But I am anything but indifferent to Raktha Charitra, and for some reason have found myself thinking about what this bloody biopic really means for the polity, more so since the events (save for a few exceptions) are broadly true.

Make no mistake; Raktha Charitra is not just a movie with a story that has a neat beginning and a neat end. One gets the sense that Paritala Ravi (or Pratap Ravi in the movie) was someone who went through a systematic process but understood the process better than others. I’ll sort of try and explain what I mean by this in this post.

WARNING:***Spoilers ahead***

From the start, RGV makes it very clear that violence is a way of life in “Anandpur” (thinly disguised Rayalseema). What I have found out from friends and read about Rayalseema does nothing to dispel this notion. This is not violence-as-a-way-of-life in the way of say, Somalia, or Kashmir in the 1990s. Violence here is both lawful and unlawful and, most importantly, normal. Normal, not in the sense of the usual, frequent or ordinary, but in the sense of being the norm. Violence is an expected and accepted response to wrongs and the response to violence can only be violence.

RGV does a great job of conveying this in Raktha Charitra. Two instances stand out. Somewhere, in the second half of the movie, we are told of the story of Babu Qadri whose sister is brutally kidnapped and raped by the main antagonist, Bukka Reddy, causing her to commit suicide. When Babu protests, he is taken to Bukka Reddy who casually tells him that he’ll rape anyone he likes, and goes on to systematically break Babu Qadri’s legs with the butt of a rifle. At the same time as he’s meting out his horrific “punishment” on Babu Quadri, Bukka’s aunt walks past the scene, batting not a single eyelid, casually asks Bukka if he wants to join her on a visit to the temple, and accepts his negative response with less than a shrug of the shoulders. Bukka’s behaviour is not even shocking to her.

At another time, Pratap Ravi is hatching the plot to kill Bukka Reddy with his associates over lunch, while being served by his mother and his wife. As far as his mother and wife are concerned, this is not different from any political, personal or business meeting that Pratap may conduct over lunch. There’s no moralistic objection to violence or revenge. As far as they are concerned, Bukka Reddy’s violence is to be met only with violence, and that is perfectly acceptable.

The violence-as-the-norm view, I suppose, is not a unique point of view that RGV is peddling, or even the context in which he is putting it in (the Telugu film industry thrives and survives on such faction violence), but Raktha Charitra asks a deeper question, namely, is violence all there is, but is there something more? This is especially so, if we compare the characters of Bukka Reddy and Pratap Ravi.

From the start, there seems to be little difference between the two, as far as methods go, and arguably, their ultimate aims go. Both use violence publicly and freely to meet their goals, i.e., the destruction of the other and the gaining of power. The difference however, is seen in their response to Shivaji Rao (Shatrughan Sinha brilliantly channelling NT Rama Rao’s charisma and eccentricity) during the elections. As far as Bukka is concerned, violence is the only way to establish supremacy and seeing a new threat, he attacks him as well, believing that this will dissuade Shivaji Rao from campaigning and challenging Bukka’s hold on the district. Pratap however, sees an opportunity for an ally. More importantly, Pratap recognizes that violence alone will not give him victory over Bukka (nor Bukka over Pratap) and to break the deadlock, he needs to compromise and enter politics on Shivaji Rao’s side.

As far as Bukka is concerned, violence is politics by other means, but Pratap recognizes the difference. As far as Bukka is concerned, fear is the only thing that drives people, but Pratap knows that fear can be trumped by something else; respect. This is also evident in their leadership styles. Bukka’s men obey him because they fear him; Pratap’s because they respect him. Without the ability to terrorize a population, Bukka suddenly seems vulnerable and defenceless, his brutal assassination only a formality for Pratap (or justice, in the case of Babu Qadri). Pratap, on the other hand, enjoys the respect of not only his peers, but his “constituency” as such, something he is schooled in by Shivaji Rao. This allows him to dictate terms to the biggest gang-lords of the city without the fear of repercussion.

