By Suresh Unnithan
In a dramatic turn of events, on December 29, 2025, the Supreme Court of India took the rare step of staying its own judgment from just over a month earlier, effectively pausing a controversial redefinition of the Aravalli Hills that had ignited widespread protests and environmental alarm. This stay, issued by a bench led by Chief Justice Surya Kant, places the November 20, 2025, order in abeyance, halting any new or renewed mining leases without court permission and calling for a fresh high-powered expert committee to reassess the matter. The decision comes amid mounting public outcry, with activists, politicians, and residents fearing that the original ruling would have handed a victory to powerful mining and land mafias, potentially accelerating the degradation of one of the world’s oldest mountain ranges. This article delves into the details of yesterday’s judgment, explores how the November verdict appeared tailored to benefit illicit interests, examines the Aravalli’s profound environmental significance across multiple states, and offers a critical analysis of the mafia’s operations under the guise of legal protections—all grounded in verifiable facts and data from recent reports and court documents.
To understand yesterday’s stay, we must first revisit the November 20 judgment, which stemmed from a long-running case on defining the Aravalli Hills for conservation purposes. The Supreme Court accepted recommendations from a government-appointed expert committee, establishing a uniform definition across Delhi, Haryana, Rajasthan, and Gujarat: Aravalli hills were limited to landforms rising at least 100 meters above the local relief (plains), including supporting slopes, with ranges defined as clusters where such hills are within 500 meters of each other. This criterion, while presented as a “stricter” scientific benchmark, effectively narrowed protections dramatically. According to a Forest Survey of India (FSI) mapping cited in the judgment, only 1,048 out of 12,081 identified hills in Rajasthan met this height threshold—meaning over 91% of the range’s hills would lose their protected status, opening vast swathes to mining, real estate development, and other exploitative activities. Critics, including environmental groups like the Centre for Science and Environment, argued that this ignored the ecological continuity of lower hills, slopes, and scrublands, which are integral to the range’s function despite not towering 100 meters high.
The November ruling was widely perceived as a boon for the land and mining mafias, who have long eyed the Aravalli’s mineral-rich terrain for illegal extraction. By reclassifying most of the range as “non-Aravalli,” the judgment would have stripped legal safeguards under prior notifications, such as the 1992 Environment Ministry ban on mining in ecologically sensitive areas and the 2002 Supreme Court order prohibiting non-forest activities without central approval. In essence, it created a regulatory vacuum where previously off-limits zones could now be legally mined with “sustainable” plans—plans that, in practice, often favour powerful lobbies. The court itself acknowledged in the November order that blanket bans had inadvertently fuelled “illegal mining activities… creation of land/mining mafias and criminalisation,” suggesting regulated mining as a solution. However, this rationale overlooked how mafias thrive on ambiguity, using legal loopholes to formalize operations. For instance, in Haryana and Rajasthan, where mining leases have historically been granted despite bans, the new definition could have legitimized encroachments on over 130,000 square kilometres of the range, according to Down to Earth estimates.
Yesterday’s stay addresses these very concerns. The Supreme Court, taking suo motu cognizance, noted “confusion and concern” over the expert report’s implementation, highlighting a “structural paradox” where gaps exceeding 500 meters between hills might exclude ecologically linked areas from protection, enabling unregulated exploitation. The bench emphasized the need for clarifications to prevent “irreversible administrative or ecological actions,” directing the Centre to form an independent committee for a holistic review, including multi-temporal assessments of mining’s environmental impacts. Environment Minister Bhupender Yadav welcomed the move, pledging support, while opposition figures like Congress leader Randeep Surjewala hailed it as a reprieve from mafia-driven destruction. Protests in cities like Gurugram and Udaipur, involving thousands from farmers to urban residents, had amplified fears of desertification and pollution spikes in Delhi, underscoring the judgment’s real-world stakes.
