Introduction
Think about having the final say over how your name, your face, or even the story of your life gets used—whether it pops up in a billboard ad, on someone’s Instagram feed, or as the headline in a news story. That’s what personality rights are all about: a legal safeguard for who we are. They give each of us the power to stop others from misusing our image and to decide when and how we want to share in the rewards that come with our own reputation.[1] But how societies balance this protection varies wildly across the globe. In the U.S., for instance, publicity rights stand firmly on their own, separate from privacy laws. Meanwhile, the U.K. doesn’t formally recognize such rights at all. India’s journey, however, tells a more layered story. Here, personality rights have grown alongside intellectual property laws, with courts ruling as early as 1995—in a pivotal case involving a prisoner’s autobiography—that individuals hold the reins over commercial exploitation of their identity.[2]
In the last few years, we have seen how celebrities in India have been invoking their personality rights to protect their commercial interests. Artists and celebrities such as Arijit Singh, Anil Kapoor and Jackie Shroff have all asserted their personality rights to protect their commercial interests. The latest celebrity to join this list now is Karan Johar. In March 2025, a single judge bench of the Bombay High Court stayed the release of the cinematographic film “Shaadi Ke Director Karan Aur Johar.” An appeal was filed against this order and on 7-5-2025, the division bench of the High Court upheld the single judge bench decision.[3]
Reasoning of the Court
The court’s decision leaned heavily on the landmark K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India case, which recognized a person’s right to prevent unauthorized commercial use of their name, likeness, or identity.[4] It pointed out that Karan Johar—thanks to his high profile in film and media—has built up immense goodwill and recognition here and abroad. By tacking “Karan” and “Johar” onto the movie’s title, the judges said, the filmmakers inevitably called his public image to mind. In their view, his name isn’t just a label anymore but a valuable brand in its own right, giving him the sole right to profit from its commercial use.[5]
Rejecting the appellant’s assertion that the film bore no connection to Karan Johar, the court highlighted that the titular use of “Karan” and “Johar”—paired with the characters’ portrayal as Bollywood directors—created an unambiguous association with him. The court felt that by pairing his name so prominently, the filmmakers were cashing in on his reputation to lure audiences— trampling his rights to control his image, privacy, and the value of his personal brand. The judges added that, because his identity is so unmistakably his own in the film industry, anyone who saw the title would automatically assume Karan Johar was somehow involved.
Addressing the appellant’s reliance on the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) clearance, the court clarified that CBFC’s mandate under the Cinematograph Act, 1952, and its 1978 guidelines, pertains primarily to content regulation—such as obscenity or public order—rather than adjudicating civil rights violations. The court made it plain that getting a CBFC certificate doesn’t give filmmakers a free pass to trample on someone’s personality or trademark rights.[6] Even with official approval, Karan Johar could still turn to the courts if his name or brand was misused.
In the end, the judges agreed with the Single Judge’s decision and refused to overturn the injunction, finding no sign that the lower court had acted unfairly or beyond its power. This verdict underlines how Indian law is increasingly protecting personality rights—treating them alongside privacy and intellectual property—and reminding creatives that commercial freedom still needs to respect an individual’s right to control their own identity.
The Road Ahead
India is still feeling its way when it comes to protecting personality rights—relying more on creative court decisions than on a clear, dedicated law. Today, control over our name, likeness, and unique characteristics is pieced together through a mix of court rulings, trademark and copyright rules, and broader rights like privacy under Article 21. In cases such as Titan Industries Ltd. v. Ramkumar Jewellers and Amitabh Bachchan v. Rajat Nagi, judges have affirmed that no one should be free to profit from someone else’s identity without permission.[7] But without a single, cohesive statute to guide them, courts have had to stitch together bits of intellectual property and constitutional law—resulting in a patchwork that still leaves plenty of questions unanswered. That approach has led to mixed results and lots of guesswork about exactly what’s protected.
Today’s advertising and technology—from virtual endorsements to AI‑generated likenesses—push these old rules past their breaking point. Things like your voice, unique gestures, or personal style can now be lifted and reused without your say‑so, and the law hasn’t kept pace. A few decisions, like ICC Development (International) Ltd. v. Arvee Enterprises, have nodded toward “publicity rights,” but they’re applied on a case‑by‑case basis, leaving plenty of loopholes.[8] With deepfakes and digital identity theft on the rise, it’s obvious we need a clear, standalone law that gathers all these scattered principles into one place—one that spells out exactly what counts as a violation, how long rights last, and what remedies are available, all while respecting both individual control and free expression.
We could take a page from the U.S. playbook, where “publicity rights” are spelled out clearly in state laws—think California’s Civil Code § 3344—and backed up by federal rules like the Lanham Act. There, your voice, your signature moves, and your likeness are treated as valuable personal assets you can protect, even after you’re gone. Court decisions—like the one in Haelan Laboratories v. Topps—have made it clear that these rights stand on their own, and they’ve shown how to adapt those protections to the digital world.[9]
Imagine tweaking the Trademarks Act so your voice, signature gestures, or even a personal style flourish count as “trademarks.” Slotting those quirks into Section 2(1)(m) would clear up a lot of confusion and bring us in line with what other countries already do. At the same time, we’d need to shore up enforcement—think deepfakes, AI endorsements and the like—so the law stays solid as technology races ahead.
Conclusion
It’s time for India to get bold and nail down personality rights in a single, clear statute. Doing that would protect everyone—from movie stars to your next-door neighbour—against misuse, tidy up our IP rules, and give businesses a clear playbook. Above all, it sends a simple message: personal identity still matters, even in a world full of screens and algorithms.
[1]Samarth Krishnan Luthra & Vasundhara Bakhru, Publicity Rights and the Right to Privacy in India, 31 Nat’l L. Sch. India Rev. 6 (2019), https://repository.nls.ac.in/nlsir/vol31/iss1/6.
[2] R. Rajagopal v. State of Tamil Nadu (1994) 6 SCC 632
[3] Sanjay v. Karan Johar, Commercial Appeal (L) No. 9786 of 2025.
[4] K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India (2017) 10 SCC 1
[5] Supra Note 3.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Titan Industries Ltd. vs. Ramkumar Jewelers 2012 (50) PTC 486 (Del).
[8] ICC Development (International) Ltd. v. Arvee Enterprises 2003 (26) PTC 245 (Del).
[9] Haelan Laboratories v. Topps 202 F.2d 866 (2d Cir. 1953)