Earning the respect of people involves quid pro quo, something that is not possible with fear alone. Pratap solves disputes, gets things done and generally does for his constituents what they want him to do for them. I won’t go so far as to suggest a Nitish Kumar – Lalu comparison, but at some level, Pratap and Nitish Kumar would understand each other. In effect, Pratap is trying to break out of the cycle of violence which perpetuates itself with more killings, revenge killings and revenge killings for revenge killings, and sees entry into politics as a way of doing this. Raktha Charitra Part 1 is essentially the rise of Paritala Ravi as he not only avenges his father’s and brother’s deaths, but also tries to rise above the cycle of violence.

Of course, earning respect later in life does not absolve one of responsibility for the sins committed early on, and Part 2 of Raktha Charitra (releasing this Friday, the 3rd of December) will probably track the fall of Pratap Ravi for this reason alone.

***Spoilers end***

So, what does this mean for our polity? I don’t claim to make a broad ranging argument but just a couple of thoughts I’d like to throw up for discussion:

1.Violence is nothing but a means to an end. Sometimes it is an apt tool, and sometimes it is not. It is as much true of counter-insurgency efforts in Chattisgarh as it is when dealing with Pakistan or Arundhati Roy. Perhaps, in some situations, to paraphrase Isaac Asimov’s saying, violence is the last resort of the fool, but it takes a wise man to figure that out. In this regard, Gandhi’s means-and-ends argument is as much about practicality as it is about morality.

2.It is reductionist to see politics and violence as being two sides of the same coin, i.e., violence is politics by other means. The interaction and interplay of the two is complex and often confusing, but that, by no means renders the two the one and the same. The two can co-exist and thrive in separate fields. For instance, what methods the Myanmarese junta use to control their population would be nothing but violence, but the methods they use to stay in power vis-a-vis each other is not the same. Perhaps the recent sham elections may indeed be an effort to overcome some limitations of the first, and allow the better use of the latter.

I know I’m only using the terms “violence” and “politics” loosely, so students of political science and … violence are requested to look beyond definitional difficulties while commenting.

Or you could just tell us you hated/loved the movie and why.

Taliban, Terror and Tyranny

Obama’s visit and its place in history will be crucially contingent on working with India to secure a peaceful future for South Asia. This would not only mean tackling terror groups sponsored by and based in Pakistan but equally ensuring that the war in Afghanistan comes to a close only at a time when the country is stable and free from continued threats of a Taliban takeover. India has a crucial strategic role to play in both situations. Insofar as Pakistan is concerned, in India, there is considerable apprehension, all of it not entirely without substance, that funds supplied to Pakistan over the years, especially the seemingly inexplicable $2.3 billion package announced recently, will be diverted to sponsoring anti-India activities. Given the Pakistan Army’s anti-India orientation, General Kayani’s stated position of having been trained in a regimen which primarily focused on the potential threats from its larger Eastern neighbour and the close links that continue to subsist between the army and the ISI, India’s concern is understandable. Mr. Obama would be wise to allay these concerns swiftly, ensure that all aid and military support to Pakistan is subject to stringent checks, periodic Congressional reviews and the continuing option of ceasing the outflow should a mismatch be found between its actual use and intended purpose, things that he intuitively seems to believe in. In doing so, not only would he significantly boost his indifferent stock with Delhi, it would perhaps also be a rare chance for him to work together with Republicans, largely India-friendly, in the new-look Congress, and score some domestic brownie points as well.

In Afghanistan, events in the last year have left India sidelined from the international opinion on the issue. With SM Krishna marginalised in a conference in London for suggesting that distinctions within the Taliban were merely superficial and not having been invited to a High Table to discuss Afghanistan in Turkey, India feels a sense of exclusion from international efforts to bring the Afghan crisis to an end, in an area which it feels is within the sphere of its geographical influence. Mr. Obama must realise that having India on-board any solution to the Afghan impasse is a necessity in the long-run. Strategic co-operation following the near-inevitable withdrawal of troops will be crucial if Afghanistan is to remain a stable democracy and not return to lawlessness. India has as much interest as America to stop South Asia being the hotbed of international terror. It is common sense for the two nations to show vision and join hands in this endeavour as early as possible without bickering excessively about marginal differences which will be reduced to irrelevance anyway in the long run.

Countering China

Vision will also be essential for both Mr. Obama and Dr. Manmohan Singh if they are to transform a fledgling strategic relationship into a deeper long-term understanding. The inevitability of China’s climb to the top of the world economic ladder is widely understood. At the same time, its growing political might, signalled by its large-scale investments in the African continent, developing a port in Hambantota in Sri Lanka, assisting Pakistan in building a port in Gwadar which will give it strategic influence in waters in the Middle East, its continued support to South-East Asian governments, most notably the military junta in Burma and most recently its foray into Europe to offer Greece a bailout, must be seen as a sign of things to come. Of course India and China, and the USA and China, independently must maintain friendly bilateral relations. But realpolitik demands that the USA and India, soon-to-be, the second and third largest economies in the world forge a key strategic partnership, increasing their economic and political ties significantly in order to counter the political and economic threat which China poses, a threat which will multiply in the next few decades.

A key area for co-operation which can thus be cemented during Mr. Obama’s visit is in energy. If India is to match China’s growth, it requires energy far in excess of what it possesses. Having signed the CSC at US’ insistence and eligible to take part in nuclear commerce only owing to the George W. Bush’s unstinted efforts, the US would be foolish to allow France and Russia supply most of India’s energy needs. Granted, US suppliers, without a sovereign guarantee have reservations about India’s nuclear liability law. It will be up to Mr. Obama to supply the necessary palliatives, curb the rancour which has thus far surrounded talks between NPCIL and US suppliers, and take the Indo-US nuclear deal to its logical and mutually beneficial conclusion.

Less headline-grabbing but equally crucial can be the announcement of new Indo-US strategic partnerships in development of sub-Saharan Africa. Chinese overtures in this region are well-known and it would not be an exaggeration to say that Africa might well become the new site for a Cold War-like battle for supremacy between China on the one hand and its competitors on the other. India, albeit a smaller player, enjoys a warm rapport with most African nations, a rapport which America can capitalise on and jointly assist in development projects in these nations. The strength of two is always better than one. Especially when that one in question is an aggrandizing China.

Admittedly the gains from Mr. Obama’s trip will be far less newsworthy and eyeball-popping as the startling results of Mr. Bush’s trip four years ago. But Barack Obama is not George W. Bush and should not attempt to be as well when it comes to dealing with India. For he has an opportunity to demonstrate, together with Dr. Singh, his vision for a peaceful South Asia, led by a powerful yet humane India working harmoniously with the United States to balance an increasingly dominant China, which far outstrips significant yet smaller gains such as the nuclear deal.  Articulating such lofty visions in practice will be undoubtedly difficult. But as Mahatma Gandhi showed the world- it can be done. It’s now Obama’s time.

Since his resurrection in Lage Raho Munnabhai, Mahatma Gandhi seems once again to have receded from public consciousness in India. In fact, the last I saw of him was on Andrew Marr’s brilliant series on BBC – The Making of Modern Britain. The episode showed footage of Gandhi on his visit to Britain. Gandhi, self assured and smiling, met the public – kissing babies, chatting with little old ladies and charming all who met him. This was also the visit that led to the famous Gandhian quip on his meeting with King George V.  Gandhi, when asked why he had refused to change out of his loincloth for the visit to Buckingham Palace, replied: “The King had enough on for both of us!”

A prominent feature of Gandhi’s brilliance was his ability to tap into the immense appeal of the underdog.  Between David and Goliath, Pandavas and Kauravas, Hobbits and Orcs, tortoise and hare, Amir Khan’s eleven and Captain Russell’s team, we all know which side the overwhelming majority would be rooting for. With his single witticism, Gandhi brought home to the British public the vast and unjust disparity between the rulers and the ruled.

I think the Indian state does Gandhi’s legacy great disservice by putting him on a pedestal, to be worshipped but never honestly studied or analyzed.   Indeed, there is a lot that the government in this land of a million mutinies can learn from Gandhi’s statecraft. Admittedly, Gandhi’s methods lend themselves more easily to struggles against the state than to the establishment, but even so, the state could take away many lessons from him on what makes a resistance movement tick.

Separatist movements or indeed any other resistance movements seldom succeed without public support. Take the recent momentum gained by the Kashmiri struggle for independence (or secession if you prefer). Till the time that the face of the struggle was a militant, armed to the teeth through funding received from generous foreign benefactors, the international community showed little sympathy for the cause. But the tragic appeal of schoolboys armed with stones, pitted against the might of the Indian armed forces has been much more difficult to resist.

The experience with the Naxal movement in Bihar and Chhattisgarh has been similar, although the events have taken place in the reverse. When the Maoists were depicted as bow-and-arrow wielding tribal youths set against the nexus between greedy companies and state governments, the voices opposed to Operation Greenhunt were loud and confident. However, ever since the military and strategic power of the Naxals has come to light, the poor, ill-equipped CRPF foot soldier, marching bravely to his death has been the potentially game changing poster boy for the public.

If the Indian state is to prevail over these mutinies, policies need to be designed to make the fight seem more even. Thus for instance, the AFSPA in Kashmir must be withdrawn or diluted, not only because of its vast potential for misuse, but also because it provides ammunition to the struggle in the form of broad based sympathy. If the leaders of the movement find that they are losing public support, willingness to engage with the state will follow. Gandhi’s successful mobilization of support from the Indian masses and the international public alike showed clearly that while it is important to do what is right, it is far more important to be seen to do what is right.  Satya and Ahimsa were preached not only for their own sake, but also for the huge traction that the idea carried across national boundaries.

Therefore, if there is one lesson that the Mahatma can teach the nation that he fathered, it is of the irresistible appeal of the idea that the meek shall inherit the earth.

***********

A completely unrelated Gandhi story – the most memorable part of my visit to the Sabarmati Ashram a few years ago was a letter from Mahatma Gandhi to Adolf Hitler. The letter began – “My dear idiot, …”

On the face of it, drawing a link between M.K. Gandhi and sport seems incongruous – so much so that the only picture that I could find linking Gandhi to sport was that of a look-alike participating in the Mumbai Marathon. There is little evidence of Gandhi having played any sport. In his autobiography there isn’t a word of mention of sport or its social relevance. Ramachandra Guha, in his book, ‘A corner of a foreign field,’ however, cites a 1958 article in which one of Gandhi’s school-mates from Rajkot is quoted as referring to Gandhi as ‘a dashing cricketer, who evinced a keen interest in the game as a school student’ and one who ‘was equally good at batting and bowling’. Yet, Gandhi’s interests, if any existed, had perished, certainly, by the time he returned to India from South Africa.

Guha in an article in the Hindu to mark Gandhi’s 132^nd birth anniversary notes that, perhaps, the only seemingly direct role played by Gandhi in relation to cricket in India concerned the Bombay Quadrangular – an annual tournament comprising four teams – the Hindus, the Muslims, the Parsees and the Europeans. In the months leading up to the 1920 Quadrangular, Gandhi’s campaign against untouchability provided steam to the cause of three Dalit brothers – Baloo, Vithal and Shivram Palwankar. After Baloo, a hugely talented left-arm spinner was dropped from the Hindu Eleven named for their game against the Muslim Eleven, his brothers withdrew in protest. In spite of Gandhi’s movement to have the brothers reinstated in the team, the game against the Muslims was played without the Palwankars, who were however, restored in the team that played the Parsees in the next match.

The competition, halted during the Civil Disobedience Movement, resumed in 1934, and was soon converted into a pentangular, with the inclusion of the ‘Rest’ team that contained Jains and Buddhists amongst players of other religions. However, by then the tournament took place only in fits and starts, coming under the constant cosh of nationalists, who argued that if Muslims had the right to field a separate team, it would only validate their demands for a separate nation.

Gandhi is quoted as saying: “my sympathies (were) wholly with those who would like to see these matches stopped. The sporting public of Bombay should revise their sporting code and must erase from it communal matches. I can understand matches between Colleges and Institutions, but I have never understood the reason for having Hindu, Parsi, Muslim and other communal Elevens. I should have thought that such unsportsmanlike divisions would be considered taboo in sporting language and sporting manners.”

Viewed in this context, I can only imagine that Gandhi would have been pleased with the composition of the Indian cricket team, post-independence. Cricket has since the days of the Bombay Pentangular, mostly been spared the ills of communalism. India has had three Muslim captains – Ghulam Ahmed, M.A.K. Pataudi and Mohammad Azharuddin – apart from being captained, by Parsees (Polly Umrigar and Nari Contractor), Christians (Vijay Hazare and Chandu Borde) and a Sikh (Bishen Singh Bedi). Rising communalism since the 1980s has also had little, if any, impact on the sport. The team has continued to field an amalgam of Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs, and has been as secular a grouping as one can hope to see. This obvious lack of communalism in Indian cricket only makes one wonder why Gandhi failed to see sport as a means of engineering social change.

