Constitutional Law and Philosophy

Issues in Contemporary Constitutional Law, with a

Special Focus on India and Kenya

ACCESS TO RELIGIOUS SPACES / ARTICLE 14 / ARTICLE 21 AND THE RIGHT TO LIFE /

EQUALITY / ESSENTIAL RELIGIOUS PRACTICES / FREEDOM OF RELIGION / SEX
EQUALITY

The Sabarimala Judgment – III: Justice

Chandrachud and Radical Equality
SEPTEMBER 29, 2018SEPTEMBER 29, 2018 GAUTAM BHATIA 16 COMMENTS
Justice Indu Malhotra’s dissenting opinion sets up a crucial constitutional question: how do you
reconcile the Constitution’s commitment to pluralism – which entails respect for group autonomy
– with the claims of equality and non-discrimination, addressed from within those groups? It is
this question that is at the heart of Justice Chandrachud’s concurring opinion.

Chandrachud J. sets up the issue in the introductory part of his judgment, where he observes that
the Indian Constitution is transformative in two distinct ways: first, in setting up the governing
institutions of an independent republic, transitioning from colonial rule; but also, “placing those
who were denuded of their human rights before the advent of the Constitution – whether in the
veneer of caste, patriarchy or otherwise – … in control of their own destinies by the assurance of
the equal protection of law” (paragraph 2). The reference to caste and patriarchy is important,
because it acknowledges that discrimination is not limited to State action, or even to
hostile individual action, but that it also flows from institutional design: caste and patriarchy are
neither “State” nor an agglomeration of individual acts where you can attribute discriminatory
agency to identifiable individuals. They are social institutions.

And because they are social institutions, their impact upon the lives of the people that they touch
is not merely a private matter. In paragraph 5, therefore, Chandrachud J. observes:

Essentially, the significance of this case lies in the issues which it poses to the adjudicatory role of this
Court in defining the boundaries of religion in a dialogue about our public spaces. (paragraph 5)

The use of the word “public spaces” is crucial, and especially when you juxtapose it with Malhotra
J.’s dissenting opinion, which we discussed in the previous post. Recall that for Malhotra J., there
was a distinction between a “social evil” like Sati – where a Court could potentially intervene –
and a case like Sabarimala, where the challenge was based on irrationality or immorality. It is this
public/private binary – social evil (public) and bare immorality (private) – that Chandrachud J.
rejects, by framing the issue as about access to public spaces.

It is within this framework that Chandrachud J. begins his substantive analysis.

Essential Religious Practices

After surveying the body of precedent concerning the ERP test – and also noting the shift from
“essentially religious” to “essential religious”, that we have discussed on this blog – Chandrachud
J.’s judgment has a section titled “The engagement of essential religious practices with
constitutional values.” At the threshold, Chandrachud J. finds that the Respondents have failed to
establish that the exclusion of women from Sabarimala is either an obligatory part of religion, or
has been consistently practiced over the years. The evidence, at best, demonstrates the celibate
nature of Lord Ayappa, but this in itself does not establish that exclusion of women is part of ERP
(paragraph 51).

However, apart from the traditional and straightforward analysis of whether or not a religious
claim amounts to an essential religious practice, Chandrachud J. also advances an important
alternative argument: that “the test of essentiality is infused with … necessary limitations”
(paragraph 50), limitations that are grounded in constitutional morality, and the constitutional
values of dignity and freedom. So, at paragraph 55, Chandrachud J. notes:

The Respondents submitted that the deity at Sabarimala is in the form of a Naishtika Brahmacharya:
Lord Ayyappa is celibate. It was submitted that since celibacy is the foremost requirement for all the
followers, women between the ages of ten and fifty must not be allowed in Sabarimala. There is an
assumption here, which cannot stand constitutional scrutiny. The assumption in such a claim is that a
deviation from the celibacy and austerity observed by the followers would be caused by the presence of
women. Such a claim cannot be sustained as a constitutionally sustainable argument. Its effect is to
impose the burden of a man’s celibacy on a woman and construct her as a cause for deviation from
celibacy. This is then employed to deny access to spaces to which women are equally entitled. To suggest
that women cannot keep the Vratham is to stigmatize them and stereotype them as being weak and lesser
human beings. A constitutional court such as this one, must refuse to recognize such claims.
(paragraph 55)

