Chinese Manjha Deaths: Rethinking Criminal Liability in India

**Chinese Manjha Deaths: Rethinking Criminal Liability in India**

### Introduction

The recent death of a woman in Ludhiana after her neck was slit by banned “Chinese manjha” (synthetic kite string) has once again exposed a troubling gap between law on paper and law in practice. According to press reports, at least two people died within 24 hours in the city due to such kite strings, despite repeated prohibitory orders and public awareness campaigns. The incident raises acute questions of criminal responsibility: who, if anyone, can and should be held liable when a prohibited, inherently dangerous product continues to circulate openly, and a wholly unsuspecting road user pays with their life? This tragedy sits at the intersection of individual negligence, regulatory failure and broader questions of public safety policy, and merits close legal scrutiny.

### Legal Background

Under Indian criminal law, deaths caused without intention or knowledge of likely fatality are typically prosecuted under section 304A of the Indian Penal Code (IPC) for causing death by a rash or negligent act. The provision covers conduct falling short of culpable homicide but exhibiting such disregard for the safety of others as to attract penal sanction. The Supreme Court in *Jacob Mathew v State of Punjab* (2005) 6 SCC 1 emphasised that criminal negligence requires a degree of grossness—conduct that no reasonable person, placed in the same circumstances, would have adopted.

Beyond section 304A, use of sharp or metallic kite strings may implicate sections 336–338 IPC (acts endangering life or personal safety), as well as public nuisance provisions such as sections 268 and 283. Many States, including Punjab, have issued specific notifications banning manufacture, sale and use of synthetic or glass-coated manjha under the Environment (Protection) Act 1986 and relevant Police Acts. Violation of such orders is itself an offence and may operate as an aggravating condition when harm results.

At a doctrinal level, Indian courts have often drawn on principles familiar from Commonwealth jurisdictions when dealing with dangerous activities and public safety. In *R v Adomako* [1995] 1 AC 171, the House of Lords defined gross negligence manslaughter in terms of a breach of duty so serious as to be criminal, stressing the centrality of risk of death. Though Indian law does not adopt that exact formulation, similar reasoning informs judicial interpretation of sections 304 and 304A. Likewise, cases such as *Municipal Corporation of Delhi v Subhagwanti* AIR 1966 SC 1750 (the “clock tower” case) demonstrate judicial willingness to impose liability where public authorities allow hazardous conditions to persist in public spaces.

### Critical Analysis

The Ludhiana incident involves at least three potential classes of actors: (1) the individual kite flyer using Chinese manjha; (2) the manufacturers, distributors and retailers who placed the banned product into circulation; and (3) public authorities responsible for enforcing the prohibition and regulating public safety.

For the kite flyer, criminal liability under section 304A IPC is conceptually straightforward where the prosecution can establish that: (a) they used prohibited synthetic or metal-coated string; (b) they did so in a public place where contact with pedestrians, motorcyclists or others was a foreseeable risk; and (c) the deceased’s fatal injuries were directly caused by the string. The foreseeability of serious injury from Chinese manjha is now widely recognised; numerous injuries and deaths have been reported across India over the last decade. Continuing to use such string after bans and publicity campaigns may well meet the *Jacob Mathew* threshold of gross negligence.

The more difficult, and arguably more important, questions arise when we look beyond the individual kite flyer. Synthetic manjha is not an incidental household item; it is a specialised product, manufactured, transported, stocked and sold in a chain that can often be traced. If, as media reports suggest, such strings are still “brazenly sold in markets” despite a ban, there is a cogent argument that manufacturers and traders are engaging in an ongoing unlawful activity that creates a foreseeable and substantial risk of death or serious injury.

In principle, each link in that chain may attract liability. A manufacturer knowingly producing a banned, hazardous product may be liable not only under environmental and police statutes but, in an egregious case, for abetment of offences under section 304A or sections 336–338 IPC. Retailers who continue to stock and sell such products, particularly after local prohibitory orders and repeated incidents, can hardly claim ignorance of the risks. Their conduct may be characterised as a continuing public nuisance, and—where causation can be established—contributory to specific instances of harm.

Causation poses evidential challenges. To bring a retailer within the net of criminal responsibility for a particular death, investigators would need to connect the specific spool of manjha used in the incident to a particular outlet or supply chain. This is not impossible; in other product-based offences (e.g. spurious drugs), courts accept circumstantial chains of evidence linking source and harm. But it does demand proactive investigation, forensic tracing and a prosecutorial willingness to test novel liability theories.

Public authorities occupy a more ambiguous position. In Commonwealth jurisprudence, criminal liability of state entities for negligent omissions remains rare, though civil and constitutional liability is well-recognised (e.g. *Nilabati Behera v State of Orissa* (1993) 2 SCC 746 in the Indian context). Nonetheless, persistent failure to enforce bans—despite repeated fatalities—raises questions of accountability. While it may be unrealistic to expect criminal prosecution of individual officers absent clear dereliction of duty, there is strong justification for judicial directions in writ proceedings, mandating stricter enforcement, periodic compliance reports, and, where appropriate, departmental action.

Comparative principles from *R v Miller* [1983] 2 AC 161, where the House of Lords recognised liability for failure to act after creating a dangerous situation, are instructive in policy terms. Once the State has enacted a ban and publicly acknowledged that synthetic manjha is lethal, allowing the product to remain openly available—through inaction or ineffective enforcement—sits uneasily with the State’s positive obligation to protect life under Article 21 of the Constitution.

### Opinion & Outlook

In legal terms, the present framework is not wholly inadequate; a combination of IPC provisions, environmental regulations and police powers already prohibits the use of Chinese manjha and criminalises dangerous kite flying. The problem lies in the weak translation of these norms into consistent, visible enforcement and in the relative absence of precedent targeting the upstream supply chain.

A more robust prosecutorial strategy would have three elements. First, prompt registration of FIRs under sections 304A and 336–338 IPC against identified kite flyers in fatal and near-fatal incidents, coupled with seizure and forensic examination of the manjha used. This would signal that such conduct is not a trivial festival-time infraction but a serious criminal offence.

Second, systematic investigation into manufacturers, importers and wholesalers, using search, seizure and licensing records to disrupt the supply chain. Where evidence permits, prosecutions should be framed not merely under special statutes but—at least in egregious cases—under abetment and conspiracy provisions of the IPC, making clear that profit from a banned lethal product carries significant penal risk.

Third, strategic public interest litigation could be used to obtain judicial monitoring of enforcement. High Courts, drawing on their Article 226 jurisdiction and public safety jurisprudence, could require periodic status reports from police and municipal authorities, direct time-bound raids and destruction of seized stock, and prescribe minimum standards of public warning. This would align with the “constitutional tort” approach developed in custodial and industrial disaster cases, without necessarily stretching criminal liability to state actors.

In the longer term, legislatures may consider a specific offence addressing manufacture and sale of banned dangerous recreational products causing serious injury or death, with calibrated penalties and clear evidential presumptions. Commonwealth experience with offences relating to dangerous dogs or prohibited weapons offers possible models.

### Conclusion

The Ludhiana manjha tragedy is not an unforeseeable accident but the predictable consequence of tolerating a banned, inherently dangerous product in the stream of commerce. Existing criminal law, properly applied, is capable of addressing individual negligence and, with some doctrinal development, the culpability of those who profit from supplying such products. What is now required is investigative rigour, prosecutorial creativity and sustained judicial oversight to ensure that the legal system’s response matches the gravity of the harm. Until the risk of real criminal sanction is felt along the entire chain from manufacturer to kite flyer, such avoidable deaths are likely to continue.