Justice, we are told, is firm. Blindfolded. Balanced. In 2025, it also appeared flexible. Sometimes hesitant. Sometimes hurried. From green hills to governor’s desks, from factory floors to city streets, the Supreme Court kept redrawing its own lines.

Some called it a correction. Others called it retreat. Either way, the year raised an uneasy question. How often can the highest court step back before people begin to doubt where it stands.

Start with the Aravallis. Older than the Himalayas. Fragile. Scarred. North India’s last natural wall against desert winds, dust storms, and water collapse. On November 20, the Court accepted a new “scientific” definition. Only hills rising 100 metres. Only clusters within 500 metres. Technical words. Big consequences. Environmentalists saw the danger instantly. Large stretches would slip out of protection. Mining would creep back. Concrete would follow.

The backlash was swift. Petitions piled up. Protests spilled onto the streets. Social media roared. On December 29, the Court paused itself. A vacation bench stepped in. Suo motu. A new expert committee was ordered. Old protections restored, for now. It was rare. A public win. Also, a quiet admission. The Court may have moved too fast.

Then came the environment clearance question. In May, the message was blunt. No post-facto approvals. No legalising illegality after the damage is done. First assess. Then build. The Vanashakti judgment sounded like a line drawn in stone. Industry grumbled. Environmentalists applauded.

Six months later, the stone softened. On review, by a narrow 2:1, the Court allowed exceptions. Rare cases. Larger public interest. Projects already too big to bury. Critics saw surrender. Supporters saw realism. In India, they argued, bulldozers rarely wait for paperwork. The Court chose the middle path. The trouble is, middle paths often become highways.

Federal politics followed. In April, states cheered. Governors, the Court said, cannot sit endlessly on bills. Reasonable timelines matter. Democracy cannot be stalled by silence. It felt like a warning shot across Raj Bhavans.

By November, that shot was withdrawn. A Constitution Bench said timelines are not for judges to fix. Governors’ discretion is constitutional. Delay, it seemed, still enjoys legal shelter. The signal was confusing. Accountability acknowledged. Indefinite waiting permitted.

The markets watched closely when Bhushan Power and Steel hit the headlines. In May, the Court ordered liquidation. Procedural flaws were cited. Insolvency’s ultimate punishment was delivered. Investors panicked. Workers worried. The Insolvency Code suddenly looked less about rescue and more about execution.

On review, the Court climbed down. Liquidation was withdrawn. Revival revived. The original aim of the IBC was restored. Save first. Kill last. The correction calmed markets. But it also left behind a chill. One wrong step, one wrong file, and the guillotine can fall.

Then came the stray dogs. A sensitive issue. Emotional. Bloody, at times. Rising bite cases pushed the Court to act. Schools, hospitals, transport hubs were declared off-limits. Dogs were to be removed. Fenced out. Sheltered. Safety came first.

Animal rights groups pushed back. Humane rules exist, they said. Sterilise. Vaccinate. Feed responsibly. Don’t warehouse lives. Subsequent orders softened the tone. Balance was sought. Compassion stitched back into command. The Court tried to walk a tightrope. It still sways.

Across these cases runs a single thread. Decisions made. Reconsidered. Paused. Rewritten. Justice listened. That is its strength. But justice also hesitated. That is its risk.

The unanswered question remains. Who pays for the damage done in the meantime. Forests cut. Hills blasted. Investments frozen. Workers panicked. Public spaces disrupted. When orders are paused, losses are not reversed. There is no audit of judicial U-turns. No compensation for time lost, trust shaken, ecology bruised.  

And, another question nags harder. What if there had been no protests. No outrage. No petitions. Would flawed decisions have stayed the law of the land. A living judiciary must evolve. It must correct itself. It is not a stone tablet. But when the lines keep shifting, citizens start looking for the map.

In 2025, the Supreme Court showed it can bend under public pressure. The real test ahead is tougher. Whether it can also measure, acknowledge, and account for the cost of bending.