Law without morality is a body without a soul

It is often said that “law without morality is a body without a soul.” The maxim suggests that what is legally permissible may not always be morally acceptable, and what is morally objectionable may not necessarily amount to a legal wrong. In a recent judgment, the Punjab and Haryana High Court held that a married woman meeting her former partner on a single occasion, even in a compromising situation, cannot automatically be treated as proof of adultery.

The case arose from a matrimonial dispute involving an Indian Navy officer who alleged that his wife refused to share a bed with him and continued to maintain a relationship with her former boyfriend after marriage. The Family Court granted a decree of divorce on the ground of mental cruelty. However, while considering the allegations of adultery, the High Court observed that a solitary incident was insufficient to establish that the wife was living in an adulterous relationship. The Court reiterated that adultery is a serious allegation and must be proved through cogent, convincing, and continuous evidence rather than through suspicion, assumptions, or isolated encounters.

Learned trial court, in its rightful wisdom, also observed that the conduct of the respondent-wife in meeting her male friend, being a single incident, cannot be said to indicate that she was living in adultery with him. The marriage had taken place in November 2021, and no child was born from the union. The husband alleged that his wife was quarrelsome, frequently returned home late, refused to share a bed with him, and spent long hours on her mobile phone talking to other people. The wife denied these allegations and, in turn, accused the husband and his family of subjecting her to dowry-related harassment. She further alleged that her father-in-law had improper intentions towards her and that her husband failed to support her when she complained about his conduct.

The Family Court found serious inconsistencies in the wife's version of events. It was observed that her allegation against her father-in-law appeared improbable, particularly because she continued to communicate with him despite claiming that he had improper intentions towards her. On that basis, the court treated her allegations with caution.

Judgments of the High Courts and the Supreme Court serve as precedents that guide the adjudication of future cases involving similar issues. Therefore, judicial pronouncements often have implications extending beyond the parties before the court. One has reasons to disagree with the High Court's approach and argue that matrimonial fidelity occupies a special place in Indian society, particularly among Hindus, where marriage is regarded not merely as a contract but as a sacrament. From this perspective, the vows exchanged during marriage represent solemn commitments that courts should seek to uphold in order to preserve mutual trust and confidence between spouses.

Others may contend that courts must distinguish between moral disapproval and legal proof. They may argue that a finding of adultery should rest on clear and convincing evidence rather than conjecture, however strong the suspicions may be. The maxim Fiat justitia ruat caelum.Let justice be done though the heavens fall is the most appropriate in this case. The debate, therefore, lies at the intersection of law, morality, and the institution of marriage—a field in which courts are often required to balance legal standards of proof with prevailing social and moral expectations. That the judges have thus "made a mockery of the law by keeping the tradition and morality at bay. Oliver Wendell Holmes had said that” The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience."

Time to Replace the Press Council of India with a Media Council(Concluding Part)

The limitations of the Council are not merely jurisdictional. It is often criticised for lacking effective enforcement powers. Its authority is confined largely to issuing warnings, admonitions, or censures. It cannot impose meaningful penalties, levy fines, suspend operations, or enforce compliance with its decisions. Consequently, many of its rulings are ignored, reducing its effectiveness and diminishing its relevance.

Moreover, the rise of corporate ownership, concentration of media power, paid news, advertorial masquerading as journalism, and growing ideological polarisation have transformed the media environment in ways that the existing statutory framework is ill-equipped to address. Political considerations and institutional constraints have frequently undermined the Council's credibility and capacity to act as an independent regulator.

In the digital era, the regulatory focus has increasingly shifted toward the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting and various rules framed under the Information Technology Act. These mechanisms now address much of the content regulation relating to digital and broadcast media, further marginalising the role of the Press Council.

Adding to its diminishing relevance is the fact that the Working Journalists Act, one of the principal legislative pillars recommended by the First Press Commission, has effectively been subsumed within the new labour codes, including the Occupational Safety, Health and Working Conditions Code, the Industrial Relations Code, the Code on Wages, and the Code on Social Security. With the dilution and fragmentation of the original statutory framework governing journalists' service conditions, one of the historical justifications for the existence of the Press Council has substantially weakened.

