When Faith Meets Law: Khajuraho, CJI & Virality

The Supreme Court of India has refused to entertain a petition filed by advocate Rakesh Dalal seeking restoration of a beheaded Lord Vishnu idol at the Javari temple in Khajuraho. The petition claimed that the idol’s head was mutilated during Mughal invasions, had remained in that state despite repeated representations, and that this violated the devotee’s fundamental right to worship. It prayed for restoration, replacement or reconstruction. A bench of Chief Justice of India B. R. Gavai and Justice A. G. Masih dismissed it, holding that the matter lies within the jurisdiction of the Archaeological Survey of India and that ASI rules do not permit reconstruction beyond conservation.

During the hearing, Chief Justice Gavai made an oral remark that instantly became the story: “Go and ask the deity itself to do something now. You say you are a staunch devotee of Lord Vishnu. So go and pray now.” He also described the plea as “purely publicity interest litigation.” Legally, the outcome was never in doubt. But the remark shifted the focus. What should have been a straightforward dismissal based on statutory bars against reconstruction became a controversy about judicial sensitivity and faith.

The statutory scheme is unambiguous. Khajuraho temples are notified heritage monuments protected under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains Act, 1958. Under its conservation rules, only repair and preservation is permitted. Reconstruction of lost or destroyed portions is expressly disallowed. The petitioner was already aware of this. In May 2020, the Ministry of Culture responded to his representation, explicitly stating that Khajuraho temples are in good conservation condition, that ongoing development work is carried out by the ASI and partners such as the Indian Oil Foundation, and that “reconstruction of temples is against the conservation rules, hence their conservation work is done by the Archaeological Survey of India.” A lawyer who had received this reply knew his prayer was untenable. Filing it in the Supreme Court was at best misguided and at worst a calculated attempt to create noise.

What followed in open court shows how easily matters of faith can slip into controversy. The Chief Justice’s remark was unnecessary for the legal reasoning. It was rhetorical theatre, but in the age of instant transmission, it became the headline. The order itself, based on clear statutory limits, was reduced to a footnote.

This case is not isolated. Judges in India have often made remarks on religion or belief that travelled far beyond the court record. After the Sabarimala decision, observations about custom and equality echoed in debates long after the judgment was delivered. In the Ram Janmabhoomi case, the bench was careful to temper comments, knowing the sensitivities at stake. The Karnataka hijab ban case is another reminder. Justice Hemant Gupta, who upheld the ban, asked whether permitting hijab in classrooms would also justify saffron shawls or crucifixes, pointedly questioning “where does it end?” He also suggested that wearing hijab was cultural rather than religious, triggering sharp reactions. Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia, dissenting, framed it as a matter of individual choice and argued that forcing young girls to remove it to attend school was unfair. What the public remembered, however, were the blunt lines on Islam and culture, not the fine constitutional reasoning. Go further back, and Justice S. N. Srivastava of the Allahabad High Court suggested that the Bhagavad Gita could be considered a “national dharma shastra”.

These episodes show how faith plus judicial speech becomes amplified. Once a phrase leaves the courtroom, it enters public memory stripped of context. But responsibility here is collective. Judges must recognise the weight of oral observations in an era when every word is instantly transmitted and dissected. Lawyers must exercise professional restraint and avoid filing prayers that have already been rejected by statutory authorities. Journalists must report what is said, but with clarity on what is binding reasoning and what is rhetorical theatre. Civil society too must resist reducing hearings into memes and soundbites that inflame rather than inform.

The Khajuraho petition was always doomed. The law bars reconstruction. The ASI had told the petitioner so in writing. The Supreme Court only reaffirmed what the statute had already said. That should have been the entire story. Instead, one passing remark became the controversy. Faith will continue to meet law in India’s courtrooms. That is inevitable in a diverse society. The challenge is ensuring that when it does, the clarity of law does not get lost in the noise of words, however loose or provocative.