As a piece of discrimination law reasoning this is, of course, impeccable. But there is something
more at work here, which I want to highlight. Chandrachud J.’s observation that the effect of the
celibacy argument “is to impose the burden of a man’s celibacy on a woman” is the crucial link
between the denial of the right to worship (which Malhotra J., in her dissent, regards as a private,
internal matter to religion) and the public aspect of this case. What Chandrachud J. recognises is
that the justification offered to exclude women is an integral part of a far broader discourse that is
founded on the exclusion and subordination of women in social and community life. This becomes
clear two paragraphs down, where he discusses the stigma around menstruation (another
justification that was advanced by the Respondents), and observes:

The stigma around menstruation has been built up around traditional beliefs in the impurity of
menstruating women. They have no place in a constitutional order. These beliefs have been used to
shackle women, to deny them equal entitlements and subject them to the dictates of a patriarchal order.
(paragraph 57)
The phrase “patriarchal order” is an important one. It indicates that the exclusion of women from
Sabarimala is not simply – as Malhotra J. would have it – a unique and particular feature of that
specific religious community, and something that can be isolated from the broader world around
it. Rather, the exclusion of women from Sabarimala on the grounds of celibacy and menstruation is
one among countless ways in which patriarchy – as a social institution – works to keep women in a
position of subordination.

Justice Malhotra and Justice Chandrachud, therefore, come at the issue from opposite angles.
What Malhotra J. sees as a claim requiring that religion be subordinated to the diktats of morality,
Chandrachud J. understands as challenge to one manifestation of patriarchal subordination itself.
According to Chandrachud J., you cannot divide social life into different silos, and say that
discrimination and subordination are fine as long as they stay within a defined silo. At least as far
as religion and society are concerned, in the context of India, the silos are forever merged. As
Alladi Krishnaswamy Iyer said in the Constitutional Drafting Committee, “there is no religious
question that is not also a social question.”

It perhaps needs to be noted that history is on Justice Chandrachud’s side. In India, temple-entry
movements have a long history, and have always been framed in the language of civil rights, and
access to public spaces. This was especially true of the great caste-based temple-entry movements of
the 1920s and 30s (which are discussed later in the judgment). This substantiates the argument that
in India, the “thick” character of religious life implies that you cannot simply wall it off from the
rest of social life. Consequently, discrimination within religion is hardly an isolated event, like – for
example – the non-appointment of a woman to a clerical post in an American Church, which was
upheld by that Supreme Court. Rather, at the heart of Chandrachud J.’s judgment is the
understanding that discrimination within religion both reinforces and is reinforced by,
discrimination in broader social life.

Untouchability

This understanding is reinforced in what is undoubtedly the boldest and most radical part of
Chandrachud J.’s judgment. An argument was made by the intervenors that the exclusion of
women from Sabarimala amounts to “untouchability” within the meaning of Article 17. The Chief
Justice and Nariman J. do not address this argument, and Malhotra J. rejects it on the ground that
“untouchability” under the Indian Constitution is limited to caste-based untouchability.

Chandrachud J. disagrees. After a detailed survey of the Constituent Assembly Debates (which we
have discussed previously on this blog, here), he correctly observes that there was no consensus in
the Constituent Assembly over the precise scope and ambit of the phrase. But when you place the
moment of constitutional framing within broader history, you have an answer:

The answers lie in the struggle for social emancipation and justice which was the defining symbol of the
age, together with the movement for attaining political freedom but in a radical transformation of society
as well. (paragraph 73)

And:
 Reading Dr Ambedkar compels us to look at the other side of the independence movement. Besides the
struggle for independence from the British rule, there was another struggle going on since centuries and
which still continues. That struggle has been for social emancipation. It has been the struggle for the
replacement of an unequal social order. It has been a fight for undoing historical injustices and for
righting fundamental wrongs with fundamental rights. The Constitution of India is the end product of
both these struggles. It is the foundational document, which in text and spirit, aims at social
transformation namely, the creation and preservation of an equal social order. The Constitution
represents the aspirations of those, who were denied the basic ingredients of a dignified existence.
(paragraph 74)

This reminiscent of Granville Austin’s famous line, that the fundamental rights chapter was
framed amidst a history of fundamental wrongs. In these paragraphs, Justice Chandrachud argues
that the meaning of fundamental rights ought be determined by asking the following
question: what was the legacy of injustice that the Constitution sought to acknowledge, and then
transform? That legacy was defined by social hierarchies and social subordination. At its most
virulent form, this took the shape of caste untouchability. However, caste was not the only axis for
exclusion from, and subordination within, the social order. There were others, prime among which
was, of course, sex. Consequently, as Justice Chandrachud observes:

The incorporation of Article 17 into the Constitution is symbolic of valuing the centuries’ old struggle of
social reformers and revolutionaries. It is a move by the Constitution makers to find catharsis in the face
of historic horrors. It is an attempt to make reparations to those, whose identity was subjugated by
society. (paragraph 75)

It is, of course, important not to overstate the case. Not every form of discrimination or prejudice
can fall within Article 17. The framers did after all use the specific word “untouchability”, limiting
the sweep of the Article only to the most horrific kind of discrimination. Chandrachud J. is aware
of this, because he then goes on to justify why exclusion based on menstruation falls within Article
17:

The caste system represents a hierarchical order of purity and pollution enforced by social compulsion.
Purity and pollution constitute the core of caste. (paragraph 76)

And of course, it is purity and pollution that are at the heart of excluding menstruating women –
not just from temples but, as regularly happens in our country – from all forms of human contact
during the menstrual period. Chandrachud J.’s important insight, therefore, is this: the social
exclusion of a set of people (who are in any event historically subjugated), grounded in ideas
about purity and pollution, amounts to a manifestation of the kind of “untouchability” that the
Constitution seeks to prescribe. This does not mean, of course, that it is not caste-based
untouchability that is at the heart of Article 17; nor does it seek to dilute the severity of that
institution, or the Constitution’s commitment to wipe it out. What it does acknowledge, however,
is that the same logic that is at the base of caste-based untouchability, also takes other forms and
other manifestations. These manifestations may not be at the core of Article 17, but they do deserve
its protection:

Article 17 is a powerful guarantee against exclusion. As an expression of the anti-exclusion principle, it

cannot be read to exclude women against whom social exclusion of the worst kind has been practiced and
legitimized on notions of purity and pollution. (paragraph 75)

And therefore:
 The caste system has been powered by specific forms of subjugation of women. The notion of “purity and
pollution” stigmatizes the menstruation of women in Indian society. In the ancient religious texts and
customs, menstruating women have been considered as polluting the surroundings. Irrespective of the
status of a woman, menstruation has been equated with impurity, and the idea of impurity is then used
to justify their exclusion from key social activities. (paragraph 81) (internal footnotes omitted)

In an important way, this links back to the previous argument about essential religious practices. It
is obviously absurd to compare the exclusion of women (and mostly upper-caste women at that)
from a temple with “untouchability” as we understand it. But that is something that Chandrachud
J. very consciously does not do. What he does do is to link the underlying basis of the exclusion in
Sabarimala with something that goes far beyond, and permeates very layer of society: this is why
he specifies that the idea of impurity justifies exclusion from “key social activities.” In other
words, it is not about exclusion from worship, but – yet again – how that exclusion both reinforces
and is reinforced by an existing and overarching set of discriminatory institutions and systems.

Exist, Pursued by a Bear: Narasu Appa Mali

There is one more important thing that Chandrachud J. does in his concurrence. Noting that the
exclusion of women has also been justified on the basis of “custom”, he examines – and overrules
– the Narasu Appa Mali (https://indiankanoon.org/doc/54613/) judgment on the specific point that
customs are not subject to fundamental rights.

In terms of outcomes, this is not new: in Madhu Kishwar v State of Bihar, the Supreme Court has
already held that customs are subject to fundamental rights. However, that case did not
examine Narasu: here, Chandrachud J. does, and specifically finds that its reasoning is flawed.

This is very important, because Narasu also held that “personal law” – that is, uncodified religious
law – was outside the scope of fundamental rights review. The reasoning for that was the same,
and so, also stands discredited. As Chandrachud J. points out, the reasoning given by the Bombay
High Court in Narasu – that, for example, the existence of Article 17 shows that the framers
intended to specifically include customs that they wished to proscribe – does not hold water. More
importantly, however, is the affirmative case that Chandrachud J. advances:

Custom, usages and personal law have a significant impact on the civil status of individuals. Those
activities that are inherently connected with the civil status of individuals cannot be granted
constitutional immunity merely because they may have some associational features which have a
religious nature. To immunize them from constitutional scrutiny, is to deny the primacy of the
Constitution. (paragraph 99)

In other words, there cannot be islands of norms and prescriptions that are granted constitutional
immunity. As with the ERP and the untouchability argument, the rationale is the same: the
individual is the basic unit of the Constitution, and norms, practices, prescriptions, rules,
commands and whatever else that have the potential to impair individual dignity or block access
to basic goods in society, must pass constitutional scrutiny (paragraph 100).

