The Jammu and Kashmir, and Ladakh High Court, in a significant judgement on September 22, 2025, reminded the judiciary of some facts which have often been ignored in the glare of authority. Justice Sanjay Dhar’s observation that courts must remain large-hearted, not quick-tempered and disparaging remarks against litigants, lawyers, or public servants should be avoided unless absolutely necessary strikes at the heart of a disturbing trend of judicial overreach. Far too often, courtrooms across the country and in J&K as well have witnessed judges handing out harsh strictures and scathing observations against individuals who are sometimes not even given an opportunity to explain themselves. While these remarks do not become part of the operative order, they nevertheless carry immense weight and travel far beyond the four walls of the courtroom. Often we have seen that reputations are stained, careers are damaged, and a perception of guilt is fed where none may exist. A casual word from the Bench can echo longer than the judgment itself. The judiciary is a constitutional guardian, not a pulpit for personal irritation. When judges indulge in unnecessary rebuke, they convert justice into spectacle. Litigants who approach courts already carry the burden of hardship; lawyers who falter may be guilty of nothing more than human error; public servants, often navigating complex bureaucracies, may stumble without malicious intent. To treat every lapse as culpability is to weaponize authority instead of exercising it with wisdom. Judicial authority derives not from thunderous words but from measured restraint. A large-hearted court does not lose respect if it treats those it hears kindly; it gains it. Intemperate remarks may briefly display power, but they corrode the credibility of the institution itself. When courts forget that their observations can destroy livelihoods and public trust, they cross the thin line between adjudication and intimidation. Of course, genuine misconduct must never be brushed aside. Where records show complicity, dishonesty, or wilful defiance, courts must speak firmly and act decisively. But when errors are minor, when negligence is not malice, and when a fair opportunity to respond has not been granted, silence or at least restraint is the higher form of justice. Justice Dhar’s ruling is more than a gentle reminder. It should serve as a corrective rebuke to the judiciary itself. The larger message is that justice cannot afford to be petty. Courts must rise above trifles, resist the temptation to humiliate, and remember that their real strength lies in fairness, not fear.