The time has therefore come for a fundamental reappraisal of media regulation in India. Rather than attempting to retrofit an institution designed for the print era, Parliament should consider replacing the Press Council of India with a comprehensive Media Council of India. Such a body should encompass print, electronic, digital, and emerging forms of media under a single regulatory framework. It must be independent of both governmental and corporate influence, representative of diverse stakeholders, and vested with limited but meaningful enforcement powers to ensure accountability.

A Media Council equipped with adequate statutory authority, transparent procedures, and jurisdiction across all media platforms would be better suited to protect freedom of expression while promoting responsibility, accuracy, ethical conduct, and public trust. In an age where information travels instantly across multiple platforms and reaches millions within seconds, India requires a regulator designed for the realities of the twenty-first century, not one conceived for the media environment of the 1950s. Media Council must be constituted with the peers of the profession.

The Press Council of India played an important role in the formative decades of Indian democracy. Its historical contribution deserves recognition and respect. However, institutions must evolve with changing times. The continued existence of a body whose jurisdiction and powers are increasingly inadequate serves neither the media nor the public interest. The moment is ripe to bid farewell to the Press Council of India and establish a robust, modern, and effective Media Council capable of meeting the challenges of the contemporary information age.

Time to Replace the Press Council of India with a Media Council (Part1)

The Press Council of India (PCI) owes its origin to the recommendations of the First Press Commission, constituted in 1952 under the chairmanship of Justice G. S. Rajadhyaksha. The Commission was entrusted with examining the condition of the Indian press in the post-Independence era and recommending measures to safeguard press freedom, uphold editorial standards, and improve the service conditions of journalists. Acting on its recommendations, Parliament enacted the Press Council Act, leading to the establishment of the Press Council of India in 1966 as an autonomous statutory body.

The Constitution of India, the supreme law of the land, lays down the framework of governance, guarantees fundamental rights, and embodies the democratic values that sustain a free and independent press. Although freedom of the press is not expressly mentioned in the Constitution, it has been consistently recognised by the judiciary as an integral part of the fundamental right to freedom of speech and expression under Article 19(1)(a).

Before Independence, newspapers that supported the colonial government—such as The Statesman, The Pioneer, and The Times of India—generally enjoyed better resources and institutional support. In contrast, nationalist newspapers operated under severe constraints and often faced governmental hostility. Journalism during that period was largely a mission driven by patriotism and public service rather than a commercial profession. It was only after Independence that journalism gradually evolved into a recognised profession requiring institutional support and regulation.

Recognising this need, the country's first leadership contemplated the establishment of a Press Commission. Although Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, who also held charge of the Information and Broadcasting portfolio, did not live to see the proposal materialise, the idea eventually culminated in the constitution of the First Press Commission in 1952, which was announced by the then Information and Broadcasting Minister BV Keskar.

At that time, the media landscape was confined almost entirely to the print press. Electronic journalism, as we know it today, did not exist; radio broadcasting remained a government monopoly. Consequently, the Commission focused primarily on print journalism and made two landmark recommendations.

The first was the enactment of the Working Journalists (Conditions of Service) and Miscellaneous Provisions Act, 1955, which established a framework for protecting journalists' service conditions and paved the way for tripartite Wage Boards to revise journalists' wages periodically. The second was the creation of the Press Council of India, envisioned as an independent watchdog to preserve press freedom, maintain journalistic standards, formulate ethical norms, and safeguard the public's right to information.

The Council was abolished during the Emergency in 1976, a period widely regarded as one of the darkest chapters in the history of Indian journalism. However, it was reconstituted in 1978 with a renewed mandate to ensure that the press remained both free and responsible in a democratic society.

Over the decades, however, the media ecosystem has undergone a transformation of unprecedented magnitude. The emergence of television news, digital journalism, online publications, streaming platforms, and social media has fundamentally altered the manner in which information is produced, disseminated, and consumed. Print media, once the dominant medium of public discourse, now occupies only one segment of a vastly expanded communications landscape.

Yet the Press Council of India remains largely confined to the print sector. It possesses no jurisdiction over television channels, digital news platforms, streaming services, or social media networks—precisely the spaces where misinformation, disinformation, sensationalism, and ethical violations increasingly originate and proliferate. As a result, the institution has gradually become disconnected from the realities of contemporary media.

