In a sparsely furnished room with peeling wall paint, 69-year-old Ram Parvesh Bhagat was holding court. He wore a white kurta and pyjama, and leaned back in his chair, the only one with wheels in the room, as he listened to a poor couple and their daughter-in-law.
The daughter-in-law, Rashmi Devi, described the harassment she and her in-laws were facing from a relative over a small piece of land, in Ainkhan Bhimnichak village, in Bihar’s Patna district. “They throw stones at us from the roof when we walk past their homes, threaten us, say my mother-in-law has been possessed by a ghost,” Devi said, speaking softly but clearly. “We are poor, live in a broken hut and work as farm labour or sometimes daily wage workers. We are living in fear and so far, all our attempts to raise a complaint against him have failed.”
Bhagat interrupted her account with questions every now and then, seeking to understand the exact sequence of events, when the family had approached the police, how long they had been facing the problem.
The family, who belong to the Other Backward Classes category, explained that they had been beaten and threatened for over a year, since 2023, and that going to the police had not helped resolve the issue.
Rashmi’s mother-in-law Damanti spoke up. “We fear for our lives,” she said. “Please ask him to leave us alone.”
Bhagat nodded and looked around the room at others who had gathered, all residents from the village. After a brief discussion with some of them, he declared that the person against whom the family had complained would have to appear before them at a date two weeks later. He then assured the family that their problem would be resolved within a month.
Minutes later, the next hearing began at the Ainkhan Bhimnichak gram kachcheri, a court set up under section 90 of the Bihar Panchayati Raj Act of 2006. The body is one of the 8,057 local courts that are delivering cheap and timely justice across Bihar in cases involving matters ranging from petty theft and small land disputes to cattle trespass and family feuds.
While these courts were first set-up in the 1950s and have their roots in 1947’s Bihar Panchayati Raj Act, they ceased functioning by the late 1970s. Conversations about reinstituting them began again in the 1990s after the 73rd constitutional amendment was passed, which established the framework for the panchayat system across the country.
The gram kachcheris are distinct in key respects from other similar traditional bodies that sometimes dispense justice, such as village councils and khap panchayats. Those informal bodies do not have a foundation in Indian statutes and thus do not always see themselves as bound by Indian law. Gram kachcheris, in contrast, are part of the Indian judicial system and work within certain sections of criminal and civil laws. Under the 2006 law, the courts, whose jurors are elected, can hear cases involving bailable offences and can impose fines of up to Rs 1,000.
Bhagat, who said he is a “buffalo grazer” outside the courtroom, explained that his function was akin to that of a patriarch of a family who resolves problems.
“We pride ourselves in our justice delivery,” he said. “We rarely refer cases to higher courts, and in many cases also prevent people from going to the police. Our goal is amicable solutions and so far, I would say it has been a success because people trust us.”
He added, “We have resolved at least 100 cases in the last few years.”
Indeed, data suggests that these courts have functioned efficiently. According to a report by the Chanakya National Law University, between 2021 and 2023, the 8,057 gram kachcheris across Bihar disposed of 87% of the more than 1,43,278 cases filed before them.
A 2022 study by the non-profit Sigma Foundation and the Azim Premji University further found that in the 15 gram kachcheris they had studied in depth, 80% of the cases were disposed of within six weeks of the case being filed, as stipulated in the 2006 act.
In contrast, data from the National Judicial Data Grid indicates that more than 72% of cases in the country’s district courts and more than 79% in the high courts are more than a year old.
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The Bihar law that first addressed the question of grassroot courts was the Bihar Panchayati Raj Act of 1947, which envisaged the setting up of two institutions, gram panchayats and gram kachcheris, elected simultaneously by villagers. Under this provision, six elections to gram kachcheris were held, the last of them in 1978.
The courts came back in the public eye in 1993, after the 73rd amendment of the Indian constitution was passed, which directed states to empower village panchayats and “endow them with such powers and authority as may be necessary to enable them to function as units of self-government”.
In Bihar, Raghuvansh Sinha was part of the team given the job to amend and update older laws pertaining to local bodies.
The 76-year-old retired bureaucrat, who is now an advisor to the state’s panchayati raj department, recounted that in the course of reshaping the law, the team decided to reinvigorate the gram kachcheri system again.
“The Indian constitution does not mention the setting up of gram kachcheris, but we decided to borrow the framework from Bihar’s old acts,” Sinha recounted. “We literally burnt the midnight oil, meeting the advocate general every day to discuss the nuances of the bill we were drafting, and decide what the role of the kachcheris would be. Finally, we gave wider powers to these local courts in our draft, including the right to award three months imprisonment to an accused, if found guilty.”
