Justice B.R. Gavai’s recent remarks – “We are alleged of encroaching upon the parliamentary and executive functions”—may have been tempered in tone, but they unmistakably reflect the growing chorus of concern about judicial overreach. The fact that such words were spoken from the Bench, during the hearing of petitions on violence in West Bengal over the Waqf Amendments Act, signals that even the judiciary has begun to sense the rising public unease. This unease isn’t without cause. The Constitution of India under Article 50 mandates a clear separation of powers between the legislature, executive, and judiciary. Article 245 entrusts legislative authority to Parliament and state legislatures, while Article 74-75 vests executive power in the President and Council of Ministers. The judiciary’s role is to interpret the law, not to rewrite it or substitute governance where the executive must act. Yet, recent developments have blurred this sacred line. The Supreme Court’s order fixing a deadline of three months for the Governor and the President to act on pending bills, while perhaps born out of institutional frustration, strays dangerously into legislative and executive domains. This has rightfully raised eyebrows among constitutional experts, including Vice President Jagdeep Dhankhar, a former lawyer and jurist known for his steadfast defence of constitutional propriety. Dhankhar has repeatedly flagged judicial overreach, cautioning that the legitimacy of one institution cannot come at the cost of another. The irony could not be starker. The Supreme Court has previously refused to entertain PILs challenging the original 1995 Waqf Act enacted by the Congress government – a law which granted disproportionate and exclusive adjudicatory powers to the Waqf Boards, shutting the doors of civil courts to aggrieved citizens. When senior advocates like Vishnu Shankar Jain and Ashwini Upadhyay brought these issues to the fore, they were met with dismissiveness. The then CJI DY Chandrachud went so far as to ask whether their “personal land had been encroached” – a bizarre metric to judge the locus of a public interest litigation (PIL).
Fast forward to 2025, and a Constitution Bench led by the current Chief Justice, Justice Sanjiv Khanna, has not only entertained petitions by minority institutions and even political representatives like MP Asaduddin Owaisi, but has also considered issuing interim orders. It took the intervention of Solicitor General Tushar Mehta to secure a week’s adjournment. The sharp contrast in the court’s responsiveness to different groups has not gone unnoticed. When legal scrutiny begins to mirror political lines, judicial impartiality – enshrined under Article 14 of the Constitution—is put at grave risk. Public trust in the judiciary is sacrosanct. But trust cannot be sustained if the Supreme Court appears selective in the petitions it admits and the issues it prioritizes. Articles 32 and 226 empower citizens to approach the courts for the enforcement of fundamental rights, but these cannot be arbitrarily filtered through ideological preferences. If the apex court truly wishes to address allegations of bias, now is the time to act decisively. The sensible course would be to club challenges to both the 1995 and 2025 Waqf Amendments and hear them before a five or seven-judge Constitution Bench. A definitive ruling, delivered within a strict timeline, will not only resolve the legal questions but also restore balance and credibility. Ultimately, the judiciary must remember – it is not above criticism. In a democracy, no institution is immune to public scrutiny. The Constitution provides citizens the right to question authority and to expect justice without prejudice. When a vast majority feels wronged or sidelined, ignoring that sentiment risks not only institutional credibility but also the very harmony our Constitution was designed to protect. The Supreme Court must rise to the occasion before public disappointment turns into disillusionment.
