India’s judiciary has often been described as the last refuge of the common citizen. And yet, over the past decade, that refuge has repeatedly been weakened—not by government interference, as the Opposition theatrically alleges, but by internal decay: VIP culture in court corridors, celebrity lawyering masquerading as constitutional morality, midnight theatrics, forum shopping, frivolous PILs weaponised for political ends, and an alarming collapse in courtroom discipline. Into this climate steps the new Chief Justice of India, Justice Surya Kant, with the clarity of a reformer and the firmness of an institutional guardian. And he is wasting no time signalling that the Supreme Court will once again be a temple of justice—not a playground for fame-seeking advocates or political actors in black robes. His sharp remarks to senior advocate Kapil Sibal—when he asked whether the Opposition truly wanted India’s voter lists flooded with unchecked illegal migrants—mark a decisive shift. For far too long, politically sponsored petitions have been smuggled into the Supreme Court under the guise of “public interest,” seeking to hobble legitimate constitutional processes such as the Election Commission’s nationwide Special Intensive Revision (SIR). Justice Suryakant’s refusal to entertain such mischief sends a powerful message: the Supreme Court will not become an Opposition war room. But his interventions go far beyond one heated exchange. From the moment he took charge, the new CJI has signalled a return to discipline, order, and transparency. He has openly questioned the unhealthy practice of midnight hearings for death-row convicts—proceedings that were less about justice and more about judicial showmanship. He has hinted clearly that the era of “special treatment” is over: no more bypassing queues, no more lawyers storming into court demanding priority hearings because their clients are high-profile politicians, film stars or activists with media clout. He has been blunt about the collegium system as well, describing the need to revisit the long-stalled National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC). The message is unmistakable: judicial appointments must be transparent, accountable, and truly institutional—not driven by closed-door consensus among the powerful few.
Equally transformative are his directions on bail procedures. For the first time in years, the Supreme Court has insisted that public prosecutors must receive bail applications well in advance. No more “surprise mentions,” no more last-minute ambushes, no more adjournments casually sought by either side. The courtroom is not a stage; justice cannot depend on who reaches the microphone first. Justice Surya Kant has also highlighted the urgent need to curb the explosion of frivolous “freedom of expression” litigations. These petitions—often filed by individuals seeking quick headlines—consume crucial court time while genuine litigants wait months or even years. His suggestion that such matters be resolved within two working days is a masterstroke: speedy justice without spectacle. And then there is his quiet but firm insistence on ending the VIP culture inside the Supreme Court. Courtrooms will begin proceedings only between 10 and 10:30 am; no emergency hearings unless absolutely unavoidable; no lobbying for benches or sympathetic judges. For once, judicial efficiency and equality of access take precedence over influence, pressure, and connections. These may sound like administrative tweaks, but taken together they form the most comprehensive push for judicial discipline India has seen in years. They strengthen the integrity of the institution at a time when every constitutional body—from the Election Commission to the Enforcement Directorate—is under reckless attack by an Opposition determined to manufacture distrust. In an era of political noise and institutional cynicism, Justice Suryakant’s approach feels refreshing: principled, consistent, and unapologetically firm. If these measures hold, India’s top court will once again become what the framers intended—an institution that delivers justice without fear, favour or fuss. And more importantly, the ordinary citizen will regain confidence that the Supreme Court belongs to them, not to the powerful lawyers who once treated it as their personal durbar. Justice Suryakant has launched a quiet but powerful surgical strike—not on any individual, but on the systemic distortions that had crept into the judiciary. And if he succeeds, India will not just applaud him; it will rediscover faith in its highest court.
