Pallab Bhattacharyya
(Pallab Bhattacharyya is a former director-general of police, Special Branch and erstwhile Chairman, APSC. Views expressed by him is personal. He can be reached at pallab1959@hotmail.com)
As India approaches 26th November 2025, the seventy-sixth anniversary of the adoption of its Constitution, the world’s largest democracy stands at a defining moment of introspection. Adopted in 1949 and coming into force on 26 January 1950, this remarkable document—crafted by 299 members of the Constituent Assembly—has not only guided India’s governance but has shaped its moral and political imagination for over seven decades. The occasion is being marked by the publication of several new scholarly works: Assembling India’s Constitution: A New Democratic History (2024–25) by Rohit De and Ornit Shani, The Indian Constitution: A Conversation with Power (2025) by Gautam Bhatia, The Fifteen (2024) by Angellica Aribam and Akash Satyawali, and The Working of the Indian Constitution (2024) edited by Arghya Sengupta and Omita Goyal. Together with classics like Granville Austin’s The Indian Constitution: Cornerstone of a Nation, they provide a composite picture of how this vast and diverse country has assembled, amended, and animated its constitutional ethos.
The works of Rohit De and Ornit Shani have redefined how the Indian Constitution is understood—not as a static, elite project, but as an assembled document, constructed through conversations between ordinary Indians and the framers. From tribal groups in the Northeast to women’s collectives and labour unions, countless citizens participated in shaping the debates that ultimately defined modern India. This sense of public ownership explains the document’s resilience. Shani’s earlier How India Became Democratic showed that India prepared its electoral rolls even before becoming a republic, ensuring universal adult suffrage from day one. De’s A People’s Constitution revealed how the marginalised—sex workers, butchers, traders—invoked constitutional rights in courts, transforming the law into a living reality. In short, the Constitution’s durability lies in its continuous dialogue with the people.
As an independent observer, the functioning of the Indian Constitution across seventy-five years displays a complex blend of triumphs and tribulations. The most extraordinary achievement has been democratic continuity. Unlike several postcolonial nations that succumbed to military rule or disintegration, India maintained electoral democracy, rule of law, and institutional stability. The Constitution’s separation of powers and federal structure ensured checks and balances, and the Basic Structure Doctrine, which evolved from the Kesavananda Bharati judgement of 1973, has preserved its moral core—protecting the rule of law, judicial review, secularism, and federalism from political overreach. It has become the invisible spine of Indian democracy, invoked when Parliament or the executive tested constitutional limits.
Equally significant has been the expansion of fundamental rights. Article 21—“No person shall be deprived of his life or personal liberty except according to procedure established by law”—has grown from a narrow procedural guarantee into a fountainhead of human dignity, encompassing the right to livelihood, education, privacy, and a clean environment. The judiciary has kept the Constitution dynamic, interpreting it to accommodate changing social realities. The 73rd and 74th Amendments brought governance to the grassroots through Panchayati Raj institutions, and the 103rd Amendment introduced reservation for the economically weaker sections, proving its adaptability.
Yet the Constitution’s story is also one of unfulfilled promises. The Preamble’s pledge of “justice—social, economic and political” remains a distant goal. Economic inequality has widened, caste discrimination persists, and gender parity remains incomplete. Granville Austin warned decades ago that constitutions do not work by themselves—they depend on those who operate them. The persistence of poverty, violence against marginalized communities, and inadequate public health and education reveal that constitutional ideals have often been betrayed by governance failure. India’s rank in the Global Hunger Index and its declining press freedom show that liberty and equality need constant vigilance.
Federalism, one of the cornerstones of the Constitution, has also faced strain. Article 356, originally intended as a safety valve, has been repeatedly misused to dismiss state governments for political reasons. Fiscal federalism has been weakened by centralization of revenues after the GST regime, leaving states dependent on New Delhi’s allocations. The Centre–State relationship has too often become combative rather than cooperative. Similarly, the independence of the judiciary—once the proudest pillar of the Republic—has faced scrutiny due to opaque appointments and perceived executive influence. The 2015 invalidation of the NJAC reaffirmed judicial autonomy, but concerns about selective activism and pendency of constitutional cases endure.
Perhaps the most pressing challenge is the erosion of secularism and pluralism. The Citizenship Amendment Act of 2019, privileging some religious communities over others, has been viewed by many scholars and international observers as incompatible with constitutional equality. Growing majoritarian rhetoric threatens the delicate balance envisioned by the framers, who sought fraternity among India’s many faiths and languages. The continuing unrest in regions like Manipur and the alienation felt by sections of minorities call for renewed commitment to constitutional morality—a term Ambedkar used to remind citizens that democracy is not merely a form of government, but a mode of associated living.
Over the decades, the Constitution has undergone 106 amendments. Some have been transformative, such as the 42nd Amendment of 1976, often called the “mini-constitution”, which redefined the Preamble and strengthened the Centre, and the 44th Amendment of 1978, which restored liberties lost during the Emergency. Later amendments empowered local governments, lowered the voting age, and introduced fiscal reforms like GST. These frequent amendments—more than those to the U.S. Constitution in two centuries—demonstrate the living character of India’s constitutional order. They also show that flexibility is its strength, allowing adaptation to changing realities without breaking continuity.
However, this adaptability carries a risk: over-politicisation. Amendments driven by transient political goals can dilute the document’s sanctity. The challenge is to preserve equilibrium between necessary reform and constitutional permanence. As the country enters the digital age, new frontiers of constitutionalism are emerging—data protection, surveillance, and algorithmic governance now test the boundaries of rights and privacy. The Supreme Court’s recognition of privacy as a fundamental right in Puttaswamy v. Union of India (2017) was a forward step, but the absence of a robust data protection framework leaves citizens vulnerable. The future will demand what scholars call “digital constitutionalism”: applying the spirit of the Constitution to cyberspace, artificial intelligence, and the knowledge economy.
Despite its imperfections, India’s Constitution has been remarkably successful in holding together a subcontinent of diversities. It has outlasted its critics because it was born of compromise and consensus rather than conquest. It reflects what Rohit De and Ornit Shani call an “assembled” spirit—flexible, inclusive, and participatory. The failures that haunt it are less of design than of implementation: corruption, criminalisation of politics, weakening of institutions, and societal divisions. But its endurance proves that the constitutional imagination of India—its faith in democracy, equality, and justice—remains alive. The way forward lies in renewing this moral contract. Strengthening independent institutions, ensuring transparency in governance, reforming electoral funding, deepening cooperative federalism, and protecting minorities are essential steps. Civic education must instil constitutional literacy among the young so that “We the People” is not a mere phrase but a living pledge. Above all, the spirit of fraternity must be revived—because democracy without fraternity is a shell without a soul.
Seventy-six years after its adoption, India’s Constitution stands neither as an unblemished success nor a failed experiment, but as an evolving testament to the power of democratic imagination. Its future will depend on whether citizens, leaders, and institutions can rise above narrow interests to realise Ambedkar’s final warning: that political democracy must rest on the foundations of social democracy. Only then will India’s constitutional journey towards its centenary in 2050 fulfil its founding promise—a just, inclusive, and humane republic for all.