India’s Limitation Act, 1963, was enacted to prevent “stale claims.” But who defines what’s stale and what’s still simmering? Can an injustice truly expire simply because it took time to reach court? This is where India’s citizens begin to feel betrayed—not just by criminals and fraudsters, but by the law that often shelters them behind technicalities.

Who Really Benefits from Limitation?

Let’s be honest—those with power, money, and influence know how to delay, hide, or intimidate. When a poor man is cheated, or when a farmer’s land is taken through manipulation, they don’t always have the immediate resources or courage to file a case. And by the time they do, the system tells them: "You waited too long. The door is closed." Even a common man who is struggling with their daily life to pay school fee for children, have to take care of senior parents or who is leaving their family and earning by going in other city and doesn’t really have time for their family work and a mentality which say kal kara ga due to something some work come in middle.

Who benefits from this? Not the victim. But the gunda, the land-grabber, the defaulter with political connections, or the corrupt official who misused authority 10 years ago. These are the people who laugh behind the shield of the Limitation Act—a law that unintentionally protects wrongdoers under the guise of order and procedure.

In a Country Where Survival Is a Daily Fight

Especially in India, where the majority of citizens are crushed under the weight of daily survival, expecting them to file a case “in time” is a cruel expectation. A vegetable vendor, a domestic worker, a small farmer, or a migrant laborer often has no time, means, or legal awareness. Their first priority is roti, kapda, makaan—not rushing to court in time.

For them, injustice often festers in silence, because they simply don’t have the luxury of fighting back immediately. And when they finally try, the system says: "You are too late."

This is not just a procedural failure—it’s a failure of empathy, access, and constitutional morality.

Against the Principles of Natural Justice

The principles of natural justice are the bedrock of a fair legal system. At their core lie two key maxims:

• Audi alteram partem – “Let the other side be heard.”
• Nemo judex in causa sua – “No one should be a judge in their own cause.”

By strictly barring genuine claims on the basis of limitation—even without hearing the merits—the law often violates the first principle. Denying someone a chance to be heard merely because time passed is nothing short of procedural injustice dressed as legal discipline.

Justice is not just about protecting systems; it is about protecting people. And when procedure tramples substance, law becomes a tool of exclusion.

India Claims POK Since 1947—Why No Limitation There?

This contradiction becomes even more glaring when you compare it with national policy. India continues to claim PoK (Pakistan-occupied Kashmir) as its own territory since 1947, reaffirmed in Parliament, diplomacy, and maps.

So here lies the irony:

• The Indian state believes a claim on land can continue for over 75 years without expiring,
• but An Indian citizen’s claim on his own land expires in 12 years (Article 65 of Limitation Act),
• A money suit lapses in just 3 years (Article 113/54).

How is it that the state can carry a dispute across generations and borders, but its own citizens are told that justice has an expiry date?

Limitation Should Apply Only to Appeals, Not Original Rights

The idea that limitation should apply only to appeals—not to the right to file a suit in the first place—is not only rational, but morally compelling.

A possible reform could be:

No strict limitation on filing original suits if the plaintiff shows genuine reason for delay.
Limitation should only restrict how long you take to appeal a decision, not whether you deserve a hearing at all.

This is not just a legal issue—it’s a constitutional and moral issue. Article 14 of the Constitution guarantees equality before the law, and Article 39A promises equal access to justice. A system that favors the timely over the truthful violates both—and undermines the soul of natural justice.

Conclusion: Time Should Not Erase Truth

Justice should not depend on a stopwatch. The Limitation Act, in its current form, often works as a weapon in the hands of those who delay justice until their victim runs out of time.

We need a people-first interpretation of limitation—one that understands the struggle of the common Indian, the victim who was too poor, too scared, or too broken to act in time. One that values truth more than timing, and fairness over formality.

Until then, a poor man’s claim can expire in 3 years, while a powerful state’s claim can last forever.
And that is not justice. That is abandonment.