Reversing criminalization of the marginalized

B.B. PANDE

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Civilization presupposes violence and aggression against those considered ‘uncivilized’. Indeed, ‘civilization’ could be conceived only by reference to perceived enemies and adversaries against which wars must be fought. As Cristina Rojas put it, the very process that made ‘civilization’ such a key element of western self-consciousness was the same process that authorized violence in the name of civilization; far from being opposites, civilization and violence are interconnected parts of a single economy, involving conquest of the barbarian lesser breeds abroad and repression of the barbarian lower orders at home, fought and pacified in the name of bourgeois security.

Mark Neocleous*

 

THE process of criminalization of the marginalized is somewhat similar to what is adverted to by Mark Neocleous in the above quotation. The larger society responsible for generating a state of landlessness and other kinds of resourcelessness is also responsible for making criminals out of the same marginalized sections. Thus, marginalization, criminalization and decriminalization is an ongoing process, dependent upon the economic and social rationalizations of diverse social activities from time to time. Though all forms of criminalization are a product of the political and economic forces at work in a particular historical period, the criminalization of the marginalized and other vulnerable sections assumes certain distinct features. Consider the words of Leon Radzinowicz regarding the creation and administration of criminal law at the turn of the 17th century:

‘The recurrence of criminal behaviour in a comparatively narrow section of society, its concentration within certain definable areas of the Metropolis, its prevalence among the very young, were all perceived with a new intensity. They helped to focus the public attention on the manners and habits of the poor. A preoccupation with the immoral, loose, or improvident behaviour of the lower order of society, became marked among all would be reformers. In the same ill-defined way, idleness, drunkenness or immorality came to be regarded as immediate causes of crime and therefore in themselves direct threats to social stability.’1

Thus, the process of ‘civilization’ of the British society itself generated vast sections of the population of the marginalized that needed to be regulated and controlled through repressive measures. All these measures were critiqued and rationalized from time to time but the process itself remained ongoing.

Similar panic reactions were visible in the mid-18th century colonial criminal policy against marginalized and poorer section in India too. Chapter XIX of the Penal Code brought in place breach of contract as an offence under Sections 490, 491 and 492. In addition to the Penal Code, the Workman Breach of Contract Act, 1860, Breach of Contract Act, 1861, were enacted to tie down workers in tea and coffee plantations. The coercive character of such laws and their ruthless enforcement by the plantation owners is evident in the cases against deviant workers bonded for paltry sums of one hundred rupees2 and barely nineteen rupees.3 But with the shift in official policy (with the intervention of wage labour in the newly set-up industrial establishment, the official patronage extended to trade union activities and growing faith in regulating labour through collective bargaining), the coercive method of criminalization of breach of contract fell into disuse.

 

As a sequel to these developments the Workmen’s Breach of Contract (Repealing) Act, 1925, was passed that repealed Sections 490, 492, of the Penal Code and the series of plantation breach of contract acts. Though criminalization through breach of contract was done away in the first quarter of the 20th century, the other criminalization measures such as The Criminal Tribes Act, 1871 (amended in 1897, 1908 and 1911) gave the authorities enormous powers to interfere with the lives of the De-Notified Tribes (DNT) all over the country. In independent India, the de-notified tribe (given to 200 tribal communities by the colonial administration that attached the stigma of criminality by birth) was replaced by the Habitual Offenders Act model that accepted the individualization of criminality. As a consequence, as many as ten states have enacted the Habitual Offenders Act.

 

However, the state policy towards de-notified tribes still falls short of non-discrimination in administration of their employment and service needs. The nomadic and semi-nomadic communities still face harassment at the hands of various enforcement agencies and the society at large. The government constituted the first De-notified, Nomadic and Semi-nomadic Tribes National Commission in 2003, which submitted its report in 2008. The recommendations found an echo in the Idate Commission in 2015, constituted with the mandate to find ways and means to reintegrate the erstwhile nomadic tribes in the mainstream society. The Idate Commission report remains to be made public so far. Therefore, the deconstruction of stigma, prejudice and bias for the state sponsored stigmatization still awaits closure at the hands of the lawmakers and the authorities responsible for the governance of the country.

