The Supreme Court bench comprising of Justice Chelameshwar and Justice Sapre delivered a judgment, which will have a widespread impact on governance of higher education in India – Dr. Janet Jayapaul v. SRM University, in continuation of their “penchant” for education, recently reflected in Haryana Panchayati Rajdecision, delivered by this very bench.

By holding that a deemed university is ‘state’ under Article 12 of the Constitution of India, courts have opened the doors for application of even ‘vertical’ fundamental rights to these institutions. For an outsider to the practice of law, it may sound like an issue of mere technicality and semantics wrapped up in legal jargon. However, this case has a great potential in playing a very important role in infusing constitutional values in administration of these educational institutions. The issues such as gender discrimination, curbing of freedom of speech, right to privacy, etc. within the college environment are no more merely questions of propriety and culture, but also amenable to a claim in a court of law. Therefore, the outcome of this semantic exercise is very real, not just for the purposes of immediate case that the court was involved with, but for long-term educational reform in India.Facts of the Case

The appellant in this case was a professor teaching in the SRM University. He challenged the illegality of a notice served to him relieving him from his services. Madras High Court dismissed a writ petition filed against SRM University holding that a writ petition under Article 226 cannot be filed against a deemed university as it is not ‘state’. From this decision of Madras High Court, an appeal was filed in the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court held that a writ petition may be filed against SRM University and set aside the High Court’s judgment as SRM University is a “deemed university” declared by the Central Government under the UGC Act, 1956.

The decision: Deemed University is an authority under Art.226, and ‘state’ under Art.12

This writ petition was challenged on the grounds that the University is “neither a State nor an authority within the meaning of Article 12 of the Constitution of India and hence it cannot be subjected to writ jurisdiction of the High Court under Article 226”. It seems that the decision of the high court is anyway misplaced and does not follow the existing authorities on this issue of law.

This was also reflected in the expert opinion submitted by Harish Salve, where is stated,

“While deciding such issue is always to test as to whether the concerned body is formed for discharging any ‘Public function’ or ‘Public duty’ and if so, whether it is actually engaged in any public function or/and performing any such duty.” He further clarified that a body need be a state or its instrumentality for being subjected to writ jurisdiction under Article 226: “the expression ‘any person or authority’ used in Article 226 are not confined only to statutory authorities and instrumentalities of the State but may in appropriate case include any other person or body performing ‘public function/duty’.”

This submission of Salve also confirms with the earlier decisions of the Supreme Court. In the case of Andi Mukta Sadguru. v. V.R. Rudani, which is also extensively cited by the court in this case, the court had held,

“The term “authority” used in Article 226, in the context, must receive a liberal meaning unlike the term in Article 12. Article 12 is relevant only for the purpose of enforcement of fundamental rights under Article 32. Article 226 confers power on the High Courts to issue writs for enforcement of the fundamental rights as well as non- fundamental rights. The words “any person or authority” used in Article 226 are, therefore, not to be confined only to statutory authorities and instrumentalities of the State”. (emphasis added)

The crux of the judgment lies in Paragraph 22. The court holds that Deemed University is “state” within the meaning of Article 12, though the issue in front of the court did not require it to decide if the university is a “state” under Article12. The court had already concluded that ‘providing education’ is a ‘public function’ and, that SRM University is performing that public function. The combined effect of these two findings is that the case already satisfied the requirements for maintainability of a writ petition under Article 226 of the Constitution. The additional finding of the court that SRM University is “state” has wider impacts.

The impact of this decision

According to the decision in Andi Mukta, it seems that since it is “state” under Article 12, a writ petition against Deemed University directly to the Supreme Court should also be maintainable. However, the relevance of the question – whether a deemed University qualifies to be ‘state’ – is not just relevant for the procedural issues such which court to approach. It is also relevant to determine if a body can violate certain fundamental rights (or against whom can the fundamental rights be claimed).

