HISAR
THE AIR IN PETWAR still hums with echoes of Diwali. Strings of marigold droop gently across mud-plastered doorways and the faint scent of burnt sparklers lingers in the lanes. But, the celebrations are far from over. For this modest Haryanvi village, 25km from Hisar city, another festival is about to begin.
“It will be a second Diwali when he takes the oath,” smiles Rishi Kant, eldest brother of India’s next chief justice, as he supervises the repainting of the family’s ancestral home. The walls, once faded and weathered, are now turning a fresh shade of cream. “We want the house to shine when Surya Kant bhai becomes chief justice of India.” When Justice Surya Kant takes oath as the 53rd CJI on November 24, he will become the first Haryanvi to occupy the post.
Rishi Kant, a retired government school Sanskrit teacher, speaks with quiet dignity. He knows his brother’s success is not just personal—it is a chapter in the story of a family that has lived by the ideals of education, simplicity and self-belief. Both their father and grandfather, schoolteachers in nearby villages, believed shiksha hi sabse badi daulat hai (education is the greatest wealth). Justice Surya Kant is the youngest of five siblings. The eldest sister, 74, lives in Jind; another brother, Dr Subhash Kant, is a renowned tuberculosis specialist in Hisar; and the third, Rajkumar Kant, retired as an instructor from an industrial training institute.
“Our family never had an advocate or a judge, not even distant relatives,” says Rishi. “Surya was the first to even think of law. It was completely his decision.”
After graduating from the Government College, Hisar, Surya pursued his LLB at the Maharshi Dayanand University, Rohtak. “Law wasn’t seen as a prestigious career at the time, especially for a boy from a family of teachers,” says Rishi. “But our father never imposed his will. He always said: Jo mann kahe, wahi karo (follow your heart). That freedom made all the difference.”
Petwar is a small, self-contained world—a place of open skies and mustard fields. At its heart is the Government Senior Secondary School, where all four Kant brothers went. “We walked to school barefoot,” recalls Rishi. “There were no private schools, no tuition classes. We studied under the neem tree. Our teachers made us memorise Sanskrit shlokas and multiplication tables. That’s where Surya developed his love for books and discipline.”
After completing his degree in 1984, Surya Kant began practise at the Hisar District Court. Within a year, he moved to Chandigarh to practise at the Punjab and Haryana High Court. “We were worried; new city, no connections or godfather,” Rishi recalls. “But he said, ‘Main apna raasta khud bana lunga (I’ll make my own way)’. And he did.”
In 2000, at just 38, Surya Kant became the youngest advocate general of Haryana. In January 2004, he was appointed a judge of the Punjab and Haryana High Court, later serving as chief justice of the Himachal Pradesh High Court before being elevated to the Supreme Court in 2019.
His judgments reflect a deep empathy for ordinary citizens—a rights-conscious and reform-oriented approach. He stayed the operation of the colonial sedition law, spoke of protecting under-trial prisoners’ dignity, and upheld the importance of electoral transparency.
“Even as a judge, he listens more than he speaks,” says a Supreme Court advocate. “He doesn’t thunder from the bench. His authority comes from logic.”
For Petwar, it is not titles that inspire pride—it is his simplicity. “He hasn’t changed,” says Rajbala, his eldest sister-in-law. “He touches elders’ feet, talks to children, sits on the charpai and has tea like any of us.” Her eyes light up as she recalls a visit a day before Diwali. “He came without informing anyone,” she says. “He walked in with his wife and said, ‘Bhabhi, aaj hum sab saath mein khana khayenge (Sister-in-law, we’ll have lunch together today)’.”
That afternoon, the future CJI sat cross-legged in the courtyard, eating kadhi, bajre ki roti and achar. “He loves simple food,” Rajbala says fondly. While taking his leave, he bowed to touch the feet of his elder brother and sister-in-law. “He still does that every time,” Rishi says, smiling. “That humility makes him special.”
At the Kant household, preparations continue. “We didn’t have time during Diwali,” says Rishi, laughing. “Now it feels like the festival never ended.” The house carries the family’s history. “Our father used to sit in this courtyard and teach village children for free,” Rishi recalls. “Now his youngest son will lead the judiciary.”
Justice Surya Kant has remained deeply connected to Petwar. Every year, he visits to honour meritorious students of classes 10 and 12, personally funding scholarships for underprivileged children. Petwar today is dotted with four public libraries, all set up with the support of local volunteers he inspired. “The facility is free,” says Vikas, 19, who is studying for SSC exams. “We feel motivated because one of our own reached the top.”
Surya Kant’s childhood friend Ber Singh’s eyes light up as he recalls the boy he knew. “We played kabaddi after school hours,” he says. “Surya was always quick on his feet and calm under pressure. He wasn’t just good, he was often the reason our team won. Even then, he had that focus and fairness that later made him a judge.”
When news of Justice Kant’s elevation broke, Petwar erupted in joy. At the temple, villagers distributed sweets; at the panchayat hall, elders congratulated one another and the school declared a special holiday.
As the day draws closer, the excitement in Petwar is palpable. When children playing cricket with a plastic bat are asked if they know who Surya Kant is, one shouts, “Woh toh judge hain na—sabse bade wale (He’s the biggest judge, right)?”
Inside the Kant home, Rajbala brings out steaming cups of tea and plates of home-made sweets. “We are simple people,” she says. “But, it feels like our entire village has been recognised by the nation.”
As the evening sun dips behind the fields, temple bells ring for aarti, and the house, freshly painted and fragrant with new beginnings, stands as a quiet symbol of how far a dream can travel. “Humare liye toh yeh sabse badi Diwali hai (For us, this is the biggest Diwali),” says Rishi, his voice barely above a whisper.