And indeed, Chandrachud J. goes on step further with this thought, noting that the ERP test itself
ought – in future – give way to a test that asks not whether a practice is “essential” (which is, after
all, a question that the believers, and not the Court, should answer), but asks whether the
impugned practice is socially exclusionary, and denies individuals access to the basic goods
required for living a dignified life (Disclaimer: this part of the judgment cites an article of mine, and I
will readily admit to being biased in favour of the anti-exclusion argument.)

Conclusion

In the previous post, we discussed Malhotra J.’s dissent. We saw how Malhotra J. raises an
important question: how do we reconcile the Constitution’s commitment to pluralism with judicial
intervention into internal religious affairs? We have now seen how Chandrachud J. has answered
it: the commitment to pluralism and respect for group autonomy must be understood within
a Constitutional framework that places individual freedom and dignity at its heart. The
Constitution recognises group autonomy because, often, group life promotes individual freedom
and dignity. Community, after all, is crucial to self-development. But groups can also restrict
freedom and dignity, and it is in those circumstances that a Court must step in and balance the
competing claims.

In Sabarimala, Chandrachud J. attempts to demonstrate how, in fact, the proscription in question

does restrict freedom and dignity, and therefore, should be judicially invalidated. He does so by
telescoping outwards from the singular event itself (exclusion from worship in one temple), and
showing how this single event of exclusion is nested in an entire social and institutional order that is
characterised by hierarchy, subordination, and exclusion. We may call this patriarchy, or we may call
this something else, but the argument is clear: it’s not about worship at Sabarimala (which is what
Malhotra J. limits it to, and therefore classifies it as simply about seeking morality or rationality),
but about what exclusion from worship means in a broader context. To take an example: think of a
Whites-Only signboard outside a restaurant in Apartheid South Africa. The point is not
that one private restaurant owner has decided to exclude blacks from his private property. The
point, rather, is how that signboard is an integral element of the practice and institution of
apartheid. The crucial insight that Chandrachud J. brings in his judgment is that recognition of the
institutional character of discrimination and inequality, and how that must be constitutionally
combatted. As he notes, towards the end:

In the dialogue between constitutional freedoms, rights are not isolated silos. In infusing each other with
substantive content, they provide a cohesion and unity which militates against practices that depart from
the values that underlie the Constitution – justice, liberty, equality and fraternity. Substantive notions
of equality require the recognition of and remedies for historical discrimination which has pervaded
certain identities. Such a notion focuses on not only distributive questions, but on the structures of
oppression and domination which exclude these identities from participation in an equal life. An
indispensable facet of an equal life, is the equal participation of women in all spheres of social activity.
(paragraph 117)

It is that which makes it a transformative judgment.

GENDER DISCRIMINATION, GENDER EQUALITY, SABARIMALA, SEX

DISCRTIMINATION, SEX EQUALITY

16 thoughts on “The Sabarimala Judgment – III: Justice

Chandrachud and Radical Equality”
Tejaswi says:
SEPTEMBER 29, 2018 AT 10:10 PM
No wonder the law is so bewildering/baffling to the layman. In the previous post, the
Malhotra dissent seemed reasonable in one way. The very next post shows that another
approach is possible. Therefore, Gautam, with this judgement, is it now possible for, say,
someone like Yesudas to approach the court with a demand to be allowed entry into
Guruvayoor temple? If not, why not? After all he seemingly is devoted to the same god, is
likely to follow the requirements of that temple or faith, is a devotee even though he belongs to
a different religion. Is this admonition which disallows non-Hindus to participate in worship
there not the same as apart-hood or untouchability in many ways?
Yes, I do think it will open the doors (oops, pun) for other demands elsewhere, too. Mind you,
as an atheist, I do not see why any religious entity would prohibit followers from visiting its
place of worship or, for that matter, why any follower would insist upon rationality to be the
principle in deciding what the entity must or must not do.

