 19.07.2026 to 18.10.2026, predating the commencement of the CJP protests.

Furthermore, no specific request was initiated for this order in relation to recent events. The renewal constitutes a standard administrative procedure and has been misinterpreted out of context.”

Misleading information is circulating on social media claiming that the Commissioner of Police, Delhi, has been granted detention powers under the National Security Act (NSA) specifically to suppress the ongoing CJP protests.
In this regard, it is officially clarified that the…

— Delhi Police (@DelhiPolice) July 23, 2026

But the controversy cannot be reduced to whether the NSA order was specifically issued against the protesters. The fear it generated reflects a deeper crisis of trust between the state and citizens exercising their right to dissent.

For a generation of students and young protesters, preventive detention powers do not exist as abstract legal provisions. They are understood through recent experiences of how the state has responded to mass movements. During the anti-CAA-NRC protests, Delhi witnessed widespread use of criminal cases, arrests and police action against students, activists and demonstrators. During the anti-CAA-NRC protests, thousands were detained. Several students and activists were arrested and booked under serious criminal provisions. Among those arrested were students such as Natasha Narwal and Devangana Kalita, who spent months in custody in the Delhi riots conspiracy case before being granted bail by the Delhi High Court, and Gulfisha Fatima, who was also arrested under stringent provisions including the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA). Many, including Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam still remain behind bars without a trial.

Read CJP’s analysis on how NSA has been used against human rights defenders here.

The same concerns were visible during the farmers’ protests, where the state response involved extensive policing, preventive measures and criminal action against those associated with the movement. On January 26, 2021, following clashes during the Republic Day tractor march, several farmers and protesters were arrested and booked under multiple criminal provisions. Farmer leaders, including Rakesh Tikait, faced police cases and notices during the agitation. In February 2021, climate activist Disha Ravi was arrested by Delhi Police in connection with the ‘toolkit’ case related to the farmers’ protests and was later granted bail by a Delhi court. The Delhi Police’s deployment of barricades, restrictions on movement and preventive measures around protest sites also became a central feature of the state’s response to the mobilisation.

It is this history that gives significance to the appearance of NSA powers during another major protest movement. Even if the authorisation was routine, the episode demonstrates how the repeated use, or perceived availability, of exceptional state powers can create a climate of apprehension among protesters. When citizens already fear detention, surveillance and criminalisation, ambiguity around the expansion of such powers can have a chilling effect on participation in democratic protest.

The NSA is among India’s most powerful preventive detention laws. Unlike ordinary criminal proceedings, where the state must prove an offence through a trial, preventive detention allows the authorities to restrict liberty based on an anticipated threat. This extraordinary power has long been criticised for placing significant discretion in executive hands and for weakening ordinary safeguards of criminal justice.

Dubbed as India’s draconian version of the Rowlatt Act, read a legal history of the repressive provisions here.

The constitutional concern is not merely about one order or one protest. It is about the normalisation of exceptional measures in managing dissent. A democracy cannot measure public order only through the absence of protests; it must also consider whether citizens are able to organise, criticise and demand accountability without fear of punitive state action.

The rights to freedom of speech and expression under Article 19(1) (a), peaceful assembly under Article 19(1)(b), and personal liberty under Article 21 are not conditional rights available only when the state is comfortable with the message being expressed. Restrictions may be imposed in accordance with law, but the use of coercive powers against protest movements requires the highest level of scrutiny.

The Delhi Police clarification may establish that the NSA renewal was not a measure introduced for the CJP and other organisation student-led protests. However, the reaction to the ANI tweet reveals a larger and uncomfortable reality: years of aggressive state responses to dissent have created an environment where even routine assertions of extraordinary powers are perceived through the lens of possible repression.

The question, therefore, is not only whether the NSA order was connected to this protest. The larger question is why protesters in India have come to view preventive detention powers as a warning rather than merely an administrative procedure.

Related:

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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Demonstrations in areas including Chaityabhoomi, Dadar and Shivaji Park were met with heavy police deployment, barricading and preventive action. While the police maintained that the gatherings were unauthorised and necessary measures were taken to prevent breaches of peace, protesters alleged that peaceful demonstrations were being criminalised through detentions and legal proceedings.

The movement of youth, that began with a call from the newly formed Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) has been amplified from the start by youth with no affiliation, youth associated with the CPI’s All India Students Federation, CPI-M’s SFI and AISA. Begun as as a youth-led protest against alleged irregularities in competitive examinations, including the NEET-UG controversy, has expanded into a broader demand for accountability, education reforms and responsibility from authorities over repeated failures affecting students. The events in Mumbai have now shifted attention to a larger question: whether administrative restrictions and criminal law are being used proportionately to regulate public protest.

Detailed piece on the Delhi protest and the excessive state action may be read here.

Mumbai Police impose prohibitory orders amid protests

On July 20, the Mumbai Police issued orders prohibiting assemblies of five or more persons in public places across the city from July 23 to August 6. The order also restricted processions, use of loudspeakers, musical instruments and other forms of public gatherings, citing apprehensions of breach of peace and disturbance to public tranquillity.

According to a report by The Economic Times, the restrictions were imposed shortly after a protest organised by the Sharad Pawar-led Nationalist Congress Party (SP) outside Mumbai University against the police action during the Student-CJP’s march to Parliament and Wangchuk’s removal from Jantar Mantar.

