For the millions of Indians who have spent years navigating the labyrinthine corridors of our legal system, the courthouse is often a place where hope goes to languish. While high-profile cases capture the headlines and move through the docket with visible momentum, the average citizen finds himself trapped in a cycle of adjournments and procedural hurdles that can span generations. We have reached a point where the phrase “justice delayed is justice denied” is no longer a warning but a standard operating procedure.

It’s time for the focus to shift away from the judge holding the gavel and towards the people standing in the dock. The urgency of judicial reform in India is not a professional concern for lawyers or a theoretical exercise for academics; it is a fundamental human rights crisis that demands a total reimagining of how the state delivers on its promise of fairness.

The excruciating wait

The primary grievance of the common person is the sheer, suffocating weight of pendency. With over five crore cases currently clogging the arteries of our courts, the system has become its own worst enemy. For a layman, the legal process feels like a black hole where time and money disappear without a clear horizon for resolution. This backlog emboldens the lawbreaker and exhausts the law-abiding. When a land dispute takes 20 years to resolve, the winner often finds the victory hollow, having spent more on legal fees than the property was worth.

The institutionalised sluggishness of the Indian legal system has transformed the pursuit of justice into an endurance test, giving rise to the grim observation that “the process is the punishment.” Unnecessary procedural bottlenecks and the culture of frequent, and often frivolous adjournments create a gravitational pull that keeps cases in limbo for decades, effectively stripping the accused of their dignity, livelihood, and social standing long before a verdict is ever reached. This systemic failure is most visible in the tragic stories of individuals charged with grave offences who are eventually acquitted, only to find their lives in ruins and their prime years spent behind bars, without compensation.

It is particularly unconscionable that those charged under stringent anti-terrorism laws, such as the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), languish in overcrowded prisons without trial and without the possibility of bail, as the prima facie evidence standard often makes incarceration the rule rather than the exception. To uphold the constitutional promise of liberty, the judiciary must urgently lay down clear, mandatory guidelines that fix a firm timeline — perhaps no longer than one or two years — within which the state must either commence a meaningful trial or grant the accused bail.

This transition requires a radical embrace of the 21st century. For too long, our courts have operated as if they were frozen in the colonial era, reliant on mountains of physical files, and the personal presence of litigants who must often travel hundreds of miles just to hear a new date for the hearing. The digital revolution that has transformed how we bank, shop, and communicate must now also conquer the judiciary. Artificial Intelligence (AI) and data-driven case management are not luxuries, but necessary tools to dismantle the backlog. Imagine a system where AI handles the routine administrative filing, flags delays, and even assists in legal research, allowing judges to focus their cognitive energy on the heart of the matter.

Need for inclusivity and accessibility

However, a faster court is only half the battle; we also require a more inclusive one. Citizens’ trust in the law is deeply tied to whether they see themselves reflected in the people who interpret it. The judiciary has long been criticised for being an insular “old boys’ club,” where the glass ceiling for women and marginalised communities remains intact, with too many judges being relatives of earlier generations of judges. True reform means breaking these barriers to ensure that the Bench represents the vast and diverse tapestry of India. This is not about identity politics; it is about judicial quality. A Bench that understands the lived realities of a diverse population is a Bench that can deliver more nuanced and empathetic rulings. When a woman or a person from a historically oppressed community sits in judgment, she brings a perspective that enriches the law and makes it more responsive to the nuances of Indian society.

Beyond the composition of the Bench, there is the crushing issue of affordability. In its current form, justice is a luxury good. The cost of hiring competent counsel and the incidental expenses of long-term litigation effectively price out a significant portion of the population. India must overhaul the legal aid system, transforming it into a high-calibre institution that offers the poor a comparable quality of the representation available to the rich. If the state can provide food and education, it must also provide the means for a citizen to defend their life and liberty.

Furthermore, the geographical centralisation of our highest courts remains a relic of the past. The idea that a litigant from south India must travel to the capital for a final appeal is an unnecessary burden. Regional Benches or a more robust system of virtual hearings for the Supreme Court would go a long way in making the highest level of justice a local reality rather than a distant dream.

Beneath these logistical changes lies the soul of the reform: the preservation of constitutional morality and judicial independence. The people need a judiciary that acts as a fearless referee, one that can hold the powerful to account without blinking. This independence is the bedrock of a functioning democracy. Yet, independence should not be confused with a lack of accountability. By opening up the process — through live-streaming of important cases and clearer criteria for judicial appointments — the court can rebuild the ‘social contract’ it has with the people.

A systemic overhaul

The country must stop treating judicial reform as a series of small, incremental adjustments and start treating it as a national emergency. The current state of affairs is a slow-motion catastrophe that erodes the rule of law every day. The people are not looking for grand speeches or ceremonial promises; they are looking for a system that works, and is fast and fair. We need to move away from the adversarial culture that views every legal disagreement as a battle to the death, toward a culture of resolution. We need judges who are as comfortable with a computer screen as they are with a law book, and a legal profession that values the closing of a case more than the prolongation of a fee.

As we move towards ‘Viksit Bharat’ 2047, the measure of our success as a nation will not just be our GDP or our technological prowess, but how we treat the person seeking justice in our courts. If we fail to reform, we risk a future where the law is seen merely as a tool of the powerful rather than as a shield for the weak.

But if we succeed, we can create a system where the scales of justice are finally balanced, ensuring that no Indian is ever again forced to wait a lifetime for a truth that should have been delivered in a day. The time for deliberation has passed; the time for a transformation that puts the citizen first, is now.

Shashi Tharoor is a Fourth-term Member of Parliament (Congress) for Thiruvananthapuram (Lok Sabha), and award-winning author of 28 books, including, most recently, ‘The Sage Who Reimagined Hinduism: the Life, Lessons and Legacy of Sree Narayana Guru’, and the Chairman of the Parliamentary Standing Committee for External Affairs