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Whose ancestors had left Hinduism must be encouraged to reconnect

 All religious and social organisations, as well as NGOs, can render a valuable service to society by working to eliminate social evils and by encouraging those whose ancestors had left Hinduism to reconnect with their ancestral traditions if they so choose

Recently, Pakistan's Defence Minister, Khwaja Asif, candidly acknowledged that his ancestors were Hindu Rajputs. In an interview, he said that Pakistani students should be taught factual history and that many people in the country have become disconnected from their historical roots. Those whose ancestors had left Hinduism must be encouraged to reconnect. According to Asif, many Pakistanis have been led to believe that their ancestors came from Saudi Arabia or Iran. He argued that this mindset was deliberately cultivated through school textbooks and criticised those who prepared such material. Elaborating further, he pointed out that both he and former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif had openly acknowledged their Hindu ancestry. He also remarked that studying Ashoka, Chandragupta Maurya, Buddhism, Jainism and the Greeks in school does not make him any less Pakistani.

The immediate context of these remarks was the restoration of old names of streets and localities in Lahore, along with a wider discussion on history and identity. In Pakistan, organisations of Muslim Rajputs continue to exist, and many Rajput families prefer marriages within their own caste groups, thereby maintaining endogamous traditions. Similarly, in Kashmir, many Muslims continue to use surnames such as Bhatt and Malik, which have historical associations with Hindu society. Several decades ago, senior political leader Ghulam Nabi Azad stated that his forefathers had been Hindu Brahmins.

A similar pattern can be observed in parts of eastern Uttar Pradesh. In districts such as Azamgarh, Mau, Ghazipur, Jaunpur and Sultanpur, many Muslim families retain certain cultural practices and customs that reflect their historical roots. These continuities illustrate the complex and layered social history of the region.

Not long ago, prominent Muslim leader and Unani physician Dr Tasleem Ahmad Rehmani stated that his grandfather had been a Jain and that several members of his extended family continued to follow Jain traditions.

These examples highlight the fact that the histories of communities in the Indian subcontinent are deeply interconnected. Different religious communities often share common ancestry, cultural practices and historical experiences. Swami Dayanand Saraswati believed that many social and communal problems could be reduced if people recognised their shared heritage and strengthened social reform efforts. Whether one agrees with that view or not, an honest understanding of history can contribute to greater social harmony and mutual understanding among the people of India, Pakistan and Bangladesh.

 

Communalists must have Respect for the Constitution

Recently, a video circulated on social media in which a YouTuber asked a Muslim labourer which train he intended to board. Instead of saying "Vande Bharat," the labourer repeatedly referred to it as "Gande Bharat." When the YouTuber asked him why he was deliberately mispronouncing the name, the labourer smiled and replied that he would always call it "Gande Bharat." Such conduct may perhaps be attributed to a person with little formal education.

However, prejudice and sectarian attitudes are not confined to the uneducated. I recall a highly educated teacher at Banaras Hindu University who habitually referred to Ramnagar, situated across the Ganges from the university, as "Nam Nagar." He would also offer Namaz in his office chamber on campus. Whenever some students objected to what they considered inappropriate conduct in an academic setting, several others, claiming to uphold secular values, would immediately come to his defence. This illustrates how communal attitudes can manifest in different forms and are often judged by different standards depending on the circumstances.

Against this backdrop, many people have criticised the Chief Minister of West Bengal for making the singing of the national song and national anthem compulsory in Madrasas. A letter issued on May 19 by the Director of Madrasa Education directed that "Vande Mataram" be sung before classes commence. It is difficult to understand why this should automatically be viewed through a Hindu-Muslim lens.

The Constitution empowers governments to frame educational policy. Since the 42nd Constitutional Amendment of 1976, education has been placed in the Concurrent List, meaning that both Parliament and the State Legislatures can enact laws on the subject. In the event of a direct conflict, central legislation prevails.

Unfortunately, Madrasas are often viewed by communal elements solely through the prism of religion, despite receiving support and facilities from the government like other educational institutions. The issue of national symbols and religious belief is not new. In 1985, a controversy arose in Kottayam, Kerala, when three schoolchildren belonging to the Jehovah's Witnesses faith refused to sing the national anthem, "Jana Gana Mana," during the school assembly. However, they stood respectfully while the anthem was being sung. Their religious belief was that they could not participate in acts that they regarded as a form of reverence to anyone other than God (Jehovah). The school expelled them, and the dispute eventually reached the courts.

