The Rise of the Corporate Victim: Asian Paints and the Expansion of Appellate Rights

[Kushagra is a student at National Law University Delhi.]

Can a corporation be a "victim" of criminal law—and more significantly, can it appeal on its own an acquittal? The Supreme Court of India's recent ruling in Asian Paints Limited v. Ram Babu and Another (Asian Paints) says so, and with a resounding yes, heralds a revolutionary shift in corporate-criminal jurisprudence.

In this historic judgment, the court held that juridical persons are "victims" under Section 2(wa) of the Code of Criminal Procedure 1973 (CrPC). The court has hugely increased the ambit of appellate remedies which can be accessed by companies in criminal cases. The judgement indicates that companies may appeal the acquittals in their own right under the proviso to Section 372 CrPC without regard to whether the state wants to take this further. This is a significant change to the law and gives companies more of a role to play in criminal proceedings when their interests are affected. Although the case arose from a dispute related to paint products that were trademarked, its implications are not just confined to intellectual property. The judgement addresses a long-standing gap in enforcement mechanisms, especially with respect to economic crime, while opening up the unique questions of private rights versus public prosecution in the criminal milieu.

Background of the Case

In 2016, officials hired by Asian Paints discovered counterfeit paint pails being sold in retail under its own brand name by a local business owner in Jaipur. A complaint was made and criminal charges were filed against the seller under Sections 420 and 120B of the Indian Penal Code 1860 (IPC) and Sections 63 and 65 of the Copyright Act 1952. The accused was convicted and sentenced to prison by the trial court. But in 2022, the first appellate court pronounced the conviction aside and acquitted the accused. Asian Paints, though not the original complainant but a clear stakeholder, had appealed against the acquittal to the Rajasthan High Court under the proviso to Section 372 CrPC as a "victim." The High Court dismissed the appeal on the grounds of lack of locus standi on the part of the company—neither the complainant nor a person held to be a "victim" under criminal procedure.

Asian Paints challenged this rejection in the Supreme Court of India. The question was simple but basic: can a company affected by a criminal activity be considered a "victim" and eligible to appeal under Section 372 CrPC?

The Supreme Court of India held that Section 2(wa) of the CrPC defines “victim” in “plain and simple language” as any person who has suffered loss or injury due to an offence—and that this definition is meant to be interpreted expansively, not narrowly. Referring to Asian Paints’ case, the court observed that it was “ultimately the appellant who has suffered” from the sale of counterfeit products under its name. The resulting financial loss and reputational injury clearly brought the company within the scope of “victim” under the CrPC. Accordingly, Asian Paints had the right to appeal the acquittal under the proviso to Section 372, despite not being the original complainant.

Corporate Empowerment and the Public–Private Balance

The Supreme Court of India’s recognition of corporate entities as “victims” under Section 2(wa) of the CrPC fundamentally reshapes the procedural landscape for Indian businesses. With a single ruling, the Court has handed corporations the right to appeal acquittals even when the State opts not to—provided they demonstrate financial or reputational injury. While this might seem like a natural extension of corporate legal personality, the implications are far more layered.

Most significantly, the judgment opens the door to over-criminalization. Indian litigation has long suffered from the misuse of criminal provisions to extract leverage in commercial disputes. By enabling corporations to directly appeal acquittals, the judgment inadvertently incentivizes the recasting of civil breaches as criminal offences—turning failed partnerships, delivery delays, and contractual breaches into opportunities for criminal entanglement. This could blur the boundary between civil and criminal law, and lead to the misuse of criminal process as a form of economic pressure.

The ruling also risks entrenching resource asymmetry. Corporate appellants—particularly large, well-lawyered ones—can now sustain prolonged appellate litigation, dragging individuals or MSMEs back into the dock even after they’ve been acquitted. For many accused, this second round of litigation can be more damaging than the first: legal costs increase, reputational harm persists, and the psychological toll intensifies. The term “victim” in the CrPC was never meant to become a blunt instrument of corporate retaliation.

