Justice D.Y. Chandrachud’s Post-Retirement Housing Struggle Sparks Debate on Compassion, Rules, and Disability Rights

In the corridors of New Delhi’s power, a quiet personal story has stirred a national conversation — not just about housing protocol or government bungalows, but about empathy, disability, and what it means to uphold dignity in retirement.

On July 1, the Supreme Court formally requested the Union Housing Ministry to ensure that former Chief Justice of India D.Y. Chandrachud vacate his official residence — Bungalow No. 5 on Krishna Menon Marg — a move in line with rules that govern accommodation for top officials after retirement.

Justice Chandrachud demitted office in November 2024, and as per rules, was allowed a six-month rent-free extension in a downgraded Type VII bungalow. But he continued to reside in the Type VIII bungalow reserved exclusively for the sitting Chief Justice, well beyond the grace period.

Yet, behind this technical breach lies a deeply human story — one not of defiance, but of love, helplessness, and the everyday realities of caring for children with special needs.

 

 

A Father’s Plea, Not a Power Play

 

 

In several public remarks and interviews over recent months, Justice Chandrachud has spoken with quiet vulnerability about why he has not yet been able to move out.

 

The reason is not privilege or stubbornness, but his two adopted daughters, Priyanka and Mahi, both of whom live with nemaline myopathy, a rare neuromuscular disorder that affects muscle development and movement.

The family’s search for a barrier-free home in Delhi — one that accommodates the medical and physical requirements of his daughters — has so far been unsuccessful.

The government has allotted him temporary rented accommodation, but it is reportedly uninhabitable and under renovation. “Most of our belongings are packed. We will shift as soon as the house is ready,” he had said. “It’s not about overstaying — I just don’t have a choice.”

At an April 2025 panel discussion on disability rights, hosted by Mission Accessibility, Justice Chandrachud shared emotional insights into his family’s life.

“We have two beautiful daughters who have specific needs. Finding a home that supports them has been difficult. Public spaces, homes, and institutions are rarely designed with inclusivity in mind,” he said.

He recalled their early days after adoption, from the emotional trauma to the medical struggles. “They were just bones and flesh. The biological mother had neglected them completely, thinking they wouldn’t survive.”

The former Chief Justice and his wife, Kalpana Das, adopted the girls during his tenure at the Allahabad High Court, and since then have been navigating a long and arduous journey of caregiving and advocacy.

 

His daughters, he said, have reshaped his moral compass. The family became vegan and increasingly vocal about accessible living and inclusive design, both in legal thinking and everyday life.

The Tightrope Between Rules and Compassion

Despite the deeply personal nature of his request, the Supreme Court administration formally wrote to the Housing Ministry on July 1, reiterating that rules cannot be compromised.

“I am to request you to take possession of Bungalow No. 5, Krishna Menon Marg, from Hon’ble Dr. Justice D.Y. Chandrachud without any further delay,” the letter said.

The legal reality is clear: under Government of India guidelines, a retiring Chief Justice may retain a Type VII accommodation for six months, rent-free.

Justice Chandrachud, however, remained in the Type VIII bungalow for nearly eight months, even after an informal extension until May 31, 2025.

Officials say that while rules must be enforced fairly for everyone, there is increasing strain on judicial housing resources. Of the Supreme Court’s 34 sanctioned judges, 33 are currently serving, and four have no official accommodation.

Still, it’s noteworthy that two Chief Justices — Sanjiv Khanna and B.R. Gavai — chose not to occupy the Krishna Menon Marg residence, potentially creating temporary flexibility.

Yet, in this case, protocol appears to be triumphing over personal distress.

 

A Moment for Reflection, Not Reprimand

 

 

This episode has raised a critical question: Can compassion coexist with compliance?

When a national figure — who spent decades upholding the Constitution, promoting gender and disability rights, and guiding India’s judiciary — requests a little more time for reasons rooted in caregiving, should we not respond with humanity, not haste?

Justice Chandrachud himself has said he did not seek privilege. He wrote to the then CJI Sanjiv Khanna on April 28 requesting a short extension till June 30, and received no reply.

He has since spoken to current CJI B.R. Gavai, assuring him that the family is making every effort to move once the alternative housing is ready.

For a man who once declared, “The law must embrace empathy for it to be just,” this moment must feel painfully ironic.

Not Just a House, but a Home for the Vulnerable

 

This is not a story about flouting rules — it is about what lies between rules and reality. Justice Chandrachud’s daughters need a home that supports medical equipment, wheelchair mobility, and accessible infrastructure — in a city where such housing remains woefully scarce.

The family isn’t demanding a lifelong stay or additional perks — only a little more time to ensure their daughters are not displaced into an unsuitable setting.

This is also a broader commentary on the state of accessible infrastructure in India, even for the most privileged.

If a former Chief Justice finds it near impossible to secure a barrier-free home in the national capital, what about the millions of Indian families with children who have disabilities?

As India advances in economy and technology, perhaps we must also pause and advance in empathy, recognising that in some cases, extending a deadline is not bending a rule but upholding a greater principle: dignity and care for all.

After all, a society is not judged by how it treats its most powerful, but how it treats those who are most vulnerable — even if they live in powerful homes.