Another criminalization measure that continues to haunt the marginalized section till the present day is the criminalization of beggary, vagrancy, and other forms of destitution, mostly in the urban metropolitan cities, pilgrimages, and tourist spots. This form of criminalization fits in well with what Ian Taylor and others describe as ‘much deviance is itself a political act.’4 In India, till the 1930s, living through vagrancy and beggary was, by and large, condoned, and only mild social disapproval reflected in action through Municipalities Act provisions and preventive action under the Criminal Procedure Code 1898. In the initial stages the capitalist mode of production underway in India in the form of plantation and small industry capitalism welcomed the presence of surplus labour population that served as the reserve army of the capitalist workforce in India.

 

By the third and early fourth decade of the 20th century, substantially large sections of the working population had migrated from the rural areas to urban and industrial centres and developed total dependence on the urban job market. Wage employment in the newly set-up armament industries around Calcutta had become a big avenue of employment for the raw, rural workforce. However, the end of the Second World War led to the closure of many arms industrial units creating conditions of mass retrenchment of the working population. The retrenched surplus labour that had already been severed from its rural roots had nowhere to go and spread filth and squalor on the highways and bylanes that had become their living abode.

The retrenched armament industry workers were pushed into the worst forms of destitution and vagrancy that needed to be controlled and regulated through strong, effective and repressive measures. This led to the enactment of the first Bengal Vagrancy Act, 1943 that provided for a punitive model of preventing vagrancy and beggary. On the lines of the Bengal Act, several provincial acts were enacted by Mysore (1944), Bombay (1945), Kerala (1945) and Madras (1945). It is curious that even in the post-independence period, the colonial punitive model of preventing beggary and vagrancy was accepted without any debate. As a consequence, the state of Maharashtra enacted the Bombay Prevention of Begging Act, 19595 on the lines of the punitive model first enacted by Bengal.

 

The infamous Bombay Act became the model that was followed in more than twenty states and two union territories. The act was extended to the U.T. of Delhi in 1960, without any kind of political or social debate as to its legislative competence, subject matter or the changed democratic context in which it was supposed to operate and criminalize. As such, the extended law soon became part and parcel of the repressive regime that was deployed to regulate and control the lives of the vast numbers of the poor and destitute from all parts of the country who thronged the new and growing urban metropolis in North India in search of employment and learning. The beggary law came in handy for the law and order agencies, including the Social Welfare Ministry officials of the U.T. of Delhi.6

The coercive nature of the Bombay Act is particularly notable for the following three aspects: First, the wide and vague powers of arrest and detention under Sections 2(1), (a), (c), (d) and (e). Section 2 defines ‘begging’ in a manner, so as to bring within its ambit ‘soliciting or receiving alms in a public place, whether or not under any pretense such as singing, dancing, fortune-telling, performing, or offering any article for sale’ (Clause (a)). Clause (c) of the section that reads ‘exposing or exhibiting, with the object of obtaining or extorting alms, any sore, wound, injury, deformity, or disease whether of a human being or animal.’ Both these clauses permit interference with the ways of life of diverse self-employed groups of poor and destitute section. Similarly, clauses (d) and (e) permits the raiding authorities to act against any person who is without any ostensible means of subsistence in any public place or allows oneself to be used as an exhibit etc. This means the poor and destitute can be penalized for being who they are.

 

In the course of legal services activities in the Beggars Court Complex at the Kingsway Camp, New Delhi, it was observed that the powers of arrest were being indiscriminately exercised. Those arrested were a mixed lot – old and young, infirm and able-bodied, men and women, faithless and the ones who believed in God. The raiding party often rounded up the members of distinct professional groups such as Sapera (snake charmers), Kirtania (religious singers), Kanmelia (ear cleaners), Jyotishi (astrologers), Nat (acrobats and trapeze performers) and Baazigar (magicians). Since most of the aforesaid professionals survived by group existence, the arrest of even one would throw a large number of members out of work for days. Persons with physical disabilities were at a high risk of arrest and long detention in the Poor House detention centre.

The second notable feature of the act is its provision of what appears to be a whimsical trial. Under Section 3 the powers of trial are conferred on the High Court, Court of Sessions or a Magistrate of First Class, who under Section 5 is required to conduct a summary inquiry in respect to the allegation of ‘begging’. In case the court arrives at a conclusion that the person was really found begging under Clause (5), it may order his detention in a certified institution for a period of not less than one year and up to three years. However, on its personal satisfaction that the person is not likely to beg again the court may release the person after securing a personal bond. The court is obligated to take into account the age and character, circumstances and conditions of living report of the probation officer and other matters that require consideration in the interest of the beggar.