In our constitutional scheme, essentially, there are two kinds of fundamental rights. This distinction is made on the basis of whom it can be claimed against (or who can violate it). This distinction is apparent in the way fundamental rights are worded. For instance, Art.15(2) states, “No citizen shall be…subject to…”. However, Art.14 is worded as such: “State shall not…”. This means that while the second kind of fundamental rights can only be claimed against State (vertical rights), the first kind of fundamental rights can also be claimed against private individuals (horizontal rights). If court had held only that a deemed university is an authority against which a writ petition can be filed under Art.226, the horizontal rights would be enforceable against a deemed university, but not vertical rights. Since the court held that a deemed university is also ‘state’, even the vertical rights will be applicable. This means that several doctrines under Art.14 such as that of reasonable classification (i.e. in any purported action of inequality, there should be intelligible differentia for classification, and it should have rational nexus with the object) and arbitrariness will now be applicable to deemed university. It also means that other vertical fundamental rights, such as rights under Article 19 including freedom of speech can now be claimed against a deemed university.

The contours of these legal claims against deemed universities will depend on how courts decide the future challenges arising due to this holding. However, it can only be hoped that this judgment will convert certain questions of propriety in the governance of higher educational institutions into constitutional challenges.

In Federico Fellini’s masterpiece, La Dolce Vita, the wistful faux intellectual, Mr. Steiner remarked – “I am too serious to be a dilettante, and too much of a dabbler to be a professional.” Lets call him and his ilk ‘serious dabblers’ for the sake of convenience. This sentiment echoes among many of the privileged class of my generation. A class which grew up witnessing economic liberalization, cultural glasnost, breaking of traditional mores of defining ambition, profession, gender and relationships – it was promised that sky was the limit, at least till you ‘grow up’.

And this is the sentiment which lies at the point of departure between the swathes of serious dabblers on one side and the career dilettantes and professionals on the other side.  The protagonist of Tamasha is a true itinerant at heart. He is a wandering story teller fascinated by the tales of war and conquest, love and heart break, of epics and myths. But like Naseeruddin Shah in Monsoon Wedding, Boman Irani in Lakshya and Balraj Sahini in Waqt, our protagonist’s father is a child of India’s partition. Partition was a bitter tragedy which instilled a diehard spirit of self denial, hard work and zealous enterprise among those who started lives afresh. Such enterprise scoffed at wooly ideas of philosophical self discovery – an indulgence reserved only for the unambitious and unworthy. It is no accident that the high-achieving father in the movie is domineering and judgmental – an overpowering authority whose slightest disapproval is like a death knell to the son. In the face of such scathing scrutiny the son gives up.

With the automated monotony of what we call ‘growing up’, his creativity gets stifled and he finds himself in a corporate desk job. He makes soul crushing power point presentations using cliché after cliché to disinterested clients. His gift of inventive story telling falls flat in the face of regimented corporate speak with its punctilious rules of grammar, syntax and economy. His boss, once an entrepreneur, is now a happily risk averse corporate head who likes predictability and a market beating computed annual growth rate of profitability.

The protagonist has convinced himself that storytelling is an inferior calling. He is firmly ensconced in the corporate straitjacket and has throttled his original self. At a subliminal level he knows that the limited liability of the corporate form is causing him limitless pain but he has deliberately rendered even his gentle iconoclasm comatose. Till one fine day an old flame who had once witnessed the free spiritedness of his rolling stone days jolts him out of his hypnotic trance. So a ‘dilettante’ turned ‘professional’ was confronted with the fact that he has become a turncoat. This desperate awakening triggers a disturbing bipolarity in him. He is not sure where he belongs. He is too scared to pursue his passion and yet too revolted to turn up at the gut wrenching guillotine of creativity at work.  How he reverts to pursuing his childhood passion is a delightful process of self realisation and I strongly urge you to watch the movie.

But coming back to the scourge of the serious dabbler. Blessed are those who have a passion, are convinced that they are good at it and have the luxury to pursue it – like our protagonist. Or those who love the stability of a corporate life – the smooth income stream, promotions and bonuses and the appearance of success by association with the entity they work for- like the boss of the protagonist. The ‘serious dabblers’ are ailing. They dislike the ritual of turning up at work. They have read enough facebook posts and buzzfeed articles to know they are not alone in this state of disquiet. This brews a growing discontent and false sense of entitlement that they are cut out for something else – something more meaningful and rewarding which they will stumble across one fine day. But either they lack a passion or the conviction to pursue their passion thereby getting drawn into a vicious cycle of longing and self pity. More often than not, the happy resolution for them is the realisation that they have missed the ‘follow your passion bus’ and are making decent money in any case. So they follow the words of Ramadhir Singh, the pragmatic ganglord in Gangs of Wasseypur – “apni bhavnaon ko dalon apni gand mein..’ (i.e. stuff your feelings up your ass, and just get on with it). But for those who are unable to reach this convenient compromise, life can be like that of the forlorn Mr. Steiner.

