Not the first, nor the last

The recent killing of five Muslims in Sambhal has sparked outrage, with fingers pointing in multiple directions. Among those accused is the just-retired chief justice of India, D.Y. Chandrachud. While his role is pivotal, let us first focus on those directly responsible — the individuals currently in power, and institutions mandated to uphold the law, ensure public safety, and protect the lives of all citizens.

The Sambhal administration claims that the victims were not killed by police bullets, but this assertion contradicts the testimony of a police circle officer (DSP) who admitted to opening fire on agitated Muslims. Blame lies with the civil administration and police officers who allowed a mob to march to the Shahi Jama Masjid shouting inflammatory slogans. Their actions exacerbated an already tense situation; instead of calming tempers, they stoked the flames.

The mosque ‘survey’ also warrants scrutiny. A local civil judge ordered the survey without seeking a response from the mosque committee — an obvious breach of due process. Lawyers and jurists were shocked by the haste of the proceedings. The survey was to be completed in just seven days, and within hours of the order, work began, with senior officials in attendance. This kind of alacrity is unheard of in such cases, and it gave the impression of a coordinated effort to provoke.

Even more troubling is the follow-up survey on 24 November, mobs in tow with the surveyor. (This was, unsurprisingly, a day after results had been announced to by-elections in the state.) There is video evidence showing police officers helping the mob instead of trying to disperse it. This was no impartial administrative action — it felt like a state-supported invasion of the mosque.

Why was the petitioner who demanded the survey allowed to accompany the survey team? It is clear that the court was not interested in due process and acted in a highly partisan manner. It is equally evident that the administration was complicit in letting tension build. It made no attempt to take the local population into confidence, and then acted with maximum force to silence the Muslims who reacted by pelting stones assuming that their mosque was under attack.

Five Muslims were killed in the police crackdown, and there are reports of vandalised homes, women dragged from their houses and wedding ceremonies disrupted by police. This wasn’t law enforcement — it was punitive violence, aimed at ‘teaching Muslims a lesson’.

The statements from the district magistrate, superintendent of police and circle officer offer no solace. None of them expressed regret over the loss of life. Their language dehumanised the victims, treating them as enemies rather’ than citizens deserving protection.

While those on the ground bear immediate responsibility, the blood of Sambhal’s victims also stains the legacy of former chief justice D.Y. Chandrachud. His actions created the legal environment that made Sambhal possible.

It was Chandrachud who legitimised the so-called ‘jurisprudence of curiosity’, opening the door for mosque surveys across the country. The Gyanvapi mosque case in Varanasi is a prime example. Hindus claimed they needed to ‘determine the character’ of the mosque to prove it was a temple. Despite the clear intent of the Places of Worship Act, 1991 — which bars altering the status of religious sites as they stood on 15 August 1947 — Chandrachud allowed the survey.

The Places of Worship Act was designed to prevent exactly this kind of communal conflict. Lawmakers, aware of the BJP’s Ram Janmabhoomi campaign, wanted to ensure that no religious site could be turned into a flashpoint. The Supreme Court too paid lip service to the importance of the Act in its Ayodhya judgement.

Chandrachud was on the five-judge bench that delivered the fateful verdict and is conjectured to have authored its mealy-mouthed contents. No wonder he undermined the 1991 Act again by permitting the Gyanvapi survey, arguing that curiosity about the ‘true nature’ of the structure did not violate the Act. This was a dangerously naïve interpretation.

Predictably, the survey fuelled further claims. Hindus declared they had discovered a Shivling in the Gyanvapi mosque’s wazukhana (ablution area), leading Chandrachud to order its sealing. This effectively altered the status of the mosque, making a part of it inaccessible to Muslim worshippers. Encouraged by this precedent, a lower court later allowed puja in another section of the mosque. What began as a survey ended up mangling the character of the mosque, violating the spirit of the 1991 Act.

The precedent set by Chandrachud has emboldened Hindutva forces to file similar cases nationwide, from Mathura to Sambhal to even Ajmer Sharif. Courts now routinely order mosque surveys — it is turning into a deluge that threatens to drown India’s secular edifice.

Chandrachud’s decisions have turned the Places of Worship Act into a dead letter. He will go down in history not as a champion of justice but as the architect of a legal doctrine that weakened India’s secular fabric. His intellectual gymnastics may have cloaked his rulings in technical legality, but they lacked moral authority. The deluge of cases following Gyanvapi has demonstrated that his ‘jurisprudence of curiosity’ is not an academic exercise — it is a weapon in the hands of those who seek to erase India’s pluralist heritage.

The blood spilled in Sambhal is part of this legacy. It will haunt Chandrachud and those who follow in his footsteps, unless they recognise the consequences of their actions and take steps to restore the integrity of the Constitution. India deserves better — from its judges, its administrators and its leaders.