Ashok Ogra
ashokogra@gmail.com
If you thought bureaucracy was only about standing in queues and filling endless forms, think again. In India’s legal universe, even a kite in the sky could be treated as an aircraft thus needing government permission to fly; milking your neighbour’s cow was considered a theft; finding a handful of buried coins in your courtyard or elsewhere meant that you had to report to the authorities as “state treasure.” Even more bizarre: the Indian Railways Act, 1890 stipulated fines travelling without a lantern at night.
This is an illustrative list of archaic colonial laws- buried deep in India’s statute books.
Let me elaborate: TheIndian Aircraft Act, 1934 defines an aircraft as “any machine which can derive support in the atmosphere from reactions of the air, other than the reactions of the air against the earth’s surface.”The Courts and legal experts later noted that kites, balloons, and even drones could technically be covered.This meant that flying a kite without permission from authorities could be treated as an illegal act.
In fact, there were instances where local administrations invoked this Act or similar municipal bye-laws to restrict kite flying during festivals like Makar Sankranti (because of aviation safety or accidents with glass-coated manjha).
Take the case of the Indian Treasure Trove Act, 1878): find a pot of ancient gold coins in your backyard? Don’t celebrate yet? By law, you must report any “treasure” worth more than Rs 10 to the Collector- or face jail. Law still technically exists though rarely enforced.
The Indian Telegraph Act, 1885 is still known by this name even thoughtelegraph died in 2013, but the law lives on. Strangely, this obsolete Act is now used to justify internet shutdowns and phone tapping- making it one of India’s most misapplied relics.
Stranger was the Indian Railways Act, 1890 that stipulated fines travelling without a lantern at night. Fortunately, this has been rationalized in recent reforms after almost 130 years.
1949 East Punjab Agricultural Pests, Diseases and Noxious Weeds Act that covers Delhi as well mandates that in the event of a locust invasion, the District Magistrate must announce it by beating drums, and every able-bodied person must be on the streets and cooperate in fighting the locusts.
Caste based division of labour among prisoners continued to exist in the Indian prison system, and certain indigenous communities are still denied full rights as citizens of the country.
To be fair, several of these outdated laws have been modified or repealed- thanks to the current NDA government. Yet many continue to sit firmly in our statute books, gathering dust but ready to strike.
Take the case of setting up a restaurant in Delhi: one needs 45 separate permissions-including licences for piped music, mandatory inoculations for staff, and clearance from Civil Aviation for rooftop signage height.
Late economist Dr Bibek Debroy documented such legal absurdities in The Flaws in Our Laws. One statute still declares that if a company is wound up, its assets must be transferred to- believe it or not – the East India Company. Debroy was right when he said: “The more corrupt a State, the more numerous the laws,” and with equal wit added: “The more numerous the laws, the more corrupt a State.”
Thomas Paine warned long ago: A law not repealed continues because it is not repealed – and the non-repealing passes for consent. Many Indian laws thrive exactly on this principle of well-maintained neglect.
The Jan Vishwas (Amendment of Provisions) Act, 2023, now in force, amended 183 provisions in 42 Central Acts. Its philosophy is straightforward: reduce imprisonment for minor lapses, increase reliance on monetary penalties, introduce warnings for first-time offenders, and simplify compounding procedures. This is law with a human touch- or at least a lighter slap.
The Jan Vishwas Bill, 2025 (yet to become law), proposes to amend 355 provisions across 16 Central Acts, aiming to further reduce criminalisation of harmless civic mistakes. Translated into everyday language: “We won’t jail you for minor errors – but your wallet may cry a little.”
Both these initiatives aim to shift the approach from a policing mindset (strict penalties for minor violations) to a partnership model (encouraging voluntary compliance with reasonable consequences for lapses).
And even after the massive clean-up undertaken by the present regime, 411 outdated Acts continue to live comfortably among us, often unknown and always unnecessary.
For reassurance, India isn’t alone in this legislative comedy. Around the world, laughter prevails:
In the State of Devon, Connecticut, USA it is unlawful to walk backwards after sunset. Similarly, in Los Angeles, you cannot bathe two babies in the same tub at the same time. In Australia, children cannot purchase cigarettes, but can smoke them. In Beijing, China, drivers of power-driven vehicles who stop at pedestrian crossings are fined. England has some of the funniest and bizarre laws: any boy under the age of ten is not allowed to see a naked mannequin. Another one: It is illegal for a lady to eat chocolate on a public conveyance. It gets funnier when referring to Thailand where it is illegal to leave one’s house without wearing underwear.
In his book ‘Governance and the Sclerosis That Has Set In’, former Union Minister, Journalist and author, Arun Shourie, recounts a seemingly trivial bureaucratic issue that unexpectedly exposes the intricate workings of government administration.
In early 1999, two officers in the Ministry of Steel used red and green ink instead of the usual blue or black in file noting. This small act set off a year-long bureaucratic odyssey, involving multiple ministries, departments, and offices, each referring the matter to another- seeking clarification on who is authorised to use what type of ink in their noting on files(s).
What began as a minor choice of pen colour escalated into a prolonged bureaucratic maze, highlighting the absurdly meticulous and circular nature of administrative procedure.
What is not acknowledged is that more the number of laws, the more the corruption? Hopefully, both the 2023 Act and 2025 bill will persuade our administration to move toward a trust-based governance model, freeing itself from micromanagement and instead focusing on outcomes.
Meanwhile, in a country where even common sense sometimes awaits official approval, compliance may remain our most essential survival skill- at least for a few more years, until all these archaic laws are finally repealed or modified.
(The author works for reputed Apeejay Education, New Delhi)
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