When constitutional guardians begin testing the limits of constitutional power.
There is a question that every constitutional democracy must periodically ask itself—not out of hostility towards its institutions, but precisely because those institutions matter:
Who watches the watchdogs?
In India, this question has acquired renewed urgency.
The Supreme Court is the highest constitutional court of the land. Its authority rests not merely on the majesty of its courtroom or the respect commanded by its judges, but on something much deeper: the Constitution itself.
That makes the Court's powers extraordinary. It also makes the limits on those powers equally important. For when an institution entrusted with interpreting the Constitution begins to enter areas constitutionally assigned to other institutions, the issue is no longer about one judgment or one government. It is about the architecture of the Republic.

The President, Parliament and the Court
The controversy over the Court's intervention in the question of assent to Bills illustrates the difficulty.
In April 2025, while dealing with the prolonged withholding of assent to Bills passed by the Tamil Nadu legislature, the Supreme Court issued directions concerning the time within which constitutional authorities should act. Among other things, it directed action on Bills and prescribed a 30-day period in certain circumstances.
That judgment triggered a larger constitutional question: can a court prescribe a timeline for the exercise of the President's constitutional discretion when the Constitution itself does not prescribe such a timeline?
The question was sufficiently serious for the President to seek the Supreme Court's advisory opinion under Article 143. The reference specifically asked whether judicial orders could impose timelines and prescribe the manner in which the President should exercise powers under Article 201.
This is not a minor procedural dispute.
It goes to the heart of the separation of constitutional functions.
The judiciary interprets the Constitution. Parliament makes laws. The executive administers them. Constitutional authorities perform the functions assigned to them by the Constitution.
Checks and balances do not mean that one institution can routinely substitute its judgment for that of another.
Judicial review is indispensable to democracy. Judicial supremacy over every constitutional function is a very different proposition.
That distinction deserves to be defended.

Activism is not the same thing as power without boundaries
There is nothing inherently wrong with judicial activism. India's constitutional history contains numerous instances where the judiciary has stepped in to protect fundamental rights, correct executive excesses and preserve constitutional values.

But activism becomes problematic when the Court ceases to interpret constitutional boundaries and begins to redraw them.
The phrase judicial overreach is therefore not an attack on the judiciary. It is a legitimate constitutional concern whenever judicial intervention begins to trespass into the domain of another constitutional authority.
The real test should be simple:
Is the Court enforcing the Constitution—or creating a constitutional power that the Constitution does not give it?
That question deserves to be asked without fear, reverence or political calculation.

The Collegium paradox
The same constitutional discomfort arises in the debate over judicial appointments.
The Collegium system is not expressly mentioned in the Constitution. It evolved through judicial decisions, beginning with the Second Judges Case and subsequently developing through further constitutional jurisprudence.
Parliament attempted to replace the system with the National Judicial Appointments Commission.
The constitutional amendment establishing the NJAC was struck down by the Supreme Court, thereby retaining the Collegium system, although the Court itself acknowledged the need to improve its functioning.
This presents an extraordinary institutional paradox.
The judiciary exercises enormous constitutional power in deciding who will occupy the constitutional courts, while the mechanism through which those judges are selected is itself largely judge-made.
That does not automatically make the Collegium unconstitutional.
But it does raise an entirely legitimate democratic question:
Can an institution entrusted with judging everyone else remain substantially insulated from institutional scrutiny of its own functioning?
Transparency is not an insult to judicial independence.
Accountability is not the enemy of judicial independence.
Indeed, genuine judicial independence should be strong enough to withstand both.

The Justice Yashwant Varma episode
The controversy surrounding Justice Yashwant Varma has made this question even more uncomfortable.
Following the discovery of cash at his official residence and the allegations that followed, an in-house inquiry was constituted. The Supreme Court subsequently confirmed that the Chief Justice had forwarded the report of a three-member committee to the President and the Prime Minister.

The episode inevitably raises questions about how allegations against members of the higher judiciary should be investigated.
The point is not to prejudge Justice Varma or convert an allegation into a finding of guilt.
That would itself violate the principles of natural justice.
The question is institutional:
When allegations of this magnitude arise against a judge, should the system investigating them be almost entirely internal to the judiciary?
Should there be a mechanism that combines judicial independence with independent forensic and investigative expertise?
Should evidence be preserved through procedures that command public confidence?
Should citizens have to rely almost entirely on an institution investigating one of its own members to know whether justice has been done?
These are not questions of contempt. They are questions of constitutional confidence.
The Supreme Court's own records establish that an in-house committee was constituted and that its report was transmitted to the constitutional authorities.
What India needs is not accusation without evidence.

It needs a transparent system in which evidence, procedure and accountability are beyond suspicion.

The Waqf question—and the principle of equal scrutiny
The debate over the Waqf law presents another dimension of the same larger issue: whether constitutional scrutiny must be even-handed.
The Supreme Court has been seized of challenges concerning the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025.
The larger public debate, however, extends beyond the latest amendment.
It concerns questions of property rights, religious institutions, government land, disputed claims and the rights of citizens belonging to different communities.
These issues must not be reduced to a Hindu-versus-Muslim contest.
That would be precisely the wrong lesson to draw.
The constitutional principle is much simpler:
No religious or secular institution should enjoy powers that place the property or rights of citizens beyond meaningful scrutiny.
If a citizen's land is wrongly claimed, there must be a remedy.
If government land is wrongly classified, there must be a remedy.

If a temple, mosque, church, trust or any other religious institution faces an unlawful claim, there must be a remedy.
And if legislation creates unequal rights or obligations, the constitutional test must be applied without fear or favour.
That is secularism in its strongest form—not selective protection, but equal protection of every citizen.

The bigger question
All these controversies point towards one uncomfortable truth. India's constitutional democracy was not designed to create three competing sovereignties. It created institutions with different responsibilities: Parliament represents the people's legislative will; the executive governs; and the judiciary interprets the Constitution and adjudicates disputes. Each is powerful. None is sovereign over the Constitution.
The Constitution is supreme—not Parliament, not the executive and not the judiciary.
The judiciary is its guardian, but a guardian is not the owner.

Who will judge the judges?
This is therefore not a call to weaken the Supreme Court. It is the opposite.
India needs a Supreme Court whose authority is so deeply rooted in constitutional restraint that its judgments command respect even from those who disagree with them.
It needs judges who are fearless before governments—but equally conscious of the limits of judicial power.
It needs a system in which allegations against judges can be investigated without compromising judicial independence.
It needs greater transparency in appointments without turning judges into political appointees.
It needs mechanisms of accountability that do not allow either the executive or the judiciary to become unaccountable.
And above all, it needs citizens who understand that questioning a constitutional institution is not an act of rebellion.
It is an act of citizenship.
The right to question power is not reserved for Parliament.
It belongs to the people.
But that questioning must be informed, evidence-based and constitutional. We should resist both extremes—the blind worship of institutions and the reckless destruction of institutional credibility.

The Supreme Court must remain independent.
But independence cannot mean immunity from scrutiny.
The judiciary must remain powerful.
But power must remain bounded by the Constitution.
And judges must remain fearless.
But no constitutional office should become an island beyond accountability.
The question, therefore, is not whether the judiciary should be above the law.
The question is much more fundamental:
Who ensures that the guardians of the Constitution remain within the Constitution?
That is not defiance.
That is not contempt.
That is democracy asking its most important question.

Who will judge the judges?