Judicial sentimentalism over constitutional pragmatism: SC judge who romanticised Urdu in Maharashtra signboard ruling and backed hijabs in schools

In the vast tapestry of Indian jurisprudence, few names have come to symbolise the kind of ideological romanticism that borders on judicial overreach as starkly as Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia. A judge who wears his idealism on his sleeve, Justice Dhulia’s rulings—particularly in cases like the Karnataka hijab controversy and the recent Akola Urdu signboard dispute—suggest a pattern: a consistent leaning towards emotive convictions, identity-driven narratives, and selective secularism, often at the expense of constitutional pragmatism and judicial clarity.

Language sentimentalism in the Urdu signboard case

Earlier this week, the Supreme Court dismissed a plea seeking the removal of an Urdu signboard placed beneath a Marathi one on a municipal building in Akola, Maharashtra. The bench, comprising Justices Dhulia and K Vinod Chandran, not only rejected the plea but did so with a poetic flourish, unwarrantedly elevating Urdu as the “finest specimen of Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb.” The ruling, though not incorrect in law, took a detour from constitutional clarity into poetic sentimentalism, opening with a quote about learning languages making us more “liberal, tolerant, and kind.”

“Our misconceptions, perhaps even our prejudices against a language, have to be courageously and truthfully tested against the reality, which is this great diversity of our nation: Our strength can never be our weakness. Let us make friends with Urdu and every language”, the top court said in its judgment. 

Justice Dhulia opened his judgment with a quote by Mouloud Benzadi: “When you learn a language, you don’t just learn to speak and write a new language. You also learn to be open-minded, liberal, tolerant, kind, and considerate towards all mankind.”

“Let our concepts be clear. Language is not religion. Language does not even represent religion. Language belongs to a community, to a region, to people, and not to a religion. Language is a medium for the exchange of ideas that brings people holding diverse views and beliefs closer, and it should not become a cause of their division,” the Supreme Court said.

What was essentially a simple question of municipal signage turned into a pontification on national integration, linguistic diversity, and the importance of Urdu, a language undeniably rich but politically charged in India’s current milieu. Justice Dhulia missed the opportunity to base his verdict in unmistakably administrative or legal reasoning and instead waxed eloquent about linguistic pluralism and cultural unity, rendering the judgment into a mandate on India’s famed syncretism rather than a judicial pronouncement.

This kind of judicial prolixity not only detracts from the legal core of a case but also risks politicising the bench itself. By casting dissenters as prejudiced or “misinformed,” Justice Dhulia placed ideology above law, language politics above administrative autonomy, and poetic nostalgia above functional governance.

The Hijab verdict: Backing regressive practices over reinforcing institutional order

Justice Dhulia’s dissenting opinion in the 2022 Karnataka hijab ban case further solidifies this pattern. While the Karnataka High Court upheld the state’s right to enforce uniform dress codes in educational institutions, Justice Dhulia chose to pivot the entire discourse around the vulnerability of the Muslim girl child, turning a blind eye to the broader implications of religious symbolism in secular educational spaces.

The Karnataka Hijab ban row snowballed into a major controversy in 2022 after a bunch of Muslim girls were denied entry to college for insisting on taking exams in burqas. The row was politicised by the opposition and the left-liberal intelligentsia, who cast themselves as the moral custodians of India’s ‘endangered’ secularism, restlessly itching to fuel fear psychosis in the minds of Muslims, painting a dystopian picture about the current state of affairs and projecting the centre as Islamophobic—a catchphrase bandied around uncritically by the Left to push for the ever-increasing set of unreasonable demands made by India’s Muslim population.

Instead of holding recalcitrant Muslim girls bent on visiting colleges and schools in burqas, in violation of established rules and regulations, efforts were put in to blame college authorities and administration for the imbroglio, alleging that Muslim girls being denied entry to institutions is part of a sinister plan of the government to target Muslims. For years, being denied entry into educational institutions over inappropriate uniforms was never a controversy. Instead, schools, colleges, and universities were encouraged to have uniforms so that the importance of discipline is inculcated among the students.