The police order invoked concerns of maintaining public order, but the timing of the restrictions, coming immediately after protests against police action in Delhi, raised concerns among civil society groups over whether broad preventive measures were being used to restrict constitutionally protected forms of dissent. The restrictions were imposed under the jurisdiction of the Mumbai Police Commissioner and remained applicable from midnight of July 23 until August 6.

Chaityabhoomi protests: Hundreds detained, FIRs registered

On July 20, hundreds of students and activists gathered near Chaityabhoomi in Dadar to express solidarity with the CJP movement and protest against alleged examination irregularities and the handling of Wangchuk’s hunger strike.

According to The Indian Express, the protest was organised under the banner of Mumbai Against Suppression of Students (MASS), with participation from student organisations including the Students’ Federation of India (SFI), All India Students’ Federation (AISF), Aamchi Padhai Aamchi Ladai and other youth groups. Protesters demanded accountability over alleged NEET irregularities and the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan.

Police barricaded roads leading towards Chaityabhoomi and detained protesters attempting to reach the site. Organisers claimed that around 200 people were detained and taken to different police stations, including Sion, Dadar, Mahim and Worli.

Image: freepressjournal.in

The police, however, maintained that no permission had been granted for the protest. Deputy Commissioner of Police Mahendra Pandit stated that since the gathering proceeded despite denial of permission, action under law was being initiated.

The detentions were criticised by protesters, who alleged that peaceful demonstrators were prevented from exercising their right to assemble. Several participants told the media that they were detained despite carrying placards and raising slogans peacefully.

A protester quoted by The Indian Express said that students were demanding accountability over repeated examination failures and alleged that instead of addressing their concerns, authorities were detaining those raising questions.

FIRs against protesters and organisers

Following the protests, Mumbai Police registered multiple FIRs against demonstrators. The Indian Express reported that cases were registered against more than 900 people in connection with protests across Mumbai, including the largest FIR at Shivaji Park Police Station where over 600 protesters were named.

The FIRs invoked provisions of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) and Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS) relating to unlawful assembly, disobedience of orders issued by public servants and obstruction of officials performing their duties. The police said they were examining CCTV footage, drone visuals and videos recorded during demonstrations to identify more participants.

Separately, Scroll reported that Mumbai Police registered three FIRs against more than 50 protesters following a solidarity demonstration near Chaityabhoomi. The cases invoked provisions relating to unlawful assembly, violation of prohibitory orders and offences under the Maharashtra Police Act.

The police argued that the protests were unauthorised and that restrictions were already in place. Protesters, however, questioned whether requiring prior permission could become a mechanism to prevent any inconvenient public mobilisation.

Image: indianexpress.com

Shivaji Park protest and political participation

The police action followed an earlier gathering at Shivaji Park on July 19, where hundreds assembled after Wangchuk’s removal from Jantar Mantar. The protest saw participation from Shiv Sena (UBT) president Uddhav Thackeray, who expressed solidarity with the movement and criticised the government’s handling of the agitation.

The Mumbai Police registered a case against organisers of the Shivaji Park gathering, stating that no permission had been granted for the demonstration. The Indian Express reported that the FIR was registered for alleged unlawful assembly. Police also registered cases linked to earlier demonstrations near Mantralaya and the Press Club, including against political workers and activists.

Notices issued to some detainees, while others await intimation

Following the detentions during the Mumbai protests, the legal status of several participants remained unclear. Those detained at Kalachowki Police Station were issued notice intimations under Section 35(3) of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), requiring them to comply with procedural requirements, though they were not called to the police station on the day of issuance.

Meanwhile, detainees taken to Worli Police Station had not received any such notices at the time of reporting. The absence of uniform communication regarding the legal status of those detained has added to concerns among protesters and organisers over the manner in which preventive action was carried out.

A heavy police presence was also reported near the water tank area close to Byculla railway station, with police vehicles stationed in the vicinity, indicating continued monitoring and deployment following the protests.

Claims of suppression and the constitutional question

The escalation in Mumbai followed the Delhi Police action during the CJP’s “Chalo Sansad” march on July 20, where protesters attempting to move towards Parliament were dispersed using tear gas and batons. The Delhi action became a flashpoint, with videos circulating online showing police using force against demonstrators.

In Mumbai, organisations involved in the supportive protests, criticised the detentions, stating on social media that peaceful protest was a democratic right and accusing authorities of attempting to suppress a youth movement. The organisation’s founder Abhijeet Dipke also apologised to injured supporters following clashes in Delhi and alleged that protesters, including women participants, faced excessive force.

The Maharashtra government, however, defended police action. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis said peaceful protests were constitutionally protected but argued that demonstrations without permission or those involving violence could not be accepted. He also alleged that some groups had attempted to use the agitation for unrelated political purposes, as per the Mid-Day report.

Political protests over police action

The police response itself became a subject of protest. The Sharad Pawar-led NCP (SP) organised a demonstration outside Mumbai University, condemning the action against CJP protesters in Delhi and Mumbai. Party leaders demanded the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan over alleged examination failures and paper leaks.

According to reports carried by Telangana Today, NCP (SP) leaders accused authorities of suppressing democratic dissent and warned that youth movements would continue if accountability was not addressed.

