Law, Order, and Justice

Anyone who has ever walked into an Indian courtroom knows this uneasy truth: the words law, order, and justice do not mean the same thing. They are thrown together as if interchangeable, but in practice they are strangers forced to share a bench.

If Indian courts were truly justice-giving, cases would not crawl across decades, suffocating under technicalities, adjournments, and appeals. A judge would weigh reality as it is, not as codified in procedural limbos, and deliver a verdict that feels holistic, human, and final. But such a judge, in India, would go mad! Justice is impossible in this system, so judges confine themselves to the narrower task of law – a safer, more bureaucratic, less human project.

Law is not justice. Law is not even order. Law is codified philosophy. It is aspirational, telling us what should be, without bothering to ask “how?” Law is the poetry of command, detached from the actual mess of enforcement. Its function is not to be true or practical, but to be repeatable.

Law was not designed for justice. If it were designed for justice, then the world would have found justice in fifty thousand years of human history. But injustice continues. Even the person reading these words right now has faced some kind of grave injustice in their own lives. So we can be sure that law does not serve the purpose of justice, nor was it designed to do so.

Order is a different beast. A violent riot may break the law, but even its mere existence disturbs order. A police firing on rioters may be lawful, but it still violates order. Restraint in retaliation may cause legal or illegal outcomes, but it maintains order. Courts and police ultimately serve order, because order is what keeps society tolerable. Justice has nothing to do with it.

Here lies the greatest confusion: the courts of India routinely proclaim that they are guardians of law. They do not and should not claim to be administrators of justice – even though their judges are called “Justices” and the institution itself is poetically named the Nyaypalika – literally, the dispenser of justice. But this is a fraud of language. The reality is less grand: the courts uphold law, and sometimes they help preserve order. Justice is not their concern, nor could it be. At best, justice may be an unintended by-product. English strips away the illusion – a “court” is just an arena of argument. The Hindi word promises a moral universe; the English word promises only a stage. And we continue to expect justice from institutions that were never designed to provide it.

Recent remarks by a member of the Prime Minister’s Economic Advisory Council have exposed other facets of this linguistic fraud. Calling the judiciary as the biggest hurdle in the path to a developed nation, he pointed out that inside a courtroom, judges are addressed as “My Lords” and a request is inevitably termed as a “prayer”, effectively elevating judges to a God-like status. This institutionalization of devotion to a procedural body has been a dangerous game that has been played for far too long.

The result is tragicomic. Citizens enter a courtroom seeking justice. What they receive is law – delayed, distorted, and sometimes denied. The court does not concern itself with truth, only with procedure. Reality does not matter; compliance does. The courtroom is a theatre where the illusion of justice is maintained, because the myth is more stabilizing than the truth.

Justice itself is not the natural order of the universe; it is an artificial human invention. The lion does not apologize to the deer. The predator does not negotiate with the prey. Nature knows no justice. Only humans invented it, and having invented it, we fail to uphold it. Why persist in the lie? Better to accept the world as it is – Random. Brutal. Unfair.

What courts actually provide is not justice but a controlled illusion of justice – a spectacle of procedures, robes, and rituals that convinces society the game is fair. Without this illusion, order might collapse. Perhaps that is why we cling to the fraud of language; why the Nyaypalika must continue to pretend it dispenses justice, while in truth it only recites law.

The Assault: The Government has taken notice, and is not sitting quietly. The 130^th Constitutional Amendment proposed the removal of a Prime Minister or Chief Minister after 30 days of arrest without a trial. This signals a brutal truth – the country no longer needs courts to stand in its way. Due-process is expendable. Trial is optional. Accusation is conviction. Even though the government lacks the numbers to pass such a bill in the parliament, it has sparked a debate: is the judiciary dispensable?

In the same vein, recent amendments to the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Prevention of Money Laundering Act allow for restitution of personal property without conviction, i.e. the government can sell-off an accused’s property without while the trial is still pending. The court’s verdict is no longer the final instrument.

The President of India has in a recent public statement called for exams for appointment of judges rather than the conventional way of collegium recommendations, similar to how bureaucrats are selected. She has overlooked the fact that in this country, the bureaucracy is notoriously infamous for being the first line of corruption. In another speech, the retired Chief Justice Ramana has noted that the faith of the public in the judiciary is eroding.

