In Our Living Constitution, Shashi Tharoor presents an accessible yet intellectually robust reflection on the Indian Constitution—its origins, ideals, evolution, and the growing threats it faces in contemporary times. With his trademark erudition and a rich command over language, Tharoor crafts a compelling narrative that bridges history and present-day politics. The book’s design itself seems deliberate—the deep red cover evokes the iconic, leather-bound volume of the original Constitution of India, visually underscoring the reverence with which Tharoor approaches his subject.
At the heart of this book is his urgent message: the Constitution is not a static relic but a living document—one that requires constant engagement, understanding, and defence. Tharoor begins by tracing the intellectual and political roots of India’s constitutional vision. He reminds us that the document was not simply a legal instrument drafted by a few elites, but a deeply contested and thoughtful response to the trauma of Partition and the urgent need to unite a new, diverse republic.
Quoting BR Ambedkar—“Our Constitution provides us a magnificent structure beneath which all Indians, of all castes, creeds and languages, can equally seek shelter.”—Tharoor foregrounds the idea that the Constitution was intended to create not merely a legal order, but a conscious commitment to civic nationalism, transcending religious, linguistic, caste-based, and regional identities. He celebrates the founding father’s ability to craft a document that was far ahead of its time in terms of universal adult suffrage, protection of minorities, gender equality, and social justice.
One of the book’s greatest strengths lies in its clarity of structure. Tharoor guides the reader through the key elements of the Constitution, starting with the preamble and then proceeding to the various organs of the state, the principles of separation of powers, fundamental rights, duties, and the directive principles. He explains, in precise yet straightforward terms, how India’s Constitution borrows elements from many global traditions—the parliamentary model from Britain, judicial review from the United States, and a detailed rights framework with a strong moral core.
However, the book is far from a celebration alone. He delves into how recent policy moves—such as the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and the proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC)—have challenged the secular, inclusive core of the Constitution. He argues that these measures, by introducing religion as a basis for citizenship, represent a sharp break from the constitutional consensus of 1950.
Tharoor is equally scathing about the shrinking space for cooperative federalism. He critiques the central government’s increasing tendency to bypass state governments, citing decisions such as the demonetisation exercise and the abrupt Covid-19 lockdown as evidence of growing executive unilateralism. He warns that this concentration of power in the Union government, run by the BJP, threatens to undermine the quasi-federal structure envisioned by the Constitution.
In another compelling section, Tharoor discusses the role of civil society movements in constitutional change. He uses the Anna Hazare-led anti-corruption protests as a case study to explore how activism can pressure governments, but cautions against substituting street-level mobilisation for representative democracy.
What distinguishes Our Living Constitution from a standard textbook is its deeply political tone. He directly critiques the writings and speeches of Hindutva ideologues like Savarkar, Golwalkar, and Deendayal Upadhyaya—arguing that their vision of India as a “Hindu Rashtra” is fundamentally incompatible with the Constitution’s values. He asks, “will constitutionalism tame Hindutva, or will Hindutva transform the workings of the Constitution from a democracy to a ‘dharmocracy’?”
And yet, the book is not devoid of hope. Tharoor celebrates moments of popular resistance, such as the anti-CAA protests and the farmers’ agitation, as evidence of India’s resilient democratic spirit.
The book, however, overlooks the historical ambivalence of the INC on issues such as the Uniform Civil Code and minority appeasement. It skirts around key debates on constitutional interpretation in the era of digital rights, data privacy, and AI—a missed opportunity, given Tharoor’s otherwise forward-looking approach.
Tharoor’s linguistic style is characteristically elegant and his prose polished, the subject matter remains intellectually dense. The book is likely to appeal most to readers with a keen interest in Indian politics, public law or governance. The prose is elegant yet forceful, interweaving historical narrative, legal reasoning, and political critique with clarity and eloquence.
Tharoor makes a persuasive case that the Constitution’s survival cannot be taken for granted; it must be fought for, intellectually defended, and continuously reinterpreted to serve a changing society.
Tharoor’s concluding plea is both stirring and resolute: “The Constitution will prevail as long as its spirit survives in the ordinary citizens of India.”
Finally, as India continues to grapple with questions of identity, representation, and justice, the book is intended for anyone who seeks to understand not only what the Constitution states but also why it matters.