A widening conflict over protest rights

The police response in Mumbai has brought into focus a familiar pattern in the State’s approach to dissent: administrative restrictions, preventive policing and criminal proceedings deployed before protests can fully unfold. While authorities have justified their actions on grounds of maintaining public order and enforcing permission requirements, the cumulative effect of prohibitory orders, mass detentions, extensive police deployment and multiple FIRs has been to significantly curtail public assembly.

At the heart of the issue is not simply whether permission was obtained for individual protests, but whether procedural requirements are increasingly being used to make the exercise of the constitutional right to peaceful assembly contingent on executive approval. When preventive detention, criminal prosecution and citywide restrictions become the primary response to peaceful mobilisation, the space for democratic dissent inevitably narrows.

What began as a youth-led movement demanding accountability for repeated failures in India’s examination system has, through the State’s response, become a wider test of democratic freedoms. The questions raised by students over examination integrity now sit alongside equally pressing questions about whether governments are responding to public criticism through engagement or through policing. As solidarity protests continue to attract criminal cases and heightened surveillance, the debate is no longer confined to education reforms—it is increasingly about whether constitutional rights can be meaningfully exercised when peaceful protest itself is treated as a law-and-order threat.

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According to The Indian Express, the order was passed by City Magistrate Kuldeep Singh under the Uttar Pradesh Public Premises (Eviction of Unauthorised Occupants) Act, 1972. The dispute arose from a complaint filed by Vikas Tyagi, a former provincial coordinator of the Bajrang Dal, who alleged that a mosque had been illegally constructed within the Collectorate premises—a sensitive government complex where administrative and confidential official work is carried out. The complaint also alleged that the property was being used for commercial purposes, with portions of the premises rented to private occupants and a post office operating from the site.

Revenue inquiry and allegations

Following the complaint, the Revenue Department initiated an inquiry. In March 2025, a Lekhpal (revenue official) filed an application before the City Magistrate alleging that Abdul Hamid, described as the mosque’s manager and maulvi, was in unauthorised occupation of government land. Notices were issued to the respondents in April 2025, and their objections were filed in June 2025.

The revenue authorities contended that the land forms part of the Collectorate campus and is recorded in official revenue records as government property. According to the petition, the building originally functioned as a rest house for litigants visiting the Collectorate, but was subsequently occupied by the respondents, who allegedly converted portions of it into a mosque.

The petition further alleged that rooms on both the ground and first floors had been occupied, namaz was being offered there, several rooms had been rented out for residential purposes, and rent was being collected from tenants as well as from a post office operating from the premises.

Authorities also alleged that unauthorised construction had been carried out to convert part of the government building into a religious structure. The inquiry reportedly concluded that the occupants possessed no licence, permission or legal authority either to occupy the premises, allow third parties to reside there, or convert the building into a place of worship.

The revenue department further challenged the respondents’ reliance on a purported communication issued by the Sunni Central Waqf Board, Lucknow, alleging that the document was forged. It argued that the property has consistently been recorded in revenue records as Kachahri (Collectorate) and Kothiyat land, rather than as waqf or religious property.

The authorities also maintained that the Sunni Central Waqf Board has no legal authority to declare government land as waqf property. Although the respondents claimed to be the mosque’s mutawalli and maulvi, the petition asserted that they failed to produce documentary evidence establishing either their status or ownership rights over the property.

In addition to seeking eviction, the petitioner requested recovery of rent allegedly collected from tenants, penal rent, and all income allegedly earned through the unauthorised occupation, together with 12 per cent compound interest, to be deposited into the government treasury.

Mosque committee disputes government’s claim

The respondents denied the allegations and argued that the State had failed to establish ownership of the disputed property. They contended that the revenue records relied upon by the authorities merely reflected the physical nature or classification of the land and did not conclusively determine title.

They further alleged that the proceedings were initiated with the intention of unlawfully taking possession of the mosque and its adjoining land. According to the respondents, the petitioner had suppressed material facts, withheld relevant revenue records, and attempted to mislead the court.

Mutawalli Tanveer Ahmed maintained that the mosque is approximately 150 years old and stated that the management committee intends to challenge the order by filing a revision petition.

Court finds occupation unauthorised

After considering the material placed before it, the City Magistrate held that the respondents had failed to establish any lawful right or title over the disputed property. The court observed that Khasra No. 539 has consistently been recorded in revenue records as Collectorate/Kachahri land since Fasli Years 1324 and 1359, as well as in earlier records. On that basis, it concluded that the land belongs to the State government and that occupation without legal authority amounts to unauthorised occupation under the 1972 Act.

Taking into account the prolonged occupation of the 315-square-metre parcel, the court directed that compensation be calculated for a period of 70 years, commencing from Fasli Year 1359, in accordance with the prescribed statutory formula. The resulting amount was assessed at approximately ₹6.41 crore.

City Magistrate Kuldeep Singh told The Indian Express that the occupants have been granted 30 days to vacate the premises, failing which the administration will proceed with eviction.

Part of wider disputes over religious structures

The Saharanpur order comes amid a series of disputes involving religious structures alleged to have been constructed on public land in Uttar Pradesh. Last month, according to The Indian Express, the Varanasi Division of Northern Railways issued a notice directing the removal of a mosque located near Gate No. 1 of Kashi railway station, asserting that the structure stands on railway land. The mosque’s managing body, Anjuman Intizamia Masajid Varanasi, has challenged the notice, describing the proposed action as illegal.