Sport has often been used as a tool of social revolution by leaders as far-ranging as Adolf Hitler and Nelson Mandela. While Hitler sought to promote his belief of racial superiority by allowing only Aryans to be fielded in German teams competing at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, Mandela sought to bring about racial-unity by supporting the Springboks – the South African rugby team that largely comprised Whites – in the 1995 Rugby World Cup, held in his country.

A blog on livemint.com however, notes Gandhi to have been a ‘huge football aficionado,’ and to have used ‘the game to promote his political philosophy of non-violent resistance and to socially uplift and integrate the Indian community in the Rainbow Republic.” He is reported to have started two football clubs, one each in Johannesburg and Pretoria, with both being named as the ‘Passive Resisters.’ The clubs’ activities, though, declined with the return of Gandhi to India and they were wound-up by 1936.  Gandhi could have therefore, been one of the first leaders to have sought to use sport to craft a change in society. He may not have seen sport as a definite means of bringing forth a transformation in Indian society, but his thinking and philosophy is as relevant to sport as it is to any other sphere of activity, especially in a day and age where sport and sleaze seem closer than ever before.

I recently learned that when the Universal Declaration of Human Rights [UDHR] was being drafted in the 1940s, UNESCO commissioned a project which asked the world’s best-known philosophers the following question: How is an agreement conceivable among men who come from the four corners of the earth and who belong not only to different cultures and civilisations, but to different spiritual families and antagonistic schools of thought? While the existence of the UDHR might make us believe that these philosophers managed to find some common ground, the sad truth is that the report submitted was ultimately shelved because (surprise!) no agreement could be reached on what ‘common convictions’ and ‘universal values’ the world shared. Gandhi was one of the philosophers consulted by this project.

Even in the 1940s, when the world was obsessed with the emerging ‘rights-discourse’, Gandhi’s contribution is unique because of its emphasis on duties. Gandhi disagreed with the rhetoric of rights – at a national and international level – and much preferred a discourse couched in the language of duties. What is most fascinating is that he went beyond the obvious correlation between human rights and state duties, and emphasised the duties of individuals. In other contexts Gandhi argued that the “Rights of Man” be replaced with a “Charter of Duties” and said that “a duty well performed creates a corresponding right”. Of course, the UDHR is testament to the fact that his suggestions were not popular at that time.

The idea of duties in the international human rights discourse has gained great currency in recent times. Most obvious is the emergence of the norm of the responsibility to protect, which suggests that states may act to prevent gross violations of human rights within the boundaries of other states. Interestingly, even Gandhi’s emphasis on the duties of non-state actors in the context of human rights protection is becoming more relevant. International law is progressively realising the inefficacy of promoting global human rights without regulating the conduct of crucial non-state actors. We hear noises about corporate accountability for rights violations, individual criminal liability for rights violations, the responsibility of armed groups and ‘belligerents’ in times of war, duties of peacekeepers and human rights defenders. Recently adopted regional instruments – such as the African Charter for Human Rights – provide for clearly delineated individual duties. The InterAction Council recently went so far as to suggest a draft ‘Universal Declaration of Human Responsibilities’.

Yes, some of these developments are problematic. Some aim to subvert the central principle of state sovereignty while others raise concerns about a new-age imperialism in international law. It is also possible that the impact of these developments today will be far removed from what Gandhi envisaged in the 1940s. Nevertheless, the interest in this field demonstrates that while Gandhi’s emphasis on the duties of the individual may have been ignored in the 1940s, there is no doubt that it is a ‘hot’ topic in international human rights today. As is true in many spheres of human activity, it is evident that Gandhi understood the stakes and debates in the project of universalising human rights better than most.

Celebrating Gandhi jayanti, October 2, 2010

On the eve of the 141st birth anniversary of MK Gandhi, I’ve been thinking a lot about the legacy of his economic ideology. Gandhian economics did not outlast Independence by too many days. During the freedom struggle, plenty of lip service had been paid to his ideals of sarvodaya, swaraj and swadeshi. Soon after swaraj had been acquired, however, it was decided that the path to sarvodaya would pass through a brand of swadeshi that Gandhi would have difficulty recognizing.