The process culminated in the Bihar Panchayati Raj Act of 1993, which was passed by the assembly and laid down the framework for the constitution and working of gram kachcheris.
Under the new law, there was to be one gram kachcheri for every panchayat, which could include several villages. It would handle cases pertaining to both civil and criminal matters, and would be headed by an elected sarpanch – a distinct post from that of the mukhiya, who oversaw the panchayat. Each court was to have one elected juror from every ward within the panchayat – the act recommends that approximately one juror be elected for every 500 individuals in a panchayat.
The jurors were to arrive at decisions by conducting field visits, and summoning and interviewing witnesses – the act recommends that they strive to mediate between the parties. The act also mandated reservations for juror posts for those from socially and economically weaker communities and for women.
The constitutional validity of the Bihar Panchayati Raj Act of 1993 was challenged in the Patna High Court in a series of writ petitions that also raised questions about the setting up of gram kachcheris. The objections included that the elected jurors would not have sufficient educational qualifications, and that they would not have the legal assistance they would need to function.
The high court agreed with the petitioners. In a judgement that struck down the law, it stated that many parts of the act were unconstitutional, and raised concerns about the legal expertise of the “simple village people” elected to listen to cases and give verdicts based on the law.
“In a special comment on the kachcheris, the court said the concept was good but asked how it would work,” said Sinha. “The bottom-line was, ‘How will uneducated villagers understand the nuances of the law and deliver justice?’”
The Bihar government, however, was convinced that the local courts were essential for grassroots justice delivery, and appealed in the Supreme Court, while simultaneously building consensus on the shape these kachcheris could take.
In 2001, Bihar held its first panchayat elections after the 73rd amendment came into force. But the state could not hold simultaneous gram kachcheri elections because the question of their legality remained in limbo – the Supreme Court, which had set up a nine-judge constitutional bench to look into Bihar government’s petitions, had not held a single hearing on the case up to this time.
In 2005, a newly elected state government decided to convene an all-party meeting to address the concerns of the high court and resolve this impasse before the 2006 panchayat polls. “There was a resolve within the government to enable these grassroot courts and there were numerous discussions on the modalities of making this happen,” Sinha said.
Following these meetings, the state government introduced a new panchayati raj act in 2006, which laid out a framework for gram kachcheris across all panchayats.
Sinha explained that in response to the concern about the lack of legal expertise among community members who would be elected as jurors, “There had been suggestions of providing them some outside assistance.” Now, as the 2006 panchayat elections approached, the state government decided to appoint two qualified staffers to every gram kachcheri, “to aid the jurors in hearing cases and dispensing justice”, Sinha said.
One would be a law graduate, and would be known as a “nyay mitra”, or friend of the court, responsible for advising the court on legal matters, as well as helping litigants navigate the legal system. The other, the “gram sachiv”, or secretary, would aid the court in documentation.
These changes cleared the way for the 2006 gram kachcheri elections across Bihar, resulting in the establishment of 8,053 courts – one for every panchayat.
The state government subsequently withdrew its case in the Supreme Court, stating, as panchayati raj department documents noted, that it had reworked the act to incorporate the high court's suggestions.
Under the Bihar Panchayati Raj Act, 2006, these kachcheris were empowered to try cases under 40 sections of the Indian Penal Code, hear civil cases involving disputes over sums of money up to Rs 10,000 and impose fines of up to Rs 1,000.
Typically, the courts take up cases that involve land disputes, trespassing, partition of land, non-payment of loans or dues, feuds between neighbours and right to pathways to access property.
The state government was ahead of the curve in setting up these courts. In 2008, the Indian government enacted the Gram Nyayalaya Act, recommending that states set up courts across panchayats and appoint judicial officers to enable legal recourse for residents in villages.
This act stated that it was being enacted in line with recommendations made in 1986 by the law commission that the government “provide access to justice to citizens at their doorsteps and to ensure that opportunities for securing justice are not denied to any citizen by reason of social, economic or other disabilities”.
However, the implementation of this act has been slow, with only 318 gram nyayalayas operational across the country, according to department of justice data.
Bihar, meanwhile, did not implement this act, since it already had a state law with similar aims – the state is currently holding discussions about expanding the ambit of its village courts to also tackle cases of domestic violence, in line with recommendations in the 2008 act.