 

The first class magistrates may have been usual from the standpoint of the courts elsewhere in Delhi, but for the poor and dehumanized clients they seemed big and imposing. Many trembled and broke down before their turn came. The presentation before the magistrate was terse and brief. The magistrate asked questions which invariably proved too much:

Would you fight the case?

No sir, how can I dare to fight’ (fighting in any form is considered a bad thing by a majority of these people).

Do you have a lawyer?

No sir, I have none.

In the ‘inquiry’ the magistrate would draw his impressions about the alleged ‘beggar’ on the basis of the beggar’s looks and demeanour: a muscular and robust person with coarse palms would rarely pass for a beggar. Often there would be discreet enquiries about the background and antecedents:

What do you do?

I am a daily wage labourer.’

Do you have a ration card?

No Sir, I have been in this town for less than a month.’

Do you know anyone who can speak about your financial standing?

No Sir, I do not know anyone.’

The third feature of the act that requires attention is the provision of enhanced sentencing for repeat beggars. Though under Section 5(5) for a first time conviction, a person can be detained in a certified institution from one to three years, a person already detained in a certified institution shall be sentenced to a minimum two years and maximum three year on second conviction – under Section 6(2) – and up to ten years detention for the second and subsequent conviction – under Section 6(3). Of this, ten years detention, upto two years, can be converted into a sentence of imprisonment in any prison.

 

Though the legislature enjoys almost complete supremacy in the law-making field, the supremacy is rarely exercised particularly in respect of laws that affect the marginalized sections such as the LGBT community or other unorganized working classes. Similar is the apathy of the legislature in respect to the destitute, vagrant and beggars. In respect to the vagrant and beggars, not only does there exists a lack of will to make a positive and empowering law for them, but by adopting the Bombay Prevention of Beggary Act, 1959, in as many as twenty states and the U.T. of Delhi, the legislature has endorsed the colonial punitive law.

However, with the growing realization of their role in a democratic set-up, the judiciary has started to assume a greater law-making role. Even Herbert Packer (1968) conceded a role to the judiciary thus: ‘(3) This definitional role is assigned primarily and broadly to the legislature, secondarily and interestially to the judiciary, and to no one else.’7

How and in what manner the judiciary works out the rule depends largely upon the nature of the society and the inherent strength of the agencies. Also, the context in which the legislature and judiciary prefer to operate in society would determine whether the judiciary prefers to break the beggar law stalemate. Recently, Justice Michael Kirby has revealed some critical insights into the role of the judiciary in the context of Section 377 Penal Code, thus:

‘The fact that the legislature could, if it chose, change the law expressed in the section seems an immaterial reason to withhold constitutional protection to a minority, if such protection is otherwise applicable. After all, the Indian legislature has had plenty of time to act in such a way, but has failed to do so. In modern democracies, courts exist to protect the fundamental rights of minorities when legislatures fail to act. That is not necessarily an excess of power on the part of the courts. It is precisely how they are supposed to operate… Legislative inactivity was not the only solution.’8

 

Recently the creative and activist role of the judiciary has been extolled by the apex court in Navtej Johar v. Union of India.9 Chief Justice Dipak Mishra reads a mandatory role for the courts in respect to the discriminatory criminal laws, thus: ‘The concept of constitutional morality urges the organs of the State, including the judiciary, to preserve the heterogeneous nature of the society and to curb any attempt by the majority to usurp the rights and freedoms of a smaller or miniscule section of the population… the veil of social morality cannot be used to violate the fundamental rights of even a single individual.’10

Thus, the fundamental rights protection and propagation role assigned to the judiciary, particularly at the appellate level, constitutes the new basis for the judiciary to play a more active and creative role in the area of beggary law as well.

A majority of beggary presentation ends up at the Magistrate Court level, often without or with inadequate legal assistance. Only a few survive to prefer first appeal at the Sessions Court level. The number of cases reaching the High Court is a rarity. But between 2007 and 2018, two notable cases on beggary law have reached the Delhi High Court. In both the cases, the judiciary has not only made a vital contribution in reinterpreting the law, but also made some significant strides in judicial deconstruction. The two notable decisions are: Ram Lakhan v. State11 (hereinafter Ram Lakhan Ruling) and Harsh Mander v. Union of India12 (hereinafter Harsh Mander Ruling).

