The Sabarimala Verdict: A Step Towards Gender Equality or a Blow to Religious Freedom?
Few judicial decisions in recent memory have stirred national debate as intensely as the Supreme Court’s 2018 Sabarimala verdict, which ruled that women of menstruating age— traditionally barred from the Ayyappa shrine—must be allowed entry. For some, the judgment represents a long-overdue correction to gender discrimination; for others, it stands as a judicial intrusion into the heart of religious autonomy. Years later, the controversy remains alive, with the issue now before a larger seven-judge bench tasked with answering broader questions about the extent to which courts can intervene in religious practices.
At the centre of the debate is the essential practices doctrine, a judicial standard that allows courts to determine which religious customs are fundamental to a faith and which are not. In the original 4:1 judgment, the Court held that the ban on women
aged 10–50 was not an essential part of the Ayyappa tradition and violated Articles 14, 15, 17, and 25 of the Constitution. The logic was clear: if a practice excludes a section of believers solely because of biology, it cannot survive constitutional scrutiny.
However, critics argue that the verdict glossed over the cultural nuance of the Ayyappa tradition. Devotees maintain that Lord Ayyappa is worshipped as a Naishtika Brahmachari, a deity committed to celibacy, and that the bar on women of reproductive age is rooted in symbolic theology, not misogyny. The temple, they argue, treats women with reverence rather than discrimination, as evidenced by the revered role of women in other rituals connected to the pilgrimage. From this perspective, the Court’s ruling amounts to a homogenisation of religious belief—judges replacing priests, tradition, and collective faith with courtroom logic.
The matter is further complicated by the larger constitutional question: where should the line be drawn between individual rights and group rights? Article 25 guarantees every citizen the freedom to practise religion, but Article 26 grants religious denominations autonomy over their own affairs. The Supreme Court’s task is therefore not simply to adjudicate equality but to decide who has the authority to interpret a religion’s “true” practice.
Yet, the gender equality argument remains powerful. For centuries, women have been denied access to religious spaces across faiths—whether the Haji Ali Dargah, Shani Shingnapur, or certain Parsi fire temples. The Sabarimala verdict, for many women, symbolised the beginning of a broader movement reclaiming equal spiritual agency. It sparked a long-overdue national conversation on how patriarchal customs often hide under the label of tradition. In a country where gender-based exclusion is widespread—be it in temples, mosques, monasteries, or even living rooms—the verdict felt like a step toward dismantling structural barriers.
But the aftermath demonstrated that progressive judgments cannot be implemented by judicial decree alone. Massive protests, political mobilisation, and even violence ensued. The temple was virtually inaccessible for women without police protection. Several women who tried to enter faced threats and online harassment. The state government struggled to balance constitutional duty with law-and-order realities. The episode raised a more sobering question: Can social reform be forced top-down, or must it emerge organically from within the community?
As the seven-judge bench revisits the issue, the stakes are higher than one temple’s tradition. The Court must examine whether it should be the final arbiter of religious meaning, and whether diversity in religious practices should be treated as unconstitutional merely because they do not fit modern equalitarian ideals. Equally, it must confront the uncomfortable truth that invoking “tradition” has historically been used to justify exclusion—whether of women, Dalits, or minorities.
Ultimately, the Sabarimala controversy is not a binary of equality versus faith. It is a reflection of India’s deepest tensions—between reform and tradition, rights and rituals, the Constitution and culture. A nuanced approach is essential, one that respects religious pluralism but refuses to legitimise discrimination. The final verdict, whenever it arrives, will shape not only temple customs but the very future of India’s secular and democratic identity.
