In a modest courtroom located on the outskirts of Bhopal, an anxious hush fell over the small crowd gathered inside. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, illuminating the dusty benches. On one of those benches sat Anjali, a quiet young woman of nineteen, clutching her mother’s hand. She had travelled from a remote village to attend the hearing of her case—a case she had feared would languish for years in the labyrinth of the justice system. However, there was a sense of cautious optimism today: her case was being heard in a Fast Track Special Court (FTSC).
While the concept of fast-track judicial proceedings in India has been around since early efforts to establish additional courts in 2015, it was not until the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act of 2018 that momentum for expeditious trials in rape and child sexual abuse cases intensified. Subsequent orders from the Supreme Court prompted the Government to create a programme for FTSCs dedicated to hearing cases related to the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act, as well as heinous crimes such as rape. As Anjali sat waiting for the judge, she recalled how her relatives had once warned her that seeking justice might take years—sometimes even longer. Yet, within months of lodging her complaint, she found herself in court, with genuine progress being made.
The clang of the gavel introduced the presiding judge, a determined woman who, by virtue of her post in this specialised court, had presided over countless similar cases. Fast Track Special Courts were specifically created to deliver swifter justice, aiming to address a crushing backlog of pending cases that had accumulated for decades. Unlike regular courts, which frequently handle broad dockets filled with a variety of matters, the FTSCs concentrate on a narrower scope—chiefly crimes involving sexual offences, many of which tragically involve children. The difference in pace was palpable. In an ordinary setting, Anjali might have waited for hours just to be called forward. Here, proceedings began almost immediately.
Her advocate stood, concise in her arguments, presenting evidence gathered by the local police—evidence that, in previous circumstances, might have been disputed or delayed. Meanwhile, the defendant’s counsel challenged the credibility of the statements, as is common in such cases. Yet, the judge, aware of the scheme’s design to expedite the process, steered the hearing with firm impartiality, preventing inconsequential delays. By day’s end, Anjali observed more progress in her case than she had anticipated witnessing in an entire year.
Stepping outside during a short recess, she reflected on how these special courts had come into being. In addition to the FTSCs, there were other Fast Track Courts (FTCs) focusing on heinous crimes, civil cases involving the vulnerable—women, the elderly, persons with disabilities, and those grappling with terminal illnesses—and even property disputes pending for more than five years. In total, more than 860 FTCs now operated across the country to manage a range of pressing matters, though the Government continued to push for more, aiming to meet the target of 1,800 such courts by 2026.
But it was the FTSCs that had been making headlines, significantly improving the speed of Rape and POCSO Act case dispositions. According to official records, the average disposal rate for these specialised courts reached about 9.5 cases per court per month, compared to a mere 3.2 in regular courts. Over three lakh cases had been disposed of by these courts by the close of 2024, shedding light on how a focused approach could chip away at the towering backlog of cases languishing within the judiciary.
The improvements in Anjali’s own district were tangible, resulting from enhanced funding and stronger collaboration between the Central Government, State Governments, and local authorities. Awareness campaigns took root in rural areas—on the radio, at panchayat gatherings, and through non-governmental organisations—to inform people of their right to seek justice through FTSCs. Mothers, sisters, fathers, and grandparents alike were learning that these courts could protect their children and deliver swifter judgement, particularly in cases of sexual assault.
In many ways, Anjali’s story became emblematic of the shift that was taking place. Returning to the courtroom, she listened as the judge laid out the upcoming steps, emphasising the court’s intent to reduce her emotional burden. Even so, Anjali knew the fight was not over. Defendants and lawyers would still challenge her testimony. She would need the courage to speak out. Yet, for the first time, she felt a glimmer of hope. These courts, she realised, were not merely rushing through hearings. They were designed, above all else, to be thorough, fair, and sensitive—offering survivors a genuine chance of putting the past behind them.
When the session finally adjourned in the afternoon, Anjali left the courtroom trembling with the gravity of it all but buoyed by an underlying sense of relief. Outside, the midday sun glowed intensely, illuminating the court’s name etched in stone. Though the building itself was unimposing, it represented the nation’s promise of timely justice. She looked up at the carved letters—Fast Track Special Court—and felt a newfound conviction. Perhaps the journey was not going to be easy, but it would not be endless. With every stride she took away from the courthouse, Anjali felt she was drawing closer to resolution, guided by a system that was, at last, focused on those who needed justice the most.