On 23 September 2026, a two-judge Bench of the Supreme Court split — not on whether the CEC and Other ECs Act, 2023 is valid, but on whether a Bench of two could decide the question at all. The author argues the episode exposes a structural fault in how the Court is organised.

• The Union’s late plea: midway through hearings, the Union argued the case raised a substantial question of constitutional interpretation and so required at least five judges under Article 145(3) — a plea absent from its counter-affidavit.
• Justice Datta: rejected the plea — Anoop Baranwal already declared that Article 324 requires appointments insulated from exclusive executive control; that ruling binds all courts under Article 141, so testing the 2023 Act is merely applying settled law.
• Justice Sharma: accepted it — since no authoritative ruling on the 2023 Act’s validity exists, a Constitution Bench must hear it.
• Outcome: instead of the usual three-judge reference to resolve a 1–1 split, both judges jointly sent the papers to the CJI to consider a Constitution Bench. Petitioners who filed in early 2024 must wait again.

The author sides with Justice Datta. Article 145(3) is triggered by a genuine dispute over interpretation, not by a case’s importance or a statute’s novelty — the test laid down in State of J&K v. Thakur Ganga Singh (1959) and applied to Article 145(3) in PUCL v. Union of India (2003).

• Novelty is not the test: on Justice Sharma’s logic, two-judge Benches could not have decided Shreya Singhal (2015) (striking down Section 66A, IT Act) or NALSA (2014) (gender self-identification).
• A court of many voices: in 1950 the Court had six judges (sanctioned strength eight); Article 145(3) assumed it would usually sit together. It now sits mostly in two-judge panels, largely hearing Special Leave Petitions (Article 136); per the author, its sanctioned strength is now 38 (it was raised to 34 by a 2019 amendment).
• Delay as fait accompli: Anoop Baranwal took from 2015 to 2023; the reference on the meaning of “industry” in State of U.P. v. Jai Bir Singh lay dormant for 15 years from 2002. By the time this case is decided, Commissioners appointed under the 2023 Act will have conducted several elections.

• Permanent Constitution Bench: the judges’ joint order asks the CJI to explore one. The Law Commission’s 229th Report (2009) proposed a Constitution Bench at Delhi with regional Cassation Benches for ordinary appeals.
• No amendment needed: the CJI, as Master of the Roster (affirmed in Asok Pande, 2018 and Shanti Bhushan, 2018), can constitute it; Article 130 also allows the Court to sit elsewhere with the President’s approval.
• Rules, not discretion: the author warns that on a court of this size, roster power can shape outcomes; a permanent Bench must be composed by transparent, pre-set rules.
• Stare decisis: the deeper problem is inconsistent respect for binding precedent — here a Bench of two declined to apply a principle settled by a Bench of five.

• There is a counter-view: the validity of a new law governing a constitutional body may itself involve interpretation of Article 324, and a five-judge ruling would carry greater authority than a two-judge one.
• Both judges agreed the CJI’s seat on the committee was a stopgap, not constitutionally entrenched — the live issue is the degree of executive control, not the specific composition.

The author argues that the 2016 Model Bilateral Investment Treaty (BIT) dismantled India’s treaty network, and that net direct investment data show the cost; 18 months after the Union Budget 2025-26 promised a revamp, no new model has been adopted.

Per the author, BITs in force fell from over 70 in 2015 to about eight by the early 2020s, none with a major source of capital. The flows tell a related story: gross inflows look strong, but most of it is offset by repatriation and outward FDI.

• Reinvested earnings of foreign firms were $25.6 billion — over three times net FDI; the author notes these are profits retained, not fresh commitments.
• Portfolio outflows: foreign investors withdrew $17.7 billion from Indian equities in 2025, by the author’s account.
• On reclassification: the author opposes counting portfolio holdings held over three years as FDI — the OECD Benchmark Definition uses a 10% voting-power threshold and bars adding holding-period tests. India adopted the 10% line following the Mayaram Committee (2014).

• The case for the 2016 model: it reflected a global backlash against ISDS — concerns over regulatory chill, large awards and arbitrators reviewing sovereign tax and policy choices. Several countries (e.g. South Africa, Indonesia) also terminated older BITs.
• Correlation vs causation: FDI decisions depend on market size, regulation, tax certainty and global interest rates; outward FDI by Indian firms reflects their own global expansion, not only a weak investment climate.
• Middle path: a shorter local-remedies period, a clear FET standard, and a strong right to regulate — as in recent treaties — can reassure investors while protecting policy space. Ending retrospective tax (Taxation Laws (Amendment) Act, 2021) removed one major irritant.

A year after the India–EFTA Trade and Economic Partnership Agreement (TEPA) entered into force on 1 October 2025, Iceland’s Ambassador to India argues its real value lies in investment and technology partnerships, not tariff cuts alone.

• Geothermal direct use: Iceland uses low- to medium-temperature heat for space heating, fish drying and greenhouses. At Tapri (Kinnaur, Himachal Pradesh), an Indian–Icelandic venture now uses geothermal heat to dry apples, letting growers time sales; a cooling facility is due by year-end. India’s Himalayan geothermal belt includes Puga Valley (Ladakh).
• Carbon capture (CCUS): a NITI Aayog (2022) study estimated India could capture about 750 million tonnes of CO₂ a year by 2050. The DST released India’s first CCUS R&D roadmap in December 2025 and, per the author, the Union Budget 2026-27 provided ₹20,000 crore over five years. Iceland’s CarbFix mineralises over 95% of injected CO₂ in basalt within two years — relevant to India’s Deccan Traps.
• Carbon-to-fuel: Iceland hosted the world’s first industrial-scale CO₂-to-methanol plant (Svartsengi, 2011-12); a 2026 MoU explores a 3 lakh-tonne-a-year e-methanol project at Raigad, Maharashtra, using steel-plant emissions and green hydrogen.
• Fisheries: Iceland uses about 90% of each cod (skin, liver, bones) against 40–60% in most fishing nations — value addition without catching more fish.