A useful comparative lens is the UK’s private prosecution regime. In Allseas Group SA v. Paul Sultana, the Swiss company funded a private prosecution after being defrauded of nearly EUR 100 million. Despite the Crown Prosecution Service declining to act, Allseas independently gathered evidence, hired top-tier counsel, and secured an eight-year conviction. While the prosecution was successful, the case also highlighted concerns about access inequality—where wealth enables prosecution strategies unavailable to average litigants.

Asian Paints takes this a step further. Unlike the UK where private prosecution begins when the state abstains from trial, Indian corporations under this ruling can leap directly to appellate courts, even if the criminal trial has run its course. In doing so, the decision shifts criminal procedure from being a public justice mechanism to one increasingly navigated by private power. That said, the court’s expansive reading may also be a judicial response to a recurring failure of state machinery. In practice, public prosecutors and regulatory bodies in India have not been in favor of appealing economic crimes in interest of the companies. Understaffing, bureaucratic inertia, and the politicization of prosecutorial discretion mean that financial fraud, counterfeiting, and data breaches frequently go unprosecuted. From this perspective, Asian Paints could be understood as a form of judicial gap-filling—empowering victims (even juridical ones) where the state has historically been unwilling or ineffective. But even if that motive is defensible, the power now granted must still be channeled through safeguards to avoid abuse.

Unless Indian courts erect doctrinal guardrails, this newfound right may evolve into a strategic litigation tool for corporations—not a means of justice. Courts should consider safeguards such as:

• Requiring leave to appeal for corporate victims, akin to Section 378(3) CrPC;

• Demanding evidentiary proof of substantial harm (financial, reputational, or both); and

• And limiting applicability to specific offences like fraud, IP violations, or economic crimes—excluding regulatory infractions or defamation.

Legislative Silence, Judicial Creativity, and Its Limits

The judgment also deserves critique for the judicial overreach it exercises in interpreting Section 2(wa). When Parliament introduced the proviso to Section 372 through the 2009 CrPC amendment, the legislative record made one thing clear: the focus was on natural persons, especially survivors of sexual assault and violent crime. Lok Sabha debates from December 2008 highlighted the need to give “a voice to the voiceless” and to provide victims “a meaningful opportunity to seek redress.” The inclusion of terms like “guardian” and “legal heir” reinforces this intent.

Nowhere in the amendment debates was there mention of juridical persons—let alone corporate victims. By reading Section 2(wa) expansively to include companies, Asian Paints engages in what can only be called judicial lawmaking. While Indian constitutional jurisprudence has occasionally endorsed purposive interpretation, the court here not only fills a legislative gap—it redraws the contours of victimhood entirely. The judgment’s reliance on plain-language interpretation ("a person who has suffered any loss or injury") glosses over the deeper structural distinction between public and private harms in criminal law. The CrPC rests on the premise that criminal prosecution is a sovereign function, not a marketplace of competing interests. Allowing companies to unilaterally appeal acquittals without state endorsement fragments the prosecutorial mandate and risks turning trial outcomes into contingent episodes—always appealable by the better-funded party.

Conclusion: Expanding Justice or Empowering Litigation?

Asian Paints is a landmark judgment—but like many, it casts a long and complicated shadow. It opens a path for corporate redress in criminal law, potentially improving accountability in cases of fraud, counterfeiting, and economic offences. However, it also loosens the procedural architecture that protects criminal law from being weaponized. Without doctrinal safeguards, this ruling risks giving corporations not just the power to participate—but the power to control criminal litigation. It turns “victimhood” into a strategic category, usable by companies not just to seek redress but to relitigate, prolong, and pressure.

In a criminal justice system already strained by delays and power imbalances, the judiciary must remain vigilant. Asian Paints should not be the beginning of corporate criminal empire-building—it should be a prompt for cautious, principled, and restrained evolution.