 

In the Ram Lakhan Ruling, the conviction and sentence in a certified institution for one year by the Magistrates Court and upholding of conviction and reducing the sentence to six months by the Sessions Court had come before the High Court by way of a revision petition challenging the lower court judgements. The High Court decision of Justice Badar Durrez Ahmed found enough reasons to fault the lower court decisions on several grounds, namely:

Sensitive to the language used by the Magistrate’s Court, Justice Ahmed referred to the lower court order that read: ‘…accused was found begging by raising his front paws from the passers-by…’ Justice Ahmed had the following lesson and retort: ‘Describing the hand of a human being as "front paws" is appalling. Beggars are not beasts with claws! They are human beings and they should be treated as such.’13

 

The High Court expected the lower court to assume a creative role in the interpretation of social legislation like the Beggary Act. Justice Badar Durrez Ahmed read an inbuilt classificatory scheme by which beggary could be classified, at least, into four categories, first, the downright lazy not interested to work; second, the alcoholic or drug addict in hunt for finances for alcohol or drugs; third, member of a beggary gang at the mercy of the gang leader and fourth, the starving, homeless and helpless alms seeker.

Justice Ahmed focuses particularly on the fourth category and makes the following poignant observation: ‘They are persons who are driven to beg for alms and food, as they are starving or their families are in hunger. They beg to survive, to remain alive. For any civilized society to have persons belonging to this category is a disgrace, a failure of the state. To subject them to further ignominy and deprivation by ordering their detention in a certified institution is nothing short of dehumanizing them.’14

Justice Ahmed showed keen awareness of the beggary clients’ lack of resources and inability to organize effective legal counselling. The court required the judge to step in by recognizing the defence of necessity, thus: ‘Prevention of begging is the object of the said Act. But one must realize that embedded in this object are twin goal – Nobody should beg and nobody should have to beg.’15

Justice Ahmed could clearly identify, first, the court’s obligation to take into account the existential realities of the alleged beggar, and second, the requirement of giving an opportunity to the beggar, before relying upon social investigation report under Section 5(7) proviso. In regard to the existential realities, Justice Ahmed ruled thus:

‘While in the case of exploitation and compulsion by the ring leader of a "begging racket", the "beggar" who begs under the fear of bodily harm from them have the defence of duress, where the "beggar" who takes to begging compelled by poverty and hunger, he would be entitled to invoke the defence of necessity. The common features of both defences being involuntariness, shall I say, lack of legitimate choices.’16

 

Similarly, Justice Ahmed found the ‘habitual offender’ conclusion of the lower court suspect because of lack of opportunity afforded to the petitioner. In Ram Lakhan, the court was conscious of its limitation by not stepping out to take up the constitutionality question directly, but touched upon the constitutional foundation to show the flaws in the nature of beggary criminalization itself, thus:

‘After all, begging involves the beggar displaying his miserable plight by words or actions and requesting for alms by words (spoken or written) or actions. Does the starving man not have a fundamental right to inform a more fortunate soul that he is starving and request for food? And if he were to do so, would he not be liable under the said act for being declared as a "beggar" and consequently being deprived of his liberty by being sent for detention at a certified institution? Does this not mean that the said act leads to deprivation on the basis of a law that runs counter to the fundamental right of freedom of speech and expression? Does this, therefore, not mean that even fundamental right of protection of life and personal liberty which is enshrined in Article 21 of the Constitution, is also violated?’17

In this way Justice Ahmed extended a range of arguments for the deconstruction of beggary criminalization that needed to be further extended in future legislative and judicial decisions.

 

Unlike Ram Lakhan, the High Court Bench of Acting Chief Justice Gita Mittal and Justice Hari Shankar in the Harsh Mander Ruling was responding to a writ petition on constitutional grounds. The petition had challenged the validity and the constitutionality of the Bombay Prevention of Begging Act, 1959, as extended to NCT of Delhi. The wide range of petitioner’s constitutionality arguments under Articles 14, 19(1)(a), 19(1)(g) and 21 were focused on over-wide sweep of Section 2(1)(a) etc. The Standing Counsel of Union of India in their counter affidavit in para 8 stated: ‘Begging should not be a crime if it is done because of poverty. However, in order to ascertain whether it is being done out of poverty or willingly by a person even if he/she is well off or has been forced into begging, it is necessary to detain him/her. Only after detention of such a person and subsequent investigation of the cause of begging of an individual can be ascertained. Hence, the provision of detention as mentioned in the section in the Act is warranted.’

However, in para 9 of the counter-affidavit, the Union government seemingly abdicates its responsibility by passing the buck to the state government by describing public health sanitation and hospitals as matters of the state’s concern. In contrast, the state appears to display much greater appreciation for the petitioner’s pleas.

