Old Enough for Boards, Too Young for Bail: Why India’s Juvenile Justice Act Needs a Class 10 Reality Check
On February 3, a 23-year-old biker named Sahil Dhaneshra lost his life in Dwarka, New Delhi. He was struck by a speeding SUV driven by a 17-year-old. While the victim’s family prepared for a funeral, the accused was preparing for his Board Exams. In fact, the Juvenile Justice Board granted the minor interim bail specifically so his academic year would not be wasted.
This decision has rightfully sparked outrage, but it exposes a much deeper fracture in our legal system. We are witnessing a jarring paradox in how Indian society views its teenagers.
In every Indian household, a 15-year-old student in Class 10 is treated as a young adult. They are expected to handle immense psychological pressure, navigate complex syllabi, and make life-altering career decisions about Science, Commerce, or Humanities. We tell them that their choices today will define their entire future. We hold them accountable for their grades, their discipline, and their social conduct.
Yet, the moment that same teenager gets behind the wheel of a car and kills a citizen, the law suddenly infantilizes them. The legal system pivots from expecting maturity to claiming they are too fragile to understand the consequences of their actions.
It is time to align our legal expectations with our societal reality. The age of criminal responsibility for serious offenses must be lowered to 15—the age of the Class 10 threshold.
The Juvenile Justice Act of 2015 was a step forward, allowing minors aged 16 to 18 to be tried as adults for heinous crimes. However, it left a gaping loophole that defense lawyers exploit with precision. Under the current law, a juvenile can only be tried as an adult if the crime carries a mandatory minimum sentence of seven years. Culpable homicide—the charge most often applied in fatal road accidents—does not have this fixed minimum.
Therefore, legally, a 17-year-old who crushes a biker is treated no differently than a 12-year-old who steals a candy bar. They are sent to the juvenile system, where bail is the rule, not the exception.
This creates a dangerous sense of immunity. The modern 15-year-old is not the innocent child of decades past. They are digital natives with unrestricted access to the world. They consume global news, violent media, and the very “reel culture” that encourages reckless behavior for social validation. If a student has the cognitive capacity to solve complex physics problems for their Board Exams, they possess the cognitive capacity to understand that a two-ton vehicle moving at high speed is a lethal weapon.
Critics argue that lowering the age to 15 risks turning children into hardened criminals by exposing them to adult jails. This is a valid concern, but it prioritizes the potential rehabilitation of the offender over the actual destruction of the victim. Justice cannot be a one-way street where the perpetrator is shielded by their birth certificate while the victim is buried.
Furthermore, the current strategy of punishing the parents—while necessary—is insufficient. Booking a father under the Motor Vehicles Act might serve as a warning to guardians, but it does little to deter the teenager themselves. In wealthy demographics, a father’s bail bond is simply the cost of doing business. The minor, meanwhile, learns a toxic lesson: that they are untouchable, and that their parents will absorb the shocks of their reckless decisions.
We cannot have it both ways. We cannot demand adult-level performance in the classroom while offering child-level protection in the courtroom. If a 15-year-old is mature enough to build a future, they are mature enough to face the consequences of destroying one.
The family of Sahil Dhaneshra is left grieving a life cut short. The accused is back at his desk, studying for an exam. Until the law acknowledges that a 17-year-old knows exactly what they are doing, the road will remain a playground for the privileged, and a graveyard for the innocent.
