The postman tried to be a king

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’ wrote Charles Dickens about revolutionary France, but it fits India’s federal moment just as well. The Supreme Court stands tall defending democracy, while some governors cling to ceremonial thrones, throwing constitutional tantrums like petty monarchs.

The Court’s recent verdict against the Tamil Nadu governor isn’t just a ruling — it’s a constitutional rescue. A reminder that governors are not kings, not colonial viceroys, and certainly not ideological watchdogs over elected governments. Let’s not romanticise the appointment either. Let’s be honest: Today, governors are usually retired bureaucrats rewarded for loyalty, defeated politicians seeking relevance, or party loyalists offered Raj Bhavans as consolation. Not constitutional guardians — just courtiers in borrowed robes.

Let’s be blunt. The governor is — and has always been — a glorified postman. His duty is to transmit the legislature’s decisions, not delay or derail them. But in Tamil Nadu, the postman went rogue — fancied himself a kingmaker.

He sat on bills, attempted to rename the state “Tamilagam” to suit his ideological flavour, staged Assembly walkouts like a sulking schoolboy, and clung to his chancellorship like a crown.

But the governor is not the CEO of the state nor an ideological custodian. He is — and was always meant to be — a postman. His duty is to forward the legislature’s decisions, not delay or derail them. When this postman tried to turn Pharaoh, the Supreme Court intervened like Moses: let the people’s will go.

If democracy were a symphony, the governor played rogue notes — off-key and off-tempo. While the legislature followed the constitutional sheet music, the Raj Bhavan musician began improvising wildly. The governor — the triangle player — tried to override the entire orchestra.

This wasn’t just a musical disaster. It was a chess blunder too. The governor attempted a sloppy King’s Gambit — sacrificing process for power. But constitutional law isn’t blitz chess. The Court, like a seasoned grandmaster, responded with an elegant and precise move: checkmate!

Some have gone so far as to call the verdict judicial overreach — including the vice president. But the Constitution is supreme. And its interpretation is the exclusive domain of the Supreme Court. When the executive falters, it is the Court’s duty to act. Not out of ambition, but out of obligation.

Article 200 of the Constitution doesn’t specify a time limit — a textbook casus omissus. Where the law is silent, and justice demands clarity, the Court must step in. This was not legislation from the bench — it was clarification for democracy.

Let’s not confuse surgical correction with constitutional trespass. Article 142 empowers the Supreme Court to ensure “complete justice” when ordinary remedies fail. And fail they did — as governors across India began weaponising delay. Justice cannot wait indefinitely while bills gather dust in Raj Bhavans.

For when delay is by design, not default, democracy isn’t just hindered — it is denied.

The Court rightly saw through the charade — this was no innocent delay but a calculated act of constitutional sabotage. Invoking Article 142, it stepped in not just to restore order but to safeguard the very spirit of democratic governance, ensuring that the will of the people — channelled through their elected representatives — would not be silenced by inaction or buried in the bottom drawer of a Raj Bhavan desk.

After years of misuse and mockery, perhaps it’s time for bold reform.

To quote The Merchant of Venice: “The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, is dearly bought; ‘tis mine, and I will have it.”

That “pound” here was control over public universities, political leverage, and ideological dominance. And like Shylock, the TN governor was relentless in demanding it — legality be damned. But the Court reminded him, as Portia did: the law must be tempered with justice.

Let this be a message to all governors: you are not monarchs, kings, viceroys, or master strategists. You are postmen. Deliver the will of the people. Don’t delay it. Don’t distort it. Don’t destroy it.

And to the people: democracy may fumble, stumble, or even doze — but it never forgets. Justice rewards patience, precision, and those who play by the rules. This wasn’t just a legal victory. It was a civilisational correction.

In a vibrant democracy, it is the people who must govern — not the governors. The Raj Bhavan has spoken long enough. It’s time the people were heard.

To quote Shakespeare again: “The truth will out.”

And indeed it did — this time, in the quiet authority of white bands, black robes and constitutional clarity.

I rest my case!

(The writer is an advocate practising before the High Court of Karnataka)