The Little Red Book: How Rahul Gandhi’s Constitutional Prop Sparked a Legal Battle for Its Own Soul 

Rahul Gandhi’s frequent public use of a specific red-and-black, pocket-sized edition of the Indian Constitution, published by the Eastern Book Company (EBC), has transformed the legal text into a powerful political symbol for the opposition’s “save the Constitution” campaign, causing its sales to surge; however, this very prominence has sparked a legal battle in the Delhi High Court, where EBC has successfully secured an interim order against Rupa Publications for producing a deceptively similar edition, creating a profound irony where the symbol of the “people’s document” is now at the center of a commercial copyright dispute over its own branded identity.

The Little Red Book: How Rahul Gandhi’s Constitutional Prop Sparked a Legal Battle for Its Own Soul 

If a single image could define the Indian political opposition in 2024 and 2025, it would be Rahul Gandhi, often in a dark collared T-shirt, holding aloft a small, red-and-black, pocket-sized copy of the Constitution of India. This book is no longer just a legal document; it has become a potent political symbol, a stage prop, and a campaign centerpiece. But in a twist befitting the complex drama of Indian democracy, this very symbol of law and order has found itself at the center of a legal dispute in the Delhi High Court, pitting publisher against publisher in a fight over its physical identity. 

This isn’t just a story about copyright infringement; it’s a story about how a symbol is made, marketed, and contested in the high-stakes theater of modern politics. 

From Lawyer’s Library to Political Logo 

The object in question is a specific, coat-pocket edition of the Indian Constitution published by the Lucknow-based Eastern Book Company (EBC). First published in 2009, this edition was designed for legal professionals and students—a compact, portable, and durable reference guide. Its distinguishing features are its stark colour scheme: a vibrant red front cover with the title “Constitution of India” in a clean, white, serif font, and a black spine and back cover. It often includes gilt-edged pages and gold embossing, giving it a sense of gravitas despite its small size. 

For years, it was a niche product. Then, Rahul Gandhi adopted it. 

Following the 2024 Lok Sabha elections, the book became a permanent fixture in Gandhi’s public appearances. It was present at his detailed “atom bomb” presentation on the government’s alleged excesses, waved during his “vote chori” (vote theft) accusations, and has been a constant companion on the campaign trail in Bihar, where the opposition alliance has framed the upcoming assembly election as a “fight to save the Constitution.” 

When asked about his constant companion, Gandhi offered a telling explanation: “I felt that the Constitution wasn’t something that the public were aware of. So, it was necessary to put it in the hands of the very people to whom it belongs. I wanted it to be a compact and simple edition with explanations.” 

In this single statement, Gandhi performed a powerful act of political framing. He transformed the Constitution from an abstract, institutional text owned by the courts and the state into a tangible object belonging to the common person. The EBC edition, with its handy size, became the perfect physical vessel for this message. 

The Symbol Becomes a Sought-After Commodity 

The political branding was spectacularly successful. Giant cutouts and portraits of Gandhi holding the red-and-black book now adorn party offices. The effect on sales was immediate and significant. EBC reported a massive spike in demand, moving from selling a few thousand copies annually to having print runs “in the thousands” to meet “exponential” demand. The book, priced around ₹895, became a must-have item not just for law enthusiasts, but for political supporters and the politically curious. 

This is where symbolism collided with commerce. The EBC edition’s distinctive look—its “trade dress” in legal terms—had become intrinsically linked with a powerful political message. Seeing an opportunity, another publisher, Rupa Publications, entered the market with a strikingly similar product: a red-and-black, pocket-sized Constitution. 

This prompted EBC to file a case in the Delhi High Court, arguing that Rupa’s edition was deceptively similar and would cause confusion in the marketplace. 

The Courtroom Battle: Protecting a Branded Identity 

The Delhi High Court’s interim order on September 25, 2025, sided strongly with EBC. Justice Manmeet Pritam Singh Arora noted that Rupa had “adopted a similar colour scheme, text and font, gilt edging, book posteen colour, and embossed gold detailing.” The court found a “strong likelihood of confusion,” given that both companies operate in the same business, use the same trade channels (like Amazon and Flipkart), and cater to the same customers. 

The court restrained Rupa from selling its edition and directed it to remove all inventory and online listings within two weeks. 

This legal battle is fascinating because it moves the conflict from the content of the Constitution to its container. The Constitution itself is a public document; no one can copyright its text. However, the specific expression of that text—its unique compilation, design, layout, and colour scheme—can be protected intellectual property. The court case is a meta-conflict: a fight over who has the right to produce the physical symbol of the law that is being used to debate the very nature of that law in the political sphere. 

The Deeper Irony: Can You Own a Symbol of the People? 

The situation presents a profound irony. Rahul Gandhi uses the EBC edition to symbolize a document that belongs to every Indian—a document meant to be accessible to all. Yet, the commercial reality is that one specific, branded version of this public document is now the subject of an exclusive copyright lawsuit. The very act of making the Constitution a ubiquitous symbol has, paradoxically, made one particular iteration of it a valuable, protected commodity. 

This isn’t to say EBC is wrong to protect its intellectual property. They invested in creating a distinct product, and its association with a national political figure has skyrocketed its value. They have a legitimate commercial interest. However, the situation highlights the inevitable commercialisation that follows powerful political symbolism. The “people’s document” now has a preferred, and legally protected, brand. 

A Cultural Moment, Captured in Red and Black 

The phenomenon extends beyond this one book. Delhi bookstores have reported increased sales of other constitutional commentaries, such as Fali S. Nariman’s ‘You Must Know Your Constitution’ and Granville Austin’s ‘The Indian Constitution’. This indicates that Gandhi’s prop is not just driving sales for one publisher but is potentially fostering a broader public interest in constitutional literacy. 

The little red-and-black book has become a Rorschach test. For the opposition, it is a shield against majoritarianism and a reminder of the nation’s foundational promises of justice, liberty, and equality. For its supporters, it is a powerful visual shorthand for their political cause. For the publishers, it is a valuable asset. And for the courts, it is a subject of a straightforward IP dispute, yet one dripping with political subtext. 

As the case proceeds, with the next hearing listed for February 2026, its journey will be closely watched. It serves as a reminder that in today’s India, the battle of ideas is fought not just in parliamentary debates or on campaign stages, but also in the design choices of a book cover and the rulings of a commercial court. The soul of the Constitution may be its words, but in the visual language of modern politics, its power is also undeniably tied to its image. And as the Delhi High Court has shown, that image is now worth fighting for.