Gautam Bhatia’s The Indian Constitution: A Conversation with Power offers a significant and timely intervention in the field of Indian constitutional studies – especially against the backdrop of a deepening constitutional crisis. In an era where legal instruments are increasingly weaponised against dissenters and marginalised communities, particularly Muslims, and where democracy is increasingly reduced to a mere electoral procedure, the constitution appears increasingly powerless in the face of majoritarianism. 

In this fraught context, Bhatia raises a deceptively simple yet analytically profound question: how is power – its organisation, distribution and concealment – embedded in and legitimised through the Indian constitution? 

Unlike dominant scholarly traditions that treat the constitution as a moral charter, pedagogical project, or a vehicle of popular empowerment, Bhatia reorients our analytical focus toward power itself – and rightly so. He reads the constitution not as a neutral or self-evident moral text but as “a terrain of contestation between different – and at times, conflicting – ideas about the organisation of power” (p. xvii). 

Drawing on landmark constitutional cases from 2019 to 2024, and identifying six axes of constitutional power – federalism, parliamentarism, pluralism, institutions, rights, the people – Bhatia argues that “these instances all constitute interconnected strands within a web of power relations that is created and sustained by the Constitution” (p. x). 

The centrality of power in India’s constitutional structure, he contends, is not accidental but the product of deliberate choices made during the framing of the constitution between 1946 and 1949 despite the availability of alternative constitutional drafts which were sceptical of concentrated power. 

The functioning of the constitution over the past seven decades, and the interpretive stance of the Supreme Court, in Bhatia’s view, demonstrates a steady “centralising drift”: a process that, in the final analysis, has entrenched pro-executive authority while undermining constitutional values such as democracy, pluralism and federalism. Through meticulous readings of judicial decisions, Bhatia exposes the mechanisms by which this drift has unfolded.

Framing the issue is key

This against-the-grain reading of the constitution – attentive to text, structure and silences – is most vividly evident in Bhatia’s sustained analysis of constitutional jurisprudence between 2019 and 2024 – a period defined by the Bharatiya Janata Party’s continued electoral dominance and the consolidation of executive authority. 

Among the landmark cases Bhatia engages with include the abrogation of Article 370, the constitutional status of the National Capital Territory of Delhi, the reconstitution of the Election Commission, the orchestrated toppling of opposition-led state governments, the rise of “bulldozer justice” and the expanded use of the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), alongside the growing powers of the Enforcement Directorate (ED). 

For anyone who has followed these developments, a common thread quickly emerges: a persistent erosion of constitutionalism and a steady undermining of its principles – even when actions are cloaked in constitutional legitimacy. 

Through these case studies, Bhatia not only illustrates how core constitutional principles – such as federalism, parliamentary democracy, personal liberty and judicial independence – have been compromised but also scrutinises the judiciary’s role, especially the Supreme Court, in either enabling or failing to curb these transformations. Importantly, however, Bhatia cautions against interpreting the 2019-2024 period as a ‘moment of rupture’, as understood in constitutional studies. Rather, he views it as the logical culmination of deeper, long-standing continuities in the way constitutional power is organised and exercised.

Bhatia also reminds us that alternative constitutional visions were available at the time of drafting. He points to documents like M.N. Roy’s Constitution of India: A Draft (1944) and the Gandhian Constitution drafted by Shriman Narayan Agarwal in 1946. These frameworks were deeply sceptical of concentrated power and envisioned a decentralised, accountability-driven order where people were central to constitutional imagination. Yet, after nearly three years of deliberation, the Constituent Assembly opted for the current framework. 

Similarly, in his analysis of post-1950 judgments – particularly those addressing foundational principles such as federalism and civil liberties – Bhatia argues that alternative interpretations were possible even then, ones that could have reinforced progressive constitutional values. The Supreme Court, however, often chose a different route – what Bhatia terms “inflection points” – which further accelerated the constitution’s drift toward executive centrism.

Situating power in constitutional discourse

The central claim of the book – that power lies at the heart of India’s constitutional architecture – marks a significant departure from dominant trends in constitutional historiography. Over the decades, this body of scholarship has profoundly shaped how the constitution is understood: as a governance framework, a rights charter, and a site of emancipatory politics. Yet, for all its insights, this literature has often fostered an uncritical veneration of the Constitution. Even 75 years after independence, romanticism continues to dominate both scholarly and popular discourse.

Foundational works such as Granville Austin’s Cornerstone of a Nation (1966), Madhav Khosla’s India’s Founding Moment (2016), and Rohit De’s A People’s Constitution (2018) have enriched our understanding by portraying the constitution as a site of social revolution, democratic pedagogy or popular mobilisation. However, these works often overlook the more uncomfortable question of how the constitution itself structures, enables or conceals power.

What distinguishes Bhatia’s intervention is that he does not examine structural features like federalism or substantive guarantees like fundamental rights in isolation. Instead, he treats the Constitution as an integrated whole and asks: what does it, in its entirety, reveal about the question of power? The problem with passing normative judgments on the Constitution – labeling it as progressive or transformative – is that such readings tend to constrict our understanding of the text. More critically, they give rise to what Bhatia terms constitutional common sense: “a set of assumptions, beliefs, and ideas, widely shared and internalized among the community of judges, legislators, administrators, civil servants and lawyers, about how the Indian Constitution does, and should, organize power” (p. xxvi). 