 

The Acting Chief Justice Gita Mittal’s decision (Justice Hari Shankar concurring) straight away sets the tone of constitutionality thus: ‘In our constitutional framework that promises every person the right to live with dignity, can state criminalize begging? The social contract between the citizen and the state is a contract by which in exchange for ceding their autonomy partially, the state promises her security over her person and life with dignity.’18 Further: ‘In our Constitutional framework, this is guaranteed by Part III, which enjoins the state not only to protect life but also advance it, and Part IV which mandates that the state shall allocate resources so as to further common good.’19 In short, the Constitution envisages the vision of a society that is humane, just and fair.

The constitutional challenge is responded to by the court, on the following prominent grounds: The main argument of the petitioner was that owing to the over wide sweep of Section 2(1) which confers arbitrary powers, the act is violative of Article 14. The ACJ Gita Mittal responded that ‘it is our view that the law does not make any distinction between types of beggars, i.e. voluntary and involuntary, as has been urged by the petitioners. The absence of any such distinction exposes the statute to judicial evaluation on the ground of being arbitrary.’20

In the same vein, the court held that ‘it has also been pointed out that the respondents are using homelessness and begging synonymously and are in fact detaining the homeless as if they are begging and implementing the penal provision of the Act qua them… This in our view is manifestly arbitrary.’21

The court expressed a view that the law enables the state to detain persons like daily wagers or those who have a family to support. As a result, the bread earner of the family being detained, the whole family may be reduced to financial deprivation and penury. Such can never be the object, spirit and intendment of a welfare state by way of what is touted as social benefit legislation. The court declared that ‘for these reasons, we find Sections 4, 5 and 6 of the statute to be unconstitutional for being violative of Article 14 of the Constitution of India.’22

 

The court saw the issue as one of violation of citizen’s liberties. It was observed that the Union of India’s plea that detention of a person is necessitated with a view to ascertaining the nature and causes of his poverty does not stand before the rights guaranteed by Article 21 of the Constitution. ACJ Gita Mittal relied upon the line of Supreme Court rulings in which the citizen’s basic need have been accorded recognition under Article 21 and ultimately concluded, thus: ‘It remains a hard reality that the state has not been able to ensure even the bare essentials of right to life to all the citizens, even in Delhi. We find reports of starvation deaths even in Delhi. We find reports of starvation deaths in the newspapers and ensuring education to the 6 to 14 year olds remains a challenge.’23

The foundation of the ruling is based on hard social realities. The court responded to the petition on the basis of the existential realities of the destitute and poor with an empathy commensurate to the cause. The court displayed a critical insight into the lives of the beggars, thus:

‘People beg on the streets not because the wish to, but because they need to. Begging is their last resort to subsistence; they have no other means to survive. Begging is a symptom of a disease, of the fact that the person has fallen through the socially created net. The government has the mandate to provide social security for everyone, to ensure that all citizens have basic facilities and the presence of beggars is evidence that the state has not managed to provide these to all its citizens.’24

 

The court offered a pragmatic solution to the problem of beggary in its attempt to do away with the criminalization of the poor and the destitute. It observed: ‘If we want to eradicate begging, artificial means to make beggars invisible will not suffice. A move to criminalize them will make them invisible without addressing the root cause of the problem. The root cause is poverty, which has many structural reasons: no access to education, social protection, discrimination based on caste and ethnicity, landlessness, physical and mental challenge, and isolation.’25

Further, the court opined: ‘Criminalizing begging is a wrong approach to deal with the underlying causes of the problem. It ignores the reality that people who beg are the poorest of the poor and marginalized in the society. Criminalizing begging violates the most fundamental rights of some of the most vulnerable people in our society. People in this stratum do not have access to basic necessities such as food, shelter and health, and in addition criminalizing them denies them the basic fundamental right to communicate and seek to deal with their plight.’26

The court emphasized it is the duty of the state to provide a decent life to its citizens. The state cannot willingly abdicate this duty ‘and add insult to the injury by arresting, detaining, and, if necessary, imprisoning such persons, who begin search for essentials of bare survival, which is even below subsistence. A person who is compelled to beg cannot be faulted for such actions in these circumstances.’27

 

Therefore, the High Court ruled that those provisions of the act (25 in number) that treat begging as an offence are hit by the vice of unconstitutionality and are thus struck down (while the non-offending remain intact). Consequently, all the prosecutions pending before the courts are liable to be struck down by respective courts individually. Thus, with the Harsh Mander ruling, the Delhi High Court put a halt on the criminalization of beggary in Delhi on constitutional grounds. It is hoped that the Supreme Court will follow the same trajectory and ameliorate the criminalization bias against a substantial section of the marginalized population in India, where similar legislations are still operative.