At the heart of this controversy lies Aravalli’s irreplaceable environmental role. Formed over 1.5 to 2.5 billion years ago during the Precambrian era, the Aravalli is among the planet’s oldest fold mountains, predating the Himalayas by eons and rivalling formations like the Appalachians. Stretching 692 kilometers from Delhi through Haryana, Rajasthan, and into Gujarat, it spans about 147,000 square kilometers, acting as a biogeographic bridge between the Thar Desert and the Indo-Gangetic plains. Its ecological importance cannot be overstated: the range serves as a natural bulwark against the eastward creep of the Thar Desert, slowing sand dune migration and reducing dust storms that would otherwise blanket northern India. In Rajasthan, where 80% of the range lies, it influences monsoon patterns, directing clouds toward the lower Himalayas and ensuring rainfall for agriculture in arid zones. Data from the India Meteorological Department shows that Aravalli ridges enhance precipitation by 10-20% in leeward areas, supporting crops for millions.
In Haryana and Delhi, the hills recharge groundwater aquifers critical for urban water supply. A 2023 study by the Central Ground Water Board revealed that Aravalli forests and slopes contribute to 30-40% of recharge in the National Capital Region, mitigating water scarcity amid rapid urbanization. Biodiversity thrives here too: the range hosts over 300 bird species, including endangered vultures, and mammals like leopards and hyenas, per Wildlife Institute of India surveys. In Gujarat, southern extensions regulate microclimates, buffering coastal areas from desert winds and fostering unique thorn forests. Overall, the Aravalli filters air pollution—absorbing up to 2.5 million tons of CO2 annually, according to a 2024 TERI report—and moderates temperatures, cooling summer highs by 2-4°C in adjacent plains. Without it, experts warn, Delhi could see a 20% rise in particulate matter, exacerbating health crises, while Rajasthan’s farmlands face accelerated desertification.
Yet, this ancient sentinel is under siege. Conservative estimates indicate that at least 25% of the Aravalli has been degraded or destroyed by now, primarily through illegal mining for stone, sand, and minerals like quartzite and limestone. Between 1975 and 2019, the range lost 5,772 square kilometers of forest cover—about 7.6%—much converted to quarries, as per India Today analysis using satellite data from the Global Forest Watch. In Rajasthan alone, illegal operations have razed hills equivalent to 1,500 square kilometers since 2000, according to a 2022 Rajasthan State Pollution Control Board report. Haryana’s Faridabad and Gurugram districts have seen 40% of their Aravalli cover vanish, with deep craters scarring the landscape and contaminating water tables with silica dust. The mining mafia’s handiwork is evident: blasts shatter rocks, creating ravines that disrupt aquifers and cause flash floods, while dust clouds trigger respiratory illnesses in nearby villages, affecting over 500,000 people annually per health ministry data.
Critically analysing the mafia’s operations reveals a symbiotic relationship with legal frameworks like the November verdict. The mining mafia—networks of contractors, politicians, and bureaucrats—has exploited ambiguities in protections for decades. Despite the 2002 Supreme Court ban on mining in Aravalli without environmental clearances, illegal quarries proliferated, often with tacit state approval. In Haryana, for example, a 2024 audit by the Comptroller and Auditor General found 60% of leases violated norms, with mafias using forged documents to operate under the radar. The November judgment’s push for “sustainable mining” in redefined areas would have shifted this from illicit to legal, allowing mafias to secure leases through political influence while claiming compliance. Court documents note that bans created mafias by driving activities underground, but this ignores how lax enforcement—fuelled by corruption—enabled them in the first place. Mafias employ tactics like night-time blasting with gunpowder, overloading trucks to evade checks, and intimidating locals, as detailed in a 2023 Mongabay investigation. Legal protections, meant to curb this, often backfire: the 100-meter rule could have formalized mafia control over 90% of the range, turning protected commons into privatized pits.
This interplay highlights a broader failure: judicial interventions, while well-intentioned, risk being co-opted by economic pressures. The November verdict’s emphasis on uniform definition overlooked FSI’s alternative slope-based criteria (over 3 degrees), which would protect more contiguous ecosystems. Yesterday’s stay offers hope, mandating stakeholder consultations and impact studies, but without stringent enforcement, mafias may continue unchecked. As protests swell and data mounts on irreversible losses—like a projected 20% groundwater drop by 2030 if mining escalates—the Aravalli’s fate tests India’s commitment to sustainability. Will this pause lead to genuine preservation, or merely delay the range’s demise? The new committee’s findings, due in coming months, will be pivotal.
*Research By Nanditha Subhadra
