In the weeks after the 2012 Nirbhaya gangrape case shook Delhi, Virender Punj found himself replaying one detail over and over in his head. The brutality of the crime had horrified the country, triggering protests across the capital and forcing difficult conversations about women’s safety, policing, and justice. But for Punj, then a senior officer in the Delhi Police, another question lingered beneath the outrage. One of the accused was a minor. “I kept thinking—could things have been different if there was legal education in schools?” recalls Punj, who retired last year as Assistant Commissioner of Police (Vigilance), Delhi Police, and now practises as a lawyer.
At that point, Punj had already spent over two decades serving in some of Delhi’s most volatile districts—North East Delhi, North Delhi, and Shahdara—neighbourhoods where communal tensions, street violence, and crime often brewed slowly before erupting without warning. Years of policing had taught him that fear of punishment alone rarely changed behaviour. The deeper problem, he felt, was that most people encountered the law only after something had already gone wrong. “When you go to court, the judge will say that ignorance of law is not an excuse,” he says. “But there are few efforts in educating people about the law. It may not be an excuse, but it definitely is a gap.”
Punj began visiting schools and local communities. He would ask students simple questions: What do you know about your rights? What do you know about criminal law? Many students knew little beyond what they absorbed from films, social media, or stray headlines. Few understood how everyday laws actually shaped their lives. Punj started collecting handwritten letters from students explaining why they believed legal education should be taught in schools. “School education is structured in a way where only science and commerce are treated as important,” he says. “But legal education is equally necessary.”
For Punj, the issue was also deeply personal. As a young man from a middle-class family, he lost his father in a hit-and-run case that never saw justice. Over time, Punj realised that occasional awareness sessions, however well-intentioned, were not enough. Students listened, asked questions, and then returned to classroom routines. The impact faded quickly. “I realised these sessions needed to become part of the curriculum,” he says. “Only then would there be structure and continuity.”
That conviction eventually evolved into Mission Legal Studies India, a long-running campaign through which Punj has spent years pushing for Legal Studies to be introduced more widely in Classes 11 and 12 across Indian schools. What surprised him most when he began the campaign was that the subject already existed. Offered by CBSE as an optional subject, Legal Studies covers a broad range of topics, including the POSH Act, RTI, and consumer rights, among other. Yet despite its relevance, very few schools actually offer it. “Schools and even education boards are often unaware that Legal Studies already exists in the curriculum,” he says. “Out of nearly 1,500 schools in Delhi, only 29 offer the subject.” In many cases, schools also view Legal Studies as impractical compared to subjects seen as more “career-oriented.” Punj disagrees. Beyond creating awareness, he believes the subject can open new pathways for students while also creating opportunities for law graduates as teachers. The campaign gradually became larger than a post-retirement project. Punj’s transition to law, he says, felt natural. Today, Punj continues visiting schools, conducting sessions, and advocating for the implementation of Legal Studies.
He still believes the core idea is simple: societies cannot expect citizens to respect laws they were never taught to understand. “As a cop, I have seen how awareness can reduce crime,” he says. “The duty of the police is not just to enforce the law, but also to help create an environment where people understand it. That’s what I continue to work towards.”
