The Republic and the Poet: An analytical deconstruction of the Imran Pratapgarhi judgment A Republic That Listens: The Supreme Court’s poetic defence of dissent through Imran Pratapgarhi judgment
10, May 2025 | Tanya Arora
On March 28, 2025, Justices Abhay S. Oka and Ujjal Bhuyan of the Supreme Court delivered a resounding defence of artistic freedom and political dissent under Article 19(1) (a), quashing an FIR against poet and Congress MP Imran Pratapgarhi for reciting a politically evocative poem. The case involved charges under multiple sections of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS)—Sections 196, 197, 299, 302, and 57—all framed after the appellant uploaded a video of his performance.
The poem did not name any religion or community but lamented injustice, questioned state power, and called for non-violence as a means of resistance. The complaint alleged it incited religious hatred and disturbed social harmony.
What was at stake was far greater than one poem or one politician—it was the scope of criminal law in regulating political speech, the meaning of “incitement”, and whether popular offence can override constitutional values.
Background: A poem, a platform, and a prosecution
On December 29, 2024, during a mass wedding programme in Jamnagar, Gujarat, organised by a local councillor, Imran Pratapgarhi recited a poem that was later posted as a video on his verified social media account on the platform ‘X’. The poem included verses such as:
“ए ख़ून के प्यासों बात सुनो
गर हक़ की लड़ाई ज़ुल्म सही
हम ज़ुल्म से इश्क़ निभा देंगे…”
Translated broadly:
“O you blood-thirsty, listen!
If the fight for rights brings injustice,
We will meet that injustice with love…”
The FIR accused the appellant of promoting enmity between communities and disturbing national harmony. Shockingly, he was charged under Sections 196, 197(1), 302, 299, 57 and 3(5) of the BNS—provisions dealing with incitement, hate speech, religious disharmony, and even abetment of violence. Through the FIR, it was alleged that the spoken words of the poem incite people of one community against another, and it hurts a community’s religious and social sentiments. It was further alleged that the song had lyrics that incited people of other communities to fight for the community’s rights. It was claimed that the video posted by the appellant created enmity between two communities at the national level and hatred towards each other. It was further alleged that it had a detrimental effect on national unity.
Key observations of the Court
1. Constitutional Voice vs. State Machinery: A foundational tension
At the heart of this judgment lies an old constitutional paradox: the State is both the guarantor and violator of fundamental rights. Justice Oka, with characteristic candour, begins by confronting this tension head-on:
“This case shows that even after 75 years of the existence of our Constitution, the law enforcement machinery of the State is either ignorant about this important fundamental right or does not care for this fundamental right.” (Para 1)
In this opening salvo of the judgment, Justice Abhay S. Oka sets the tone for a judgment that is as much an indictment of institutional apathy as it is a reaffirmation of constitutional values. The observation that even after 75 years of constitutional existence, law enforcement remains either ignorant of or indifferent to the fundamental right to freedom of expression, reveals a profound structural dysfunction. This remark is not made in passing—it is a judicial rebuke aimed squarely at a State apparatus that defaults to coercion over constitutional engagement. By framing the issue as one of institutional disrepair rather than individual excess, the Court shifts the spotlight from the accused citizen to the accuser state, raising critical questions about how routinely—and with what legal illiteracy—criminal law is weaponised to suppress dissent.
What emerges from this framing is the Court’s role not as a mere adjudicator of facts, but as a constitutional conscience-keeper. Rather than balancing “free speech” against “law and order,” the judgment asserts that the State’s repeated resort to criminal prosecution for expressive acts is itself an affront to the constitutional order. This is not just about a misreading of a poem—it is about the State’s deep discomfort with metaphor, criticism, and resistance. The Court’s insistence that the rule of law includes a duty to respect rights, not merely regulate them, transforms the case into a referendum on how faithfully the State embodies the very freedoms it claims to guarantee. In doing so, the Court subtly but powerfully reclaims constitutional morality as an active, living principle—not a hollow preamble.
2. A Theory of Free Speech: From libertarian tolerance to affirmative protection
This judgment doesn’t merely shield speech—it underlines its necessity. Justice Oka, who had authored the judgment on the behalf of the Bench, frames Article 19(1) (a) as not merely a right but as a structural precondition for human dignity and democratic engagement, thereby locating it within the broader penumbra of Article 21:
“Free expression of thoughts and views by individuals or groups of individuals is an integral part of a healthy, civilised society. Without freedom of expression of thoughts and views, it is impossible to lead a dignified life guaranteed by Article 21 of the Constitution. In a healthy democracy, the views, opinions or thoughts expressed by an individual or group of individuals must be countered by expressing another point of view. Even if a large number of persons dislike the views expressed by another, the right of the person to express the views must be respected and protected.” (Para 38)
This convergence of Articles 19 and 21 reflects a distinctly substantive conception of liberty, moving beyond formal non-interference toward affirmative obligation. The State (including the police and judiciary) is thus required not just to refrain from suppressing speech but to actively ensure its flourishing.
“The reasonable restrictions provided for in Article 19(2) must remain reasonable and not fanciful and oppressive. Article 19(2) cannot be allowed to overshadow the substantive rights under Article 19(1), including the right to freedom of speech and expression.” (Para 29)
3. The law’s elasticity: From ambiguity to abuse
The charges levelled against Pratapgarhi under Sections 196, 197, 299, 302, and 57 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita represent an alarming instance of legal overbreadth being used as a political weapon. The BNS, like its predecessor IPC, contains clauses so capaciously worded (e.g., “feelings of enmity”, “disharmony”, “outraging religious beliefs”) that they leave room for subjective interpretation and state-led abuse.
Justice Oka (and J Bhuyan) cut through this ambiguity:
“By no stretch of imagination does it promote enmity… The poem refers to injustice and offers non-violence as a response. It cannot be seen as a cause of communal disharmony.” (Para 10)
This is a clear attempt to re-inscribe constitutional interpretation over statutory vagueness, requiring any criminal allegation under these sections to pass a high threshold of intent, clarity, and demonstrable harm.
4. From Lalita Kumari to BNSS: Rethinking FIR registration
The Court’s discussion on Section 173(3) of the BNSS is an important departure from earlier CrPC jurisprudence under Lalita Kumari.
Where Lalita Kumari limited the police’s discretion, the BNSS introduces a structured preliminary inquiry model for offences punishable by 3–7 years—like many speech-related provisions.
The Supreme Court insists that in all speech-related cases where this discretion is available, it must be exercised:
“If an option under sub-Section (3) is not exercised by the police officer in such a case, he may end up registering an FIR against a person who has exercised his fundamental right under Article 19 (1)(a) even though clause (2) of Article 19 is not attracted. If, in such cases, the option under sub-Section (3) of Section 173 is not exercised, it will defeat the very object of incorporating sub-Section (3) of Section 173 of the BNSS and will also defeat the obligation of the police under Article 51-A (a).” (Para 29)
This means the police must now interpret the text of the speech itself, not just the complaint—an approach that, while normatively sound, places interpretive responsibility on officers often untrained in the subtleties of metaphor, political critique, or artistic licence.
5. Institutional analysis: The High Court’s abdication and the Supreme Court’s role as rights sentinel
The Gujarat High Court, by deferring to the early stage of the investigation, abdicated its constitutional responsibility to scrutinise rights violations at the threshold.
The Supreme Court rebuked this stance:
“We fail to understand how the High Court concluded that the message was posted in a manner that would certainly disturb social harmony. Thereafter, the High Court gave a reason that the investigation was at a nascent stage. There is no absolute rule that when the investigation is at a nascent stage, the High Court cannot exercise its jurisdiction to quash an offence by exercising its jurisdiction under Article 226 of the Constitution of India or under Section 482 of the CrPC equivalent to Section 528 of the BNSS. When the High Court, in the given case, finds that no offence was made out on the face of it, to prevent abuse of the process of law, it can always interfere even though the investigation is at the nascent stage.” (Para 37)
This reaffirms that judicial intervention in the early stages of political or speech-related prosecutions is not just permissible but necessary. The longer the case proceeds, the more the process itself becomes punishment. This view counters a dangerous trend: judicial evasion in politically sensitive matters, often under the guise of deference to procedure. Here, the Court restores its duty as a constitutional firewall, refusing to be paralysed by formalism.
6. The Reasonable Reader standard: Sedition, hate Speech, and judicial empathy
A key analytical move in the judgment is the revival of the “reasonable, strong-minded” observer standard from Bhagwati Charan Shukla:
“When an offence punishable under Section 196 of BNS is alleged, the effect of the spoken or written words will have to be considered based on standards of reasonable, strongminded, firm and courageous individuals and not based on the standards of people with weak and oscillating minds. The effect of the spoken or written words cannot be judged on the basis of the standards of people who always have a sense of insecurity or of those who always perceive criticism as a threat to their power or position.” (Para 33)
This interpretive lens displaces subjective offence with an objective, resilient baseline, thereby protecting robust discourse. It delegitimises state action based solely on hurt sentiments or perceived disrespect to power. This is especially important in India’s contemporary climate, where claims of communal hurt are often wielded as instruments of political repression.
7. Literature as democratic praxis: The place of poetry in the Constitutional Order
In recognising the poem’s form and context, the Court refrains from sterilising language into literalism. Justice Oka honours the metaphorical richness of poetic expression and its political function:
“…the poem does not encourage violence. On the contrary, it encourages people to desist from resorting to violence and to face injustice with love. It states that if our fight with injustice results into the death of our near and dear ones, we would be happy to bury their bodies.” (Para 10)
Poetry here is not ornamental—it is political speech in its most potent, imaginative form. The Court recognises that to penalise such speech is to criminalise dissent itself. This judgment contributes to an emerging jurisprudence where art is recognised as both speech and constitutional engagement, not as a diluted cousin of prose but as its fiercest challenger.
8. Toward a doctrine of “Constitutional offence”
Perhaps the most striking analytical thread is the Court’s suggestion that some state actions themselves verge on a constitutional offence:
“Even while dealing with the performance of an obligation under sub-Section (1) of Section 173, where the commission of the offence is based on spoken or written words, the police officer concerned will have to keep in mind the fundamental rights guaranteed under Article 19(1)(a) read with an exception carved out under clause (2) of Article 19. The reason is that he is under an obligation to abide by the Constitution and to respect the ideals under the Constitution. The Constitution is more than 75 years old. By this time, the police officers ought to have been sensitized about their duty of abiding by the Constitution and respecting the ideals of the Constitution.” (Para 30)
Here, Justice Oka (and Justice Bhuyan) aren’t merely interpreting law—they are charging the State with constitutional delinquency. In doing so, they lay the groundwork for a potential doctrine where misuse of criminal process to silence dissent could itself be a rights violation subject to public law remedy.
This is not explicitly framed in the language of compensation or tort—but it hints at a growing judicial recognition that abuse of power is not neutral—it is a rights violation in itself.
Legal analysis of offences under BNS: A systematic dismantling
In the judgment, the Supreme Court, has also meticulously analysed the ingredients of each alleged offence and found all of them legally untenable.
- Section 196 (Promoting enmity between groups)
“The poem does not refer to any religion, caste or language. It does not refer to persons belonging to any religion. By no stretch of imagination, does it promote enmity between different groups. We fail to understand how the statements therein are detrimental to national unity and how the statements will affect national unity. On its plain reading, the poem does not purport to affect anyone’s religious feelings.” (Para 12)
Based on precedent (Manzar Sayeed Khan, Patricia Mukhim, Javed Ahmad Hajam), the Court reaffirmed that criminalising speech requires a showing of deliberate intent (mens rea). Without it, the mere content of speech, however provocative to some, is not criminal.
“Mens rea will have to be read into Section 196 of the BNS… it is impossible to attribute any mens rea to the appellant.” (Para 34)
2. Section 197 (Prejudicial to national integration)
Therefore, as the Supreme Court, read both facts and the law, the poem by Imran Pratapgarhi did not attract the offence under Section 197 as it:
- Did not cast doubt on the loyalty of any group.
- Did not assert the denial of citizenship rights.
- Did not jeopardise national unity.
