Legal scholar Upendra Baxi has often said that the term social action litigation (SAL) is more appropriate for what is commonly known as public interest litigation (PIL). This is because these cases aim at social uplift and don’t merely reflect public interest. Yet, more than the change in nomenclature, there must be a qualitative transformation in the very idea of SAL. Constitutional morality must take centre-stage in such cases and SAL judgements should reflect the ideals of the nation’s fundamental document.
Two such judgements have recently come from the Supreme Court, both touching the lives of an extremely vulnerable group of society—the disabled inmates of Indian jails. In L Muruganantham (2025) the court issued a slew of directives to the Tamil Nadu government to ensure systemic changes that meet the specific needs of disabled prisoners in the state. In the more recent Sathyan Naravoor (2025) judgement, the court expanded the Muruganantham directives’ scope to the whole country and added another set of directives.
The facts of the Muruganantham case are unique. L Muruganantham, a lawyer from Tamil Nadu, suffered degenerative locomotive disability. A civil dispute in his family led to the registration of a crime that was later quashed by the Madras High Court. Meanwhile, he was remanded to the Central Prison in Coimbatore by a magistrate. Though he was released on bail after 9 days, this period of incarceration demonstrated the fragility of Indian prison ecology in terms of the rights of the disabled.
The radical legislation to ensure the well-being of the differently-abled that parliament passed in 2016 was practically fenced out of the jail. Muruganantham was denied proper food, medical treatment, infrastructural amenities, and personal care. The prison environment was insensitive to the special needs of such inmates. Muruganantham filed a complaint before the State Human Rights Commission, seeking compensation for what he had suffered. A meagre recompense was awarded by the commission. It also recommended disciplinary action against one of the erring officers.
Muruganantham was not quite convinced. He moved the high court stating that the commission had not fully heeded his request. Significantly, apart from personal reliefs, he essentially sought implementation of the provisions of Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPwD) Act in Tamil Nadu. The high court allowed his writ petition in part. Again, dissatisfied with that verdict, Muruganantham approached the Supreme Court. He fought a long battle. And it was not in vain. Being a lawyer, he argued the case on his own in the Supreme Court.
The Supreme Court did a comprehensive examination of the jurisprudence on India’s disability and prison laws. Yet, more than personal relief to the appellant, the focal point of the judgement was the plight of the disabled who are incarcerated. Justice R Mahadevan, who wrote the judgement, referred to precedents on jail reforms like the Sanjay Suri (1988), Rama Murthy (1997), D K Basu (2015), and In re: Inhuman Conditions in 1,382 Prisons (2016) cases. Even earlier, in the Sunil Batra (1979) case, Justice Krishna Iyer famously wrote that the fundamental rights do not part company with the prisoner at the gates.
The Supreme Court, in its July 15 directives on Muruganantham, asked for identification of the disabled and providing them with the necessary amenities like physiotherapy and psychotherapy, if required. Periodic audits, training of officers on disability rights, revision of the Prison Manual in tune with the RPwD Act, inclusive policies, and constitution of monitoring committees to conduct periodic inspection in prisons find a place among the Muruganantham directives. These constituted a radical leap on the subject. However, as a case that arose from a Madras High Court judgement, the directives, though impactful, were limited to Tamil Nadu.
Human rights are universal, as are their violations. Prisons across the country tell almost the same story. American lawyer Edwin M Baum once pointed out that physically disabled prisoners are punished for two categories of crime: the one for which they were convicted by the court, and the ‘crime’ of being disabled. There are also persons who are punished even before conviction or trial.
In India, where pre-trial incarceration is quite common, the challenges faced by the disabled are graver. This reality is epitomised in the tragic death of Stan Swamy and G N Saibaba, who chose to speak truth to power, embarrassingly and even dangerously. In a 2017 letter, Saibaba wrote about his deteriorating health and the agony he faced in prison as a person with 90 percent disability. He movingly wrote: “I don’t know how long I can survive.”
Saddened by the predicament of Saibaba and Swamy, and shocked by the country’s insensitivity to disabled prisoners, Kerala-based activist Sathyan Naravoor filed a writ petition in the Supreme Court early this year. In this case, the Supreme Court extended the Muruganantham principle to all states and Union territories. The new judgement additionally directed the creation of a proper complaint redress mechanism and a system for inclusive education. A provision for generous visitation rights was also prescribed, so that the family members of the incarcerated are able to attend to their needs.
More importantly, by way of a judicial synthesis, the top court held in Sathyan Naravoor that Section 89 of the RPwD Act will apply to prison establishments across the country. This provision penalises the acts or omissions that are in breach of the statute. Thus, prison authorities across the country are made accountable to the primary law on disability. This was an instance of a juridical alertness over legislative silence.
Saibaba, in his 2017 letter, also expressed a desire to train himself “as an activist of the disabled people in India” and “to contribute in a small way to (their issues) in future”. Sadly, he died a few months after his release. His freedom on this planet was curtailed unjustly by the executive. The court also stepped in too late. Perhaps the Sathyan verdict reflects an institutional introspection. Now the tough phase of enforcing the directives begins as the court awaits a compliance report.
Kaleeswaram Raj | Lawyer at the Supreme Court and petitioner’s counsel in the Sathyan Naravoor case
(Views are personal)
(kaleeswaramraj@gmail.com)