When Scrubbing the Mirror Doesn’t Help, The Supreme Court, the NCERT Textbook, and the Anatomy of Censorship
The stench of censorship hangs heavy over Delhi these days, enveloping two very different books. One, a memoir by a former Chief of Army Staff, has been blocked from publication, ostensibly for containing official secrets. The other, a humble Class VIII social science textbook published by the NCERT, has been banned by the Supreme Court of India for mentioning something far more uncomfortable: the reality of corruption within the judiciary. The juxtaposition is a theatre of the absurd, and it brings to mind a well-worn World War II anecdote. A man, who had publicly called Winston Churchill a fool, was promptly arrested. Opposition MPs in Parliament protested that England was becoming a police state where free speech was being curbed. Churchill, with characteristic wit, clarified that the man was being proceeded against not because he had called the Prime Minister a fool, but for revealing a state secret! Unfortunately, this sense of humour and perspective seems to be entirely missing in our institutions, having been replaced long ago by a sense of righteousness and entitlement.
We will probably never know what official secrets General Naravane’s book contained. But the furore over the NCERT textbook is far more interesting and warrants a much deeper reflection. Does Churchill’s quip about revealing a state secret apply here? Is the truth about the functioning of our highest institutions now considered a state secret?
I, for one, was shocked at the sheer ferocity of the Supreme Court’s reaction when the book was brought to its notice. The Chief Justice of India instantly dubbed it “a calculated move to undermine and overawe the judiciary,” an attempt to “demean the dignity of the judiciary,” and part of a “deep-rooted conspiracy.” He called for a “deeper probe,” adding for good measure that no one would be spared and that “heads must roll.” He refused to accept the Centre’s or the NCERT’s apologies. The book was banned instantly, and a dramatic, Sidney Sheldon-style investigation was launched to trace all of the 38 copies of the book that had been sold. About 20 have been retrieved; the remaining, we are told, continue to pose a grave threat to our democracy, like hidden time bombs.
From the material that has entered the public domain, one can piece together the nature of the offending text. This was a new book on Social Sciences for Class VIII. It contained a chapter titled “The Role of the Judiciary in our Society.” The offending part was a sub-chapter called ‘Corruption in the Judiciary.’ It attributed delays in the dispensation of justice to several factors: an inadequate number of judges, complex legal procedures, poor infrastructure, and, most controversially, corruption. It is this latter part—the mere mention of corruption—that appears to have invited the court’s unbridled ire. This, despite the fact that nine out of ten Indians, if polled, would likely agree with these conclusions as a matter of their own lived experience.
Moreover, the book was certainly not singling out the judiciary for special opprobrium. It also contained critical passages about other organs of the state and their actions. As an editorial in The Hindu astutely noted, the problem with the Supreme Court’s ban “is not that the textbook selectively targets the judiciary, it is that the judiciary selectively targets certain portions.” The court’s outrage was highly selective. It did not react to other parts of the book that might have been critical of the executive or the legislature. It reserved its full fury for the one chapter that reflected poorly on itself.
Let us not gloss over the reality that we all know. Corruption has been part of our culture since time immemorial, regularly reinforced by every element of our establishment. It would be a fantasy of the highest order to expect the judiciary to be a shining outlier on this front. The data presented in Parliament in February 2026 is sobering. It shows that between 2016 and 2025, a staggering 8,600 complaints were filed against sitting judges. These are not just stray allegations. In 2011, Justice Soumitra Sen of the Calcutta High Court resigned before he could be impeached, but was never prosecuted. In 2019, Justice R.K. Mittal, a tribunal judge, was sacked in a corruption case. The case of Justice Yashwant Varma, in whose official residence crores of unexplained cash were allegedly found just last year, is nowhere near resolution. More instances can be found in the book A Controversial Judge (2025) by Paranjoy Guha Thakurta and Ayaskant Das. India ranks 79th out of 143 countries in the Rule of Law Index (2024). That places us in the bottom half of the world. Surely, the factors listed in the NCERT book—inadequate judges, complex procedures, poor infrastructure, and corruption—have something to do with this dismal ranking?