“…the poem does not make or publish any imputation and is not concerned with any religious, racial, language, regional group, caste, or community. It does not suggest that any class of persons have been denied rights as citizens because they are members of a religious, racial, language, regional group, caste, or community. It does not make or publish any assertion, counsel, plea or appeal likely to cause disharmony or feeling of enmity or hatred or ill will. The poem does not publish or make any false or misleading information.” (Para 16)
3. Section 299 & Section 302 (Religious insult or wounding religious sentiment)
The Court termed these charges “ridiculous”:
“To say the least, it is ridiculous to say that the act of the appellant is intended to outrage the religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs. The poem only tells the rulers what the reaction will be if the fight for rights is met with injustice.” (Para 17)
4. Section 57 (Abetment by public)
“We fail to understand, even if it is assumed that the appellant has committed some offence, how he has abetted the commission of an offence by the public generally or by any number or class of persons exceeding ten.” (Para 19)
The Supreme Court’s systematic dismantling of the charges against Imran Pratapgarhi reflects a jurisprudence grounded in constitutional fidelity and statutory precision. In addressing Section 196 of the BNS—concerning promotion of enmity between groups—the Court reiterates a long-standing doctrinal principle: that the mere capacity of speech to provoke cannot substitute for a demonstrable, deliberate intent to incite enmity. Drawing from precedents like Manzar Sayeed Khan, Patricia Mukhim, and Javed Ahmad Hajam, the Court makes it clear that mens rea—a deliberate, malicious state of mind—is essential for liability. The poem in question, devoid of any reference to religion, caste, or community, could not be interpreted as promoting group enmity, and to criminalise it would be a distortion of both the statute and the Constitution. The Court’s reading imposes a constitutional filter on the BNS provision, ensuring it cannot be misused to punish subjective offence or perceived disrespect.
This logic extends seamlessly to the rejection of charges under Sections 197, 299, 302, and 57. Under Section 197, which deals with acts prejudicial to national integration, the Court’s reasoning is particularly illuminating. Justice Oka dissects the elements of the offence and finds none fulfilled: the poem neither impugns any group’s loyalty nor suggests the denial of citizenship rights, nor does it propagate disinformation. Similarly, the invocation of Section 299 and 302 for religious insult is dismissed as “ridiculous,” with the Court recognising that the poem critiques state injustice, not religious belief. Most striking is the Court’s incredulity at the Section 57 charge—abetment by the public—highlighting not only the absence of any instigated act but also the absurdity of imagining that poetic expression could be interpreted as a generalised call to criminal conduct. This cluster of analyses reveals not only the hollowness of the FIR but also the deeper pathology of criminal law’s misuse: charges laid without regard for statutory thresholds, constitutional limits, or evidentiary plausibility. Justice Oka and Justice Bhuyan’s reasoning is a potent reminder that law, especially criminal law, cannot be driven by sentiment, conjecture, or political expediency—it must be anchored in demonstrable harm, clear intent, and legal fidelity.
The Court as guardian of the Republic’s imagination
Imran Pratapgarhi judgement is not merely about poetry—it is about power, protest, and the place of dissent in India’s constitutional framework. This judgment revitalises the meaning of free speech in an age where criminal law is increasingly wielded to silence opposition. It teaches us that:
- Law is not merely a set of punishments but a moral language.
- Courts must defend expression, even if the State finds it discomforting.
- Poetry, critique, and satire are not seditious—they are the scaffolding of a free republic.
In this moment, the Supreme Court does not merely defend a poem—it defends the possibility of dissent itself. And that makes it one of the most important judgments on freedom of speech in recent Indian history.
To borrow the Court’s own words:
“Courts, particularly the constitutional Courts, must be at the forefront to zealously protect the fundamental rights of the citizens. It is the bounden duty of the Courts to ensure that the Constitution and the ideals of the Constitution are not trampled upon.” (Para 39)
Conclusion: A Constitutional anthem for the right to dissent
The Imran Pratapgarhi judgment stands as a powerful reaffirmation that the Constitution of India is not a brittle document to be bruised by sentiment, nor a tool to be twisted by the might of the State. It is, instead, a living charter that guarantees not only the right to speak, but the right to disturb, to provoke, and to dissent—particularly through art, poetry, and political expression. Justice Oka’s reasoning does not merely rescue one man from a legally untenable prosecution; it reclaims the constitutional promise that the State cannot demand silence in exchange for citizenship.
By scrupulously dismantling every charge brought under the BNS and holding law enforcement accountable to constitutional ideals, the judgment delivers a rare, lucid defence of free speech in an era when such freedoms are frequently under siege. It goes beyond the judicial role of error correction and enters the moral terrain of democratic defence. This case is not just precedent—it is a call to conscience for the police, for the lower judiciary, and for civil society. In drawing a firm constitutional line between law and power, it sends an unequivocal message: poetic dissent is not criminal, and the Constitution does not flinch before uncomfortable truths.
Ultimately, this is not merely a judgment about the legality of a poem—it is a resounding assertion of the Republic’s constitutional soul. It reminds us that the true test of democracy is not how the State treats speech that flatters, but how it responds to speech that resists. On that test, the Supreme Court has spoken with uncommon clarity and courage.
The complete judgment may be read below.
Related:
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