Nehru inherited from Gandhi the fierce desire to be self-reliant. Nehru’s India would not be content with political independence but would also demand economic independence and self-sufficiency. But somewhere, dazzled by the bright lights of hydroelectric dams, world-class engineering colleges and space projects, Nehruvian swadeshi lost touch with the Gandhian notion of individual self-sufficiency, based on the village republic.

A lot of ink has been spilled on how Nehru failed urban India. His import quotas and controls denied wealthy Indians the best of Western consumption, the license-raj choked the rise of the Indian entrepreneur, and the prohibition of foreign capital constrained rapid technological advances. I find this characterization of Nehru symptomatic of the urban obsession of policy-makers, academics, the media and people like you and me. Maybe a more open and capital-friendly approach would have positioned India better today and maybe it wouldn’t, but Nehru’s greatest failure was the abject neglect of the countryside. In doing so, he set the urban standards by which Indian development would be judged for the next 60 years, and, indeed, continues to be judged today.

Gandhi would probably be horrified at contemporary India. The central government is struggling to engage with demands for swaraj (or azaadi if you will) from different parts of the country. Swadeshi is a thing of the past: the Gandhian notion died with Gandhi while the closed and regulated Nehruvian economy was firmly booted out by another Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh, twenty years ago. As for sarvodaya, well, somewhere between farmer suicides and forced evictions on the eve of the Commonwealth Games, we’ve lost sight of that that particular ideal.

But the Gandhian ideology is, at least in spirit, as important today as it was all those decades ago and for the first time in several years, policymakers are sitting up to listen. The next ten years must be the decade of the rural economy. Not in the narrow sense of the Green Revolution but through a vision that reaches out to all of the rural poor. This vision must encompass the improvement of agricultural productivity, providing social security nets to the rural poor, making food a universal right, and integrating the countryside with the Great Indian GDP Growth Engine. The hundreds of billions of dollars that are projected to pour into infrastructure cannot only create glitzy new airport terminals or autobahn-like sea-link roads. Rural development demands investment in irrigation and storage facilities to reduce the continuing reliance on rainfall, on transport and communications, and on the expansion of financial services in the vast disconnected reaches. Rural empowerment, on the other hand, implies a stronger committment to strengthening the institution of the panchayati raj.

Gandhi would probably consider this belated interest in rural development a betrayal of his core ideas anyway. The economic system of khaddar and charkha could well be stuck on another planet as far as the global economy is concerned. Nonetheless, reversing the neglect of rural India is a significant first step towards ensuring that even if swadeshi remains a relic of the past, the legacy of sarvodaya endures.

On such days, the pace of life in the Supreme Court is slower. You can take your time to smell the fresh cut grass in the mornings, exchange gossip leisurely over machine coffee with other Advocates in the SCBA cafeteria, or just wander the corridors trying to see if there’s anything entertaining going on (almost always found in one particular courtroom).

On one such day, I spotted her; the activist, the campaigner and the tireless crusader. You know who I am talking about. Well into her fifties, but looking simultaneously, older and younger than that. White crumpled khadi sari with only the barest hint of colour and embroidery. White hair streaked only occasionally with grey and black. Thick glasses. One look and you know which case she is there for. I only needed to look up the causelist to see which court that’s all. I guess you could say she’s a “celebrity” but I don’t think she’d like that. Long after the celebrities abandoned her war as a lost cause, she continues to battle on with a few, dwindling band of trusted allies. She’s back to the same battlefield that you think probably crushed her hopes for the system a decade and more ago. Somewhere in my memory, there’s that image of her openly weeping after the judgment was handed out throwing her (and her cause) out of the courts.

Yet, she’s back here. There’re no mobs of reporters surrounding her for a sound-bite. Her case is no longer cause célèbre and the hearing will probably get a couple of column centimetres in the usual Supreme Court beat of most dailies.

