February 20, 2026

“Had it been a man who had written all this nonsense, we would have got him arrested here itself.”

For many readers, that sentence sounded ordinary. For others, it sounded like confirmation of a question they had long avoided asking.The sentence, reportedly spoken during Supreme Court proceedings in early 2026, was an oral observation — not a binding judgment. Yet remarks made in the highest courtroom rarely stay confined to the moment. They travel through legal circles, media debate, and public conversation, shaping how justice is understood long after a hearing ends.

For some listeners, it sounded routine. For others, it echoed something quietly felt for years: that equality before law may not always begin from the same starting point for men and women.

That unease brings us to Article 14.

Equality: Simple in Principle, Complex in Practice

Article 14 guarantees equal protection of the law to any person. Its meaning appears straightforward: the law should judge actions, not identity.

But constitutional promises are tested in real life — at police stations, bail hearings, and sentencing courts where liberty is decided.

Many men who have passed through criminal proceedings, especially in family disputes, describe a familiar experience: arrest comes quickly, bail feels uncertain, and sympathy appears limited. Whether every case fits this perception is not the issue. The persistence of the perception itself matters, because public trust depends on visible fairness as much as legal theory.

Protection and the Risk of Presumption

Supporters of gender-based legal distinctions point to Article 15(3), which permits special provisions for women and children. In the Constituent Assembly debates of 1948, the intent was unambiguous: maternity benefits, reserved seats, access to education. The framers created an enabling provision for upliftment, not a permanent licence for criminal exemption. Article 15(3) was designed to bring women into equality — not to exempt them from its demands.

Similiarly constitutional jurisprudence has evolved.

In Joseph Shine v. Union of India (2018), the Supreme Court struck down the adultery law partly because it treated women as passive beneficiaries rather than equal moral actors. In Anuj Garg v. Hotel Association of India (2007), the Court warned that laws based on stereotypes — even benevolent ones — must be reassessed as society changes.

These decisions suggest a deeper question: when does protection stop correcting inequality and begin creating new assumptions about accountability?

Bail: Where Liberty First Meets Equality

For most accused persons, the decisive moment is not trial but bail. Freedom during trial determines employment, reputation, and family stability.

The first proviso to Section 437 CrPC, now retained in Section 480 B.N.S.S., grants women special consideration for bail alongside minors and the sick. Age and illness reflect condition-based vulnerability. Gender, however, is a category by itself.

The practical effects appear in judicial decisions. In January 2026, the J&K and Ladakh High Court reportedly granted bail to three women accused of murder, observing that they should not be “weighed down by the rigour applicable to male accused.” In Satender Kumar Antil v. CBI (2022), the Supreme Court broadened the application of this female bail preference across higher courts.

Pregnancy and motherhood are frequently accepted as humanitarian grounds for bail, even in stringent offences. Fatherhood rarely appears as an equivalent consideration.

None of this proves deliberate bias. But it raises a reasonable constitutional question: should liberty before conviction depend partly on gender rather than individual circumstances?

The Human Experience Behind Legal Rules

Legal provisions may appear neutral on paper, yet their effects are felt in ordinary lives.

A man accused in a domestic dispute is arrested before evidence stabilizes. His job disappears before the first hearing.

At a bail hearing, two accused in similar circumstances stand before court. One receives additional consideration because she is a woman; the other is asked to wait. No one openly calls this unequal — yet everyone notices the difference.

At sentencing, a mother’s caregiving role may reduce punishment. A father supporting dependents seldom hears the same reasoning.

These are not isolated stories. They are recurring patterns that shape how society experiences justice.

Compassion is not the problem. Selective compassion is.

Sentencing: The Quiet Dimension of Inequality

Sentencing law rightly allows judges discretion. Mercy and rehabilitation are essential to justice. Courts often consider family responsibilities and personal hardship when determining punishment.

But when empathy appears repeatedly linked to gender rather than circumstance, equality becomes harder to defend. If caregiving justifies leniency, should that principle not apply equally to fathers who are primary caregivers? If vulnerability matters, should it not be assessed individually rather than presumed?

The concern is not mercy itself — it is consistency.

A Judicial Voice of Constitutional Balance

Against this background, one judgment stands out for its clarity.

In Jyoti alias Kittu v. State (NCT of Delhi, 2025), Justice Swarana Kanta Sharma of the Delhi High Court considered an anticipatory bail plea by a woman accused of pouring boiling water mixed with chilli powder on her sleeping husband and fleeing with his phone. The plea relied largely on her status as a woman. The Court refused bail and observed:

“The empowerment of one gender cannot come at the cost of fairness towards another. Just as women deserve protection from cruelty and violence, men too are entitled to the same safeguards under the law. Courts cannot let hidden biases guide them. In case the roles were reversed, and had the husband poured boiling water on his wife, it would have been undoubtedly argued that no mercy should be shown to him.”

These words resonate because they capture a simple constitutional principle: empowerment and equality cannot move in opposite directions.

Placed alongside an obiter suggestion that a man might have faced immediate arrest, the contrast is striking. One approach warns against hidden bias; the other risks reinforcing a perception that gender influences judicial reaction. Together, they expose a larger tension within the legal system.

The Constitutional Question Before Us

The first proviso to Section 437 CrPC / Section 480 BNSS may once have reflected a protective legal philosophy. But modern constitutional thought increasingly emphasizes neutrality and equal agency.

If Article 14 is to remain meaningful, the legal community must ask whether a gender-based bail preference still survives constitutional scrutiny. A collective move to challenge this proviso as ultra vires Article 14 is not a rejection of protection; it is a demand that protection align with constitutional equality.

Similarly, sentencing patterns shaped by gendered assumptions deserve open examination. Compassion should remain central to justice, but it must arise from facts, not identity.

In a Constitutional Democracy, Even Judicial Ideas Must Face Debate

Judicial independence is essential, but independence does not place legal ideas beyond discussion. Democracies remain strong when principles are tested against lived reality.

This debate is not about attacking judges. It is about asking whether law, judicial language, and legal outcomes are moving in harmony with the Constitution’s promise of equality.

Debate strengthens institutions because it forces constitutional ideals to justify themselves.

Article 14: Guarantee or Mirage?

The Constitution does not promise softer justice for one gender and harsher justice for another. It promises equality before law.

If legal structures and courtroom practices leave one group feeling more readily arrested, more difficult to release on bail, or less likely to receive sentencing empathy, then Article 14 risks becoming symbolic rather than lived reality.

A mature legal system does not fear this conversation. It invites it — because equality survives only when examined honestly.

Equality before law is not tested when outcomes are comfortable; it is tested when the law must decide whether identity matters at all.

In the end, the question remains simple: when a citizen stands before the law, what should matter most — who they are, or what they did?

Article 14 answered that question long ago.

Every person must stand equal before the law — or none truly do.