The Government seems to be creating space for a debate on whether the judiciary is really a necessity for the county, or must such a flawed judiciary be dispensed with altogether? Right now, the only argument in favor of the judiciary seems to be “what is the alternative?” Ironically, this is the same argument used to support a self-proclaimed non-biological divine minister by the same government in absence of a legitimate opposition. This government has also been notorious for delegitimizing institutions such as investigating agencies and the election commission. The judiciary may be the last thorn in its path.

The Proposal: Let us be honest. Let us abandon delusion. Let the courts no longer be called Nyaypalikas. They are Kaanoonpalikas – keepers of law. Let the judges shed their presumptuous title of “Justice.” They are Law Aspirants. This would at least cure us of the false hope that walking into a courtroom means walking into justice.

If we could dare to rename our courts, our judges, and our expectations, perhaps we could finally stop confusing law with justice, order with fairness, and illusions with truth. Until then, the great deception continues – theatrics of justice without justice, performed daily in the name of law.

Honesty is more revolutionary than ritual. Let’s stop calling it justice when it is merely law. Let the raw power run naked. Strip away the illusion, confront the chaos, and create meaning without the crutches of myth.

Cracks in the IBC – A reflection on the BSPL judgement

Imagine putting your house on sale. A buyer pays the full price – clears your dues, installs a brand‑new kitchen, repaints, even moves in with family. Four years later, a court declares the sale null and void. Sounds absurd? Welcome to India’s Bhushan Power & Steel crisis under the Insolvency & Bankruptcy Code (IBC).

On May 2, 2025, the Supreme Court of India quashed JSW Steel’s ₹ 19,700‑crore resolution plan for Bhushan Power, calling it “illegal” and in direct violation of IBC provisions. Instead, it ordered liquidation – sending shockwaves through India’s insolvency regime.

Observations of the Supreme Court:

1. Non‑compliance with Section 30(2)/31(2) – The Court said the plan failed to strictly meet IBC norms
2. Misuse of Section 61 appeals – JSW used it beyond permitted grounds, turning judicial relief into a tool for delay
3. Delay in payments & use of instruments – Payments delayed up to 900 days, with equity infusion replaced by optionally convertible debentures – seen as dishonest
4. Failures by RP and CoC – Both allegedly failed in career duties and commercial wisdom by approving a flawed plan

But let’s be frank. If after four years, hundreds of crores invested, liabilities cleared, and operational revitalization. If you can still wake up one morning to a cancellation order – then what hope remains for asset sanctity under IBC? Sure, courts must protect law sanctity. But there must also be a limit to retroactive nullification.

1. Uncertainty kills investment – With buyers fretting over court reversals, distressed asset buyers – especially foreign funds – will step back .
2. IBC’s spirit undermined – The Code was designed to revive assets via resolution, not liquidate them after court reversals. Liquidation recovers far less – on average ~6% versus 40+% from JSW’s plan
3. ED’s unnecessary role – The Enforcement Directorate shouldn't have appealed to the Supreme Court. This invokes Section 238 (IBC override clause). ED’s interference derails IBC norms
4. NCLAT was competent – The NCLAT rightly approved the JSW plan, post NCLT clearance. There’s precedent and a statutory framework supporting such hierarchical decisions. The Supreme Court negating that sets a dangerous precedent

If corporate buyers, domestic or foreign, shrinking from acquiring distressed assets for fear their deals might be reversed after years, the entire architecture of the IBC collapses. The mantra of time‑bound resolution, creditor recovery, and commercial certainty risks turning into hollow catchphrases.

Imagine citing section 33, section 230, or even 31 as final – but investors see that as paper shields, not armor. Contingent assets don’t attract funding, bids dry up, NCLTs become graveyards of stalled insolvency filings.

So what’s the path ahead?

