In India, constitutional protections for land rights remain largely symbolic, and the implementation of legal safeguards is inconsistent and incomplete. As a result, the (in)effectiveness of land rights—often called the “mother of human rights”—now rests heavily on the sensitivity of the country’s democratic institutions: the legislature, the executive, and the judiciary. We inhabit a democracy where the legislature is often unaware of the political logic behind land reforms, the executive remains indifferent to the administrative potential of securing land rights, and the judiciary finds itself largely helpless when addressing the claims of the landless. Consequently, more than half of India’s population—those dependent on water, forests, and land—has been denied its constitutional entitlements.
According to the Government of India’s Socio-Economic and Caste Census (2015), an estimated 53.7 million people are landless. Equally concerning is that, as of February 2025, nearly 51.9 million land- and property-related cases are pending before Indian courts. Between these two staggering statistics lies the buried reality of justice denied. Millions who stand before the courts are victims of incomplete land reforms and have yet to receive even the minimum assurance of justice. This reveals a deeper truth: the institutions responsible for guaranteeing land rights have been, at best, insensitive and, at worst, ineffective.
The judiciary, constitutionally the guardian of rights and justice, is itself struggling. Former Chief Justice P N Bhagwati famously stated that justice delayed is justice denied. With over 51.9 million cases pending across courts, the system’s inability to respond to the needs of the landless is not merely an administrative shortcoming—it is an inhuman tragedy. While the legislature may be constrained by political and financial limitations, and the executive may be administratively autonomous yet politically subservient, the landless now look to the judiciary as their final refuge.
On February 7, 2025, responding to a question from Member of Parliament Asaduddin Owaisi, the Minister of State for Law and Justice (Independent Charge), Arjun Ram Meghwal, placed significant data before Parliament. Citing the National Judicial Data Grid (as of January 30, 2025), he reported that the Supreme Court has 82,922 pending land-related cases (less than one per cent), High Courts 6.23 million (12 per cent), and district and subordinate courts 45.6 million (87 per cent). To address pendency, the government launched the National Mission for Justice Delivery in 2011, aiming to improve access to justice, expedite case disposal, set accountability metrics, and strengthen judicial capacity. This included phased initiatives for reducing pendency, improving infrastructure, reforming policy in high-backlog regions, and reengineering court procedures.
Yet, nearly 14 years later, the outcomes of this national mission remain unclear. Its progress reports must be made public—not only to restore hope among those waiting for justice but also to allow society to assess the commitments of governments that claim to work for the marginalised. Without transparency, these initiatives risk remaining mere intellectual exercises and bureaucratic claims, while the judiciary struggles to fulfil its constitutional mandate.
Despite decades of promises—fast-track courts for the landless, alternative dispute-resolution mechanisms, expanded legal-aid services, and strengthened judicial institutions—the reality remains bleak. India today ranks first globally in the number of pending court cases. While this reflects the enormous pressure on the justice system, it also reveals that the poor, in particular, must endure interminable delays. A NITI Aayog report (2018) estimated that it would take 324 years to clear all pending cases at the current pace. The World Justice Report 2025 places India at 114th among 143 countries on timely and quality judicial decision-making—a deeply concerning position. Clearly, substantial reforms are still needed, especially to ensure timely justice for the poor.
The human cost of delay is enormous. In 1988, Sutanu Manjhi approached the Calcutta High Court seeking his rightful four bighas of land; he has not yet returned with justice. In Tamil Nadu, Chinnamma has waited since 2002 for the Thanjavur District Court to act after she was forcibly evicted from her land. Whether it is Kanti Devi of Odisha—fighting a wrongful land acquisition case since 1998—or Sukhwinder Kaur, appearing before the Fazilka District Court in Punjab for 17 years, the fading hopes of these individuals echo the despair of millions. They stand before the justice system not because they are powerless, but because they chose courage and patience over dying landless in their own homeland.
Today, the only alternative to justice remains justice itself. It is therefore a moral and political imperative for both government and society to free the 51.9 million land- and property-related litigants from the labyrinth of statistics and ensure the justice promised by the Constitution. Decentralised mechanisms such as Gram Nyayalayas offer viable pathways—yet to be fully implemented.
For the marginalised and the landless, the right to land is the foundation of all human rights. The unanswered question remains: for those pushed to the margins of society—who have always considered this country their motherland—is their citizenship not incomplete without even two bighas of land? In this so-called Amrit Kaal of independence, half of India’s population remains condemned to dream of justice while standing in silence between the unspoken “yes” and “no” of society and the state.
Ramesh Sharma is the National Coordinator of Ekta Parishad
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth