The judiciary today is not so much denying bail to undertrials languishing in jail for five years—it is reinforcing a far more dangerous belief: that the state can incarcerate anyone without reason, and without consequence. Accountability is absent. Bail is granted selectively, often justified with lofty references to "human rights" and "personal liberty." But these rights, it seems, are reserved for the powerful—those with expansive legal teams and deep pockets.
How can we expect justice when judicial appointments are made by superannuating others, and party spokespersons are inducted into the system? Figures like Ram Rahim enjoy state patronage, and the courts have allowed it. The rot runs deep.
What is a common citizen to do?
Judicial verdicts have rarely been objective. They are shaped by subjectivity, cloaked in legalese. This is precisely why Justice Muralidhar and Justice A.P. Shah never made it to the Supreme Court. The abrupt transfer of Justice Muralidhar from Delhi to Odisha remains a glaring example. Within the corridors of power, it is well known who will grant bail and who will not. Is this objectivity? Justice Bela Trivedi, for instance, reportedly never granted bail during her tenure—and nothing came of it. A few murmurs, no accountability.
To speak of judicial impartiality today is to be naïve. The judiciary is part of the system; it cannot truly oppose the state or its leaders. The last time it showed any spine was during the Emergency, when Indira Gandhi was summoned and her election from Rae Bareli declared invalid. Could the judiciary muster such courage today?
Most judgments now resemble grand speeches, filled with hollow invocations of "the world’s largest democracy," "liberty," and "human rights." These words are deployed selectively. Courts, too, understand power. The powerful get relief because they can afford lawyers who can demand bail at will.
It doesn’t matter whether you support the government or oppose it. What matters is whether you are powerful, well-known, and capable of hiring a Kapil Sibal or Abhishek Singhvi.
Umar Khalid’s case—and many others like his—sparked national outrage. But the deeper truth is darker: people are rotting in jail for five or more years without a chargesheet or trial. The process itself has become punishment. Families of the incarcerated suffer daily—physically, mentally, emotionally. The state apparatus remains unaccountable. We once argued that police and legal officers should be held liable for wrongful cases. But in today’s climate, that seems impossible. Bureaucracy, judiciary, police, media, and government—all wield power without accountability. Law has become a tool of intimidation, bent to the whims of those who control it.
It is time—indeed, long overdue—for political parties, bar associations, and media outlets with courage to speak out against this blatant violation of the law. Law is meant to liberate and deliver justice. It cannot be weaponized to punish dissent or threaten political opponents.
The hypocrisy is glaring. Former Chief Justices have repeatedly affirmed that "bail is the rule, jail the exception." But this principle seems to apply only to the likes of Ram Rahim and others with similar privilege.
There’s no need to feign surprise. Liberty, freedom, and human rights are granted by the state and its ruling apparatus. This truth is loud and clear. Those who can afford elite lawyers and have powerful backers will find justice. The rest will suffer.
Someday, perhaps, the Supreme Court will awaken. We will sing songs of victory and joy—“justice is done.” Journalists and opinion-makers will once again proclaim the judiciary as the last hope in dark times. And yet, undertrials will continue to suffer and die, without anyone held accountable. The spectacle of the "largest democracy" with an "independent judiciary" will go on. The aam janta will be expected to clap and bow before the power of "justice."
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*Human rights defender
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