Are We Truly Independent? The Udaipur Files, Free Speech, and the Constitutional Crisis of Selective Outrage
The idea is clear, heckler’s veto has no place in a constitutional democracy;
At the brink of Seventy-seven years of India’s independence, the question we must ask is not just whether we are free to govern ourselves but whether we are free to speak, dissent, and narrate our truth without ideological censorship.
The ongoing legal battle over The Udaipur Files is emblematic of a deeper crisis, not of law and order, but of narrative sovereignty.
The film, which seeks to dramatize the brutal 2022 daylight beheading of Kanhaiya Lal in Udaipur by radicalised individuals, has cleared all formal hurdles including certification by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) under the Cinematograph Act, 1952, over 60 voluntary cuts, and compliance with statutory guidelines. Yet it remains stalled, not by law, but by petitions alleging potential incitement of hatred and breach of public order.
This raises a constitutional dilemma. Are courts to act as moral censors or guardians of fundamental rights?
Article 19(1)(a) of the Indian Constitution guarantees the right to freedom of speech and expression. This includes the right to artistic and cinematic expression, as upheld by the Supreme Court in K.A. Abbas v. Union of India, (1971) 2 SCC 446. In that case, the Court explicitly acknowledged that motion pictures are a legitimate form of expression protected by the Constitution. It also affirmed the need for some regulation through pre-censorship but insisted that such regulation must be reasonable and guided by clear standards.
While Article 19(2) permits “reasonable restrictions” on free speech in the interest of public order, decency or morality, these restrictions must be tailored and proportionate. This principle was reaffirmed in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India, (2015) 5 SCC 1, where the Court struck down Section 66A of the IT Act for being vague, reiterating that free speech cannot be curtailed on mere apprehensions.
If The Udaipur Files has complied with the CBFC process and is based on real events supported by documented evidence including CCTV footage and court records, what legal basis remains for restraining its release? Is ideological disagreement now sufficient to invoke public order restrictions?
In contrast, films like PK, Oh My God, and Water, which critiqued Hindu religious practices and customs, faced no judicial hurdles. Paresh Rawal’s OMG openly challenged the business of religion and received praise for its satire. Deepa Mehta’s Water, despite social protests, was ultimately allowed release. In none of these cases did courts find grounds to block screening under Article 19(2).
The Supreme Court in S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, (1989) 2 SCC 574, provided crucial precedent. It held that the anticipated danger from a film must not be remote, conjectural or far-fetched. The Court said, “Our commitment to freedom of expression demands that it cannot be suppressed unless the situations created by allowing the exhibition are pressing and the community interest is endangered.” It added that freedom of expression cannot be suppressed by threats of demonstration or violence as that would amount to granting a veto to a group or individual, a concept known as “The Heckler’s Veto”.
With Udaipur Files in the docket, the judiciary is being asked not to interpret the law but to anticipate discomfort. This infantilises the Indian viewer, implying they lack the capacity to discern fiction from incitement, or truth from art.
What is at stake is not merely the fate of one film but the broader precedent it sets. If films based on verified incidents of religious extremism cannot be screened, but films satirizing or criticizing Hindu traditions face no such legal scrutiny, then the application of Article 19(2) is prejudicial.
Independence means more than self-rule. It means the right to remember. The right to dissent. The right to narrate. And the right to make others uncomfortable with the truth. If a democracy begins deciding what truths can be shown and which memories can be silenced, it ceases to be a democracy in the spirit of the Constitution.
If not watching The Udaipur Files means censoring hate, then it also means that the courts are being asked to censor history. We are not preserving harmony, we are erasing lived trauma. And in that erasure, we risk losing the very core of what it means to be truly independent.