On September 16, 2025, the Supreme Court of India delivered a judgment that shocked many Hindus. The court dismissed a petition seeking restoration of a seven-foot mutilated idol of Lord Vishnu at the Javari temple in Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh. This idol, part of the UNESCO-protected Khajuraho group of monuments, was desecrated centuries ago during the Mughal invasions and has remained dishonoured since.

The petitioner, Rakesh Dalal, approached the court not just as a devotee but as a citizen invoking his constitutional right to worship. Represented by Senior Advocate Sanjay M. Nuli, Dalal requested that the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and other relevant authorities be directed to repair the idol and revive the sanctity of the temple. He argued that this was not merely a matter of archaeology, but a question of faith, dignity, and justice.

The petition traced the proud legacy of the Chandravanshi rulers who built Khajuraho and pointed out how centuries of British indifference and post-independence apathy have left the idol in ruins. Even after more than seven decades of freedom, the idol lies neglected, a mute witness to both history and state apathy.

Dalal argued further that the government’s refusal to restore the idol amounts to a direct violation of the fundamental right of Hindus to worship their deities in wholeness. He highlighted that despite multiple protests, public campaigns, and formal representations, the state had remained silent and inactive.

Instead of considering these arguments, the response from the bench led by Chief Justice BR Gavai was sarcasm. “This is purely publicity interest litigation. 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 CJI remarked in open court.

For Hindus, this remark was not only dismissive but deeply wounding. It echoed an old taunt that persecutors have used for centuries: “If your gods are real, why didn’t they protect themselves?” This insult, hurled for generations by invaders and repeated in modern times by so-called secular elites, now found an official endorsement from the highest judicial authority of the land.

The double standards of Indian secularism and judicial silence

Imagine if the same remark had been directed at Muslims. Suppose during the hearing of the Waqf (Amendment) Act case, CJI Gavai had said: “If you don’t like this law, go ask Allah to help you. Pray, and maybe He will restore your lands.” The reaction would have been instant and fierce. The legal fraternity would have rushed to issue statements. Television debates would have branded it “judicial Islamophobia.” NGOs would have written to international bodies, and the Chief Justice himself would have been condemned as a bigot.

But when such derision is directed at Hindus, the response is silence. No lawyers’ council protests. No street demonstrations erupt. No demands are made for the judge’s recusal. In India, secularism appears to operate in only one direction. Hindus can be mocked with impunity, while minorities are treated with the utmost sensitivity. Even the faintest insult to a minority community is amplified as an existential crisis, while repeated humiliation of Hindus is normalised.

The hypocrisy is further exposed when we remember that the same CJI Gavai, who mocked Dalal’s petition, was part of the bench that recently stayed provisions of the Waqf Amendment Act, 2025. That Act had included a clause preventing encroached government land from being declared “Waqf” until disputes were resolved. By staying it, the court effectively encouraged encroachment and squatting on public land, granting protection under the guise of minority rights.

Street power for some, courtroom humiliation for others

This imbalance flows from a stark reality: minorities enforce their grievances through the “street veto,” while Hindus seek remedies through legal petitions.

When Muslims feel insulted, they erupt in protests, block roads, and chant violent slogans such as “Sar Tan Se Juda.” Individuals have even been killed for alleged blasphemy. The horrific murder of Kanhaiya Lal in Udaipur is one such example. His only “crime” was supporting Nupur Sharma, who had spoken to defend the honour of Lord Shiva. But instead of condemning the violent mobs, the Supreme Court lashed out at Sharma, calling her responsible for “setting the country on fire” with her “loose tongue.”

Those who threatened and committed violence largely escaped punishment. The state and judiciary, fearing bloodshed, responded with caution.

In contrast, Hindus turn to institutions. They file petitions. They cite constitutional rights. They believe in legal processes. And what do they receive? Sarcasm. They are told to “go and pray.” Their devotion is ridiculed. Their petitions are dismissed as “publicity stunts.”

The message is clear and dangerous: violence and aggression command respect, while faith in the legal system invites ridicule. In practice, secularism in India rewards mob power but punishes restraint.

If prayer alone is justice, why do we need courts?

The Chief Justice’s remark, “go and pray to your God,” is not just insulting—it is also absurd. If prayer alone could resolve disputes, then why have courts at all? Why conduct hearings, pass orders, or interpret laws? Every litigant could simply be told to pray—be it a corporation fighting a contract dispute, a family contesting land rights, or a victim seeking justice.

But this kind of sarcasm is never applied universally. No corporate lawyer has ever been told to “pray to Goddess Lakshmi” in a financial case. No Christian has been told to “pray to Jesus” for legal relief. No Muslim has been told to “seek Allah’s mercy” instead of pursuing a Waqf claim. It is only Hindus who are told that their faith cancels out their right to legal remedy.

Judicial remarks that normalise Hinduphobia in society

The danger lies not just in one remark but in what it symbolises. When the Chief Justice of India mocks Hindu faith, it sends a signal to the larger ecosystem. It emboldens academics, media personalities, and intellectuals to keep dismissing Hindu beliefs as superstition, Hindu grievances as “majoritarianism,” and Hindu petitions as “publicity stunts.”

Prejudice is not entrenched only by mobs burning temples; it is entrenched through sneers from those in power. Every sarcastic swipe chips away at Hindu dignity and makes Hinduphobia socially acceptable.

Even if the court had believed the issue fell under the Archaeological Survey of India’s purview, it could have simply said so. Instead, the CJI turned a routine order into a public humiliation of Hindu faith.

Time is no excuse for injustice. Slavery lasted centuries before being abolished. Apartheid survived decades before being dismantled. Historical wrongs can and must be corrected. To suggest otherwise, as the CJI did with his mocking tone, is to surrender humanity to perpetual wounds.

Mocking Hindu devotion while ignoring centuries of persecution

By mocking the petitioner, the Chief Justice dismissed not just one plea but centuries of Hindu suffering. He ignored the long history of desecrated temples and idol destruction. He ridiculed attempts at reconciliation with history.

The same judiciary that recognised Ram Lalla as a litigant in the Ayodhya dispute, thereby acknowledging Hindu faith, chose to laugh at Vishnu’s devotees in Khajuraho. The same judiciary that goes out of its way to protect minority sensitivities told Hindus to “pray” instead of pursuing justice through the Constitution.

This is what Indian secularism has become: a one-way street. Hindus are ridiculed, minorities are coddled, and justice is dispensed not by principle but by the threat of outrage.

Yet history is not over. Every broken idol, every desecrated temple, every silenced devotee remains a reminder of civilisational wounds waiting to be healed. Courts may sneer, but the Hindu duty to remember, restore, and reclaim remains eternal. For now, however, Hindus live with the bitter truth that even in 2025, in their own land, when they seek dignity for their gods, the highest court tells them: “Go and pray.”

Losing the moral authority to speak of tolerance

Ultimately, the court has the discretion to admit or dismiss petitions. But in this case, the bench could have done so respectfully. Instead, it mocked a petitioner who merely sought restoration of a mutilated idol of his deity.

Judges are considered among the most erudite voices of society. They are expected to exercise restraint and dignity. But when they use sarcasm echoing the language of centuries-old iconoclasts, they erode their own credibility.

When the judiciary mocks the deeply held faith of the majority, it forfeits the moral authority to preach tolerance, respect, or equality to anyone else.