The Case Of Jammu & Kashmir Assembly

The latest controversy germinates from the floor of the Jammu & Kashmir Legislative Assembly on the eventful date of April 7, 2025. During what was expected to be a routine day of legislative business, an adjournment motion was introduced by 10 to 12 members—primarily from the National Conference (NC) party and its allies—seeking a discussion on the freshly enacted Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025. Leading the charge was NC leader and MLA Tanvir Sadiq, whose motion aimed to open the Assembly floor to debate the implications of the amendment ¹.

For context, the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, a central law, had been passed in the Lok Sabha on April 3, cleared the Rajya Sabha on April 4, and impressively received Presidential assent by April 5, 2025—a legislative relay race, if ever there was one.

The Waqf Act, 1995, serves as the statutory cornerstone for the administration of Waqf—property permanently dedicated to religious or charitable purposes under Islamic law—and led to the establishment of State Waqf Boards. However, its 2025 amendment, ostensibly meant to “streamline administration” and “enhance efficiency,” appears more like a covert operation to expand the Union’s grip on Waqf properties. While the unconstitutionality and legislative acrobatics of the amendment itself offer ample fodder for legal and political discourse, this article chooses not to chase that rabbit hole.

Instead, we pause at the procedural roadblock encountered on April 7: the outright rejection of the adjournment motion by the Hon’ble Speaker of the Jammu & Kashmir Assembly. The reason? The classic parliamentary trump card—the matter is sub judice. And with that declaration, the curtain fell on any meaningful legislative debate before it could begin.

This article interrogates the legality and propriety of that decision. Was the Hon’ble Speaker—incidentally, an advocate by profession—correct in invoking sub judice to bar discussion? Or was this yet another instance of procedural smoke and mirrors, shielding controversial central legislation from the disinfecting light of democratic scrutiny?

To truly appreciate the events that unfolded on April 7, one must first examine the governing framework of the Jammu & Kashmir Legislative Assembly. Enter Rule 56 of the Rules of Procedure and Conduct of Business², which permits the moving of an adjournment motion—provided, of course, that it pertains to a definite matter of urgent public importance, and is approved by the Speaker. Rule 58—serves as a qualifying brake. It states that the right to move such a motion is curtailed in cases where the matter is “under adjudication by a court of law having jurisdiction in any part of India.” This is the oft-cited and occasionally misunderstood doctrine of sub judice.

Black’s Law Dictionary defines sub judice as “under the judge” or “before the court or judge for determination.” It’s a rule designed to ensure that legislative debates don’t tread into the jurisdiction of ongoing judicial proceedings—a boundary rooted in respect for the separation of powers, not as a barricade to shield the Executive from criticism.

The sub judice rule is not unique to Jammu & Kashmir. Similar provisions exist at the Central level and in other State Assemblies, forming a common procedural thread. But its application is often far from consistent, and occasionally, far from convincing.

Now, to answer the moot question posed at the start: Was the Hon’ble Speaker's rejection of the motion legally sound? The response unfolds across two analytical levels. First, by adopting the Speaker’s own lens—the most technical, literal, and hyper-legal interpretation of the rulebook. Second, through a principle-centric approach that embraces the constitutional ethos of transparency, federalism, and democratic debate. Spoiler alert: Neither interpretation ends well for the Speaker’s April 7 decision. Whether one clings to the letter of the law or to its spirit, the conclusion remains the same—the action was procedurally unsound and democratically questionable.

The Hon’ble Speaker’s decision to reject the adjournment motion concerning the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 was premised on a familiar procedural defence: that the matter was sub judice, i.e., under adjudication before the Hon’ble Supreme Court of India. This raises a straightforward but crucial legal question—was the matter truly sub judice at the time of the motion? To begin with, the term sub judice, refers to a matter that is “under a judge” or “under judicial consideration.” But does the mere filing of a writ petition suffice to invoke this rule and render a matter sub judice? The unequivocal legal answer is: no.