• Iceland is one of the eight Arctic States and a founding member of the Arctic Council (Ottawa Declaration, 1996); India has been an Observer since 2013, released its Arctic Policy in 2022 and runs the Himadri station at Ny-Ålesund, Svalbard (since 2008).
• The author presents TEPA as a complement to the India–EU FTA, not a rival — “one plus one equals three”.

• The $100 billion is an objective, not a guarantee: governments cannot direct private investment, and how inflows will be measured and attributed to TEPA remains open.
• Gains depend on non-tariff issues — standards, mutual recognition, services mobility — and on Indian firms’ capacity to use concessions.
• Technologies like CCUS are costly and early-stage; storage needs rigorous monitoring and verification before scale-up.

Written for Gandhi Jayanti (2 October), the piece argues that Gandhi is remembered as a model of protest but rarely as a guide to institution-building — and that his writings offer resources for renewing democracy.

The author takes up a recent argument in the same newspaper that democracy needs renewal through the idea of Swaraj, and maps three challenges to Gandhian ideas. Gandhi’s 1925 test: loyalty to an institution lasts only so long as it aids the growth of the nation.

• Social and economic inequality that hollows out one person, one vote → treat the anxieties of the poor, Dalits, minorities and women as national issues, not group-specific ones, through a cultural policy that democratises institutions.
• A media that blurs news and propaganda → Gandhi saw an “awakened and intelligent public opinion” as the Satyagrahi’s strongest weapon; the author proposes non-violent action for media accountability without curbing free expression, plus a politics of discourse and of personal commitment.
• Political centralisation → Gandhi located its roots in voters as much as politicians, calling for an electorate that is impartial, independent and intelligent — an electoral morality.

• Purity of means and ends: legitimate goals pursued through non-violent, truthful means.
• Self-introspection: the Satyagrahi first checks whether he carries the very evils he opposes — a model for integrity in public life.
• Conditional institutional loyalty: institutions earn allegiance by serving the public good — linked to accountability and conscience.

• Gandhi’s distrust of the modern state sits uneasily with constitutional democracy; B.R. Ambedkar criticised the village as a site of caste oppression and preferred the individual as the unit of the Constitution.
• The author’s assessment of current trends is one perspective; the larger point — that civic virtue and informed voters sustain institutions — is widely shared.

On 24 September 2026, the UN General Assembly adopted its first-ever declaration on sea-level rise, affirming a presumption of continued statehood and urging countries to build sea-level projections into coastal infrastructure planning — where India has gaps.

• Continued statehood: a country does not lose sovereignty, rights or its UN seat if the sea takes its land — critical for Tuvalu, Kiribati and the Maldives.
• Fixed maritime zones: nautical boundaries, once drawn, are maintained even as coastlines retreat.
• People: countries are asked to respect the human rights of the displaced and strengthen international cooperation. Example: over a third of Tuvalu’s ~11,000 people applied for climate visas to Australia under the bilateral Falepili Union treaty by December 2025.
• Follow-up: another high-level meeting by September 2030.

• India backed stable maritime zones and continuity of statehood, and reaffirmed Common But Differentiated Responsibilities and Respective Capabilities (CBDR-RC).
• Lakshadweep and the Andaman & Nicobar Islands extend India’s maritime zones deep into the Arabian Sea and Bay of Bengal — fixed boundaries protect India’s own EEZ.

• NCCR assessment (1990–2016): the National Centre for Coastal Research (Chennai, MoES) found about one-third of the mainland shoreline eroding; 234 sq km lost and 231 sq km gained — balanced nationally but concentrated locally.
• Hotspots: nearly 400 km retreating more than 5 m a year and 225 km at 3–5 m; West Bengal has 170+ km in the fastest category, about a third of its coast.
• Sundarbans: Ghoramara island shrank from about 7.2 sq km (1972) to 3.6 sq km (2022); Lohachara disappeared in the early 2000s.
• CRZ Notification, 2019 (under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986): the No Development Zone is 50 m in densely populated rural areas (CRZ-IIIA) and 200 m elsewhere (CRZ-IIIB), measured from today’s High Tide Line. The hazard line mapped by the Survey of India is used only for disaster management and planning.

• Planning: measure the no-build strip from the hazard line, or widen it by the local erosion rate, starting with the fastest-retreating stretches.
• Law for slow-onset displacement: Indian law has no category for people who lose land gradually to erosion; relocation is ad hoc. A law should guarantee land title and livelihood support. Fiji wrote relocation into its Climate Change Act (2021), backed by a relocation trust fund.
• Finance: UNEP puts developing countries’ adaptation needs at over $310 billion a year by 2035, against $26 billion of international public adaptation finance in 2023. India called the NCQG of $300 billion a year by 2035 (COP29, Baku, 2024) too little and too distant, and can press this at COP31 (Antalya, Türkiye, November 2026).