The Return of the Shoe: India’s Most Democratic Weapon of Dissent


In a courtroom wrapped in colonial decorum, where dissent is sterilized and truth must wear a necktie, a single shoe dared to interrupt order. A 71-year-old lawyer hurled his sneaker toward Chief Justice Gavai — and in that moment, democracy found its most honest footwear again.

The incident was dismissed as contempt. But perhaps it was content.


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When the Sole Speaks

Long before hashtags, the shoe spoke for the silenced. From Minto Park to Baghdad, from Chandni Chowk to Capitol Hill, the shoe has always been the subaltern’s microphone.

In 1908, a revolutionary flung a sandal at a British officer. In 2008, an Iraqi journalist threw one at George W. Bush. In 2025, a lawyer at the Supreme Court simply joined a global legacy of soleful resistance.

But here’s the irony — when the privileged throw books, it’s called debate.
When the unprivileged throw shoes, it’s called disorder.


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The Colonized Courtroom

The Supreme Court is less a temple of justice, and more a museum of obedience. Its Latin phrases and English wigs may have disappeared, but the mindset lingers like air-conditioning: invisible, elitist, and set at 18 degrees for comfort.

So, when a shoe flew across that hallowed space, it wasn’t an attack — it was decolonization.
It was the body reclaiming the right to dissent, the foot reminding the bench that law without empathy is just bureaucracy with better robes.


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Democracy in Decline, Chappal in Hand

In an age where press conferences are scripted and TV anchors have become stand-up comedians with worse jokes, the act of throwing a shoe might be the last unsponsored performance art left.

Think about it — a man past seventy, stripped of platform and privilege, still believes he can make the system listen. That’s not contempt. That’s conviction.
The shoe didn’t hit the Chief Justice; it hit our collective apathy.


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Solemates of History

If Bhagat Singh had Twitter, he’d have been shadow-banned.
If Gandhi protested today, he’d be labeled “anti-national” by prime-time pundits.
And if Ambedkar rose from his grave, the Bar Council would probably suspend his WiFi.

But this lawyer — nameless, faceless, shoeless — reminded us that rebellion doesn’t need a hashtag. Just gravity, accuracy, and rage.


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Conclusion: Walk On

So yes, suspend him. Condemn him. Call it contempt.
But remember this — every shoe that flies toward power lands closer to justice than most petitions ever will.

Because in the end, the foot soldier of freedom doesn’t carry a gun.
He carries a Bata.


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Aniket Kumthekar
(Believes the Revolution Can Be Worn on One Foot)


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