Against her, I reliably learn, are ranged Senior Advocates Smartypants and Shouter. Senior Counsel Smartypants is the darling of the media and a good chunk of the newest members of the Bar. If he’s not on TV expounding on the burning issue of the day, he’s burning up the Supreme Court with the sheer brilliance of his oratory and legal mind. His rates also burn a big hole in the pocket of many a litigant, and he’s usually briefed and backed up up by a law firm or two, apart from his own small army of juniors.

Senior Advocate Shouter is well known for the sheer (auditory) force of his arguments. It is reputed that he doesn’t believe in shuttling between the Supreme Court and the High Court for cases since he can very well make himself heard in one from the other. He is less of a lawyer, and more performance artiste, as most judges are just too dazed by the assault on their senses to do anything but what he wants them to do for his client. Naturally, his rates compare favourably with those of Smartypants.

So there’s this tiny woman, a non-lawyer arguing her own case (party-in-person), for what’s a no-longer-fashionable cause (rehabilitation of tribal families displaced by development) against what, honestly, are insurmountable odds. In her corner, she has the “typical jholawala”, jhola, kurta, beard, thick glasses, burden-of-universe-on-shoulders-demeanour; the “LSR girl” (not my nomenclature since apparently everyone in Delhi knows what this means, i.e., fab india kurta, jeans, big bindi, earnest expression, shrill voice and of course, burden-of-universe-on-shoulders-demeanour); and the Public Interest Lawyer. The last, alas, is a dying species in this day of the Private Interest, the Political Interest, and the Publicity Interest Lawyer, all of whom now claim a greater share of the PIL pie than the Public Interest Lawyer.

Her case hasn’t come up yet, and lacking a proper Supreme Court Chamber, she just sits down with her briefs, bag and books in a corner of the courtyard in front of the Chief Justice’s Court, near the steps. Like any good lawyer, she goes through her briefs, makes sure she has her material, her books and everything she needs to make a proper legal case on behalf of her… cause? Clients? Neither word fits here, so I guess you will have to put in what you think fits best.

To an observer it’s odd and incongruous. Not just the fact that this woman sits here before the Court preparing for her brief in the midst of lawyers taking no note of her as they walk to and fro about their business. It’s odd and incongruous that she retains an iota of faith in the System. Especially when others who claimed allegiance to the same cause made such public shows of their disenchantment with the Courts, judiciary and lawyers, and have now latched themselves on to new causes and new Gandhis.

Her case has finally come up, and she hurries into the Chief’s Court where the matter is being heard. Senior Advocates Smartypants and Shouter are already there. She begins. It is a prayer for interim relief from the Court in the pending litigation. The Smartypants and Shouter, I am informed, have been hired by the State Governments opposing her pleas. I try to follow the case, but get called away as the matter I was working on is going to be taken up in another Court soon.

As soon as that is done, I rush back to the Chief’s Court, but it’s all over.

She’s won.

I ask around for details, and someone confirms it. Adverse interim orders passed against the States in the PIL being monitored by the Supreme Court.

As the next case is being called out, she leaves the Courtroom quickly with her allies. Standing close to the Courtroom’s doors, I get to see her close up. I’m not the best judge of these things, but I don’t detect triumph in her eyes, or anything approaching jubilation. Relief? Probably. Contentment? Unlikely. Just the beginnings of a small smile. This is not the end of her fight. It probably doesn’t have an “end” in the strict sense of the term. Maybe it’s the look of someone who’s been given one small reason to continue believing in, and have faith in “The System”.

I don’t know really.

I guess I’ve got at least one less reason to lose faith.

(..continues)

“Why?”

Think on your feet; let your Moot Court instincts take over.

“mmfghfulcourtmmfgfhghgm”

“Speak louder please, Mr. Counsel, why should we give a pass-over?”

No, no, no, no, this was not supposed to be happening.

Somehow, the words “court” “arriving” “other” “occupied” “Your Lordship, please please please” escape from your general direction and with a stare to whither forests, the file is tossed in the pass-over pile.

“Much obliged your Lordship”

Now you become articulate and coherent. Great.

Soon most of the matters are done. You realize the rest are spread out. You can take a breather. A seat opens up in the courtroom you are in. You practically leap for it, doing your best Matrix impressions… and a Senior counsel has beaten you to it. Not beaten you so much as casually asserted his divine right to it. You sigh and lean against a pile of reports muttering “Article 14″ under your breath.

