(Exposing hate and communalism is a key focus area in The Quint's reportage. Become a member and support our journalism.)In a striking display of judicial divergence, the Allahabad High Court recently found itself grappling with an extraordinary split over the operational priorities of the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC).While a division bench convened to hear a petition concerning state-funded madrasas, the real flashpoint emerged not from the facts of the case itself, but from a scathing critique levelled by one judge against the country’s apex human rights body.In an interim order on 27 April, Justice Atul Sreedharan pulled up the NHRC over its “pattern of wilful ignorance” by turning a blind eye to lynchings of Muslim community members and the systematic harassment of interfaith couples, while simultaneously overstepping its jurisdiction in matters wholly unrelated to human rights.The bench, however, witnessed an immediate friction in its judicial consensus. Justice Vivek Saran, the other judge presiding the division bench, disagreed with what he called the “sweeping observations” of Justice Sreedharan, pointing out that the NHRC was not even represented before the court at the time of the remarks. TCS Nashik and the Making of a Communal Scare Story on Prime-Time TVWhere Justice Sreedharan saw a dereliction of statutory duty, Justice Saran saw a procedural breach—an order passed without hearing the affected party.Yet, the substantive questions raised by Justice Sreedharan cut to the very heart of the NHRC’s contemporary relevance and its mandate under the Protection of Human Rights Act, 1993.The Dispute Before the CourtThe immediate dispute arose from a writ petition filed by the Teachers Association Madrasas, challenging three orders passed by the NHRC in February 2025. Acting on a complaint alleging that 588 madrasas in Uttar Pradesh were receiving government grants despite having illiterate teachers, non-existent infrastructure, and recruitment processes tainted by bribery, the NHRC had directed the director general of the Economic Offences Wing (EOW) to inquire into the matter and submit an action-taken report within four weeks.When the matter came up before the Allahabad High Court, the petitioner’s counsel sought an adjournment, which the state counsel opposed on the ground that the case involved crores of rupees of public money. Justice Sreedharan, despite allowing the adjournment, proceeded to examine the NHRC’s order suo-motu—and found it “astounding.”'NHRC Ignoring Muslim Lynchings, But Probing Madrassas': Split Verdict in HCJustice Sreedharan noted that the complaint before the NHRC had nothing to do with life, liberty, equality, or dignity—the statutory definition of “human rights” under Section 2(1)(d) of the Protection of Human Rights Act, 1993. Allegations of misused grants, unqualified teachers, and corrupt recruitment, he observed, were matters of administrative or financial irregularity, not human rights violations.It was observed that by directing a parallel investigation through the EOW, the NHRC had effectively stepped outside its jurisdiction, acting more like an investigative tribunal than a human rights watchdog. It was in this context that he made his broader observations that the NHRC and the Uttar Pradesh State Human Rights Commission are regularly seen “dabbling” in matters that do not concern them, while remaining conspicuously silent on far graver issues—lynchings of Muslims, vigilante violence, and the terror faced by interfaith couples who cannot so much as share a cup of coffee in public without fear.'Violating Constitutional Rights': Inside The Crackdown on Uttarakhand MadrassasJustice Sreedharan’s ViewFirst, Justice Sreedharan is wholly correct on the jurisdictional overreach of the NHRC. The Protection of Human Rights Act, 1993, is unequivocal: “human rights” means rights relating to life, liberty, equality, and dignity guaranteed by the Constitution or embodied in international covenants.The complaint against madrasas—alleging financial irregularities, bribery, lack of furniture, and unqualified teachers—raises no conceivable issue of life, liberty, or dignity. It may be a matter for the Minority Welfare Department, the Directorate of Education, or even the High Court under Article 226, but it is not—and cannot be—a “human rights” question. By directing the EOW to investigate and report back, the NHRC assumed the role of a superior supervising authority over the executive, a power the statute never conferred upon it.Second, his critique exposes a dangerous trend of mission-creep within human rights commissions. As Justice Sreedharan rightly observed, the NHRC is not a tribunal and cannot try cases.Its legitimate role is either to take suo-motu cognisance of genuine rights violations or to approach competent courts as a complainant when victims are unable to do so. Instead, the NHRC has increasingly begun entertaining complaints that belong to the realm of administrative law, service disputes, or contractual governance. This dilutes its limited resources and, more importantly, distracts it from the core mandate of protecting vulnerable communities from violence, persecution, and state inaction.In furtherance, his remarks on