REPLY
vijay mehta says:
SEPTEMBER 30, 2018 AT 7:42 AM
Chandrachud J replied correctly to the riders placed by Indu Malhotra J.In nutshell the
Constitution of India is supreme and all other Constitutions of religions and groups have to be
in tune with the Constitution of India, it is as simple as that…..the ignorance and prejudices on
the part of litigants and advocates have made the same as if it is rocket science…..

REPLY
Nirmesh Mehta says:
SEPTEMBER 30, 2018 AT 11:34 PM
I think that J. Chandrachud has gone overboard with this verdict.

Specifically, the first point that I have an issue with are the lines – “The stigma around
menstruation has been built up around traditional beliefs in the impurity of menstruating
women. They have no place in a constitutional order. These beliefs have been used to shackle
women, to deny them equal entitlements and subject them to the dictates of a patriarchal order.
(paragraph 57)”

It is important to note that J. Chandrachud has as issue – not with actions – but with beliefs.
That is deeply troubling. If one agrees that “having beliefs” can be unconstitutional, then both
free speech and privacy lose their meaning. This is unlikely since it is settled law that only
actions can be illegal / unconstitutional. So now the question is – how germane is the word
“beliefs” to the rest of the case? Can we replace it with actions?

Unfortunately, it is the core of the argument. First, the actions involved in stigma around
menstruation are too numerous to list and too intertwined with “relatively justifiable” ones (for
instance, “dirty menstruating women” are “discouraged” to draw water from the well – which
is probably physically demanding or are “encouraged” to sleep on separate bedding – judge
this in an era when sanitary napkins were not available). I, for one, am unable to see how the
SC can go about criminalizing, say, a mother in law TELLING her daughter in law that it is the
custom of their house that menstruating women do not enter the kitchen. Similarly, the linkage
to untouchability is only via these beliefs – and not via any actions.
The second point that I have an issue with the statement “This is then employed to deny access
to spaces to which women are equally entitled.”. At the heart of it, this statement says that
temples are “public spaces” where “constitution morality applies”. Again, there is no getting
away from this. Social context is fine but imposing non discrimination requires either calling
the temple as a public place or micromanaging behaviour of private entities. The second option
will evidently not do, hence the statement that basically calls temples as public places but not
explicitly.

If temples really are public places then restrictions in temples should be no broader than in
other places. Can temples really require people to not wear revealing dresses in their premises
– much less cover their head? Can temples ban people from eating, say, meat in their premises?
Or, to take an extreme example, if the Ram Janmabhoomi case were to be decided in favour of
Muslims and a mosque be buit there, can a Hindu be prevented from entering a “public place”,
chanting the name of Ram and indulging in idol worship?

J. Chandrachud partially seeks to overcome these objections by claiming that religious

questions and social questions are intertwined, that the constitution clearly allows interference
into social questions and hence religious questions are fair game. My counter argument is that
this actually shows the limits of using the Constitution as a transformative document for social
change. If religious or social practices are allowed only subject to “constitutional morality”
then constitutional morality itself will become a religion. Worse, we will no longer be secular
since “constitutional morality” will be the only religion allowed.

For instance consider the argument – “The stigma around meat eating has been built up
around traditional Brahminical beliefs in the impurity of meat. They have no place in a
constitutional order. These beliefs have been used to shackle the lower castes, to deny them
equal enjoyment of their preferred food habits and subject them to the dictates of the
Brahmin.” – and its application to force Langars to serve meat.

In my opinion, social evils are truly evil when the associated institution is dominant; the
remedy is NOT to destroy all such institutions (or subject them to laws) but rather to have a
variety of institutions so that none become dominant. And the Constitution must consider
itself as one of the same set. Hence, the only way out is for the Constitution to limit itself – first
by keeping as aloof from religious and social questions as possible, and second by enabling a
richer variety on institutions – the family, extended family, university, sects etc. by
MINIMIZING the ability of the bureaucrat to interfere with them.

Trying to cure social evils by changing the dominant institution initially seems very seductive
but over time the dominant institution creates its own social evils – just take a look at Islam
(which ‘cured’ so many evils in the medival period) or even political correctness movements
(people can lose a job due to a single tweet – hello freedom of expression).

Which opens the issue of what are courts and legislatures to do about social evils – practices
like caste discrimination, female foeticide and untouchability. My first question is – if seventy
years later, we still need a law against untouchability what is the point of it anyways? On the
other hand, we are still waiting for laws that are actually able to prevent an accussed from
being tortured in jail – something that is not allowed even for an enemy combatant (who by
definition does not have right to life). Personally, I think the courts should spend more time on
fixing issue like these rather than turn social reformers – especially on issues that have little
practical impact.
REPLY
shirenpanjolia says:
OCTOBER 7, 2018 AT 5:07 PM
This is one the few times where reading comments was more fun than reading the actual
post.
Do you have any other write-ups on the same issue anywhere? If yes, please share.

