India’s judiciary is fast becoming a national punchline. What was once the moral compass of the Republic now appears adrift—confused, inconsistent, and increasingly self-absorbed. From frivolous Public Interest Litigations to politically coloured observations, the higher judiciary seems to have lost touch with both its constitutional duty and the common citizen. When even senior advocates of the Supreme Court complain that constitutional questions are stonewalled or dismissed, it signals decay. When judgments take years, but politically motivated petitions against government policies get lightning-fast hearings, it reeks of selective activism. The rot is visible—and it’s spreading. Take the manner in which the court waded into the farm law protests or entertained speculative challenges to the Citizenship Amendment Act. Those PILs were not about justice; they were designed to paralyse reform and embarrass an elected government. Yet, the Supreme Court’s indulgence gave legitimacy to what were, in effect, street-level agitations dressed up as legal crusades. The same pattern was visible in the Opposition’s hollow cries of “Constitution khatre mein hai”—a narrative imported straight from Western-funded NGOs and their local political surrogates. The judiciary’s silence or softness in countering such deceit has allowed these slogans to fester unchecked. Worse still, the courts have become magnets for anti-development obstruction. Projects critical to India’s growth—from infrastructure corridors to energy plants—have been stalled for years on environmental pretexts that rarely stand scientific scrutiny. The result: economic paralysis dressed up as judicial conscience. Meanwhile, lakhs of ordinary citizens await justice in criminal and civil cases rotting in dusty courtrooms. This is not judicial independence. This is judicial indifference. The people’s unease turned to disbelief when Justice B R Gavai, the current Chief Justice, told a petitioner to “go and plead before your God, Vishnu.” That casual, contemptuous remark—hurting Hindu sentiment in a case related to temple management—was not just undignified, it was symptomatic of the arrogance creeping into the system. It reflected a mindset where some judges seem more interested in sermonising than adjudicating.
Against this backdrop, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent remarks at the National Conference on Strengthening Legal Aid Delivery Mechanisms were not merely advice—they were a warning. His call for simpler, rational, and accessible justice struck at the core of what the judiciary has failed to deliver. “Justice must be made available to everyone,” he said, urging that judgments be written in languages people actually understand. He was right to point out that justice written in Latin and delivered in English is no justice at all for 90% of Indians. When ordinary citizens cannot read, follow, or afford the system that claims to protect them, democracy itself becomes hostage to legal elitism. The Prime Minister’s praise for the Supreme Court’s move to translate 80,000 judgments into 18 Indian languages was generous—but beneath it lay a firm message: reform now or risk irrelevance. In the past decade, the Modi government has shown what institutional reform looks like. The Jan Vishwas Act decriminalised over 3,400 archaic provisions. More than 1,500 obsolete laws were scrapped. The colonial-era Indian Penal Code and CrPC were replaced with modern Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita. Technology-driven initiatives like the e-courts project and NALSA’s legal aid defence system have made justice cheaper and faster. Over eight lakh criminal cases have been resolved under this scheme in just three years. And yet, the judiciary—while pontificating about “backlog” and “reform”—refuses to look inward. It clings to outdated processes, resists accountability, and allows a few activist judges to hijack its moral authority. If this drift continues, the consequences will be grave. The judiciary’s power rests not on the barrel of a gun but on the faith of the people. Once that faith erodes, even the strongest institution collapses from within. Prime Minister Modi’s counsel was not interference—it was statesmanship. It was a timely reminder that justice delayed, distorted, or delivered in arrogance is justice denied. The courts would do well to listen. Because if they don’t, the next verdict won’t come from the Bench—it will come from the people.
