At Bizsol, our editorial policy is clear: we do not pander to the emotions of any one faith in particular. Yet, when writing about Ayodhya – arguably the most famous temple in India, consecrated to Lord Ram – it is impossible to ignore the storm of emotions that recent events have unleashed. What I must speak about here is not about devotion but desecration – the shenanigans of temple servants who, entrusted with sacred offerings of pilgrims, had treated the sanctum sanctorum as a gambling den, looting devotees’ contributions for personal gains. For millions of Hindus, Ayodhya is not just a dot on the map – it is the beating heart of faith, sanctified soil where devotion finds its purest form. The consecration of the temple was seen as redemption after decades of struggle, sacrifice, and yearning. I myself, having visited not long ago, carry its pride, deep within. Yet today, that pride is pierced by shame and anger. Offerings made with trembling hands – a widow’s coin, a farmer’s humble rupee, a child’s first savings – have all been siphoned away by greed. This is not theft of wealth; it is robbery of belief itself. Ayodhya was supposed to be a different kind of temple. After years of waiting, the temple was envisioned as a beacon of dharma, a fortress of purity immune to the rot of corruption. Instead, it now mirrors the systemic decay that plagues our institutions. Wolves were appointed to guard the sheep, and the sanctity of Lord Ram’s abode has been deliberately compromised. The silence surrounding this loot deepens the wound. Where is the outrage? Where is the accountability? To betray the temple is to betray the very values of maryada purushottam—the embodiment of righteousness in Hindu mythology. Faith is fragile. Once broken, it cannot be easily restored. If Ayodhya itself cannot remain pure, what hope is left for other places of worship? The wound here is not merely financial – it is spiritual, cutting into the soul of a community already scarred by history. And yet, amidst the hurt and anger, there remains a plea: for reform, for transparency, for accountability. The temple must be reclaimed as a sanctuary where devotion is honoured, not exploited. My words are not those of an outsider; they are the cry of a believer whose faith has been mauled. Ayodhya was meant to be our promised land, but today it stands tainted. Still, faith, though fragile, is resilient. If those entrusted with its guardianship rise above greed and restore integrity, the temple can once again embody the ideals it was meant to represent. Until then, I remain ashamed, angry, and frustrated – but unwilling to surrender hope. Perhaps the most uncomfortable truth is this: a devout Hindu needs his God, but not necessarily the temple that houses Him. Those who stole may have prayed to the same deity for forgiveness even as they were committing the act of theft, making God, in a twisted sense, a silent participant to their betrayal. The paradox is stark – individual devotion remains pure, but the institution of temples falters. That, however, is a debate for another day. For now, the plea is simple: Ayodhya must not be allowed to fall. Faith deserves better.
Donald Trump’s growing crypto fortune is not just a business story; it is an acid test of democratic ethics of the most powerful nation on earth! When a sitting President of the US appears to benefit from an industry he is actively promoting, the question is not merely whether anything is technically legal. The deeper issue is whether public office is being used, or at least seen to be used, for private gain. That distinction matters. In modern day politics, the perception of conflict can damage trust almost as much as an actual conflict. If policy choices, regulatory signals and public endorsements all move in a direction that also enriches the President and his family, citizens have every reason to wonder where public duty ends and private interest begins. In an era already marked by distrust in institutions, that suspicion can be very corrosive. Supporters of Trump’s crypto embrace will argue that this is simply part of a pro-growth policy. They will say digital assets are an emerging sector that America should lead rather than lag and that entrepreneurship should not be treated as suspicious merely because it is profitable. There is, no doubt, truth in that defense. Innovation should not be strangled by reflexive hostility and a government that understands innovative technology is not automatically compromised, the Trumpians argue. But ethics demands more than favourable intentions. It requires separation. A President can support an industry, but he should not look like a direct beneficiary of the policy environment he is shaping. When the same figure is both cheerleader and winner, the public cannot easily tell whether the state is guiding the market or the market is guiding the state. That ambiguity weakens the moral authority of the office of the President. Crypto is especially sensitive territory because it already sits at the intersection of speculation, influence and weak trust. It is a sector where fortunes can rise quickly, where regulation is contested and where public enthusiasm often outpaces public understanding. In such a market, presidential involvement should be handled with exceptional caution. Instead, what the public sees is a powerful political figure whose family’s financial interests and policy stance seem to move in the same direction. The ethical problem is not confined to Donald Trump alone. It goes to the heart of what standards we expect from leaders in office. Should a President be allowed to profit from sectors he publicly boosts? Should family wealth be treated as separate from the political power that helps expand it? And if the answer is yes, what remains of the barrier between governance and enrichment? A healthy democracy does not require leaders to be free of business interests, but it does require them to place credible distance between private profit and public decision-making. That is the standard Trump’s crypto involvement fails to satisfy in the eyes of many observers. Even if one grants him the benefit of the doubt on legal grounds, the ethical burden remains heavy. The core issue is simple: public office is a trust, not a platform for parallel enrichment. If Americans are to believe that policy is being made for public good, they must be able to trust that their President is not financially riding the same wave he is helping create. On that measure, Trump’s crypto boom is not just controversial. It is a warning sign. They call India a third world country!