The controversy also follows earlier demolition proceedings concerning the Madni Mosque in Kushinagar district. In February 2025, authorities demolished a portion of the mosque after alleging that it had been constructed on encroached land. The mosque committee disputed the allegation, asserting that the land had been lawfully purchased and had secured interim protection from the High Court until the expiry of the stay.

Subsequently, the Supreme Court issued notice to the Uttar Pradesh authorities in contempt proceedings alleging that the demolition violated the Court’s November 13, 2024 directions restraining demolition drives across the country without prior notice and an opportunity of hearing. The proceedings remain pending.

Related:

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“Bulldozer Justice” rebuked: Orissa High Court orders 10 lakh compensation for illegal demolition of community centre

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The Odisha State Sentence Review Board has recommended his release from jail on ground of “good behaviour.” On July 14, 2026, a bench comprising of Justices Manoj Misra and Vijay Bishnoi of the Supreme Court through its order had asked the Odisha Government to take a decision on the premature release of Singh by August 19. Reportedly, the bench also made an oral observation that, “You take a decision by August 15. Let him also celebrate Independence Day by then.” Reported the Hindustan Times.

Singh, who is said to be associated with the Bharatiya Janata Party and the Bajrang Dal, is serving life imprisonment not only for the murder of Australian missionary Graham Staines and his two sons, but also for the 1999 murder of Catholic priest Arul Das, who was shot with an arrow while fleeing a building that had been set on fire. Reported the new Indian Express. He was also convicted for the murder of Shaikh Rahman, a Muslim garment merchant, who was brutally assaulted, had his hands severed, and whose body and garment stall were set ablaze.

In July 2024, the Supreme Court had sought the Odisha government’s response on a plea filed through advocate Vishnu Shankar Jain seeking Singh’s remission of sentence and release, asserting that he met the state government’s criteria for granting remission (i.e. 25 years). The reformative theory of Justice V. R. Krishna Iyer was invoked and reliance was placed on the Court’s 2022 judgment permitting the premature release of the convict in the Rajiv Gandhi assassination case.

The current remission, therefore reflects a broader pattern in India of state governments ruled by the incumbent-BJP granting remission to those convicted in cases of gross communal violence. One such earlier instance was the release of the convicts in the 2002 Bilkis Bano gang rape and family murder case, a decision that remained in force until it was struck down by the Supreme Court.

It is worth noting that prior to this; Singh’s plea for remission has been evaluated on five separate occasions, and has been turned down each time, with the most recent rejection occurring in February 2024.

How the Remission Was Filed and Processed

Singh’s possible release has drawn political attention in the past. During a campaign for his release in 2022, when the BJD government was in power, Sudarshan TV editor-in-chief Suresh Chavhanke attempted to meet him in prison but was denied permission. Mohan Charan Majhi, (now the Chief Minister of Odisha), had also joined a protest outside the jail demanding Singh’s release. However, the Board’s consideration of Singh’s case was based on the prescribed remission process and the reports submitted by the relevant authorities. This clearly establishes that organised political demand for Singh’s release predates, by a considerable margin, the administrative process that has now produced it.

At its September 2025 meeting, the Board considered 107 cases. It recommended the release of 18 life convicts, rejected 75 applications, and deferred 14, including Singh’s. Singh’s case remained pending because the Board required a fresh report from his home district.

According to The Hindu, the State Sentence Review Board met in the first week of July 2026 to consider the premature release of eligible life convicts. Among the cases reviewed was that of Dara Singh. In his petition before the Supreme Court, he stated that he deeply regretted the offences committed over two decades earlier and sought an opportunity to “give back to society” through service-oriented work.  He also claimed that he bore no personal animosity towards the victims and described his actions as the result of “youthful rage.” Singh was 37 years old at the time of his arrest!

Under Odisha’s 2022 premature-release guidelines, a convict whose sentence has been commuted from death to life becomes eligible for remission consideration after 25 years in custody, subject to a recommendation from the State Sentence Review Board (SSRB) and government approval. Five out of six members of the SSRB belong to the executive branch of government. The presence of ruling-party legislators, when the CM has supported Singh’s release, on the deciding panel raises questions whether the government will independently apply its mind.

Comparison with the Bilkis Bano Case

Setting the two cases side by side is useful because they involve a similar factual pattern. In both instances, persons convicted of life imprisonment in communal hate-crime cases were considered for or granted premature release.

The release in Bano’s case followed a plea filed by one convict, Radheshyam Bhagwandas Shah, who argued he had already served over 15 years and sought early release. Shah had first tried this route in Gujarat, where the Gujarat High Court itself had indicated that Maharashtra, the state where his trial was actually conducted after the Supreme Court moved it there on Bano’s plea, was the appropriate government to decide his remission, not Gujarat. On May 13, 2022, Supreme Court order directed Gujarat (rather than Maharashtra) to decide the remission question. Acting on the Court’s direction, the Gujarat government formed a committee, which went on to recommend that the sentences of all 11 convicts in the case be remitted. The panel that granted remission included BJP legislators, the same party that governed Gujarat at the time of the riots. One of those legislators publicly defended the convicts by remarking that some of them were “Brahmins” with good values. Reported NDTV.

Several activists, along with Bilkis Bano herself petitioned the Court in November 2022. On January 8, 2024, Justices B.V. Nagarathna and Ujjal Bhuyan quashed the remission, holding that Gujarat was never the appropriate government and that the May 2022 order directing Gujarat to decide had itself been obtained by concealing material facts. The convicts were ordered back to prison within two weeks.