1. Clarity on appellate limits – If appeals under Section 61 can scuttle deals years later, build bright‑line rules limiting their scope.
2. Section 238 must speak louder – If IBC overrides criminal laws, let that precedence be asserted – no mid‑stream ED appeals to stall processes.
3. Statute of repose – Once a resolution plan is fully implemented – payments made, assets handed over – there should be a cut‑off for retrospective scrutiny.
4. Corybantic judicial humility – Courts must balance legal perfection with the economic realities of revitalizing a stranded asset. Too much scrubbing can kill the asset’s commercial value.

Yes, rules are rules. But when they compound to incubate uncertainty, they defeat their own purpose. Fixing defaulted firms is not writing fairy tales – it’s engineering. Engineering needs design parameters, timelines, fail‑safes and finality. Cancel deals four years later, and you don’t engineer hope – you implode it.

The Bhushan Steel episode may have taken an ideologically purist stand; but it ends up being a warning shot for future bidders in India’s insolvency ecosystem. If sanctity of sale is illusion, who will keep the IBC alive?

I, Phone

“We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.”

– Alan Turing

I. INTRODUCTION

1. The new Direct Tax Code, 2025, allows tax officers to access a taxpayer’s “computer system” during a search, which is defined to include remote servers, cloud servers, and virtual digital spaces. If a password or access code is not provided, officers can "override" it to gain access.
2. The “virtual digital space” includes a wide range of digital environments including email servers, social media accounts, online banking and trading accounts, cloud storage platforms, digital application platforms etc.
3. The said powers, in their current form, fail to recognize that in the modern era, a mobile phone is not merely an object or tool, but an extension of the person – integral to livelihood, identity, communication, privacy, and access to justice.
4. Multiple investigating authorities – including but not limited to the Income Tax Department, the Enforcement Directorate, and Police Authorities – now routinely seize mobile phones, laptops, and storage devices during searches and surveys.
5. While such powers may have been conceived as mere procedural tools, in practice, the seizure of a person’s phone today is equivalent to seizing the person himself, or worse.
6. A person deprived of his phone in the 21^st century is stripped not only of communication but of his ability to transact, identify himself, access his finances, run his business, and even defend himself legally.
7. The consequences of such seizure are not temporary inconveniences but existential disruptions that strike at the heart of Article 19(1)(a), Article 19(1)(g), and Article 21 of the Constitution.

II. THE PHONE AS AN EXTENSION OF SELF

8. The Hon’ble Supreme Court in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) v. Union of India (2017), recognized that the right to privacy is intrinsic to life and liberty under Article 21, and extends to informational privacy. Today, that informational privacy is materially embodied in the smartphone, which stores the intimate digital self of every citizen – communications, photographs, health data, bank accounts, professional records, social interactions, and behavioural patterns.
9. The dependence on mobile phones is not a matter of luxury or convenience.

1. Businesses are run entirely on mobile applications – banking, accounting, client communication, and commerce.
2. Government services such as Aadhaar, PAN, DigiLocker, and GST compliance are mobile-linked.
3. Bank accounts and payment gateways (UPI, net banking) require phone-based authentication.
4. Social media and messaging platforms are the principal channels for professional engagement and public expression.

10. A recent Supreme Court judgment has already recognized that access to the Internet is a right and necessity in the modern age, not a privilege (Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India, (2020)).
11. In a country where legal tender itself can be demonetized suddenly overnight, the ability to communicate, transact and adapt through the phone becomes vital for survival.
12. Therefore, the phone today is not a mere communication device. It is an instrument of livelihood, an identity token, and an economic engine.
13. Empirical surveys confirm that more than 70% of Indian MSMEs depend on smartphones for day-to-day operations. Women entrepreneurs in rural areas report 80% mobile-first dependence. Entire informal sectors – delivery, retail, logistics, and service providers – operate solely through mobile applications.
14. The economy of small traders, gig workers, digital marketers, influencers, and local service providers operates exclusively through mobile devices. Seizure of such devices not only cripples the individual but destabilizes economic micro-units that rely on continuous phone access.

