Rights and Responsibilities: Two Sides of the Coin
Let's get real.
Everyone LOVES talking about "my rights."
Freedom of speech, right to protest, right to privacy.
But what about duties? Duties are spelled out in Article 51A (added in 1976). Here are some:
- Respect the Constitution and national symbols
- Defend the country
- Preserve our culture
- Protect the environment
- Educate your children
- And yes, don't vandalize public property after a cricket match!
These may not be enforceable by law—but they are enforceable by conscience. Rights without responsibilities? That's not democracy, that's entitlement.
Blend of Rigidity and Flexibility
Constitutions can also be classified as rigid or flexible. A rigid constitution, like that of the United States, requires a special procedure for amendments. A flexible constitution, like Britain's, can be changed as easily as passing an ordinary law.
India's Constitution is a synthesis of both. Article 368 provides for different ways to amend the Constitution:
- Some provisions can be amended by a special majority in both Houses of Parliament.
- Certain provisions require, in addition, ratification by half of the state legislatures.
- Other provisions can be changed by a simple majority—the same as ordinary laws.
This blend ensures the Constitution is not so rigid that it becomes outdated, nor so flexible that it loses its foundational principles.
Parliamentary Form of Government
India follows the Parliamentary System of Government as in Britain,
rather than the Presidential System like that in the USA.
- In the parliamentary system, there is close coordination between the legislative and executive organs; the Prime Minister and Cabinet are part of Parliament and answerable to it.
- In the presidential system, the executive and legislature are separate.
- This "Westminster Model" is in place not only at the Centre, but in the States as well.
Parliamentary government ensures collective responsibility and accountability,
with the Prime Minister and Council of Ministers responsible to the Lok Sabha (the lower house).
Directive Principles of State Policy
Directive Principles (Part IV) are unique to the Indian Constitution and described by Dr. B.R. Ambedkar as a "novel feature."
These principles are divided into socialistic, Gandhian, and liberal categories.
They aim to promote social and economic democracy and establish a welfare state.
Directive Principles are not justiciable—they cannot be enforced in court—but the Constitution declares that they are "fundamental in the governance of the country" and must guide the making of laws.
Their force is moral and political, shaping government policies over time. The Indian Constitution is built on a balance between Fundamental Rights (individual freedom) and Directive Principles (social justice).
Secularism
The Indian Constitution establishes India as a secular state—meaning that the State does not have an official religion.
In the West, secularism often means complete separation between Church and State.
In India's multi-religious context, secularism means equal respect for all religions. The State neither favours nor discriminates against any faith, and gives protection to all religions equally.
This approach is known as positive secularism.
Socialism
Even before the word "socialist" was added to the Preamble in 1976, the Constitution reflected socialist values—especially in the Directive Principles.
Democratic Socialism
India believes in a system where both public and private sectors coexist. There is no blanket nationalization or abolition of private property.
The aim is to end poverty, ignorance, disease, and inequality of opportunity.
Indian socialism blends ideas from both Marxism and Gandhism, with a tilt toward Gandhian ideals of non-violence and self-reliance.
Fraternity
Fraternity means a sense of brotherhood among all Indians. The Constitution promotes this through:
Single Citizenship
Everyone is an Indian first, regardless of state or region.
Fundamental Duties
Citizens are urged to promote harmony and the spirit of brotherhood, transcending differences of religion, language, or region.
Unity and Integrity
The Preamble stresses dignity of the individual and unity and integrity of the nation. The 42nd Amendment (1976) added "integrity" to the Preamble.
According to K.M. Munshi, "dignity of the individual" is not just about material improvement but also about recognising the sanctity of each person's personality.
Story 1: Can One Judge Stand Up to a Prime Minister?
Let's imagine: You're sitting in a courtroom in Allahabad, 1975. The judge walks in—Justice Sinha. The person on trial? Not an ordinary citizen, but India's most powerful leader—Prime Minister Indira Gandhi!
Question for you: Do you think a judge can really hold a Prime Minister accountable? (What do you feel? Raise your hand if you think yes. Now, raise your hand if you think no way!)
Here's what happened: Indira Gandhi was accused of breaking election rules—using government jeeps, police, and even school buildings to win her election. Justice Sinha listened to both sides. And then—he shocked the whole country. He declared Indira Gandhi guilty. He cancelled her election. He said she couldn't contest for six years. Pause and think: What would happen today if a judge passed such a judgment against a Prime Minister?
How did Indira Gandhi react? Did she resign? No. She appealed. But as people protested in the streets, the government did something drastic. On June 25, 1975, they declared an Emergency:
- Rights were suspended
- Newspapers censored
- Political opponents jailed
Ask yourself: How would you feel if your right to speak, gather, or read the news was suddenly taken away?
Here's the real lesson: Democracy is not just about elections. It's about the courage to do what's right—even when it's hard. One judge's decision shook the whole country and showed that no one is above the law.
So, over to you:
- Do you think today's judges and citizens would do the same?
- If you saw something unfair, would you stand up—even if it meant going against someone powerful?
Remember: The Constitution is only as strong as the people who defend it—judges, students, everyone.
