The Supreme Court of India this week dismissed a plea seeking the replacement of a 7-foot damaged idol of Lord Vishnu at the Javari temple in Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh. The petitioner argued that restoring the idol, which was decapitated during Mughal invasions centuries ago, was essential for reviving the sanctity of the temple and allowing worship to resume.
The temple, built by the Chandela rulers between 1050 and 1075 AD, is part of the Khajuraho complex—celebrated worldwide for its extraordinary architecture and listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Devotees have long maintained that the broken idol has prevented prayers at the sanctum sanctorum.
The Bench Responds with Sarcasm
Chief Justice of India B.R. Gavai, leading the bench, rejected the plea in pointed terms. “This is purely publicity interest litigation,” he told petitioner Rakesh Dalal, who has been campaigning for restoration of broken idols across temples. “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.”
The remark, delivered in open court, was intended as sarcasm but quickly reverberated beyond the legal setting. For Dalal and his supporters, the judgment was not just a legal defeat—it was a wound to religious sentiment.
Protests and Public Backlash
Soon after the ruling, protests were staged at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi by local groups and religious activists demanding government intervention to restore the idol. Dalal submitted a memorandum to Home Minister Amit Shah urging direct action.
On social media, the backlash was immediate and intense. “At times words hurt you more than knives,” one user posted, calling the remark “an insult that will echo for generations.” Others went further, with prominent voices including retired officers and influencers demanding impeachment of the Chief Justice. Posts calling to “Impeach the CJI” trended widely, exposing the sharp divide between constitutional restraint and popular sentiment.
Between Faith and Constitutional Law
The controversy highlights a deeper tension between religious devotion and secular constitutional law. The court made clear that worshippers are free to offer prayers in other temples, but it refused to alter a centuries-old artifact in a protected heritage site. For the judges, the issue lay in protecting historical continuity; for devotees, it was about restoring a living space of faith.
As the debate grows, the case underscores how India’s courts, often called upon to adjudicate matters of faith, tread a precarious line between history, religion, and law. In Khajuraho, the idol remains headless and untouched, its silence now layered with the echoes of a courtroom exchange that has ignited a national storm.