The process of litigation, particularly under writ jurisdiction, does not end at the filing counter. A writ petition, upon being filed, must first be scrutinized by the court registry, listed before a bench, and then taken up for preliminary hearing. It is only at this stage that the court decides whether the matter merits admission and further adjudication. Sub judice, in the context of parliamentary procedure, applies only to matters that are actively under judicial consideration. This requires more than just a diary number and a mention in the cause list—it requires judicial application of mind, even if only at the stage of admission.

Thus, a writ petition becomes sub judice only from the moment it is admitted by the court for consideration, and continues to be so until final orders are passed. Anything short of that—such as a petition awaiting listing, or one at a pre-admission stage—does not satisfy the threshold of sub judice for the purpose of barring parliamentary discussion. In the instant case, the Supreme Court had not admitted the petition challenging the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 prior to April 7, and therefore the invocation of the sub judice rule by the Speaker appears to rest on an incorrect application of law.

Further clarity on the matter is provided by the Committee of Presiding Officers, chaired by Shri V.S. Page, then Chairman of the Maharashtra Legislative Council. Tasked with examining parliamentary conventions to enhance the efficacy of legislative functioning, the committee submitted a report that was adopted at the Conference of Presiding Officers held at Trivandrum in October 1968. In its recommendations, the committee took an unambiguous stand on the scope of the sub judice rule: it applies only when the matter is under the active consideration of a court of law. This recommendation aligns with the judicial threshold discussed earlier—mere filing does not suffice; admittance is the key determinant.

Furthermore, it is important to note that the writ petitions pending before the Supreme Court in the present context concern the constitutionality of the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025. It is a settled position in Indian constitutional jurisprudence that only constitutional courts—namely the High Courts under Article 226 and the Supreme Court under Article 32—are empowered to adjudicate upon the validity of legislation. As such, legislative bodies, including state assemblies, do not adjudicate on constitutionality. They debate, deliberate, critique, and question—but they do not decide the constitutional fate of statutes. Therefore, a discussion in the Assembly on the Waqf (Amendment) Act would not amount to a parallel adjudication or interference with the judicial process.

In fact, the Page Committee made a clear distinction in this regard. It specifically recommended that the rule of sub judice should apply only in relation to proceedings before civil and criminal courts. The scrutiny undertaken by constitutional courts—particularly on issues of legislative validity—was categorically left out, one to which the sub judice rule was not intended to apply.

Hence, even if the petitions challenging the constitutionality of the Act were under active judicial consideration—which, as previously discussed, is itself incorrect—the invocation of the sub judice rule to stifle parliamentary debate in this instance finds no support in either precedent or principle.

Moving beyond technical interpretations, it becomes essential to examine the broader democratic principle at stake. Consider the legislative responses from other States: the Tamil Nadu Assembly, on 27 March 2025, passed a resolution demanding complete withdrawal of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill³. Similarly, the West Bengal Assembly, on 3 December 2024, passed a resolution—by voice vote—seeking withdrawal of the same Bill⁴ .

On all these dates, the judicial status of the matter before the Supreme Court was identical. Yet, while other State Assemblies debated and acted, the Jammu & Kashmir Speaker’s refusal to even allow discussion stands out not as a matter of procedure, but as a political veto cloaked in legality.

This is not unprecedented. When the Citizenship Amendment Act and the farm laws were passed by Parliament, the Assemblies of Kerala and West Bengal passed resolutions urging their withdrawal. In WP (Civil) 193/2021, the Supreme Court was urged to quash such resolutions. The Court not only declined to entertain the petition but also rightly asked: “Do State Assemblies have no right to express an opinion?”

The same principle is echoed in Parliamentary Procedure—Law Privileges, Practice & Precedents (Vol. 1, Universal Law Publishing, 2000), which recounts a ruling of the Lok Sabha Speaker dated 07.05.1968:

“While on the one hand the Chair has to ensure that no discussion in the House should prejudice the course of justice, the Chair has also to see that the House is not debarred from discussing an urgent matter of public importance on the ground that a similar, allied or linked matter is before a court of law.”

Thus, even from a principle-centric viewpoint, the Speaker’s decision fails the test of democratic accountability. The Assembly is not a courtroom—it is a forum of public deliberation. Denying discussion under the pretext of sub judice not only stretches the rule beyond its intended scope but undermines the very spirit of representative governance.

