Last week, I visited the Edneer Mutt in Kasaragod, Kerala. At first glance, the name might sound like just another religious site. However, for lawyers and perhaps every Indian, it ought to be synonymous with arguably the most influential judgment delivered by the Supreme Court of India: Kesavananda Bharati v. State of Kerala (1973).

To provide a short recap: In 1970, Kesavananda Bharati, a young seer of the Edneer Mutt, approached the Supreme Court challenging the constitutional validity of the Kerala Land Reforms Act, 1963, which placed limitations on landholdings by individuals and institutions, and empowered the government to acquire excess land for redistribution. According to reports, the Mutt held approximately 681 acres of land at the time, of which over 400 acres were ultimately acquired under the land reforms. In a later interview, Bharati recalled that he approached the Court because the acquisition would have deprived the mutt of a substantial portion of the property from which it derived the resources necessary for its maintenance and activities - something he felt it simply could not afford.

During the pendency of the petition, the government amended the Act and parliament subsequently enacted the 24th, 25th and 29th Constitution Amendments. The 24th Amendment was a direct response to the Court’s decision in IC Golaknath v. State of Punjab (1967) and reaffirmed parliament’s power to amend any provision of the Constitution, including Fundamental Rights. The 25th Amendment modified Article 31 (the erstwhile provision guaranteeing the right to property) to empower the State to acquire property for any amount fixed by law and also ensured that the determination of the said amount could not be challenged in courts. It also inserted Article 31C, which provided that laws enacted to give effect to certain Directive Principles of State Policy could not be challenged on the ground that they violated Articles 14, 19 or 31. The 29th Amendment, on the other hand, inserted the Act in the Ninth Schedule to insulate it from judicial scrutiny.

The case was initially referred to a larger Bench to examine whether IC Golaknath was correctly decided. However, it soon evolved into a broader question concerning the limits on parliament’s powers to amend the Constitution. Through a slight majority of 7:6, the Court held that while parliament possessed plenary powers to amend the Constitution, it could not destroy or abrogate its basic features (‘basic structure’ doctrine). The list of features and their precise content would continue to evolve through subsequent judicial decisions, with courts adding more features and interpretations to the doctrine.

The judgment acts a salutary check on governments possessing a super-majority in parliament, adding another layer of constitutional protection by ensuring that numerical strength alone cannot alter the identity of the Constitution. However, at the same time, it has been criticised, among others, for the ambiguity of the doctrine, the manner in which the judges arrived at the ratio, the tension it creates between democratic mandate and an unelected judiciary, and its inconsistency with both the intent of the Constituent Assembly and text of the Constitution. I have written about these criticisms here.

However, one cannot ignore the political climate in which the judgment was delivered. The subsequent imposition of the Emergency (1975-77) and the attempts to concentrate power lent considerable force to concerns about unbridled authority. In that context, the judgment gave citizens hope that the judiciary would intervene if the government attempted to alter the fundamental identity of the Constitution.

The proceedings in the case were historic in more ways than one. It was heard by the largest bench ever constituted (13 judges), argued over the course of 2 months, witnessed attempts of court packing for a favourable outcome and resulted in the lengthiest judgment delivered by the Court. However, this fame never quite reached Kesavananda Bharati himself. When asked about the judgment, he reportedly remarked that he would read his name in the newspapers every day and wonder why the case was taking so long.

This detachment and simplicity of the seer can still be felt in every corner of the mutt. The Edneer Mutt belongs to the spiritual lineage of Totakacharya, one of the four principal disciples of Adi Shankaracharya. It follows the Smartha Bhagavata tradition of Advaita Vedanta. It has two principal temples dedicated to Dakshinamurthi - the teacher-form of Shiva - and Gopalakrishna, both of which continue to be centres of daily worship. The mutt has also long served as a centre of education and houses an elementary school within its premises.

Upon entering the mutt, I found no large or commemorative plaques dedicated to the historic role it played. Instead, in the large courtyard, one notices a prominent picture of Sri Kesavananda Bharati on the left wall and, on the right, a room titled ‘Vrindavanam’ which houses the samadhis of 13 seers of the mutt. The samadhi marked by a blackstone, with a khadaun placed next to it, is of Kesavananda Bharati. As I walked into the main sanctum, I could hear the sound of the Vedas being recited repeatedly by a group of young boys seated quietly in one corner, unfazed by the presence of visitors. Upon asking, someone from the mutt informed us that they were among the 10 students who came daily to learn the Vedas. I paused for a moment, felt the energy of the hymns and the place, and then continued my parikrama of the sanctum.

While stepping out, I thought to myself that if one visits this place unaware of its history, Edneer Mutt would appear simply as what it has been for centuries: a place of worship, learning and contemplation. However, even for those aware of its history, the place does little to announce its grandeur or contribution. Its past remains invisible to both. The only possible reminder of Kesavananda Bharati's legacy is an Ashoka Stambh installed after his passing.

A colleague accompanying me asked a question: what eventually happened to the case? Surely, the seer must have won, given that the Court laid down the basic structure doctrine. The answer, surprisingly, is no. The mutt ultimately lost a substantial portion of its land. However, in the process, it secured something far larger: a doctrine that prevents elected governments from altering the fundamental identity of the Constitution. There is also something beautiful in the fact that a religious institution played such an instrumental role in the development of a doctrine whose basic features include secularism.

If you happen to be around Bekal, Kerala, the Edneer Mutt is a must stop.

Swapnil Tripathi leads Charkha, the Constitutional Law Centre at the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy.

Views are personal.

Also, read about the government’s attempt to pack the Court in this case (here).