Explained : The Case of the Shrinking Underwear and Its Impact

The conviction recently of a Kerala legislator in a criminal case is bizarre not only because of the facts involved, but also because of the extraordinary length of time it took to finally lead to his arrest and disqualification. What makes the case even more unusual is that while criminal cases against politicians are alarmingly common, convictions remain abysmally rare.

The case against Antony Raju of the CPI(M) ally Janadhipathya Kerala Congress—who represented the Thiruvananthapuram Assembly constituency—will go down in judicial history for its sheer audacity and the almost ridiculous nature of the crime and charges. A former transport minister in the LDF government, Raju was practising as a lawyer in Thiruvananthapuram in 1990, when the incident occurred.

Raju was accused of tampering with the size of the underwear in which 61.5 grams of hashish had been found to prove that it did not belong to his client. The client, Australian citizen Andrew Salvatore Cervelli, was arrested at Thiruvananthapuram airport on April 9, 1990, after the banned substance was discovered concealed in his underwear. The prosecution produced the garment as material evidence, following which the trial court sentenced Cervelli to ten years of rigorous imprisonment.

Cervelli appealed to the Kerala High Court, which in 1993 acquitted him after his counsel demonstrated that the underwear produced in court was too small to fit him. With evidence found to be tampered, the police launched a probe into how the underwear—originally a shabby blue-coloured garment—had shrunk. The state forensic laboratory concluded that it had been cut and re-stitched to reduce its size.

The investigation revealed that Raju, who appeared for the accused, had obtained the garment from the magistrate court’s custody with the complicity of a court clerk. He returned the altered garment four months later, just before Cervelli moved the High Court. Based on the police report, a district court in Thiruvananthapuram ordered that a case be registered against Raju and the clerk for tampering with material evidence.

Local media dubbed it “The Case of the Shrinking Underwear”, drawing parallels with the famous “trial of the century” in the United States against football legend OJ Simpson. In that case, a glove—part of the prosecution’s evidence—was tried on by Simpson in court and found not to fit. His lawyers famously argued, “If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” And the jury did just that.

Raju’s shrinking underwear was a similar legal ruse intended to establish his client’s innocence. This time, however, it didn’t work. Instead, it has shrunk Raju’s own political stature. While the court granted him bail for a month to enable an appeal, the damage is substantial. The case—deferred repeatedly over decades—has finally culminated in conviction.

Raju was found guilty of conspiracy, tampering with evidence, destruction and fabrication of evidence, misconduct by a public servant, and fabrication of forged documents. The legal saga has spanned more than three and a half decades. He was sentenced to three years for tampering with evidence, two years for fabricating false evidence, and one year for criminal breach of trust by a public servant, with all sentences to run concurrently—amounting to an effective jail term of three years.

Under the Representation of the People Act, this sentence results in his automatic disqualification as an MLA and bars him from contesting elections for the next six years. The verdict comes 19 years after the charge sheet was filed, and nearly 36 years after the incident itself. It also follows a November 2024 Supreme Court ruling that set aside a Kerala High Court order which had quashed the proceedings against Raju.

India’s political landscape has long been entwined with legal controversy. Criminal cases against politicians—ranging from corruption and financial fraud to murder, assault, and electoral malpractice—raise serious questions about governance, accountability, and the rule of law.

According to the latest report by the Association for Democratic Reforms, 306 of the 763 sitting MPs (40 percent) in the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha have declared criminal cases against themselves. Of these, 194 MPs (25 percent) face serious criminal charges, including murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, and crimes against women.

At a time when the Enforcement Directorate (ED) was questioning RJD chief Lalu Prasad Yadav in Patna last month, the centre informed Parliament that the agency’s conviction rate in cases against politicians has been about one per cent over the past decade. “In the last ten years, as many as 193 cases against politicians have been registered by the ED, in which only two convictions have been made,” Minister of State for Finance Pankaj Chaudhary told the Rajya Sabha. Of these cases, 138—or 71 percent—have been registered since 2019.

Despite the gravity of such charges, politicians frequently continue in office while cases drag on for years, even decades. Judicial delays, endless appeals, and the strategic misuse of legal provisions allow many to evade accountability. While the Representation of the People Act mandates disqualification for convictions of two years or more, appeals often become tools for prolonging political survival.

A landmark 2013 Supreme Court judgment ruled that MPs, MLAs, and MLCs convicted of crimes carrying sentences of two years or more would be immediately disqualified. While hailed as a turning point, loopholes remain wide enough for many accused politicians to contest elections with serious charges still pending.

Legal cases against politicians reflect both the resilience and the fragility of India’s democracy. While judicial scrutiny, media exposure, and public awareness persist, systemic inefficiencies ensure that justice is often delayed—and diluted. As the case of the shrinking underwear shows, politicians appear to have perfected the art of wearing legal chastity belts.

—The writer is former Senior Managing Editor, India Legal magazine