If we go by precedent, the case becomes even stronger. When the Citizenship (Amendment) Act, 2019 was enacted, it triggered the filing of around 144 writ petitions challenging its constitutionality before the Supreme Court. Simultaneously, as many as eight State Assemblies, including those of Kerala, Punjab, Rajasthan, West Bengal, and Madhya Pradesh, passed resolutions opposing the Act. In contrast, states like Gujarat and Goa passed resolutions in support of it⁵ .

If these examples demonstrate anything, it is two-fold: first, that such situations are not without precedent; and second, that resolutions are an accepted and constitutionally valid means for States to express agreement or dissent with Central legislation. These resolutions did not interfere with judicial adjudication, nor were they struck down or restrained. Instead, they reaffirmed the essential federal balance—allowing States to reflect the political will of their constituents.

Parliamentary business, whether at the Centre or in State Assemblies, begins with motions. Once these motions are adopted, they take the form of resolutions. When State Legislatures pass resolutions opposing Central legislation, such resolutions are opinion-based and carry no binding legal effect. Yet, to dismiss them is to underestimate their constitutional significance in India's quasi-federal structure.

In a polity where the Centre and States may often be governed by rival political formations, such resolutions serve as powerful tools of legitimate democratic dissent. While the Union Parliament has overriding legislative authority, State Assemblies remain directly accountable to the people of their State. They are the voice of regional political will—and they cannot be constitutionally restrained from expressing dissent through formal resolutions. The inability of States to override Central laws does not equate to a forfeiture of their right to critique those laws. To suppress such debate in State Assemblies under the garb of sub judice or procedural technicality runs counter to the spirit of cooperative federalism. It is a practice that stifles dialogue and erodes the role of Assemblies as platforms for public redressal and policy discourse.

Public discussion on matters of public importance must not be conflated with judicial adjudication. The purpose of parliamentary rules is to prevent prejudicing court proceedings, especially in individual or private matters—not to silence collective concerns over issues affecting entire communities.

When a law impacts a large demographic, particularly in a Muslim-majority State like Jammu & Kashmir, the Assembly—being one of the most directly affected forums—must be allowed to deliberate. It is not only a question of competence but also of democratic legitimacy. Parliamentary proceedings exist to articulate policy positions, represent public will, and engage in constructive dissent. That is a function no court performs—and no Speaker should obstruct. The Assembly does not adjudicate—it articulates. It may not override Parliament, but it cannot be gagged either.

The Speaker’s refusal, whether viewed through the lens of procedure or principle, does not withstand scrutiny. The motion was legally permissible, democratically essential, and procedurally sound. But when the very space for dialogue is denied under the fiction of procedure, what is left of democracy? “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.” Unless, of course, the Speaker insists it’s sub judice.

1. Indian Express (2025) ‘Uproar in J&K Assembly as Speaker disallows Waqf Bill debate; cites sub judice status’, 7 April. Available at: https://www.newindianexpress.com/nation/2025/Apr/07/uproar-in-jk-assembly-as-speaker-disallows-waqf-bill-debate-cites-sub-judice-status.
2. Rules of Procedure and Conduct of Business in Jammu and Kashmir Legislative Assembly (14th Edition – 2008)
3. (2025) ‘Tamil Nadu passes resolution against Waqf Bill, urges centre to recall it in toto’, 28 March. Available at: https://www.newindianexpress.com/states/tamil-nadu/2025/Mar/28/tamil-nadu-passes-resolution-against-waqf-bill-urges-centre-to-recall-it-in-toto.
4. (2024) ‘Resolution on Withdrawal of Waqf (Amendment) Bill Passed In West Bengal Assembly’, 3 December. Available at: https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/resolution-on-withdrawal-of-waqf-amendment-bill-passed-in-west-bengal-assembly-7164336.
5. (2021) ‘The legality of legislative resolutions: Do they have no right to express an opinion?’, 26 September. Available at: https://www.barandbench.com/columns/the-legality-of-legislative-resolutions-do-they-have-no-right-to-express-an-opinion.

Wasim Beg, Former Additional Advocate General (J&K) / Founder & Managing Partner, Lectio Law Offices & Harshita Rawat (Associate, Lectio Law Offices).