III. SEIZURE EQUALS VIOLATION OF SELF

15. The act of seizing a smartphone is not akin to seizing a book or a file. It is akin to seizing the mind and memory of the individual. The data within represents thoughts, correspondences, and intentions. Extracting it without consent violates the principle that no person shall be compelled to make an involuntary statement against himself, protected under Article 20(3).
16. The argument that “the phone is merely property” ignores technological and social reality. When a phone holds one’s identity, bank access, and private communications, its seizure becomes an intrusion into the self.
17. The seizure of phones has a chilling effect on:

1. Freedom of speech and expression (Article 19(1)(a)), as individuals become fearful of their private communications being accessed.
2. Freedom to practice any profession or carry on trade (Article 19(1)(g)), as businesses lose functionality upon phone seizure.
3. Personal liberty (Article 21), as the deprivation of a phone amounts to a deprivation of autonomy and informational control.

18. The Direct Tax Code, 2025, provides no meaningful procedural safeguards – no clear time limits, no data minimization principles, and no protection against fishing expeditions into unrelated digital material.
19. The result is a structural imbalance: the State gains access to the totality of a person’s digital being, while the person loses his ability to function, communicate, or defend himself.
20. The relationship between man and machine has evolved to the point where the boundary is indistinct. The phone acts as the human’s external brain – a memory, diary, and financial control system combined.
21. Popular culture reflects this symbiosis. The film Khel Khel Mein (starring Akshay Kumar) dramatizes how the entirety of a person’s secrets, social identity, and reputation exist within his phone – and how loss of it destabilizes the self.
22. Therefore, in both law and lived experience, the phone is not separable from personhood.

IV. RIGHT TO PARTICIPATE IN LEGAL PROCESS

23. It is a settled principle of law that an individual has the right to join proceedings against him, to consult counsel, and to present his defence.
24. Today, such participation frequently requires online access – for video hearings, document submissions, OTP-based verifications, communication with counsel, or even simply appearing before the court.
25. Depriving an individual of his phone during investigation directly impairs this right to effective legal representation, violating principles of natural justice.

V. PRAYER

26. The provisions of the Direct Tax Code, 2025, and other statutes that permit seizure of digital devices and extraction of personal data be read down to require:

1. Prior judicial authorization;
2. Proportionality and necessity tests;
3. Time-bound custody limits; and
4. Independent oversight mechanisms.

27. It be declared that a mobile phone constitutes an extension of the self within the meaning of Article 21 of the Constitution, attracting the highest standard of privacy protection.
28. It be further declared that seizure or access to mobile data amounts, in appropriate circumstances, to compulsion of self-incrimination under Article 20(3).
29. The State be directed to frame comprehensive guidelines governing digital device seizures, including data protection, return timelines, and business-continuity safeguards.

VI. CONCLUSION

In an age when the phone embodies identity, livelihood, and thought, to seize it is to paralyze the person. To access its contents is to trespass upon the mind. A law that allows such acts without proportionate safeguards violates the constitutional promise of dignity, privacy, and liberty.

Haystack

We had the meet yesterday

I connected with a lot of folks

Faces, handshakes, glasses raised,

names I’d forget

But all these networking events

are something in a haystack problems

And I instantly searched for that One person

who wasn’t there.

 

One person who I was confident I would recognize

even if I had a little glimpse of her somehow

One person I had no idea what to say to

One person I just wanted to raise a toast to

and say “thank you”

One person I wanted to have a full-fledged conversation with

and wanted to know how her journey had been

Because I know no one understands her like me

and me like her

And I wonder if she longs to be understood like I do

I don’t even know if she wants to have that long conversation with me

I don’t know if I’ll be able to recognize her

Has she gotten fit? Has she gotten fat?

Maybe she doesn’t need to talk to me

because the man she chose

understands her better than I ever could

Maybe she wants to talk to me about how she feels unloved

because I’m the only one who would understand

Maybe she wants to elope with me

 

All these are hypotheticals

Assumptions

Fictions I rehearse in the theatre of my mind

It’s been five years

The only thing I can be sure of

is that she has changed

She’s not the girl I knew last

Even if her face were recognizable

I don’t know if her soul is

A man loves a woman hoping she’ll never change,

and she inevitably does

A woman only loves a man who changes for her,

and he rarely does.

 

Maybe I wasn’t searching for her,

but for the version of myself

that only she knew

 

Vishal Gupta

11^th May, 2025