Prof. Jagrit Gadit: A Constitutional Voice Amid the Noise of Hindutva

Oct 01, 2026

By Bhanwar Meghwanshi

In Gujarat, Hindutva is no longer confined to electoral politics. Its shadow is increasingly visible in public institutions, their symbols and their practices. It is in this context that the resistance of Prof. Jagrit Gadit, Head of the Department of Electrical Engineering at Maharaja Sayajirao University in Vadodara, assumes particular significance. He has questioned the growing presence of prayers and religious rituals at official university events, refused to participate in such rituals himself, and demanded that the Vice-Chancellor formulate a clear policy regarding religious events on the campus.

The issue is not about an individual’s personal faith. The question is whether a publicly funded university can turn its official platform into a venue for the religious rituals of any particular faith. The answer must be found not in sentiment, but through the test of the Constitution. It is here that the matter moves beyond an administrative dispute within a university and becomes a question concerning the secular character of the state, freedom of conscience, and the character of public educational institutions.

*Kesavananda Bharati: The Basic Structure Test of the Constitution*

The 1973 judgment in Kesavananda Bharati v. State of Kerala marked a decisive moment in India’s constitutional history. A thirteen-judge Constitution Bench established the basic structure doctrine: Parliament has the power to amend the Constitution, but it cannot destroy its basic structure. In his opinion, Chief Justice S. M. Sikri identified among the Constitution’s basic features its supremacy, republican and democratic form of government, secular character, separation of powers and federal character.
It is therefore more accurate to say that, within the constitutional reasoning of Kesavananda Bharati, the secular character of the Constitution was expressly identified as a basic feature, while subsequent judgments developed this principle further. In particular, in the 1994 judgment in S. R. Bommai v. Union of India, the Supreme Court made it clear that secularism is a basic feature of the Constitution.

There is, however, an important legal caveat here. Kesavananda Bharati did not impose any direct prohibition on prayers, aarti or religious ceremonies in universities.

The principal issue before the Court was Parliament’s power to amend the Constitution and the basic structure limitation on that power. Therefore, it would be legally incorrect to present Prof. Gadit’s demand as a direct judicial mandate flowing from Kesavananda Bharati.

The more accurate proposition is that his question is connected to the constitutional principle that state institutions must function in accordance with the basic character of the Constitution.

Individual Faith and State Neutrality

The Constitution today establishes India as a “sovereign socialist secular democratic republic” and guarantees citizens freedom of conscience and freedom of religion. The Supreme Court has also understood secularism to mean that the State has no religion of its own and that all citizens are entitled to religious freedom and equal civic rights.

This does not mean hostility towards religion. The Constitution does not prevent any citizen from being a person of faith. One may visit a temple, mosque, gurdwara or church, follow another religious tradition, or follow no religion at all. These are matters of conscience and religious freedom. But an individual’s religious freedom and the religious neutrality of the State are not the same thing.

An individual may pray. The question is whether a state institution itself should become the organiser or official patron of that prayer. This is where Prof. Gadit’s objection becomes significant.

The University: A Place for Religious Rituals or Freedom to Question?

A university is not an individual’s private religious space. It is a public educational institution, comprising students and teachers from different religions, castes, ideologies and worldviews. There are believers as well as atheists. Its official character, therefore, should not be defined by any one religious identity.

The most important identity of a university should not lie in its religious symbols but in the freedom to ask questions. It should be a place where a student can question the existence of God, critically examine religion, subject a tradition to the test of reason, and explore atheism as well. In the world of knowledge, the truth of an idea is determined not by its popularity or religious prestige, but by reason and evidence.

This is why the presence of religious rituals at official university events is not merely a question about prayer. It is also a question of whether a public educational institution considers all its members equally its own — both those who believe in such rituals and those who do not.

Article 28 and the Constitutional Limits on Public Education

Article 28 of the Constitution is particularly relevant to this debate. Its first clause provides that no religious instruction shall be provided in any educational institution wholly maintained out of State funds. But Article 28 must also be read with equal care. It does not automatically declare every religious symbol or every religious event unconstitutional.

Article 28 itself contains exceptions and distinguishes between different situations; in particular, it addresses questions of religious instruction and participation in religious worship differently.

Article 28(3) is even more directly relevant in this context. A person attending a recognised or aided educational institution cannot be compelled to take part in religious instruction or religious worship; in the case of a minor, the provision also refers to the consent of the guardian.