The U.S. Supreme Court has upheld birthright citizenship, rejecting President Donald Trump’s attempt to limit it by an executive order. In simple terms, the Court said children born on U.S. soil remain citizens under the Fourteenth Amendment and that changing this rule would require a constitutional amendment, not a presidential order. The Court’s decision reaffirmed the long-standing understanding that anyone born in the United States is a citizen, subject to narrow exceptions. Reports describe the vote as 6-3, with Chief Justice John Roberts writing for the majority. The ruling invalidated Trump’s effort to deny automatic citizenship to children born to undocumented immigrants and, in some versions of the policy, to children of temporary visa holders. The case cantered on the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment phrase “subject to the jurisdiction thereof,” which has long been read to protect most U.S.- born children from losing citizenship at birth. Trump’s order tried to narrow that interpretation, but the Court found the executive branch could not rewrite a constitutional guarantee on its own. That makes the decision important not only for immigration policy, but also for constitutional limits on presidential power. For Indian families in the U.S., especially H-1B workers, students, and other temporary visa holders, the ruling is a major relief because their children born in the U.S. would now continue to receive automatic citizenship. It also reassures families facing long green-card backlogs that birthright citizenship remains secure for U.S.-born children. The decision is especially significant because many Indian professionals spend years in temporary immigration status before becoming permanent residents. The ruling also reinforces a basic principle of American constitutional law: major changes to citizenship rules cannot be made by executive order alone. In that sense, the Court drew a clear line between immigration policy debates and the Constitution’s text. Politically, it is a setback for Trump’s hardline immigration agenda, but legally it is broader than one President or one policy.
The Indian Supreme Court’s recent recognition of the economic value of a housemaker is an important reminder that unpaid domestic work is not “non-work”; it is work that sustains a family every single day. By treating a homemaker’s contribution as having real monetary worth, the Court moved away from the outdated idea that only paid employment creates economic value. The ruling is significant because it acknowledges that cooking, cleaning, caregiving, managing the household, supporting children, and enabling other family members to pursue their own work all create measurable economic benefit, even if no salary is paid. This approach matters especially in compensation cases, where the death or injury of a homemaker can leave a family with a loss that is both emotional and financial. Earlier, such losses were often underestimated because the homemaker had no formal income certificate or salary slip. The Court’s reasoning corrects that imbalance by saying that a household is an economic unit, and the services within it have to be valued realistically. In doing so, it also strengthens the dignity of domestic labour and rejects the notion that care work is somehow less productive because it happens within the home. The broader idea is also deeply connected to gender justice. In India, as in many societies, women still perform a disproportionately large share of unpaid care work. When that labour is ignored, the law ends up reflecting a narrow view of the economy, one that counts only market transactions and misses the invisible work that makes all other work possible. The Court’s recognition therefore has a symbolic as well as practical effect: it places homemakers in the category of contributors, not dependents. Seen in this light, the ruling is not merely about compensation after an accident. It is about how society defines value. A fair legal system must see the home not as a place of economic emptiness, but as a site where real labour is performed and real wealth is created. The judgment takes a crucial step toward making the law more humane, more realistic, and more respectful of the hidden foundations of everyday life.
The Gujarat High Court had an interesting case before it just the other day (Kaushal Pramodbhai Sonar vs Khushi Sanjay Shah) When does a marriage is said to be complete under the Hindu Marriage Act in India? What if you go to court with a Marriage Registration Certificate issued by the government agencies, is the marriage is said to be complete? In this case the Court held that registration of marriage alone does not make a Hindu marriage complete; where the applicable custom includes saptapadi (the seven steps/pheras), the marriage is “solemnised” and becomes legally binding only when those rites are also performed, and a certificate of registration is only proof of an already-solemnised marriage. The Bench relied on Section 7 of the Hindu Marriage Act, 1955, which requires that a Hindu marriage to be “solemnised” in accordance with the customary rites and ceremonies of either party only when the customary saptapadi is also duly completed. How critical that seven steps are! The court explained that registration under Section 8 of the Evidence Act has evidentiary value – it serves as proof of a marriage already validly solemnised but cannot by itself create the status of a couple as husband and wife where the essential ritualistic ceremonies had never occurred! This decision arose from a dispute where one party produced a registered marriage certificate but also admitted that essential Hindu rites including saptapadi were never performed; the High Court held that there was then no valid marriage had taken place and quashed a family court’s earlier order that had treated the certificate as determinative. Practical implications of this finding of the Court are these: (1) A registration certificate issued by the authorities remains important as proof but will not override the absence of required rites when the parties’ customs demand them. (2) Parties and courts must examine whether the essential rites (for example, saptapadi) were actually performed when legal status or relief (annulment, maintenance, inheritance issues) depend on the existence of a valid Hindu marriage. (3) This ruling reinforces that validity under the Hindu Marriage Act depends on solemnisation according to custom, not merely to the documentary registration of a marriage!
Registration of marriage is proof but not comprehensive proof that a Hindu marriage taken place in accordance with law and custom. It does not validate the act of solemnisation of marriage – where saptapadi forms part of the customary ceremony. The marriage is complete only after those rites are performed.
Thank you.
Venkat R Venkitachalam
