The Trade Marks Registry in India dropped a bombshell on Tuesday, March 18, 2025, when it pulled back its earlier approval for the trademark ‘CHUTIYARAM’ under Class 30 of the Trade Marks Act, 1999. This wasn’t just a small tweak—it was a complete reversal, and it happened fast. Just two weeks ago, the Registry had given the green light to this unusual name, meant for a company selling namkeen and biscuits. But now, they’re saying it was all a big mistake, and people are talking about what went wrong.

In a clear and official statement released that Tuesday, the Registry laid out their reasoning. They said, "The above-mentioned application was accepted through an error. The registration of the mark is open to objection on the grounds that it does not meet the criteria for registration under Section 9/11 of the Trade Marks Act, 1999. Therefore, the Registrar proposes to withdraw the acceptance pursuant to Section 19 of the Act, read with Rule 38 of the Trade Marks Rules, 2017, and has scheduled a hearing regarding the application." That’s the exact wording from the order, and it shows they’re serious about fixing this slip-up. They’ve even set up a hearing to sort things out, admitting that this mark shouldn’t have made it through in the first place.

The timing of this decision adds to the drama. The mark was first accepted on March 4, and then it showed up in the Trademark Journal on Monday, March 17. But just one day later, the Registry hit the brakes. That’s a quick turnaround—two weeks from approval to rejection, with only a day passing after it went public. It’s clear something about seeing it in the Journal sparked a reaction, and they couldn’t let it stand.

Back on March 4, a senior trademark examiner named Balaji had reviewed the application and decided it was fine. He wrote that “CHUTIYARAM” was made up of two random words, “Chuti” and “Ram,” and argued that together, they created something unique. He figured it didn’t directly connect to the products—those tasty namkeen snacks and biscuits—so he waved off any issues under Section 9(1) of the Trade Marks Act, which checks if a mark stands out enough. That’s why it got the initial thumbs-up. But here’s the kicker: nobody showed up to argue for it during four separate hearings, yet it still got accepted. That detail alone makes you wonder how closely they were looking.

Still, there’s a big question hanging over all of this. How did ‘CHUTIYARAM’ slip past Section 9(2)(c) of the Trade Marks Act? That part of the law says no to trademarks that are scandalous, obscene, or go against public morality. Anyone who knows a bit of Hindi can see that “CHUTIYARAM” isn’t exactly a polite word—it’s the kind of term that could make people uncomfortable or upset. The Registry is supposed to catch things like that before they go anywhere near approval, but somehow, this one flew under the radar.

Normally, the people at the Trade Marks Registry are careful about this stuff. They look at every proposed name to see if it might stir up trouble or offend anyone. If a company wants to use a bold or edgy name, they have to make sure it fits within the law and doesn’t cross any ethical lines. That’s the standard process. So when a mark gets labeled as “Accepted & Advertised,” like ‘CHUTIYARAM’ did, it means it’s passed the first big test. It’s supposed to show that the Registry thinks it’s okay to move forward. But this time, that label didn’t hold up for long.

The whole situation has left people scratching their heads. The Registry’s job is to protect businesses and the public by making sure trademarks are fair and decent. Yet, here they are, admitting they messed up after letting ‘CHUTIYARAM’ through. It’s not just about one odd name—it’s about how the system is supposed to work. For two weeks, it looked like this mark was on its way to being official, but now it’s facing a hearing that could end it for good. This fast U-turn shows they’re trying to clean up the mess, but it’s hard not to wonder how it got this far in the first place.

Trade Marks Registry Accepted ‘CHUTIYARAM’ Mark for Namkeen and Biscuits Company Two Weeks Ago: A Colossal Blunder

Two weeks ago, on March 4, 2025, the Delhi Trademark Office made a jaw-dropping decision when it approved the registration of the mark ‘CHUTIYARAM’ under Class 30 of the Trade Marks Act, 1999. This wasn’t just a minor oversight—it was a glaring failure that somehow let a questionable name slip through the cracks, destined for a company dealing in namkeen and biscuits. By the time it landed in the Trademark Journal on Monday, March 17, it had already ignited a firestorm among legal experts who couldn’t believe such a slipshod process allowed it to happen.

The official order came straight from Senior Trademark Examiner Balaji, who, on March 4, penned the fateful words: "None appeared observed and ordered that since this is the fourth hearing the instinct mark is a combination of two arbitrary words Chuti and ram and the instinct mark as a whole is distinctive and it can be differentiate from the person to others and the Instinct mark has no direct reference to the applied goods, hence objection u/s 9 waived and the mark accepted." That was the exact ruling, word for word, and it laid out his reasoning plain as day. He saw “Chuti” and “Ram” as two harmless, random words mashed together, decided it stood out from the crowd, and figured it had nothing to do with snacks—so he waved it through under Section 9(1). But the stench of incompetence hung heavy over the whole affair.

What made this fiasco even worse was how it dodged every safeguard in the book. Indian trademark law doesn’t mess around—Section 9(2)(c) of the Trade Marks Act, 1999, was crystal clear in banning anything scandalous, obscene, or against public morality. That rule was there to stop rude or offensive words dead in their tracks, keeping the public from having to deal with vulgar nonsense on store shelves. On top of that, the law also blocked marks that could hurt religious feelings, trick consumers, or stir up public disorder. Yet, ‘CHUTIYARAM’—a name that anyone with a pulse in India would recognize as crude—waltzed right past those red lines without a second glance.

The process was a sham from start to finish. The order admitted that no one even bothered to show up for four hearings, yet Balaji still gave it the nod. Four chances to catch this disaster, and not a single soul stepped up to argue for or against it. The Registry was supposed to weigh every angle—checking if a name might spark outrage or cross ethical boundaries—but they didn’t. Companies trying to push bold or cheeky brands have to play by strict rules, and the authorities are meant to enforce them. Instead, this was a free pass handed out on a silver platter, no questions asked.

When ‘CHUTIYARAM’ got tagged as “Accepted & Advertised,” it was supposed to mean the tough part was over. That label signaled the examiner had done his job, found no problems, and cleared it for the next step. After that, it hit the Trademark Journal, opening the door for anyone to take a look and raise a fuss if they wanted. From there, it was set for a four-month window where opponents could step in—say it clashed with their rights or broke the law. If nobody complained, or if the applicant fought off any challenges, it would’ve sailed to full registration, complete with an official certificate. But if someone had pushed back and won, it’d be dead in the water. Class 30, covering plant-based foods and seasonings like namkeen and biscuits, was where this mess landed, and it somehow fit right in—until it didn’t.

The applicant, Sadhna Goswami, wasn’t new to this game. A quick peek at the Trademark Registry’s website showed she’d tried her luck with other names like ‘Chutiyawale’ and ‘Chutiyalal.’ Those got slapped down—either objected to or flat-out refused—proving the Registry knew how to say no when it wanted to. So why did ‘CHUTIYARAM’ get a golden ticket? The double standard was infuriating. The system had the tools to stop offensive marks cold, but here, it was like they forgot their own rulebook existed.

Looking back, this blunder was a masterclass in negligence. The examiner’s lazy reasoning, the empty hearings, the ignored laws—it all piled up into a decision that never should’ve seen daylight. Legal minds were buzzing about it, and for good reason: the approval process was a joke, and the implications were serious. This wasn’t just about one tacky name; it was a glaring sign that the people in charge dropped the ball, big time. Two weeks ago, they let this travesty happen, and it’s a stain on the whole operation that won’t wash out easily.