The True Deity of Justice: The Blind Goddess or Shani Dev?

If, by fortune or misfortune, you have ever stepped into India's judicial din-houses—which we mistakenly call "temples of justice" so often—you have likely caught sight of the blindfolded goddess of justice. By fortune, if you are an established advocate or a judge; by misfortune, if you are a distressed litigant or a struggling young lawyer.

And yes, just as our Constitution and the Indian Penal Code are un-Indian and imported, so too is this goddess imported.

Her eyes remain blindfolded, a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in the other. In some places the sword will not be seen, for as we all know, the Indian Penal Code has a humanistic rather than a punitive outlook. This goddess is purely Western—in the words of Raul Signora, an NRI.

This goddess was born in ancient Egypt, where she was known as Ma'at; at that time she held no scales, but wore an ostrich feather upon her head, which was the symbol of truth and justice. It is believed that the word "magistrate" derives its etymology from this very Ma'at, because in the trial of Osiris, Ma'at weighed and revealed the truth of the deceased person's heart.

When this same goddess reached Greece, she became famous by the name Themis, and the blindfold was removed from her eyes. There, she was consecrated in a form that could see the future clearly and foster social and communal harmony.

Then the goddess arrived in Rome, where her name became Justitia, and the scales returned to her hand and the blindfold to her eyes.

In Indian tradition, ever since the Vedic era, Shani—son of Surya and elder brother of Yama—has been regarded as the natural arbiter of justice.

Why, then, did we not—or do we not—enshrine the vigraha (sacred icon) of Shani in our courtrooms instead of this Ma'at, Themis, or Justitia?

Presumably, this would have endangered the nation's "secular fabric"—a fabric that, heaven knows, is used for tailoring what garment or undergarment.

In truth, Indian jurisprudence remains trapped in the very slough of the colonial era, fretting over the human rights of the criminal far more than those of the victim.

For the mighty, Indian law turns lenient to the point of spineless flaccidity, while for the common man it remains a scorching pebble stuck in a sparrow's throat. Rapists have human rights, traitors have human rights, the corrupt enjoy brazen protection—and their true patron is this rotten, decaying law; yet the rape victim and the patriot possess no human rights at all.

Under the shield of this very law, offenders like Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan, and Sanjay Dutt swagger about as heroes. And owing to legal compulsions and the lack of clarity surrounding rights such as euthanasia, an Aruna Shanbaug suffers through such a prolonged coma.

Criminals sit in Parliament and state legislative assemblies, while the law-abiding public is forced to look upon their scraps with hopeful eyes.

There are exceptions, but their stature is hardly more than that of an ignored halanta (virama mark) in a conjunct consonant. The system relegates the honest to the margins. The unholy nexus of judges, eminent lawyers, politicians, and bureaucrats operates like a private enterprise driven by thoroughly vile personal ends.

Dependent on natural justice, the "mango people" of the Indian Union pray to Shanidev for deliverance from the machinations of this "banana republic":

'नीलांजन समाभासं रविपुत्रं यमाग्रजम्। छाया मार्तण्ड संम्भूतं तं नमामि शनैश्चरम्।। ("I bow to Shanaishchara, who shines with the dark luster of blue collyrium, the son of Ravi and elder brother of Yama, born of Chhaya and Martanda.")

 – Dr. Madhusudan Upadhyay, the author is a deep scholar of Indian culture, history, art, dharma (righteous cosmic order), and spirituality.

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