Story 2: Maneka's Passport Problem
Picture this: It's 1977, and India is buzzing with change. The Emergency is over, a new government is in power, and old political rivals are at war in the newspapers and on the streets.
In the middle of all this is Maneka Gandhi—not just any citizen, but the outspoken daughter-in-law of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, and the fiery editor of the magazine Surya. Maneka is famous for asking tough questions and making powerful leaders uncomfortable.
Just as she's preparing for an important trip abroad to speak her mind on the global stage, a plain government envelope lands at her door. Inside is a shocker: "Your passport has been impounded. You cannot leave India. This is in 'public interest.'"
Maneka is stunned. Why? She had always traveled freely before. She writes to the government: "On what grounds have you taken my passport?" The answer is a dead end: "We don't have to tell you. It's for the general public's good."
Suddenly, Maneka finds herself trapped in her own country, her freedom to travel snatched away—no explanation, no hearing, no evidence. Is it because of her political views? Her articles? Or just government power unchecked?
Imagine you are Maneka:
What would you feel?
What would you do?
Maneka refuses to back down. She marches straight to the Supreme Court, asking the nation's top judges: "Can the government silence a citizen and take away their right to travel, without even giving a reason? Isn't the right to move freely part of my personal liberty, protected by the Constitution?"
The Shah Bano Story: Law, Religion, and a Woman's Right
Meet Shah Bano, a 62-year-old woman from Madhya Pradesh. After more than forty years of marriage, her husband—a prosperous lawyer earning about ₹60,000 a year (a huge sum at that time)—suddenly divorces her by uttering 'triple talaq'. The cause? A family inheritance feud.
According to Muslim personal law, her ex-husband gives her ₹3,000 (the agreed mahr) during the waiting period (iddat), and tells the court his responsibility is over.
But for Shah Bano, life is turned upside down. Forced out of her home, she struggles to survive. She turns to the courts, filing a case under Section 125 of the Criminal Procedure Code (CrPC)—a law meant to stop anyone, regardless of religion, from abandoning their dependents.
A local judge orders her husband to pay just ₹25 per month—hardly enough for basic needs. On appeal, the High Court raises it to ₹179.20 per month. Still, her wealthy ex-husband refuses, arguing,
"My religious law says I only owe mahr and nothing more after the iddat period, even if I earn plenty. The court can't force me to pay beyond that."
The case reaches the Supreme Court. Here's the dilemma: Should the court enforce the secular law meant to protect the vulnerable, or respect religious personal law, even if it leaves Shah Bano almost penniless despite her husband's large income?
The judges put it bluntly:
"Is it fair that a woman should be left to poverty just because her husband has paid a small sum, no matter how much he earns? Does any law—religious or secular—allow this injustice?"
The Olga Tellis Story: Whose City Is It?
Imagine the city of Mumbai in 1981—crowded, vibrant, and full of opportunity. Every year, thousands of people journey here from far-off villages, desperate to find work and feed their families. But for most, city life means sleeping in flimsy huts, makeshift shacks, or even on the pavements, just steps from where they work.
Then comes a shock: The Chief Minister of Maharashtra, A.R. Antulay, announces that everyone living in these informal settlements—those without official ID photo-passes—will be evicted and sent away from the city. The city's Municipal Commissioner, with support from the police, prepares for a mass demolition and eviction drive. The official reason?
"Life on the pavements is inhuman. These dwellings are unsafe, especially during monsoon. For their own good—and for the city's safety—they must go."
Many of the city's poorest residents wake up to find bulldozers and police at their doorsteps. Their homes are torn down, and they're told to leave Mumbai. But two groups of these pavement and slum dwellers say, "Wait! We never wanted to live like this. But if you take away our only shelter, how will we survive? We came here to earn an honest living—the right to life must include the right to earn a livelihood!"
They go to the Supreme Court, not to claim the right to live on pavements forever, but to demand:
- Protection for their basic right to life under Article 21 of the Constitution—which, they argue, must also mean the right to livelihood.
- The city cannot claim to protect their lives if it denies them the means to live.
- At the very least, if they're being removed, they should be offered alternative accommodation.
On the other side: The city government says, "We're acting in public interest. Pavement settlements create health risks, increase accidents, and make the city unsafe. The law lets us clear encroachments—even without notice—because public welfare matters most."
The Bhopal Gas Tragedy: A Story for the Classroom
On a chilly December night in 1984, the city of Bhopal was transformed forever. While most people slept, a poisonous gas silently leaked from the Union Carbide pesticide factory, spreading through nearby neighbourhoods. Within hours, thousands were gasping for breath, blinded, and dying. The city became a graveyard overnight. In the weeks and years that followed, the true horror unfolded: over 20,000 people would die from the disaster, and more than half a million would carry scars—physical and emotional—for life.
Union Carbide, an American company, called it an accident. The company paid about $470 million as a settlement—less than ₹50,000 per victim—while similar disasters in other countries saw companies pay billions. Many of those responsible were never jailed, and the polluted factory site still affects lives today.
The Indian government stepped in to represent all the victims, claiming to fight for them. But many survivors and activists say this move helped the company and the government avoid real accountability, leaving victims with little justice or voice.
Even decades later, Bhopal stands as a warning: when profits and shortcuts come before safety, ordinary people pay the price.