With the persistence of conditions that generate and perpetuate marginalization like the continuance of rat-hole mining, the disproportionate growth of illegal forest settlers, the nomads and roaming tribes in the outskirts of newly growing urban centres and metropolis, and the temptation of short-cut methods of dealing with a vast section of the population through heartless eviction orders and other coercive measures, the ‘civil’ society processes that produce criminality are ongoing. In such a scenario, expecting much from the legislatures that are either sold out to vested economic interests or those who dream of a poor-free society, is nothing less than a pipe dream itself. What we need is a critical view of the vagrancy and beggary reality and the legal responses to it. We need to work more diligently to find alternate solutions to problems of vagrancy and beggary. A creative judicial response, particularly from the apex court, that has a binding authority for lower functionaries, like Chief Justice Dipak Misra’s following order in the Navtej Johar ruling, can prove to be a useful starting point:

‘We must not forget that the Founding Fathers adopted an inclusive Constitution with provisions that not only eradicate a systematic discrimination against the backward sections of the society and the expulsion and censure of the vulnerable communities by the so-called upper caste/sections of the society that existed in a massive scale prior to the coming into existence of the Constituent Assembly. These were nothing but facets of the majoritarian morality which were sought to be rectified by bringing into force the Constitution of India.’28

 

It may be a reality that the judiciary itself is a divided house and for some vagrants, beggars and illegal forest dwellers may be an eyesore that deserves to be ruthlessly handled. But a vigilant intellectual community needs to understand, appreciate and strongly advocate the worthwhile initiative taken by Chief Justice Dipak Misra, to develop a robust and alternative vision of the society.

 

* Mark Neocleous, War Power, Police Power. Edinburgh University Press, 2014, p. 137.

Footnotes:

1. Leon Radzinowicz, A History of English Criminal Law and Its Administration From 1750. Vol. 2, Stevens & Sons, London, 1956, p. 73.

2. Govinda Chetty case 14 Cr. L. J. 400 (1913) Mad.

3. Ramai Singh case 15 Cr. L. J. 233 (1914) All.

4. Ian Taylor et al. (ed.), New Criminology: For a Social Theory of Deviance. Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1980.

5. Bombay Prevention of Begging Act, 1959 (Bombay Act No X of 1960).

6. During 1976 to 1978 the Delhi University Students Legal Services Clinic had extended its legal services activities to approximately 4000 beggars, produced and tried before the Beggars’ Court.

The aforesaid legal service activities organized by the Delhi University Student Legal Services Clinic rendered legal services to the beggars facing trial in the Magistrate’s Court, through a bail/bond release application under Section 5(5) Proviso of the Act.

Based on the experience of the Delhi Legal Services Clinic in the Beggars’ Court, the Law Faculty of Delhi University had organized a day’s seminar in 1978 with the Union Ministry of Social Welfare. My impression is that every new government at the Centre or U.T. of Delhi, at least, tries to reform the Beggary Law, but lack of robust political will compels us to retain the old law.

7. Herbert L. Packer, The Limits of the Criminal Sanctions. Stanford University Press, 1968, p. 73.

8. M.D. Kirby, ‘Sexual Identity and Gender Orientation – A New Province of Law for India’, Tagore Law Lecture, 2015, p. 29.

9. (2018) 10 SCC 1.

10. Id., p. 145.

11. Ram Lakhan v. NCT of Delhi (2007), 137 ‘Delhi Law Times’ 173.

12. Harsh Mander v. Union of India, AIR 201, Delhi 188.

13. Ram Lakhan v. NCT of Delhi, (2007), 137 ‘Delhi Law Times’ 173 at p. 176.

14. Id., p. 177.

15. Id., p. 178.

16. Id., p. 179.

17. Id., p. 181.

18. Harsh Mander v. Union of India, AIR 201 Delhi 188 at para 12.

19. Id., para 13.

20. Id., para 15.

21. Id., para 16 and 17.

22. Id., para 19.

23. Id., para 28.

24. Id., para 29.

25. Id., para 30.

26. Id., para 31.

27. Id., para 32.

28. Navtej Johar v. Union of India (2018), 10 SCC 1 at p. 108.

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