A museum where the Constitution of India comes alive

 EVERY UNIVERSITY HAS A library at its core. Around 60km from Delhi, OP Jindal Global University (JGU), in Sonipat, has a Constitution Museum at its heart. Spread across 1,000 acres and home to over 11,000 students, the campus finds its moral centre in this quiet, sunlit space—one that celebrates the living spirit of India’s democracy.

The museum's silence feels deliber­ate — the kind that allows you to soak in what’s around you. As you enter, the words of the Preamble shine faintly on the glass. You stop to read them. You move slowly. The museum makes you pause, think, and feel closer to what the Consti­tution really means.

At a time when the Constitution has re-entered public conversation—from challenges to secularism, pluralism, and democracy in India to debates on free speech—the museum offers a space for a conversation with the present. “The Constitution is not a book of history,” says Vice-Chancellor of OP Jindal Global Uni­versity (JGU), Professor (Dr) C Raj Kumar. “It continues to question, challenge and inspire every generation.”

The idea for the museum was born in 2024, a year heavy with meaning. India was marking 75 years since the adoption of its Constitution, while JGU celebrated its own 15th anniversary. “I was thinking that this year is very special for India,” Raj Kumar recalls. “And then it occurred to me; do we have a Constitution museum?”

The answer was surprising. “Quite remarkably, neither the Parliament nor the Supreme Court of India, nor any institution in India had a museum of the Constitution,” he says. That realisation set the project in motion. A visit to Philadel­phia’s National Constitution Center soon followed—and with it, the idea of build­ing one in India.

The museum took shape with five major motivations: to commemorate the 75th anniversary of India adopting a Con­stitution, to build civic consciousness, to democratise understanding, to pay tribute to the members of the Constituent Assembly, and to trace the nation’s consti­tutional journey. “The Constitution is not only for lawyers and judges,” Raj Kumar says. “It is meant for everybody.”

That spirit is visible in the Makers’ Gallery, a mezzanine lined with por­traits of all members of the Constituent Assembly—not just BR Ambedkar and Jawaharlal Nehru, but others whose names rarely make it to textbooks. The 15 founding mothers of the republic, too, find a special mention. “For the first time in post-independent India’s history, we have paid tribute to all the 300 members of the Constituent Assembly,” Raj Kumar says. “Their family members who come and visit the museum, are in tears when they see it.”

Further ahead, a gallery traces the journey from colonial rule to the making of the republic. One section explores vot­ing rights and franchise — representing the decision to give every adult Indian the right to vote, irrespective of caste, religion, gender or wealth. Raj Kumar says, “Switzerland did not give the right to vote for women until the 1950s, but our Constitution decided to give the right to vote for all adult individuals without any form of discrimination.”

In that single decision—to trust every citizen equally—lies the museum’s most powerful statement. It reminds visitors that the Constitution itself was an act of defiance against inequality, hierarchy and exclusion. The museum urges new generations to see dissent as participation, a principle increasingly tested in today’s world of polarised opinions.

The rest of the museum unfolds gradually—digital screens, archival material. A section called ‘This Happens Only in India’ uses animations to narrate landmark cases through stories. Some re­flect the evolving struggle over freedom, identity, and expression. By revisiting those moments, the museum reopens the conversations that shape India’s public life today—from free speech to the mean­ing of equality.

The museum’s most striking presence is a humanoid robot that walks visitors through exhibits. Raj Kumar points out how the “tour guide” robot is the museum’s connect with the future.

And then, in a quiet corner, stands BR Ambedkar — reimagined as a holo­gram. The moment you ask a question, he responds in his own words, derived from his writings and speeches. “Ambedkar’s answers are drawn exactly from his own content. We got a voiceover artist to record the answers in Ambedkar’s voice,” Raj Kumar says. “It makes the whole expe­rience very real.” That small act—of being able to question Ambedkar today— brings the past into conversation with the present.

For students, the museum is a resource bank. “Students are privileged to be able to walk into the museum right between classes if they want to,” Raj Kumar says. “Civics is no longer a compulsory subject. This is an opportunity to build that aware­ness and help them develop interest in the making of the nation.”

While Civics still exists in classrooms, it often takes a back seat. Here, the Con­stitution becomes tangible—something students can see, hear, and question, help­ing them connect with democracy be­yond lessons. The museum is open to all. “We don’t charge anything,” Raj Kumar says. “Anybody can access, you can sign in and come in.” Visitors include schoolchil­dren, professionals, and families, many encountering the Constitution beyond a classroom for the first time. By the end of the tour, the ideas of equality, freedom, and justice feel personal. The words of the Preamble start to appear familiar again. You walk out feeling that the Constitu­tion is something alive and still speaking to us. “The Constitution,” as Raj Kumar says, “is not a relic of our past. It’s a guide to our future.”