In Bano’s case, when the Gujarat government had released eleven convicts on August 15, 2022, they were welcomed with sweets and had their feet touched by supporters. Singh has for years been celebrated by sections of the Hindu right. Organisations such as the Dharmarakhyak Sri Dara Singh Bachao Samiti and Dara Sena have publicly campaigned for his release and portrayed him as a defender of Hinduism.

Given this, especially when the incumbent Odisha Chief Minister has also, before assuming office, expressed support for Singh’s release, there is a significant possibility that Singh’s release too will receive a public welcome similar to that accorded to the Bano’s convicts. The repeated public glorification of individuals convicted in cases of communal violence by organisations affiliated with or aligned to the BJP-RSS ecosystem raises serious concerns about the social and political messaging such releases convey.

While concealment of material facts was the decisive ground in Bano’s case, the Court also separately described Gujarat’s orders as stereotyped and passed without application of mind. Odisha’s Sentence Review Board considered Singh’s file within a batch of dozens of prisoners in a single sitting arguably meets the same structural vulnerability.

Five factors were decided in Laxman Naskar v. Union of India (2000), to decide on pre-mature release of convicts, namely:

i) Whether the offence is an individual act of crime without affecting the society at large?

ii) Whether there is any chance of future recurrence of committing crime?

iii) Whether the convict has lost his potentiality in committing crime?

iv) Whether there is any fruitful purpose of confining this convict any more?

v) Socio-economic condition of the convict’s family.

The first factor alone arguably requires reckoning with the fact that his is not a single offence but three separate convictions, spanning roughly a year, each targeting a different religious minority.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this judgement primer has been worked on by Tanishka Shah)

Related:

Remembering the Graham Staines Murder

Bilkis Bano gets Justice: Supreme Court strikes down remission

De-coding the historic Bilkis Bano verdict

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Karat had originally approached the Supreme Court after the Delhi High Court upheld the refusal of an Additional Chief Metropolitan Magistrate (ACMM) to direct registration of an FIR under Section 156(3) of the Code of Criminal Procedure (CrPC). She had sought criminal action against Thakur and Verma for offences under Sections 153A, 153B, 295A and 505 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC), alleging that their speeches promoted enmity between communities and incited hatred during the polarised campaign surrounding the anti-CAA protests.

The complaint stemmed from BJP MP Anurag Thakur’s election rally on January 27, 2020, where he led the crowd in chanting the slogan, “Desh ke gaddaron ko, goli maaron saalon ko” (“Shoot the traitors”). It also challenged speeches delivered by BJP leader Parvesh Verma, who described Shaheen Bagh protesters as “infiltrators” and claimed they would “enter your homes, rape your daughters and sisters, and kill them” if elected to power.

On April 26, a Bench comprising Justices Vikram Nath and Sandeep Mehta dismissed Karat’s appeal, agreeing with the Delhi High Court’s conclusion that no cognisable offence was made out. The Court reasoned that the speeches did not explicitly target any identifiable religious or other protected community and therefore did not attract the penal provisions invoked.

Detailed report may be read here.

While the Supreme Court overruled the Delhi High Court on one significant legal question—holding that prior sanction under Section 196 CrPC is not required before a Magistrate directs registration of an FIR under Section 156(3)—it nevertheless endorsed the conclusion that the speeches disclosed no cognisable offence.

The review petition contends that this conclusion amounts to an “error apparent on the face of the record.” According to Karat, neither the Magistrate nor the Delhi High Court had examined the substantive allegations of hate speech. Instead, both courts confined themselves to the procedural question of whether sanction under Section 196 CrPC was a prerequisite for directing investigation.

The petition points out that the Delhi High Court had expressly recorded that the ACMM had not entered into the merits of the allegations. It had also clarified that its observations were limited to the issue of sanction and would not prejudice any future adjudication on whether the speeches constituted criminal offences.

However, despite partly allowing Karat’s appeal by reversing the High Court’s interpretation of Section 196 CrPC, the Supreme Court, in paragraphs 136 to 138 of its judgment, went on to hold that it agreed with the ultimate conclusion that no cognisable offence was made out. The review petition argues that the Court effectively decided the substantive criminal liability of the BJP leaders without the parties having addressed detailed arguments on the merits of the alleged hate speech.

As per the LiveLaw report, Karat further relies on contemporaneous findings of the Election Commission of India (ECI), which had taken action against both BJP leaders during the 2020 Delhi Assembly election campaign. The ECI found that the speeches violated the Model Code of Conduct, had the potential to aggravate existing differences between religious communities and promote mutual hatred. Acting on these findings, the Commission removed both leaders from the BJP’s list of star campaigners and imposed temporary campaign bans.

The review petition also questions the reliance placed on the police status report submitted before the trial court. The police had concluded that no cognisable offence was disclosed, reasoning that Thakur’s slogan did not refer to any specific community and that Verma’s remarks on the Shaheen Bagh protests amounted to political criticism rather than criminal hate speech. According to Karat, the Supreme Court reproduced this reasoning without independently evaluating the material on record, including video recordings of the speeches and the Election Commission’s findings.

Arguing that the issue was never subjected to a full judicial examination, the review petition urges the Supreme Court to recall its finding that no cognisable offence was disclosed and to adjudicate the hate speech allegations afresh after hearing the parties on the merits. The petition has been filed through Advocates Sylona Mohapatra, Tara Nirula and Adit Pujari.