An issue that strikes at the very root of judicial probity and public confidence in the justice system should be confronted head-on if we wish to resolve it, not brushed under the carpet. As veteran lawyer Prashant Bhushan has argued, “the judiciary is not above scrutiny and is accountable to the people.” He added that the reference to judicial corruption and delays in the NCERT curriculum is in keeping with the constitutional values of transparency and accountability. In fact, advocate and eminent legal scholar Gautam Bhatia has even questioned whether Article 19 of the Constitution, which guarantees the right to freedom of speech and expression, empowers the Supreme Court to ban a book in this manner.
It is deeply unfortunate that the court has decided to take this route. The Chief Justice’s assurance that this action is “not meant to stifle any criticism” sadly does not inspire much confidence. The record speaks for itself. There has already been much redacting and sanitisation of NCERT textbooks by the central government, and we could certainly do without more.
Education should prepare our youth to enter this harsh and imperfect world. It should equip them with the intellectual tools to understand the ills that plague our society and institutions, so that they might one day work to fix them. We cannot have a whole generation growing up shielded from reality, their minds filled with a sanitised, airbrushed version of the world, only to be shocked and disillusioned when they eventually encounter the truth. Hiding the defects of our institutions under a thick coat of judicial enamel paint does not make those defects disappear; it only ensures that they will never be fixed.
A celebrated poet said this centuries ago, and his words echo down the ages with perfect relevance to our current predicament:
“Umr bhar Ghalib yehi bhool karta raha,
Dhool chehre pe thi, aaina saaf karta raha.”
(Your entire life, Ghalib, you repeated this error:
The dust was on your face, but you kept wiping the mirror.)
The Supreme Court, in its righteous fury, is polishing the mirror of its own institutional image, while refusing to acknowledge the dust that has settled on its face. The dust of real, documented, and widely perceived problems. Until it learns to look inward, to accept that scrutiny is not a conspiracy, and to allow young citizens to learn the truth, the mirror will remain dusty, no matter how hard it is polished.
Questions and Answers
Q1: What was the specific content in the NCERT textbook that provoked the Supreme Court’s strong reaction?
A1: The textbook, a Class VIII Social Science book, contained a chapter titled “The Role of the Judiciary in our Society.” A sub-chapter called ‘Corruption in the Judiciary’ mentioned corruption, along with other factors like inadequate judges and complex procedures, as a cause for delays in justice. This mention of judicial corruption triggered the court’s ire.
Q2: According to the article, what makes the Supreme Court’s response “selective”?
A2: The response is considered selective because the textbook also contained critical passages about other state organs and their actions. The court did not react to those portions. Its outrage was reserved specifically for the chapter that reflected poorly on the judiciary itself, leading to the criticism that the judiciary “selectively targets certain portions.”
Q3: What evidence does the article provide to argue that the textbook’s mention of judicial corruption is not baseless?
A3: The article cites data presented in Parliament showing 8,600 complaints were filed against sitting judges between 2016 and 2025. It mentions specific cases like Justice Soumitra Sen (who resigned before impeachment), Justice R.K. Mittal (sacked in a corruption case), and the unresolved case of Justice Yashwant Varma. It also notes India’s low rank (79th) in the Rule of Law Index.
Q4: How does the article use the couplet by Ghalib to frame its critique of the court’s actions?
A4: The couplet, “Umr bhar Ghalib yehi bhool karta raha, Dhool chehre pe thi, aaina saaf karta raha” (The dust was on your face, but you kept wiping the mirror), is used as a metaphor. The article argues that the court is polishing its institutional image (the mirror) while refusing to acknowledge the real problems (the dust) within itself, such as corruption and delays.
Q5: What is the article’s central argument about the purpose of education and the role of textbooks?
A5: The article argues that education should prepare youth to enter a “harsh and imperfect world” and understand the ills that plague society, so they can work to fix them. Banning a textbook for mentioning these realities creates a generation “shielded from reality” and prevents the open discussion necessary for genuine reform. It compares this to hiding defects under a coat of “judicial enamel paint.”