But instead, agenda peddlers spun it off as an attack on the fundamental rights of Muslims and approached the honourable courts. While the Karnataka High Court upheld the hijab ban, a two-judge bench of the Supreme Court issued a split verdict, with Justice Hemant Das upholding the Karnataka hijab ban, and Justice Dhulia going against it, asserting that asking Muslim girls to take off their hijab was an invasion of their privacy, an attack on their dignity, and a denial of secular education.

Justice Dhulia made it clear: there should be no ban on wearing the hijab in any school or college in Karnataka. He warned that such restrictions don’t just target a piece of clothing—they risk shutting the school doors on young girls. “The real cost,” he said, “is denying a girl her right to education.”

“A girl child for whom it is still not easy to reach her school gate. This case here, therefore, has also to be seen from the perspective of the challenges already faced by a girl child in reaching her school. The question this court would put before itself is also whether we are making the life of a girl child any better by denying her education merely because she wears a hijab!” he said.

By terming the enforcement of uniforms in schools and colleges an “invasion of privacy” and a “denial of secular education,” he upended the logic of the case on its head. The very purpose of uniforms in schools—fostering equality, discipline, and unity—was brushed aside in favour of a subjective interpretation of dignity and choice. Ironically, this allowed regressive religious norms to take precedence over institutional order and gender-neutral values.

In elevating the hijab to a symbol of choice and access rather than religious imposition, Justice Dhulia’s view aligned uncritically with a segment of Islamist identity politics, overlooking the coercive pressures that often underpin such “choices.” His ruling failed to consider the long-term social consequences of allowing religious attire to supersede uniformity in public education—a slippery slope toward further fragmentation in a secular republic.

The veneration of judicial icons and resistance to critical reform

Justice Dhulia’s judicial style also includes a deep reverence for past activist judges like Justices Krishna Iyer and Chinnappa Reddy. His disapproval of former CJI Chandrachud’s critique of Krishna Iyer in a recent ruling on Article 39(b) reflects not legal disagreement but near-personal reverence. By calling Chandrachud’s remarks “harsh and unwarranted,” Dhulia seemed more interested in defending legacies than advancing doctrinal clarity.

In a significant judgment on Article 39(b), former CJI Chandrachud took a firm stance, breaking away from a long-standing interpretation by the legendary Justice Krishna Iyer. Addressing Iyer’s 1978 view that private property could be considered part of the “material resources of the community,” the CJI disagreed, calling it a misstep. “Justice Iyer, despite his towering legacy, did a disservice to the broad and adaptable spirit of the Constitution,” he remarked, underlining the need to uphold constitutional flexibility without overextending its reach.

But these remarks didn’t sit well with Justice Dhulia, who aligned himself with the legacies of Justices Krishna Iyer and O. Chinnappa Reddy, and didn’t mince words while expressing his firm disapproval: “I must place on record my strong disapproval of the harsh remarks made against what is known as the Krishna Iyer Doctrine. That criticism was unwarranted—and could have been avoided.” He defended the doctrine with conviction: “Whether it’s the Krishna Iyer Doctrine or the Chinnappa Reddy approach, anyone familiar with the law—or even life—knows their core lies in humanism, fairness, and equity. These weren’t just judges with sharp minds; they had deep empathy. Their words lit the way during the darkest moments, always putting the human being at the heart of justice.”

His praise for the “humanism” of earlier judges, while admirable in principle, again signals his preference for emotional and moralistic reasoning over institutional discipline or structural coherence. In doing so, he perpetuates a brand of jurisprudence that values what feels right over what is constitutionally sound—a dangerous precedent in a time when the judiciary’s neutrality is under scrutiny.

Holding emotions as a constitutional compass

There is a fine line between compassionate jurisprudence and ideological indulgence. Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia, in judgment after judgment, has demonstrated a tendency to interpret the Constitution as a vehicle for poetic justice rather than principled law. Whether it is shielding the hijab under the guise of personal liberty or romanticising a signboard dispute as a referendum on cultural unity, his rulings often reflect more about his worldview than the constitutional questions at hand.

In a judiciary that must increasingly balance empathy with clarity, Justice Dhulia’s style—rooted in sermonisation, cultural romanticism, and an idealised vision of secularism—may resonate with the intelligentsia, but it stands the risk of diluting the neutrality and rigour that interpretation of law demands.

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