Related:

Nazia Elahi Khan faces multiple FIRs over alleged hate speech

CJP files complaint against BJP MLA & Minister Nitesh Rane and right-wing leaders over alleged hate speeches in Maharashtra and West Bengal

Hate Speech Before the Supreme Court: From judicial activism to institutional closure

The Supreme Court blinks when it comes to Hate Speech

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On June 15, Praful Vaniya, Superintendent of Police (Intelligence) in the Gujarat State Police Service (SPS), issued a notice announcing the arrival of the new Anti-Radicalisation Cell (ARC). The notice also provides a step-by-step identification, prevention, detection, intervention and re-integration checklist that the police has in mind.

The SOP for Gujarat’s newly operationalised ARC claims to lay down ways to assess and decode behavioural indicators for identifying ‘radicalised’ individuals – but the details listed seem exclusively focused on Muslim radicals, conflate Muslim religious practices with security threats, and are silent on any markers of Hindu radicalism of the kind the state witnessed in 2002 and after or the rest of India has witnessed over the past decade.

From monitoring beards and niqabs to seeing Middle East travels as suspicious, from questioning the use of Signal for messaging to watching those supporting Muslim rights on social media, the SOP appears designed to penalise common Muslims – and is silent on the violent activities of cow vigilantes and the calls by Hindutva radicals for the boycott and even killing of Muslims.

Who is a ‘radicalised person’?

“A radicalised person refers to an individual affecting law and order in the State who, driven by extremist (‘kattarpant’) ideologies, engages in anti-national activities to harm the unity and integrity of the nation, creates an atmosphere of fear among the people, and try to manipulate a sane/rational person to get them to convert their religion” – these are the exact words of the notice, seen by The Wire.

Further, the notice flags “Suddenly keeping a beard, wearing a niqab, frequent use of Arabic words, reducing contact with friends and family, expressing intense protest/resentment against events happening to the Muslim community globally, praising terrorists, or showing a change in behaviour after traveling abroad (e.g., Afghanistan, Middle East)”. Next, the notice asks officers to trace purchase activity of ‘radicalised indviduals’ – “Purchasing fertilisers containing potassium nitrate, sulphur, or ammonium nitrate; acquiring LPG cylinders; making frequent visits to forest-like areas; making frequent contact with individuals residing in the Gulf, PoK (Pakistan-occupied Kashmir), or Afghanistan through encrypted apps; or withdrawing large amounts of cash”, the notice says, .

Even downloading VPN apps or using Signal or Element messengers have been listed as signs to watch out for. Other listed criteria includes ‘being members of extremist Telegram groups; following ISIS/AQ (Al-Qaeda) accounts, sharing Nasheeds, Dabiq/Rumiyah magazines; or using cryptocurrency (especially Monero) without any apparent source of income’.

Those ‘visiting extremist networks or Arabic colleges/madrasas’, performing a religious ritual like Itikaf (seclusion in a mosque) before planned activities, ‘suddenly leaving their education or employment citing Islamic duty’, or ‘visiting ‘kattarvad’ leaders after being released from prison’ are also flagged as potentially radicalised. It also orders officers to obtain complete details of maulanas teaching in madrasas, prepare a directory, and gather information/records on ‘whether they maintain contact with organisations holding extremist ideologies’.

The SOP recommends the monitoring of ‘extremist preachers, communal organisations, radicalised individuals who are or have been in prisons’, and specifically names those belonging to Salafi and Wahhabi school of Islamic thought within Sunni Islam.

Under the SOP’s ‘Intervention – Counselling and Guidance’ stage, the ARC is directed to identify and verify influential community leaders, social media influencers, NGOs, religious scholars, psychologists and educational experts who can assist in de-radicalisation efforts. It calls for counselling sessions involving family members, religious experts and psychiatrists, while requiring that the identity of individuals undergoing counselling be kept confidential. The SOP also instructs authorities to help such individuals reintegrate into education and employment and maintain regular contact with them. However, it states that if an individual commits or prepares to commit a cognisable offence after undergoing counselling, legal action should be initiated under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, with all such actions reported to the state headquarters.

While the Gujarat ARC has formally taken shape only this year, its origins date back over a decade. The idea of a dedicated deradicalisation mechanism first gained traction in 2015, at a Directors General and Inspectors General of Police conference in Gujarat’s Rann of Kutch, where the Telangana Police’s deradicalisation model was presented as a template for states grappling with online radicalisation.

In 2020, Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Union home minister Amit Shah at the annual conference of DGPs and IGPs, recommended the idea of this cell.

The BJP subsequently promised to establish an ARC in its 2022 Gujarat assembly election manifesto, and began operationalising the proposal. Following the recommendations, a task force including a faculty head of the Gandhinagar-based Rashtriya Raksha University and police officials of the state Anti-Terrorism Squad, Crime Branch and Ahmedabad Central Jail was set up. But the project reportedly could not take off because of “lack of funds”.

On June 15, the SOP was circulated to district and commissionerate offices and laid out the ARC’s functioning – from identifying individuals deemed vulnerable to radicalisation and maintaining dossiers on them to counselling, rehabilitation and post-intervention monitoring. The SOP states that the ARC will function in coordination with district police units, the Special Operations Group (SOG), prison authorities and state Intelligence Bureau officers.