The courts have in some ways become part of the state’s sociocultural fabric. Many, for instance, cite a short story titled “Panch Parmeshwar” by the Hindi author Munshi Premchand as illustrative of the ideals a sarpanch should embody. In the story, a character named Algu Chaudhary is elected as the sarpanch of a village and passes a verdict against his best friend Jumman Sheikh. As a result, their friendship falls apart. But in due course, when Jumman becomes the sarpanch, he realises that an individual in such a position cannot be subjective and biased.
“Everyone here knows the story,” says Gorakhlal Yadav, head of the Bihar Rajya Gram Kachcheri Sachiv Sangh, an organisation that represents the 8,000 secretaries appointed to assist members of the gram kachcheris. “The story illustrates the ideal way to dispense justice and the constant endeavour is to follow it,” Yadav said.
On a warm September 2024 morning, Shekhar Suman waited in the Ainkhan Bhimnichak kachcheri for a copy of a judgement against his own brothers. The 27-year-old graduate is the youngest among eight siblings and is preparing for exams that will secure him a government job.
Suman and his father, a retired grain merchant, had found themselves burdened with the expenses for one of his sister’s weddings and approached the court when his older brothers refused to contribute.
“My brothers are in good jobs and earn well,” Suman said. “But all our attempts to ask them to share the financial burden for this wedding have failed. The sister who is getting married is also funding part of it, but the others are refusing. We came to the kachcheri for some resolution to this impasse.”
Jyoti Kumari, the court’s gram sachiv, who was managing the paperwork for the proceedings, said that the court had summoned all the brothers to present their side of the conflict before it. “One deposed on the phone and the other came to the court,” he said. “While one agreed to pitch in, the other said no and the third brother did not respond to summons.”
Bhagat, the sarpanch, explained that the court could not force the brothers to pay. “But we still helped the family by deciding that the brothers would not have a share in the father’s property,” he said. “This also gives the father and youngest brother of the bride the freedom to decide if they want to raise money against the property they own, and at what scale they want to do the wedding.”
Under the provisions of the 2006 law, lawyers are banned from gram kachcheri courtrooms, unless a litigant specifically requests for one and the opposing party agrees. In the small room in Ainkhan Bhimnichak, all arguments and counter arguments were made by the litigants themselves.
“This provision was made to keep the cost of pursuing justice low,” said Sinha, recalling the debates during the drafting of the law. “Lawyers are not only expensive, but also tend to keep a case going for longer duration, delaying justice delivery. In this system, the petitioner is given a chance to present their own case, which also makes it a more level playing field in the rural context, where social structures impact everyday life.”
This opportunity is what prompted Sita Devi to approach the Kolawan gram kachcheri in Nalanda district. A first-time petitioner, she wanted alimony from her husband, who had migrated for work to Delhi but was not sending her any money to take care of their five children and her in-laws.
Coming to the court was her last resort. “I work hard on other people’s farms and sometimes in MNREGA,” she said. “My husband works as a labour contractor in Delhi, but has not been sending any money home, and I am struggling to take care of the family. I want some support. How can he just disappear and leave us to fend for ourselves?”
Sita also filed a complaint at the local police station, but did not receive a positive response. “A panch in our village suggested I come to the kachcheri,” she said. “She has seen me struggle and knows how hard I work to make ends meet. She said I would get justice here.”
Bhagat noted that women file more complaints in the village, believing that the system offers a unique path to justice. “They file cases about illegal sale of liquor or domestic disputes,” he said. He added that sometimes petitions describe in detail how they had no vegetables to cook at home, even as their husband squandered money on alcohol.
“We issue summons and get the accused to sign bonds,” he said. “At the end of the day, women get big benefits from these courts.”
All cases that come to a gram kachcheri are heard by a bench of at least five jurors, including the sarpanch. Both the complainant and the accused are allowed to choose one jury member on the bench. “This ensures there is fairness in the proceedings and there is no opportunity for any side to question the kachcheri members’ motives,” ssaid SP Singh, chair professor of panchayati raj at the Chanakya National Law University in Bihar. “It is one of the reasons people trust these grassroot courts.”
It is not only litigants who have found gram kachcheris to be beneficial. Many who have worked within the system, particularly women, also find it an enriching experience.
Among them is Sumana Devi, a resident of Kolawan village, in Nalanda district who is in her early thirties. Devi’s days normally start early and end late, and she spends all her time doing household chores, taking care of cattle and working on the farm. She describes her life and work as “boring, monotonous and exhausting”.