Only you are so knackered of course. Your boss has managed to make his way to every single one of the matters in time (or at least in time for the pass-over) and he hasn’t even broken a sweat. You, on the other hand, have already lost your body mass in sweat, no longer have any sensation in half your extremities and hear your lungs protesting at the over work and threatening a strike or two. He’s probably used to it, you console yourself, but somehow, he seems to get everything done with the minimum effort. He beckons to you now, he’s looking at your note, and asks you the most harmless question with the most devastating results: “Did you pick up the SCCs for this from the office?”. Panic.

Next thing you know you are parkouring yourself through the corridors to the Supreme Court advocates library. Miraculously, you find the books in no time, check them out and run back. Somewhere at the back of your head is the repeated warning of your parents, teachers, friends and well wishers telling you not to run through crowded corridors. You tell the voices to shut up, take a glance at the display board, realize you’ve got to do your best Usain Bolt impression and take off.

The next thing you know, you are on your back on the floor. A crowd’s stopped to stare. The books are lying a few feet away. All indications are of a spectacular fall that probably involved a somersault or two. It would have been a great sight if it didn’t unfortunately star you. Someone unhooks your robe from the rogue nail it was caught in, someone hands you the books, someone else lifts you up, you generally mumble a “thanks I am ok” and head off to … where was it you were going again?

By the time you figure out and get it to the court, the matter’s up and your boss is coming out of the court, the briefing counsel thanking him. You think it probably went well. You avoid your boss’ eye for a bit and slink off to the next courtroom.

Eventually it is the last matter of the day. In the court of Judge A_____. Judge A________, who takes his own sweet time in disposing a case whose judicial philosophy seems to be “everyone who’s taken the trouble to come to the Highest Court of the land is going to get a full hearing from me”. Hard to argue with that. He’s patient, he’s careful and he’s fair. Screw that. You want to have lunch, go home and take a hot shower to be rid of the miscellaneous day feeling. No, not a hot shower so much as a proper scouring that will remove the patina of dirt, sweat, grime, other people’s germs and God only knows what else.

The A/C and a slightly less overcrowded courtroom are taking effect on you. Your boss doesn’t need your help on this one. The other side had to file an affidavit (something no one bothered to tell you until you spent three hours painstakingly working on it). They’ll ask for an adjournment. You even find a place to sit… at last. And promptly fall asleep.

Of course you’re supposed to respect the Court and the Bench and not fall asleep right there in the middle of court hearings. But hey, you read somewhere that even Gandhi used to fall asleep in court on many an occasion, so it’s probably ok. Right? You drift deeper into sleep. Possibly the most boring counsel in the country is droning about a case concerning the most boring subject in law: property. Eventually you’re dreaming or you’re just in that crazy place where you’re not entirely asleep or entirely awake and your dreams are half melded with reality but it’s not totally weird because there’s… snoring.

Snoring?? You wake up with a jolt and realize that the lawyer next is also asleep and snoring. Loudly. Soon heads are turning. You’re wide awake now. He’s still asleep blissfully and snoring. You poke him in the ribs. Public service you tell yourself. He’s awake with a startled look, and sees the whole court staring at him; he gives a sheepish smile and shuffles off, possibly somewhere quieter to have an afternoon siesta. You on the other hand have to wait this case out. You drift off a couple of times, and the next time you’re awake, it is your case being called out, but before you can haul yourself up from the oh-so-comfortable seat, the other side’s asked for time and the matter’s done. That was quick.

The day’s finally done. It’s still only about 3 p.m. though, and there’s nothing to do till 5 p.m. when your boss expects you to be in office for the next day’s work. You pick your bag up from the chambers and totter off towards the gate. As you roar homewards down Delhi’s unruly roads, you reflect quietly on the day’s work, and realize that there was literally nothing you contributed in any useful manner. Already your mind is exploring ways to solve the problems of miscellaneous days. More specifically, solve your miscellaneous day problems. All solutions you think of are wildly impractical and utterly stupid. You give up and resign yourself to more days like these. As bad as miscellaneous day sounds though, there is, in fact, something worse in the life of a junior in the Supreme Court.

Miscellaneous Week.

The horror! The horror!!*

*Apologies to Colonel/Mr. Kurtz