Communally targeted policing

Barrister Arif Ansari believes that this SOP is an open violation of the very basic fundamentals of the Constitution. “Article 14, 19, 21, 25, all are being buried under the kind of surveillance the state wants to impose on Muslims. This is state-sanctioned stereotyping and appears to be clearly motivated for electoral gains. India’s founding fathers made sure that all religions had equal respect and rights, but for Muslims, the morning begins with demolitions and evening ends with law being deployed against us,” Ansari told The Wire.

“After the 1980s, Gujarat became the laboratory of communal fascism. And the manufacturers of this policy were successful in planting this ideology in the state. Then we saw 2002, and the same politicians would be elected again and again,” Hiren Gandhi, a social activist, told The Wire.

While Gandhi recalls how post the 1980s, anti-Muslim leaders, policies and politics became the norm in Gujarat, he believes that the ARC should be placed in the broader context of how politics and sentiments have evolved in the BJP-run state.

“This kind of a mechanism is absolutely wrong but understand that it is nothing new. This is happening in ways and methods across India. During Covid-19, the same kind of radicalism rhetoric was peddled against the Tablighi Jamaat, they were dehumanised using their religion. This is a disgusting kind of politics killing democratic rights,” Gandhi said.

The SOP has also drawn political criticism. In a July 14 letter to Gujarat chief minister Bhupendra Patel, CPI(M) Rajya Sabha MP John Brittas urged the state government to keep its implementation in abeyance pending an independent review, arguing that several of its reported provisions risk conflating ordinary manifestations of Muslim religious identity with indicators of radicalisation.

“While intelligence agencies may legitimately monitor unlawful activities based on credible information, any framework that enables surveillance or profiling primarily on the basis of religion, appearance, language, dress or religious observance would raise profound constitutional concerns. Such measures, if undertaken without clearly defined legal thresholds, objective safeguards and judicial oversight, would be inconsistent with the constitutional guarantees of equality before law, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, dignity and privacy,” Brittas writes.

“Our constitutional jurisprudence has emphasised that the State cannot proceed on the basis of stereotypes or collective suspicion. Equality before law requires that every citizen be assessed on the basis of credible evidence of unlawful conduct, not on the basis of faith, cultural identity, attire, language, appearance or lawful religious practices. Any institutional framework that creates an impression of profiling a particular community would be inconsistent with the constitutional promise of equal protection of laws. Effective intelligence depends upon trust between citizens and law-enforcement agencies. Policies that appear to stigmatise an entire community undermine that trust, discourage cooperation with investigative agencies, and risk alienating precisely those citizens whose partnership is indispensable in combating extremism,” he continues.

Human rights campaigner Shabnam Hashmi asked why other kinds of radicalisation – often openly visible in today’s India – find no place in the SOP. “See, I will not dispute the fact that radicalisation is happening in different communities. But this opens up the gates to harass and pick up anyone they want to, and mainly people who have dissenting voices. That is that is what it will be used for. Secondly, if we are talking of radicalisation, what about the Hindu radicalisation? What about the threats which are being distributed openly? What about the Dharam Sansads, which are giving open calls to kill Muslims, to make India Islam-free, is that no radicalisation? This is very selective profiling of the Muslim community,” she told The Wire.

Hashmi added that while today, this Cell is targeting Muslims, “Tomorrow, it’ll target maybe Dalits, or Adivasi, or Christians.”

Former Chhattisgarh Special DGP R.K. Vij said that while radicalism is defined very widely in the SOP, the sub steps with regard to one community seem to be mentioned as an example. “This may also be understood whether Gujarat Police is mentioning the community owing to their past experience in the field,” Vij said.

The Wire reached out to Gujarat’s Deputy Inspector General of Police, Dr Sudhirkumar J. Desai, to ask about the phrasing used in the SOP and allegations of it being communally motivated. This article will be updated when a response is received.

With inputs from Sharmita Kar.

Tarushi Aswani is an independent journalist.

Courtesy: The Wire

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The Indian Constitution was never conceived merely as a framework for governing an independent nation. Constitutional historian Granville Austin famously described it as an instrument of a “social revolution”; a document intended to transform Indian society by replacing entrenched hierarchies with the principles of justice, liberty, equality and fraternity. This distinction lies at the heart of the debate surrounding the place of ancient Indian texts such as the Manusmriti in legal education.

Socio-political critic and columnist Solomon Mubash argues in his recent essay, From Constitutional Morality to Brahmanical Logic: Judicial Violence and Power, that the controversy extends far beyond curriculum design or the study of history. Instead, he contends that it reflects a deeper contest over the moral and ideological foundations of the Indian republic. Whether or not one agrees with every aspect of his argument, the questions he raises extend far beyond the classroom.

At stake is not whether students should read the Manusmriti. Any serious student of law, history, religion or sociology must engage with texts that have shaped the intellectual traditions of the subcontinent. The real question is how such texts should be situated within a constitutional democracy founded on equal citizenship.

History and heritage are not the same thing.

History seeks to understand the past—its achievements as well as its contradictions. Heritage often seeks to celebrate it. Confusing the two risks turning scholarly inquiry into cultural endorsement. Ancient texts deserve academic engagement because they reveal how societies understood law, authority and social order. They do not automatically acquire normative authority simply because they are old.