Therefore, compulsory or coercive participation in a religious activity raises a significantly more serious constitutional question.

The legal question in this entire matter, therefore, is not: “A religious thing was visible in the university, therefore it is automatically unconstitutional.”

The question is more nuanced: What is the nature of the activity? Is it religious instruction, religious worship, or a cultural programme? Is it an official university event? Is participation voluntary? Is there direct or indirect pressure on anyone? Are public resources being used for a particular religious activity? And does the institution have a policy that treats all religions and non-religious viewpoints equally?

These are the questions on which any legal assessment must rest.

“Tradition” Cannot Stand Above the Constitution
Saying, “This is our culture and tradition,” does not by itself answer these questions. The fact that a practice is old does not make it constitutional. India has had many social practices that were once justified in the name of tradition, but which the Constitution challenged on the grounds of equality, liberty and dignity.

Therefore, if a religious event is described as an official tradition of a university, a simple question should be asked: Is the right to respectfully decline participation ?

Can a student say, without any social or administrative pressure, that they do not wish to participate in a religious ritual? Will an atheist student receive the same respect as a student who is a believer? Can a student belonging to another religion see an equal place for themselves in the university’s official identity?

If the answers to these questions are uncomfortable, the problem is no longer merely about tradition. It becomes a question of institutional neutrality.

Constitutional Restraint on the Faith of the Majority

The argument based on majority sentiment does not work here either. To say, “Most people are Hindus, so why object to Hindu religious traditions having a place in a public university?” is to forget the limits placed by a constitutional democracy.
In a democracy, the majority has the right to govern, but it does not have the right to stand above the Constitution. This is the central significance of Kesavananda Bharati: it established a constitutional limitation even on the power to amend the Constitution, in order to protect its basic structure.

Secularism is not a concession granted to a minority community. It is a constitutional restraint on both the State and the majority. It means that the State belongs equally to all citizens and therefore cannot become the State of any one religious identity.

This is why Prof. Gadit’s action is significant. He could have remained silent. He could have participated in a ceremony and accepted it as a normal tradition. Instead, he raised a question and registered his dissent within the framework of his institutional responsibilities.

In Gujarat’s political environment, where Hindutva has a deep hold over public discourse, when a senior teacher at a public university says that he does not regard a religious ritual as part of the institution’s official activities, this is no longer a minor administrative objection. It is a reminder of the citizen’s right to express dissent even in the face of the majority.

This issue should also not be turned into a Hindu-versus-Muslim or believer-versus-atheist conflict. If, tomorrow, a public university were to make a Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Buddhist or any other religious ritual part of an official programme, the constitutional test should remain the same.

The question is not which religion is visible on the campus. The real question is whether a state institution itself is adopting a particular religious identity, or whether it is maintaining equal freedom for all citizens.

The Voice of Dissent Is the Test of Democracy

For this reason, it would be wrong to view Prof. Gadit’s objection as opposition to any religion. It points to the boundary where private faith begins to acquire institutional power. In a public university, an individual’s faith must be respected, but their lack of faith must be respected equally. This is the real test of freedom of conscience and secularism.

The Constitution is not protected only in Parliament and the courts. It is protected in everyday public institutions – in classrooms, laboratories, administrative offices, and even in that moment when someone is told,

“Everyone is doing it; you should do it too.” At that moment, the right to say, “I will not,” becomes a real test of democracy.

The real strength of Prof. Jagrit Gadit’s stand lies not merely in his opposition, but in the constitutional conscience on which he has based it. He has raised his question at a time when there is increasing pressure to accept majority religious practices as “normal culture.”

Kesavananda Bharati defined limits on power. Subsequent constitutional jurisprudence connected secularism to the basic character of the Constitution. Universities are among the most natural places for this constitutional spirit to live, because democracy survives not merely through the majority, but also through the right to dissent.

Prof. Gadit’s resistance is not against any particular form of worship. It is against a mentality in which faith begins to be treated as an institutional entitlement and dissent as an inconvenience. His standing alone in Modi’s Gujarat is therefore significant.

When there are chants of acclaim around power, even a dissenting voice raised in the name of the Constitution becomes an act of resistance. And perhaps this is precisely the kind of dissent Gujarat needs most today.