The Supreme Court is not just an institution of law—it is the custodian of faith in India’s constitutional morality. That is why Chief Justice of India B. R. Gavai’s casual remark – “Go and ask the deity itself to do something now” – while hearing a plea to restore a damaged idol of Lord Vishnu at Khajuraho’s Javari temple, is not a passing joke but an unacceptable affront to the Hindu majority. It violates the spirit of judicial responsibility and strikes at the heart of India’s promise of religious freedom. The petitioner had sought restoration of a seven-foot idol of Lord Vishnu, beheaded centuries ago during Mughal invasions, arguing that its mutilation prevents proper worship at the UNESCO-protected site. The Bench could have referred the matter to the Archaeological Survey of India, citing jurisdictional limitations. Instead, the CJI chose ridicule. Fine, he may be a Buddhist and an Ambedkarite by conviction—but that does not entitle him to deride Hindu belief in open court. The Constitution, under Article 25, guarantees every citizen “freedom of conscience and the right freely to profess, practise and propagate religion.” The Supreme Court itself, in the S. R. Bommai case (1994), reminded all constitutional authorities to be sensitive to religious faiths while discharging public duties. Judicial pronouncements have repeatedly emphasized that the courts must not trample on sentiments in matters of worship, even when denying relief on technical grounds. Against this background, the CJI’s remark is a glaring lapse.
The question is simple: would such a comment ever have been made about any other faith? Could the court have told a Muslim petitioner, “Go and ask Allah”? Could it have mocked the crucifixion while deciding a Christian plea? Everyone knows the consequences—instant outrage, violent threats, and a possible collapse of law and order. Yet when it comes to Hindus, mockery is treated as routine, and they are expected to absorb the insult quietly. Why this selective insensitivity? It is no defence that the remark was “not part of the order.” Oral observations from the Bench are not private banter. They are widely reported, carry institutional weight, and often shape the perception of judicial neutrality. Precedents matter. If the Chief Justice of India can lampoon Hindu belief from the Bench, what message does it send to lower courts and to citizens who approach the judiciary for justice in faith-related matters? This is not the first time judges have faced censure for their remarks. Justice Markandey Katju in 2014 faced outrage over sweeping comments on Hindu mythology. Justice Rohinton Nariman, too, was criticised for insensitivity in an unrelated matter. Yet repetition by the highest judicial officer is far more damaging. A Chief Justice must embody restraint, not ridicule. Justice Gavai is set to retire soon. One might have expected wisdom and sobriety in his final days on the Bench. Instead, he has set a precedent that undermines faith in judicial impartiality. His words cannot be brushed aside as humour or irritation. The minimum owed to the Hindu community is a public apology. Anything less would confirm that when it comes to Hindus, even the Supreme Court feels free to mock without accountability. The judiciary commands respect only when it respects the people’s faith. Article 25 was not written to be mocked from the Bench. It was meant to safeguard devotion as much as dissent. For the CJI to insult Lord Vishnu and, by extension, millions of believers, is not only reprehensible—it is unconstitutional.