The Manusmriti occupies a distinctive and contested place in India’s intellectual history. As Indologist Patrick Olivelle, whose translation remains among the most authoritative, notes, it is one of the most influential Dharmashastra texts prescribing norms of social and legal conduct. Historians have also pointed out that while its actual legal authority varied across regions and historical periods, its prescriptions articulated a social order organised around hereditary hierarchy.

The text differentiates duties, privileges and punishments according to caste and gender. Women, Shudras and those placed outside the varna order occupy unequal positions within its normative framework. Scholars including B.R. Ambedkar, Nicholas Dirks and Christophe Jaffrelot have therefore interpreted the Manusmriti as a powerful symbol of graded social inequality, even while recognising that lived social practises were often more complex than any single text could capture.

Recognising this historical reality is not an act of hostility towards Indian civilisation. It is an acknowledgement that every civilisation contains traditions worthy of preservation alongside institutions that deserve critical scrutiny.

It is precisely this distinction that informed Dr B.R. Ambedkar’s understanding of constitutional morality. In his final address to the Constituent Assembly on 25 November 1949, Ambedkar warned that political democracy could not survive unless it rested upon social democracy founded on liberty, equality and fraternity. He cautioned that India was entering “a life of contradictions”, where political equality would coexist with deep social and economic inequality unless constitutional values transformed society itself.

For Ambedkar, constitutional morality was therefore not blind allegiance to a legal document. It was a civic ethic that required citizens and institutions to judge inherited customs against constitutional principles rather than treating tradition as the ultimate source of legitimacy.

His public burning of the Manusmriti during the Mahad Satyagraha in 1927 has generally been understood by historians as a symbolic rejection of scriptural sanction for caste hierarchy—not a rejection of Indian civilisation itself. His later leadership of the Constitution’s Drafting Committee represented an attempt to replace birth-based status with equal constitutional citizenship.

That constitutional commitment found concrete expression in Articles 14, 15 and 17 of the Constitution, which guarantee equality before the law, prohibit discrimination on specified grounds and abolish untouchability. A Dalit labourer, a Brahmin scholar, an Adivasi woman and a member of a religious minority stand equal before the law not because tradition confers equal worth upon them, but because the Constitution does.

That was the revolutionary promise of the Republic.

Mubash argues that a continuing tension exists between constitutional morality and what he describes as Brahmanical social logic. Regardless of whether one adopts that terminology, the broader constitutional question remains relevant. The tension between constitutional ideals and entrenched social hierarchies continues to surface whenever caste-based discrimination is defended in the language of tradition, women’s autonomy is subordinated to customary norms, or inherited privilege seeks legitimacy through appeals to civilisational continuity rather than constitutional principle.

The danger lies in confusing antiquity with authority. No constitutional democracy derives its legitimacy from the age of its ideas. Its legitimacy derives from the justice of its institutions.

Constitutional morality asks a different question from historical tradition. It asks not whether a practice is ancient but whether it is just; not whether it is customary but whether it respects the equal dignity of every citizen. The Supreme Court has repeatedly reaffirmed this principle in decisions such as Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India (2018) and Indian Young Lawyers Association v. State of Kerala (2018), holding that constitutional morality must prevail where social morality infringes fundamental rights.

Yet the constitutional transformation envisioned by Ambedkar remains incomplete. Ambedkar himself distinguished between political democracy and social democracy, warning that the former could not endure without the latter. More than seven decades after Independence, the continued incidence of caste-based atrocities, manual scavenging, honour killings and structural exclusion—documented in reports of the National Crime Records Bureau, the National Human Rights Commission and successive government agencies—demonstrates that constitutional equality has not fully displaced social hierarchy.

The response to this challenge cannot be historical amnesia. Ancient texts should be read, debated and critically examined. But they must be approached as historical artefacts rather than constitutional guides. Legal education should encourage students not only to understand what such texts prescribed but also to examine who benefited from those prescriptions, who was excluded by them, and why independent India consciously chose a different constitutional path.

Every civilisation possesses traditions worth preserving. Every intellectual tradition contains ideas worthy of study. But no tradition becomes immune from criticism merely because it is ancient.

The Constitution occupies a unique place in India’s public life because it represents a conscious normative departure from systems that assign human worth by birth. As Granville Austin argued, it sought to facilitate a peaceful social revolution through democratic institutions rather than through coercion. It is therefore not merely a legal document but an aspirational framework for building a society in which liberty is not restricted by caste, equality is not constrained by status and fraternity is not defeated by inherited divisions.

The Constitution is not a mirror reflecting India as it was. It is a blueprint imagining India as it could be, and ought to be.

The real challenge before Indian institutions is not that they have forgotten their roots. It is that they sometimes forget the purpose of the constitutional project itself. That project was never about recovering an idealised past. It was about constructing a more equal future.

The future of Indian democracy will not ultimately be determined by how frequently it invokes its civilisational inheritance. It will depend on whether its institutions continue to uphold the constitutional vision articulated by Ambedkar, embedded in the Constitution and reaffirmed by the Supreme Court. India’s civilisational inheritance deserves careful study. Its Constitution deserves primacy. The Constitution is not the antithesis of Indian civilisation; it is arguably the Republic’s most profound civilisational achievement.

Oindrila Dasgupta is a doctoral researcher at Guru Gobind Singh Indraprastha University and teaches Social Inclusion and Journalism. Her work focuses on role of journalism in terms of social justice praxis and pedagogy in India.

Courtesy: The AIDEM

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