Volume 2, Issue 1

The National Service Scheme (NSS) is a flagship program aimed at involving students in community service to promote social responsibility and leadership skills. The National Service Scheme (NSS) is a considerable way of integrating community engagement into higher education by encouraging young people to be engaged in resolving social and developmental problems. This paper explores the structure, activities, and outcomes of NSS camps, emphasizing their role in fostering community development and empowering youth. Through an examination of real-world examples and feedback from participants, the study highlights the transformative impact of these camps on individuals and society. In order to make the TCET NSS camp planning and organization a successful system, this study also delves into it. 

A single popular film song in India is rarely governed by one copyright. It typically involves at least three distinct rights: the sound recording (owned by the producer or record label), the musical composition (owned by the composer), and the lyrics (owned by the lyricist or their publisher). When the film itself is considered, a fourth layer emerges — the producer’s rights over the cinematograph film as a whole. Each of these rights can be licensed, assigned, and enforced separately, and each has historically been represented by a different institution. This essay argues that the fragmentation commonly observed in India’s copyright regime for music and film is not primarily a defect in the statutory text of the Copyright Act, 1957, but a consequence of how collecting societies, licensing intermediaries, and courts have administered that text in practice. 

Existing literature on the subject largely converges on this diagnosis. Academic reviews of enforcement in the Indian music industry have found that while the statutory provisions are reasonably comprehensive, actual compliance and enforcement remain inconsistent and poorly coordinated. A related strand of scholarship, based on surveys of working musicians, has pointed to the informal and fragmented character of industry practice itself — noting that limited institutional support and uneven awareness of royalty mechanisms compound the problems created by overlapping collecting societies. This essay builds on both strands by tracing how the collecting-society system and the film-specific royalty provisions introduced in 2012 have generated recurring litigation, and what that litigation reveals about the gap between the law as written and the law as administered. 

Communities holding customary rights over their own land account for at least a quarter of the world’s land area, and a 2019 global assessment found that biodiversity loss on this land has generally been slower than elsewhere. This finding has pushed traditional ecological knowledge, the practical knowledge communities build up over generations about their own land, water, plants, and animals, toward the centre of conservation policy. International instruments, including Article 8(j) of the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Nagoya Protocol, and Target 3 of the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework, now ask governments to recognise this knowledge and the rights of the people who hold it. India offers a detailed, rarely examined domestic attempt to answer that call. Without using the term “Indigenous Peoples,” which its government generally avoids, India has built laws – the Forest Rights Act, the Panchayats (Extension to the Scheduled Areas) Act, the Wildlife Protection Act’s community and conservation reserves, and the Biological Diversity Act – meant to connect traditional ecological knowledge to modern, state-run conservation. This paper asks whether these legal bridges actually work, or mostly exist on paper while older, exclusionary habits of conservation continue underneath them. It examines this through three illustrations chosen for contrast, not representativeness: the Bishnoi community’s customary tree-protection practices in Rajasthan, the Soliga community’s court-recognised forest rights inside Karnataka’s BRT Tiger Reserve, and Jharkhand’s Sarna sacred groves alongside its unresolved Saranda forest dispute. The paper sets out the resulting research gap, questions, objectives, and method. 

Third-party funding (TPF) in international arbitration has grown from a niche financing arrangement into a structural feature of the global dispute resolution landscape. While its commercial utility is well-documented, a comparatively underexplored dimension concerns its influence on arbitrator selection — the process by which parties nominate, challenge, or seek to disqualify arbitrators. This paper examines whether the participation of a third-party funder introduces conflicts of interest that compromise arbitral impartiality, or whether such concerns, though legitimate in appearance, ultimately reflect strategic behaviour dressed in the language of procedural fairness. Drawing on an analysis of institutional rules, investment arbitration jurisprudence, and scholarly discourse, the paper argues that the relationship between TPF and arbitrator selection occupies a grey zone between genuine conflict, tactical manoeuvre, and legitimate commercial interest. The paper finds that current disclosure regimes remain inadequate, that arbitral institutions have responded unevenly, and that no uniform global standard governs funder-arbitrator relationships. It concludes with reform proposals directed at arbitral institutions, domestic legislatures, and the international arbitration community, aimed at achieving systemic transparency without unduly burdening the commercial viability of TPF.

Folk traditions — oral epics, ritual performances, textile weaves, wall paintings, and craft techniques transmitted across generations within identifiable communities — occupy an uneasy space in Indian constitutional and legal thought. The Constitution of India recognises cultural plurality through Articles 29 and 30, the fundamental duty under Article 51A(f), and an expansively read Article 21, yet it vests no enforceable proprietary right in a community over its own folklore. Meanwhile, the market has discovered folk aesthetics: Warli motifs appear on factory-made garments, Madhubani strokes are licensed for home décor, and Pattachitra patterns are digitised into wallpaper, frequently without the originating community’s consent or any share in the resulting revenue. This paper examines the gap between constitutional recognition of cultural rights and the absence of a corresponding proprietary or benefit-sharing mechanism. It traces how India’s intellectual property statutes — the Geographical Indications of Goods (Registration and Protection) Act 1999, the Copyright Act 1957, and the Biological Diversity Act 2002 — have been pressed into service to fill that gap and identifies where each instrument falls short of protecting the interests of the practising community itself. Using doctrinal analysis of constitutional text, statutory provisions, and comparative sui generis models from Panama and Peru, the paper argues that India’s folklore-protection regime is a patchwork sustained by proxy legislation rather than a coherent right and proposes a community-trust-based sui generis framework anchored in the cultural dimension of Article 21.