This constitutional common sense not only fosters complacency but also obscures the question of power – at our own peril.

It is this analytical gap that Bhatia seeks to fill – “with a dose of the practitioner’s standpoint” (p. xxv). Drawing on critical theory, doctrinal analysis and comparative jurisprudence, he repositions the constitution not just as a normative blueprint, but as a power map – an instrument that both organises and obfuscates authority. 

While scholars like Uday Singh Mehta and Arvind Elangovan have previously explored the political foundations of Indian constitutionalism, their analyses remain largely in essays or thematic explorations. Bhatia, in contrast, not just builds on the extant literature, but also offers a conceptually expansive and doctrinally rigorous study, weaving theory, case law and comparative insight into a compelling whole. 

In doing so, he compels us to ask not just what the constitution says, but how – and why – it says it, revealing the silences, political choices and architectures of power that shape Indian constitutionalism.

Engine room of the constitution

Comparative constitutional studies, when done rigorously, can offer profound insights. Bhatia deploys this methodology with considerable skill. He engages deeply with the work of Argentinian scholar Roberto Gargarella, whose magisterial history of Latin American constitutionalism centres on what he calls the “engine room of the constitution” – the organisation of political power. Gargarella argues that unless constitutions restructure political authority, socio-economic and indigenous rights will remain aspirational. Old power architectures – often authoritarian in nature – do not provide fertile ground for progressive constitutionalism.

Bhatia draws on this insight to examine how power structures in India remain largely untouched even when new rights are introduced. A striking illustration of this disjuncture is the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996 (PESA), enacted following the 73rd and 74th constitutional amendments. While these amendments aimed to institutionalise local self-governance, they too have been victims of a centralising bias within Indian federalism. Despite their transformative promise, both the amendments and PESA have struggled to penetrate the entrenched architecture of centralised power.

In the 29 years since PESA’s enactment, its implementation has faltered. Eight of the 10 states where it is operational have faced significant obstacles in devolving power. Jharkhand and Odisha have not even notified the rules, rendering the law practically ineffective. More starkly, when Jharkhand’s Adivasi communities mobilised through the Pathalgadi movement to demand PESA’s implementation, they encountered brutal state repression. Nearly 10,000 people were charged with sedition. This is not merely a story of administrative apathy or legislative failure; it exposes a deeper structural impasse.

PESA was meant to institutionalise democratic decentralisation and secure indigenous autonomy. Yet, no parallel restructuring was undertaken within the constitutional “engine room” to make space for such a transformation. The existing distribution of power – top-heavy and executive-centric – remains fundamentally unchanged. Without reconfiguring the foundational architecture of power, new rights and democratic promises remain ineffectual. As Gargarella argues, progressive constitutionalism demands more than rhetorical commitments; it requires enabling people to enter the engine room of power itself.

A few misses

Despite its many merits, Bhatia’s book falls short on a few counts. While he incisively foregrounds the constitution’s relationship with power, he does not adequately explore the impact of Partition and the ensuing communal violence on the constitutional architecture. This omission is perhaps significant because Partition introduced a path dependency that deeply influenced the contours of the constitution – particularly by reducing the political negotiability of Muslims in the Constituent Assembly. 

As Kanika Gauba argues, “Clear and discernible in a closer reading of the Constituent Assembly’s debates are the implicit influences of Partition on key constitutional decisions – on citizenship, political safeguards for minorities, and provisions that created a strong central tendency in the Union.” 

Viewed this way, the power structure embedded in the constitution at its founding moment was not ideologically neutral but bore implicit majoritarian biases – despite its pluralist spirit and progressive content. Pritam Singh, in a seminal essay, has also persuasively identified elements that reflect Hindu bias in the Indian Constitution. 

Bhatia's reading of case law is impressive, especially his identification of “inflection points” where the Supreme Court had the option to reinforce progressive values but chose instead to reinforce executive dominance. However, had Bhatia undertaken a close reading of the Hindutva judgment (1995), and other similar judgments showing the ideological underpinning of power, through this lens, it might have further underscored how the judiciary’s accommodation of religious majoritarianism has facilitated the centralisation of power – now bearing a distinctly communal hue – having an old provenance.

In conclusion

In The Indian Constitution: A Conversation with Power, Gautam Bhatia combines the analytical rigour of a scholar with the lived insight of a practicing lawyer – one who has actively engaged in many of the cases the book examines. This dual lens lends exceptional depth and credibility to the book. 

More than a diagnostic account of our contemporary constitutional reality, the book urges a rethinking of how we perceive and interpret the constitution. It equips readers with critical tools to defend and revitalise constitutionalism. Essential reading for lawyers, legal scholars and political scientists, the book also offers immense value for engaged citizens. 

That said, its dense legal and theoretical language may pose a challenge for lay readers. Nonetheless, Bhatia’s intervention is both necessary and timely. It reframes the constitution not as a passive shield but as an active site of power – demanding vigilant engagement from all who care about its future.

Md Zeeshan Ahmad is a Delhi-based lawyer.

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