As a woman political activist and an ordinary citizen who still believes in the strength of India’s democratic institutions, I watched the proceedings in the widely discussed Twisha case with a mix of hope, anguish, and growing discomfort. Whether the case ultimately amounts to murder or suicide is for the courts to determine based on evidence. The principle that “law must take its own course” is fundamental to any civilized society. Yet the larger question troubling many citizens is this: when a grieving family feels unheard by every institution around them — from the police to sections of the administration — where should they turn for emotional and constitutional reassurance if not the judiciary?
That concern deserves expression within the bounds of democratic criticism.
The recent directions reportedly restraining the victim’s parents from engaging with the media have triggered unease among many observers. Courts undoubtedly possess the authority to protect the integrity of ongoing investigations and trials. Fair trial rights are essential. Media sensationalism can also distort public understanding and prejudice proceedings. These are valid judicial concerns.
However, public confidence in the justice system is equally important.
When a bereaved family approaches the media after feeling neglected or unheard, their actions are often born not from contempt for the judiciary, but from desperation. In several high-profile cases across India, sustained media scrutiny has compelled institutions to act more transparently and efficiently. Ignoring this reality would be intellectually dishonest.
Indeed, many citizens believe that the national attention surrounding the Twisha case emerged largely because portions of the media consistently highlighted alleged inconsistencies and demanded accountability. Without that attention, the matter may never have received such nationwide scrutiny. That is not an attack on institutions; it is an observation on how public discourse functions in a democracy.
What appears troubling to many is the perception of imbalance.
While the victim’s parents were cautioned about public commentary, some observers feel that equally strong restraint was not visibly imposed on others making public statements, including remarks that allegedly cast aspersions on the character of the deceased. In emotionally charged cases, selective perception itself becomes dangerous because justice must not only be done, but must also appear to be done. Courts have repeatedly emphasized this principle in constitutional jurisprudence.
The issue, therefore, is not whether judges should regulate public commentary. They can and sometimes must. The concern is whether similar standards are seen as being applied uniformly to all parties connected to a case.
Citizens are entitled to ask such questions respectfully.
There is another issue that deserves serious introspection. In recent years, certain courtroom observations in unrelated matters — including remarks perceived as dismissive toward unemployed youth or insensitive to matters of public faith — have generated criticism beyond political lines. Judicial observations, even when informal, carry enormous moral weight. A single phrase uttered from the Bench can deeply affect public sentiment. Judges are human, and criticism of judicial remarks does not automatically amount to criticism of the institution itself.
In fact, constructive criticism often strengthens institutions.
India’s judiciary remains one of the pillars sustaining constitutional democracy. It has delivered historic judgments protecting liberty, free speech, and fundamental rights. Citizens continue to approach courts because they still trust the institution. But trust is not maintained through contempt powers alone; it is strengthened through transparency, consistency, empathy, and restraint in language.
That is why emotional reactions to judicial proceedings should not be dismissed outright as ignorance or hostility. Sometimes they reflect a deeper anxiety within society — the fear that ordinary citizens may not possess equal access to influence, resources, or institutional protection.
The Twisha matter has also reopened debate about dowry-related violence and the social failures surrounding such cases. India’s literacy rates may have risen dramatically, yet crimes linked to domestic abuse and dowry harassment continue to surface with disturbing regularity. Laws exist, but implementation often depends on the sensitivity and urgency shown by institutions at every stage.
Parliament, state legislatures, investigative agencies, and the judiciary all share responsibility in ensuring that victims’ families do not feel abandoned.
Criticism of judgments or judicial conduct, when expressed responsibly and without malice, falls within democratic discourse. Courts themselves have repeatedly upheld the importance of free speech, provided it does not obstruct justice or scandalize institutions through falsehoods. Citizens, therefore, must exercise restraint and responsibility — but institutions too must remain open to introspection.
The judiciary commands enormous respect in this country. Precisely for that reason, many citizens expect not just legal correctness from the Bench, but also visible sensitivity toward grief.
Because in the end, justice is not merely a technical process.
It is also a human one.