The Kerala High Court initially upheld the expulsion. However, in 1986, the Supreme Court of India reversed that decision. The Court held that no law required an individual to sing the national anthem, that the children had shown no disrespect by standing respectfully, and that their expulsion violated their fundamental rights under Articles 19 and 25 of the Constitution relating to freedom of speech and freedom of religion.

Justice O. Chinnappa Reddy, who authored the judgment, was a born Christian who later became an atheist, emphasised an important constitutional principle: courts should not sit in judgment over whether a religious belief is reasonable or unreasonable. Their role is to protect the constitutional freedoms guaranteed to all citizens, provided public order, morality, and other constitutional limitations are not violated.

Lacklustre Demonstration of the so-called Gen Z at Jantar Mantar

 

The demonstration by the newly formed and much-publicised Cockroach Janata Party (CJP) yesterday at Jantar Mantar was a total flop.  Hardly a few hundred people participated, which included supporters and opponents, police personnel, and onlookers who were there only to watch and enjoy. There was practically no presence of Gen Z in the demonstration. Many professional agitators and protesters certainly reached Jantar Mantar, but they received a very lukewarm, if not a cold, reception.  Undoubtedly, it will cause further frustration among the youth of the country.

Such demonstrations are political and sponsored by some vested interests. Since it was aimed at denouncing the Modi government, it was clear that forces against the Modi government were active in organising this protest. The arrival of the US-based Mr Abhijeet Deepke at Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi was drummed up as if he were a revolutionary of any kind.

 The word " cockroach " was lapped up by this gentleman from a remark made by the Chief Justice of India, Shri Suryakant, during the hearing of the case, which was drafted and presented in a very non-serious manner. This also shows that this high-bred American Deepke has no respect for the people of the country. Let us see how it unfolds in the future, but going by Saturday’s demonstration, it can be said that it fizzled out and did not inspire any confidence in Gen Z.

Not Vacating Office or Residence After Losing Power Is Indefensible

A disturbing trend appears to be emerging among some politicians who, after being voted out of office, show reluctance to abide by the rules and conventions governing the relinquishment of power and official privileges. In a democracy, respect for the people's mandate requires not only accepting electoral defeat but also gracefully surrendering the offices, residences, and privileges attached to power.

Two examples that attracted public attention are those of Mamata Banerjee and Rabri Devi, both former Chief Ministers of their respective states. The country witnessed an unprecedented constitutional situation when Mamata Banerjee, despite losing the Assembly election, did not immediately relinquish office. Ultimately, the Governor had to intervene and administer the oath to the new Chief Minister. Such incidents undermine democratic norms and set an unhealthy precedent.

The conduct of Rabri Devi and her husband, Lalu Prasad Yadav, who together dominated Bihar's politics for nearly one and a half decades, has also raised serious questions. Rabri Devi is presently the Leader of the Opposition in the Bihar Legislative Council, while her son, Tejashwi Yadav, serves as the Leader of the Opposition in the Bihar Legislative Assembly.

Rabri Devi has been residing at 10 Circular Road, Patna, since demitting the office of Chief Minister in 2006. However, in November 2025, the Bihar Government earmarked and formally allotted 39 Hardinge Road as the official residence of the Leader of the Opposition in the Legislative Council. Since she has already been provided an official residence in her current capacity, there appears to be little justification for continuing to occupy a bungalow that has since been allotted to a serving minister.

The issue assumes greater significance in light of the Patna High Court's 2019 judgment striking down the policy that allowed former Chief Ministers to retain government bungalows indefinitely. The court made it clear that such residences are public property meant for current constitutional and public functionaries, not for the lifetime use of former office-holders. While the government has honoured Rabri Devi's entitlement by allotting her an alternative official residence, her insistence on retaining the same bungalow risks conveying the wrong message. Rather than challenging the government to evict her, it would be far more appropriate to resolve the matter amicably and in accordance with the law.

This is not the first time that questions have been raised about the conduct of former holders of high office. When Akhilesh Yadav vacated the official residence of the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, he was accused of removing fixtures and causing damage to the property, drawing widespread criticism in the media.

The larger question is why some individuals who have occupied the highest public offices find it difficult to observe the very rules and conventions that they once administered. Public office carries not only authority but also the responsibility to set an example. A graceful exit after the loss of power strengthens democratic institutions; resistance to it weakens public faith in them. Whatever the political affiliation of the individuals concerned, refusal to vacate official residences or relinquish official privileges after their entitlement has ceased is difficult to defend from any perspective.