lynchings and vigilante violence are not rhetorical asides, as they are a factual indictment. Over the past several years, India has witnessed numerous cases where members of the Muslim community have been attacked, targeted by vigilante groups, or lynched on suspicion of cow slaughter or other allegations. In a significant number of those cases, FIRs were either not registered, investigations were botched, or perpetrators went unpunished. If any institution ought to have taken suo-motu cognisance of such pattern violence, it is the NHRC.Justice Sreedharan’s blunt observation that “this court is not aware of the NHRC taking suo-motu cognisance” in such situations is a statement of record, not mere opinion.The specific example of interfaith couples having a “fearful act” of sharing a cup of coffee is a powerful and accurate illustration of a human rights failure. The right to life and personal liberty under Article 21 includes the right to choose one’s companion, to move freely, and to associate with persons of one’s choice. When vigilante groups or moral police forces operate with impunity to harass interfaith couples, whether through threats, public humiliation, or violence—that is a clear violation of dignity and liberty. If the NHRC has never taken suo-motu action in such a case, as Justice Sreedharan noted, then it has failed precisely where its intervention is most urgently needed.The NHRC cannot justify its inaction on lynchings by pointing to a lack of specific complaints, because the statute explicitly empowers it to act on its own knowledge or information.Section 12 of the Protection of Human Rights Act grants the commission the power to inquire into complaints or to act on its own initiative (suo-motu) if it has reasonable grounds to believe that a human rights violation has occurred. Widespread media reporting of lynchings, vigilante attacks, and harassment of interfaith couples constitutes sufficient “knowledge” to trigger suo-motu action. That the NHRC has not acted suggests either institutional paralysis or a troubling selectivity in its priorities.Moreover, the criticism that Justice Sreedharan passed these observations without hearing the NHRC is procedurally true but substantively weak. Justice Saran’s disagreement is valid on the narrow ground of natural justice, one should not be condemned unheard. However, the interim order itself did not impose any final liability on the NHRC—and it merely issued notice and directed the commission to file a response by 11 May.The observations about lynchings and interfaith couples while strong, are essentially a judicial expression of concern based on the record—or the absence thereof—of the NHRC’s suo-motu actions. The NHRC will now have a full opportunity to respond, including by placing on record any instances of suo-motu cognisance that Justice Sreedharan may have been unaware of. The proper venue to test the factual accuracy of his observations is that very response, not a refusal to permit the observations at all.Finally, and most importantly, the core issue raised by Justice Sreedharan transcends this particular case. Across the country, human rights institutions are increasingly being judged not by their formal powers but by their actual willingness to act. When a High Court judge publicly asks why the NHRC has time for madrasa grant disputes but no time for lynchings, he is giving voice to a widespread public perception of institutional failure. Whether one agrees with the timing or the tone, the question itself is legitimate and the NHRC owes the court, and the nation a detailed answer. Justice Sreedharan’s order, split verdict notwithstanding, has performed the crucial function of forcing that question into the judicial record, where it cannot be ignored.Supreme Court Declines New Hate Speech Guidelines, Cites Existing LawsIt is pertinent to point out that despite the Supreme Court’s landmark 2018 judgment in Tehseen Poonawala v Union of India, which issued comprehensive guidelines to prevent mob lynchings and hate crimes, including the appointment of nodal officers, registration of FIRs within six hours, and fast-track trials, there remains a stark gap between judicial mandate and on-ground reality.Many states and police authorities have failed to fully implement these directives, with compliance reports remaining incomplete years after the judgment. Worse still, when a contempt petition was recently filed alleging systemic non-compliance, the Supreme Court dismissed the plea, remarking that its own directions were only “general principles” and that pursuing contempt for such “unmanageable directions” was not the appropriate remedy. This judicial retreat, coupled with the Allahabad High Court’s stinging observation regarding the NHRC exposes a deeply troubling reality that the guardians of both human rights and judicial accountability appear to be looking away precisely when the life and dignity of citizens, which is the very essence of human rights under the 1993 Act—are under the most violent assault.Let us now wait and witness what the NHRC has to say.(Areeb Uddin Ahmed is an advocate practising at the Allahabad High Court. He writes on various legal developments. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)