President Droupadi Murmu Calls Judiciary’s Bluff—and Upholds the Constitution
In a political and constitutional landscape too often muddied by judicial overreach and executive hesitation, President Droupadi Murmu has done what few of her predecessors dared: she stood her ground, invoked her authority under Article 143 of the Constitution, and called upon the Supreme Court to explain itself. By seeking a formal clarification from the apex court on its recent verdict in the Tamil Nadu Government vs Governor case, the President has thrown the spotlight on a creeping institutional crisis. The judgment, delivered by a Constitution Bench headed by the now-retired Chief Justice Sanjiv Khanna, had audaciously ruled that if a Governor or the President does not act on a file within three months, the state government’s decision shall be deemed approved. A ruling of this nature is not just legally questionable—it’s constitutionally dangerous. The Tamil Nadu government, led by the DMK, wasted no time in exploiting it, appointing Vice Chancellors across state universities without the Governor’s approval. This is a blatant circumvention of established procedure, and conveniently serves a government already under fire for corrupt, sectarian, and autocratic tendencies. Let’s not pretend this was a one-off anomaly. This ruling fits a troubling pattern of judicial overreach, where courts arrogate to themselves the powers of the executive and legislature. The Vice President of India, Jagdeep Dhankhar, was right in stating that “Parliament is supreme” and that the judiciary has “no mandate to rewrite the Constitution.” This is not a turf war—it is a constitutional necessity to rein in unelected institutions when they stray beyond their mandate.
Former CJI Khanna’s record does little to inspire confidence. He drew widespread criticism for refusing to adjudicate petitions against amendments to the Waqf Act, which many legal experts and concerned citizens believe tilt dangerously in favour of one religious community and undermine the secular character of Indian law. Worse, he even threatened interim orders that could have nullified or stalled an Act passed after full debate in both Houses of Parliament and duly signed into law by the President. It is in this charged context that President Murmu’s intervention is so significant. Quietly but firmly, she consulted legal experts and the central government before sending a letter to the newly sworn-in Chief Justice, demanding clarity on a verdict that effectively strips her office—and that of state Governors—of constitutional discretion. Let’s pause here. This is not just a legal query. It is a bold political assertion by a tribal woman who rose to the highest office in the land, telling a judiciary packed with elites and shielded by privilege: You are not above the Constitution. The symbolism runs deep. A tribal woman President invoking Article 143 to hold accountable her Dalit “brother” in the judiciary—the first Dalit to become CJI—proves that caste tokenism alone cannot guarantee constitutional integrity. What matters is how power is used. Murmu has wielded hers with grace and firmness. Khanna, in contrast, left office under a cloud. As the Supreme Court now prepares to hear the Waqf Act case on May 20, it must take this as a cue for course correction. For too long, India’s judiciary has flirted with activism disguised as interpretation. It’s time for each of the three constitutional wings—the Legislature, the Executive, and the Judiciary—to function within the framework of the Constitution, not above it. In showing the courage to question the court, President Murmu hasn’t just defended her office—she’s defended Indian democracy itself. For that, we say again:
Well done, Rashtrapati ji.