REPLY
Cosmos says:
OCTOBER 20, 2018 AT 3:57 PM
Good questions raised.

REPLY
Srikanth says:
NOVEMBER 7, 2018 AT 5:13 AM
Thanks for the words.

REPLY
Priya S. says:
APRIL 18, 2019 AT 4:49 PM
Totally disagree with Nirmesh’s view.
Firstly, his argument that that Chandrachud J has an issue with beliefs, not actions. In
Sabarimala case, the belief does not remain limited at the conceptual level of pure thought;
rather, it drives actions of the temple board in banning women within a specific age group
from entering the temple. Therefore, not just the action, but the thought propagating the
action, is pernicious and should be challenged.

Let’s take the example cited by him of a MIL TELLING her DIL about the custom of the
house banning menstruating women from entering the kitchen. Taking this example to its
logical conclusion: yes, it is completely within the rights of her DIL to challenge the MIL in
a court of law IF this belief of MIL/ custom of the house bars the DIL from entering the
kitchen on specific days (I.e. an ACTION taken by MIL basis her beliefs). Let’s not forget
that though MIL might be the dominant party in the house, the DIL has an equal right and
say in the house and her entry to the kitchen should not depend on MIL’s interpretation of
customs of the house.

The key mistake that many (male) commentators seem to make is to assume customs to be
immutable. They clearly are not. E.g. going back 150-200 years, getting daughters married
before their menarche was a custom followed by a majority of Hindus. With social progress
AND impact of laws prohibiting child marriage, that custom has largely faded.
Communities following the custom of child marriage did oppose laws abolishing this
custom. At the time when laws against child marriage were enacted, they would have
raised the same spectre of “essential practices”, “group autonomy” and so on. But today,
one wouldn’t question the justice and utility of these laws.

The argument about having a variety of institutions so that none become dominant: is
similar to arguments made by high caste Hindus in Maharashtra who opposed entry of
untouchables in temples who suggested separate temples for untouchables (e.g. Patit pavan
 temple). A separate institution does not demolish a pernicious custom; it rather circumvents
it and allows it to continue longer than it should. Would Nirmesh now oppose entry to
lower caste Hindus into temples on the grounds that it is against the beliefs of Hinduism?

His argument about legislature staying out of banning social evils and fixing issues such as
torture in custody: Turning the argument on its head, laws banning untouchability are NOT
futile precisely because they are still needed 70 years after independence. The law must
exist because the social issue has not gone away. Nirmesh must be extremely optimistic if
he thinks that torture in custody continues ONLY for the want of a law prohibiting it and
that it would stop the moment a law is enacted prohibiting it. After all, torture is an
ACTION based upon a BELIEF about the lack of rights of prisoners. The law will prohibit
the ACTION and thereby challenge the belief. Banning the action will itself go a long way
towards altering the beliefs.

REPLY
4. Excerpts from the Bulletin: Part VII – ILS Centre for Public Law says:
OCTOBER 2, 2018 AT 8:06 AM
[…] https://indconlawphil.wordpress.com/2018/09/29/the-sabarimala-judgment-iii-justice-
chandrachud-and-r… […]

REPLY
5. The Sabarimala Judgment – III: Justice Chandrachud And Radical Equality | Live Law says:
OCTOBER 7, 2018 AT 5:24 AM
[…] This article was first published here […]

REPLY
Ramesh says:
OCTOBER 10, 2018 AT 2:26 PM
A Very well reasoned analysis by Nirmesh

REPLY
antardarshi says:
OCTOBER 12, 2018 AT 7:36 AM
Sabarimala Verdict is Extra-Constitutional

Sabarimala Verdict is Extra-Constitutional

by Antar Darshi ([email protected]) Abstract An unbiased interpretation of
the Constitution adhering to the doctrine of basic structure and as guided by the
Preamble shows that the Sabarimala traditions are not only the fundamental religious
rights of the corresponding denomination but also are duty bound to be protected by
every citizen of India. The Supreme Court … Continue reading

Insights of Antar Darshi 2

REPLY