Last week, the Bombay High Court upheld the conviction of a man under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act POSCO and then reduced his life sentence to 12 years. The conviction was not disturbed. The trial court’s findings were affirmed. The offence remained what it was: aggravated sexual assault of a five-year-old neighbour.

What changed was the punishment.

Among the factors cited were certificates the convict earned in prison – participation in essay competitions, book analysis programmes, and a course studying the thoughts of Mahatma Gandhi. The bench also noted his lack of prior criminal antecedents and the fact that he had not been released on bail even during the pandemic.

“All these factors considered cumulatively,” the judges observed, “would make us show some leniency towards him for the sentencing part.”

A life sentence became twelve years. In the court’s view, that would “meet the ends of justice.” But what, constitutionally and morally, are the “ends” of justice in crimes against children?

Reform Versus Retribution

Indian criminal law does not embrace vengeance. Article 21 of the Constitution protects the dignity of even the condemned. The Supreme Court has repeatedly emphasised that punishment must not be barbaric or disproportionate. Reformation is a recognised goal.

At the same time, Article 14 demands equality before law – which includes consistency and proportionality in sentencing. The doctrine of proportionality is not ornamental; it is foundational. Punishment must bear a rational and morally defensible relationship to the gravity of the offence.

The Supreme Court has long held that sentencing must balance deterrence, retribution and reform. In cases involving sexual offences against children, courts have frequently stressed the need for deterrent clarity. The Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act itself was enacted because existing legal frameworks were considered insufficiently protective. The statute carries an unmistakable message: crimes against children are to be treated with exceptional seriousness.

Appellate courts have the authority to modify sentences. Mitigating factors are legitimate considerations. Good conduct in custody is not irrelevant but the nature of mitigation matters. Let us be honest, participation is not transformation, and certification is not contrition. Therefore, academic engagement is not moral restoration.

When essay-writing and book analysis programmes appear in the calculus that reduces a life term in an aggravated sexual assault case, the sentencing philosophy inevitably shifts – from gravity-centric reasoning toward reform-centric reasoning and that shift demands scrutiny.

The Perception of Symbolic Rehabilitation

The unease surrounding such reasoning is not theoretical. It has precedent.

In May 2024, a 17-year-old allegedly driving a luxury Porsche at high speed in Pune’s Kalyani Nagar rammed into two young software engineers, killing them instantly. The matter came before the local Juvenile Justice Board.

Within hours, the Board granted bail. Among the conditions imposed: community service with traffic police, counselling — and the writing of a 300-word essay on road safety.

Legally, the order was framed within the reformative philosophy embedded in juvenile justice law. But the essay condition became the symbol of something larger.

The public backlash was swift and nationwide. Citizens protested. Social media erupted with questions about proportionality and privilege. For many, the condition seemed emblematic of symbolic accountability in the face of irreversible loss.

The bail order was subsequently revisited and cancelled. The minor was sent to an observation home.

The controversy widened further when allegations emerged that blood samples had been tampered with to conceal intoxication. Arrests followed, including medical personnel and family members. The scandal expanded beyond juvenile sentencing into questions of influence, obstruction and accountability.

Administrative consequences followed as well. After an inquiry by the state government, two members of the Juvenile Justice Board were removed over procedural lapses linked to the bail order.

The case did not disappear from the legal system. Recent developments include – bail granted by the Supreme Court of India to certain accused in the alleged tampering aspect after extended custody.

The episode became more than a tragic accident. It became a national shorthand for perceived leniency – a flashpoint in debates about how reform is weighed against consequence. The common thread between that controversy and the present case is not the essay itself. It is the perception that visible gestures of reform are increasingly entering judicial reasoning in serious offences.

There is no statutory amendment that says essays reduce sentences. There is no judicial doctrine equating literary reflection with moral redemption. Yet when such elements appear in orders involving grave crimes, they shape public confidence – whether intended or not.

Proportionality and Public Faith

The principle of proportionality requires that punishment reflect the seriousness of harm. A life sentence in aggravated child sexual assault cases signals society’s strongest condemnation. It communicates that certain violations strike at the core of social order.

Reducing such a sentence is not unconstitutional. It may even be legally defensible within statutory limits. But the reasoning offered carries institutional weight.

If reformative indicators begin to weigh heavily in crimes of this magnitude, the justice system must articulate clearly how it ensures that deterrence does not become secondary.

Punishment serves not only to reform the offender. It reassures victims. It deters future harm. It reinforces a boundary and when that boundary appears negotiable, public faith begins to erode.

The judiciary’s legitimacy rests not only on constitutional authority but on societal trust. That trust is sustained when punishment appears proportionate, principled and predictable.

The Last Bit,

In offences against children, society expects moral clarity. It expects unmistakable accountability. The question that lingers is not whether convicts should be allowed to study or reflect. They should.

The question is whether such participation should materially alter the length of punishment in crimes that leave permanent scars. Justice must be humane. But it must also be unequivocal.

In the end, this is not about essays. It is about balance. A constitutional democracy can uphold reform without diluting consequence. It can affirm human dignity without weakening moral boundaries. But when punishment for violating a child or taking innocent lives begins to hinge, even in part, on reflective writing and academic participation, the equilibrium demands serious scrutiny.

Because justice is not only what the court pronounces, it is what society is prepared to trust.