As India suffers through yet another year of scorching summers, heatwaves have turned into a recurring and lethal aspect of the climate crisis. Statistics capture only a fraction of a deepening crisis that is laying bare India’s weakest and most vulnerable populations—migrant workers, slum residents, farmers, and the elderly—who are subjected to record heat with no cooling infrastructure, no health facilities, or government cover. Despite these mounting threats, India’s policy and legal spaces continue to be poorly prepared to tackle heatwaves as a question of justice. An intervention by the Rajasthan High Court at a timely juncture, a forgotten 2015 legislative proposal, and developing legal literature clarify the importance of regarding extreme heat not only as a climatic phenomenon, but a governance and human rights failure.

In a powerful blog post for the Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law, “Courting the Heat: Heatwaves, Remedy, and Climate Justice”, scholars Arpitha Kodiveri, Jacques Abou-Rizk, and Mariano DeCarvalho argue that heatwaves demand a justice-oriented legal response. Compared with recent developments in European climate litigation—particularly the landmark KlimaSeniorinnen v. Switzerland judgment by the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR), which found Switzerland in breach of its obligations for failing to adequately address the risks of heatwaves to older women—the case marks a significant moment in recognizing state inaction on climate-related hazards as a violation of human rights. While the Swiss courts had previously dismissed the applicants’ claims, the ECtHR ruling has now set a powerful precedent that may influence future domestic jurisprudence.

In contrast, Indian courts have yet to frame heat waves or other climate-induced extreme weather events as matters of constitutional or fundamental rights. Legal attention in India remains largely focused on air pollution, deforestation, and environmental impact assessments, with climate-related heat risks occupying a marginal position in both litigation and policy discourse, despite the country’s growing vulnerability to such hazards. This void isn’t due to the lack of legislative efforts. In 2015, a private member bill—the Prevention of Deaths Due to Heat and Cold Waves Bill—was brought in the Rajya Sabha. The bill identified heatwaves and cold waves as national disasters and instituted obligations on governments for offering public cooling facilities, drinking water, medical assistance, and compensation of ₹3 lakh to victim families. It was intended to formalize preventive policies and establish state responsibility. Regrettably, as with all Indian private member bills, it never made any headway and disappeared from the legislative list—despite intensifying evidence of climate-related heat hazards.

In this lacuna of law, the judiciary has stepped in. On May 30, 2024, the Rajasthan High Court made a suo motu order called “Save the Planet Earth and the Future Generations of this Universe,” concerning the heating conditions worsening in the state. Written by Justice Anoop Kumar Dhand, the order criticized the administrative apathy in the wake of the temperatures going over 50°C in certain regions of Rajasthan. The court ordered the state to act swiftly in enforcing its Heat Action Plan, provide for shaded resting spaces, clean drinking water, and midday relief for workers working outdoors, and improve public health infrastructure.

Notably, the court also called upon the Union Ministry of Law and Justice and the Rajasthan Department of Law to review and consider passing the 2015 bill. By turning the issue into a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) and ordering additional hearings, the court ensured that this would not be an isolated judicial rebuke but a tracked process with concrete results. What is required now is a national legal framework that addresses heatwaves as an ongoing climate emergency with systemic causes and compounding injustices. An updated version of the 2015 bill—or a new Heat and Cold Waves (Protection and Resilience) Act—could require government readiness, impose liability for inaction, and ensure entitlements like access to shelters, hydration, health services, and compensation. Such a law must be in line with constitutional imperatives under Article 21 (right to life), include guidelines from the National Disaster Management Act, and place vulnerable communities at the hub of climate adaptation planning.

This is not just a policy imperative—it is a justice imperative. The increase in heatwaves is not an arbitrary act of nature, but a predictable outcome of global warming, urban heat islands, and unequal development. The intervention of the Rajasthan High Court is a constitutional anchor to address this crisis. But change must be long-lasting through legislative clarity and executive will. As the summer of 2024 becomes a fading memory, the question is: will India legislate for the heat—or wait till it legislates our future?