But in 2021, at the urging of family members, she contested the gram kachcheri polls and won a position as a juror.
Since then, she has eagerly looked forward every week to dressing up and heading for the weekly gram kachcheri sitting in Kolawan village of Nalanda district. “It is just a different world from my everyday life,” said Sumana. “I learn here, I hear different views, I feel accomplished and most importantly, I help resolve problems.”
Her fellow juror Sangeeta Devi also contested reluctantly, at the insistence of family members, but now looks forward to the court sittings. “This is the first time I have ever come out of my house,” she said. “When we come together in the Kachcheri, everyone becomes an equal. No one is treated differently based on their caste, income or status in the village. I take this as my duty and perform it seriously. My family also takes what I do seriously now, they understand the importance of it.”
Training is essential to ensuring that individuals like Sangeeta and Suman, who have no prior legal experience, can fulfil their roles as jurors. “Till the elections, everything is smooth,” Singh said. “But once they are elected, the most common question elected members ask is about what their powers are.”
Singh explained that the panchayati raj department then conducts training programmes for elected to the courts, which draw on the experience of retired district judges, judicial and administrative officers – these experts hold sessions where they explain the importance of the institution and the role each elected member plays in it. “The training that follows their election becomes crucial to ensuring the kachcheris uphold the law and dispense justice,” Singh said. “How every member of these courts understands and interprets the law is important.”
When the Bharitya Nyay Sanhita replaced the Indian Penal Code in 2024, Singh said, the panchayati raj department ensured that the functioning of the gram kachcheris was updated, so that documentation and proceedings were in line with the new code.
Singh noted that the curriculum for the training “includes moot courts, where cases are simulated to practically demonstrate what being part of this system entails, and practice”.
Despite the successes of the system, jurors admit that they struggle with several challenges.
They note, for instance, that the kachcheris are not well monitored and have poor infrastructure, that there are frequent delays in payment to members and support staff, and that there is a lack of awareness among communities about the courts.
They have also argued that the officials appointed to help the courts should be paid more – Yadav and others have been demanding an increase in monthly wages for sachivs from the present Rs 6,000 to Rs 30,000, as well as the provision of benefits to them.
Jyoti Kumari, the gram sachiv, agrees that those in her post should be paid more, but also noted that she has seen some improvements to the courts over the years. The schoolteacher was persuaded by her family to apply for the job and since 2007, has been a part of the system.
“In the early years, we did not even have a place to sit and conduct the proceedings and even the panch were not always comfortable working together,” she said, “Things are better now.”
She added, “Over the years, this system has got more streamlined and with every passing year, the people’s faith in it has also increased.”
But other problems continue to dog the courts, such as delays in filling up vacancies in the posts of both sachivs and nyay mitras.
“There are more than 3,000 vacancies for both posts and in many cases one person is managing more than one kachcheri,” said Abhay Kishore, a nyay mitra at the Kolawan gram kachcheri. “This directly impacts how many times a kachcheri sitting is held in a panchayat, because without the sachiv or nyay mitra, proceedings cannot happen.”
Further, many jurors and officials noted that caste and class dynamics within villages still play a significant role in the delivery of justice in villages – for instance, many individuals, particularly those with money and influence, approach the police or district and high courts directly, even for matters that fall under the kachcheris’ purview.
“In cases where the complaint is against a well-off person, then there is a tendency of the accused to ignore summons of the gram kachcheri and directly go to the district courts,” said Yadav. “They do this knowing that a poorer complainant will find it difficult to fight the case against them in these courts, which involve longer commutes, are more expensive and also cases can drag on for years.”
But Yadav noted that between 2021 and 2022, the Patna High Court issued several directions transferring nearly 60,000 cases from the district courts and the high court to gram kachcheris. ““It came as a validation for and acceptance of the role kachcheris play in the legal system,” he said.
In Ainkhan Bhiminchak, Rashmi Devi and her family received justice as promised, a month after they had approached the kachcheri. The accused was asked to pay a fine to her family and sign a legally binding bond promising not to further harass the family.
“It is a stressful job and there is a lot of pressure on all of us to ensure we maintain neutrality during the hearings,” Bhagat said, adding that even arriving upon a reasonable fine amount is often challenging.
He recalled one case that dragged on for six months. “It was a fight akin to the Mahabharat for just two inches of land,” he said. “We had to literally measure, re-measure and do all kinds of math to resolve that one. But at the end of the day, when people agree and abide with our decisions, it is very satisfying.”
