If the Indian judiciary seeks to retain, let alone restore, public faith, it must confront uncomfortable truths within its own ranks. Judicial independence cannot be allowed to mutate into judicial impunity, especially when judicial orders appear to mock justice rather than uphold it. The Delhi High Court’s recent decision to grant bail to Kuldeep Singh Sengar, a life convict in one of the most horrific criminal cases in recent memory, was one such moment that demanded serious institutional introspection. That imbalance was partially corrected when the Supreme Court swiftly intervened and stayed the bail order. A Bench of the apex court, led by Justice Surya Kant, after hearing strong submissions by the CBI through Solicitor General Tushar Mehta, weighed the gravity of the offence, the documented history of witness elimination, and the catastrophic message such a bail would send to society. This was no routine bail matter. It involved a former MLA convicted for the rape of a minor, followed by a chilling sequence of events—the murder of the victim’s father, and the killing of her relatives and legal counsel while they were travelling to court to testify. Few cases in recent judicial history illustrate more starkly a sustained and ruthless attempt to derail the justice process. Yet, bail was granted—apparently on technical grounds—based on a narrow interpretation that an MLA does not qualify as a “public servant” under the relevant legal provisions. Such reasoning may satisfy legal purists, but when applied in isolation to crimes of extreme brutality, it strips the law of its moral compass. Courts are not meant to function as grammar checkers of statutes; they are custodians of justice. Law divorced from lived reality ceases to be justice and becomes an exercise in sterile interpretation. Claims that the Supreme Court acted under “media pressure” are not only absurd but dangerous. They undermine the authority of the highest constitutional court and trivialise legitimate public outrage in a case that has come to symbolise the vulnerability of victims within India’s criminal justice system.
Under Section 439 of the CrPC, higher courts do enjoy discretionary powers to grant bail. But discretion is inseparable from responsibility. The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that in cases involving heinous offences—particularly those punishable with life imprisonment—courts must apply a far stricter threshold. Bail jurisprudence was never intended to reward technical cleverness at the cost of substantive justice. Equally important is Article 21 of the Constitution, which guarantees the right to life and dignity—not merely to the accused, but to victims as well. A judicial order that appears to disregard the trauma of victims and their families erodes the very constitutional ethos the judiciary claims to defend. This brings us to the most sensitive, yet unavoidable, question: accountability. Judicial independence does not mean judges are immune from scrutiny. When an order borders on a miscarriage of justice, institutional mechanisms must be activated. The credibility of the judiciary suffers far more from inaction than from transparent self-correction. No one is advocating for witch hunts or executive interference. But when courts appear disconnected from ground realities, the Supreme Court must send a clear message down the judicial hierarchy. Erroneous decisions of this magnitude cannot be brushed aside as mere “differences of interpretation.” They demand explanation—and, where warranted, consequences. For now, Sengar remains behind bars, partly because he is serving sentences in other cases. The Delhi High Court’s order has been stayed, not struck down, and due process will take its course. That is as it should be. But the damage to public confidence has already been done. Justice must not only be done—it must be seen to be done. When bail begins to resemble betrayal, the judiciary risks losing the very moral authority on which its legitimacy ultimately rests.
