The Justice League

It was the summer preceding my third year of law school. I was interning at a litigation firm that often had matters appear before the High Court of Karnataka.

At that time, the High Court canteen was in one of the verandahs facing the Vidhan Sabha. It had just drizzled and there was a pleasant breeze from the surrounding trees of Cubbon Park. The smell of petrichor intermingled with the smell of my frothy filter coffee. Life was good.

I sipped on my coffee pensively while watching lawyers billow about in their long black robes. If I hadn’t known that I was in the High Court corridors, I might have thought that I had apparated to the halls of Hogwarts.

If you examine closely, you will find that lawyer robes often have a small triangular piece of cloth at the back which seems to serve no purpose. However, turns out in olden days, lawyers who were allegedly more interested in the noble pursuit of justice would not deign to lower themselves to demanding money from their clients. Rather, they would turn their backs to reveal the “money bag” in which clients could slip in gold or silver coins as ex gratia payments.

While the concept of money bags may now have become redundant, I was rather surprised when I found out that senior counsels in Bombay still continue to raise their invoices in terms of gold coins called “mohurs”. However, once converted into rupees, even an hour’s worth of their time translates into a few lakhs.

While much is left to be said about the evolution of the legal profession and the fees charged by lawyers these days, I recall an incident during my internship where a frail old man who could hardly speak any English appeared before a High Court judge with reams of paper. He had been embroiled in some litigation concerning his ancestral land and it appeared that his lawyer had abandoned him mid-way during the proceedings.

Hands shaking, he handed over the papers to the High Court judge who was sitting on an elevated bench. The High Court judge cursorily looked at the documents and noted that the documents had been printed on white A4 pages and not green, as required under law. The judge chided the old man for not knowing any better and for having wasted the court’s time. In his attempt to clear the backlog of the court as quickly as possible, he quickly dismissed the old man’s matter and moved on the next item on the roster.

The old man was aghast. He had traveled from far away only to realize that it would be a few more months before his matter got listed once again on the account of some minor technicality. The old man gathered up his papers, some of which had fallen on the floor, and what was left of his dignity. He slowly shuffled out of the court looking incredibly dejected.

At that point in time, I noted that the senior who had accompanied me had quickly bolted up from his seat and rushed to speak to the old man who had by now made his way to the High Court corridor.

My senior then kindly and patiently explained to him that certain documents needed to be printed on green paper and gave him the number of a court clerk who could arrange for the same.

It was at that moment I realized that while not all heroes wear capes, some wear robes.

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