Ranbir Kapoor has become the quintessential vagabond – the ‘khanabadosh’ of our times. However unlike his grandfather Raj Kapoor, the original wandering tramp of Bollywood, Ranbir Kapoor’s characters do not come from rural poverty or urban squalor.  They grow up in Golf Links or Pali Hill, have rich parents and privileged childhoods. Therefore the personal conflicts that they face can seem elitist compared to those faced by millions in the country who struggle to live a life of basic human dignity.  It reminds me of the poignant scene in Richard Linklater’s masterful ‘Boyhood’ where the rich white kids of a well off family are struggling to ‘find themselves’ whereas the poor immigrant Mexican kid who did odd jobs to pay for night school finally bags a white collar job and is thrilled to bits. You could either take the father’s side on this one and command the vagrant son to dutifully climb the corporate ladder, or choose to be sensitive and respect the subjective relativity of each ones’ personal demons – the call is yours.

But in this trichotomy of being a dilettante, a professional or a serious dabbler, please avoid being the third. Because it didn’t end too well for Mr. Steiner.

Why is IP regulation required for jokes?

Certain expressions are already copyrighted. The copyright may be claimed over the specific performance (videos) or the collection such as in case of books. However, this post aims at focusing only on the content of a joke. We may, in principle, agree on the premise that when a comedian puts some creative efforts, his creative skills should be protected. Whenever we face an object that can be regulated, law seems to be the obvious regulator. However, the question that arises is, should this regulation be based in law? Lawrence Lessig, in his book, Code 2.0, suggests that essentially, there are four regulators: Market, norms, law and architecture. In this post, I adopt this very framework of regulation discussed by Lessig to understand the regulability of jokes.

Market and evolving architecture of jokes

In early 20th century stand-up comedy, the jokes mainly comprised of one-liners which were considered to be the common property. Later, the creation of jokes itself became more important. This can be attributed to the market where competition required the generation of joke content and not just performance. Therefore, comedians found themselves more invested. This was also affected by several changes in comic markets which furthered the demand for content.  This market demand also changed the structure of jokes in stand up comedy. The jokes, which earlier took the form of one-liners, were now divided into set-up and punch line. This shows the interaction of market and architecture as regulators of stand-up comedy industry. In the following sections, I will discuss the relevance of market and architecture in evolving norms and legal rules.

Evolution of norms in Stand-up comedy

Some of the classic writings on jokes considered the protection purely in terms of copyright. However, the later studies have argued that due to the existence of the norms in the industry of stand-up comedy, there is no need of legal protection. The norms governing the industry, though informal and without any legal backing are effective and extend from ostracism and badmouthing to at times, physical violence.

Earlier, when the jokes were mainly one-liners, the repetition of jokes was more acceptable and the rights of the creator existed in performance rather than in the joke content. However, a study conducted by Oliar and Sprigman shows that with later changes in the structure of jokes, the norms that exist in the industry of stand-up comedy no more recognise joke-theft justified. Further, the norms of the industry no more recognise the jokes themselves as commons. Therefore, these market changes also affected the change in norms of stand-up comedy industry.

Law as a regulator of IP rights over joke

A joke is essentially a literary creation like a poem, story etc. Therefore, at least in theory, it will merit copyright protection. However, the theoretical protection itself is not sufficient to sustain a substantial legal claim. This is because of the idea-expression dichotomy that lies at the heart of copyright. Copyright law protects the expression and not the idea. Another important, though not doctrinal concern is the costs attached with litigation. Sometimes, the costs may just overwhelm the market value of joke. Though not through copyright, the issue of joke stealing has come up in front of courts in several different forms. For one-liners, the tort of passing off may be claimed, if that one liner is an identifier line for the comedian. One such claim was also successfully made in in Foxworthy v. Custom Tees, Inc. (879 F. Supp. 1200 (N.D. Ga. 1995)). In some instances, the cases have also been filed under the claim of misleading advertisement.

No property regulation can ensure the eradication of theft, but it should ensure that enough protection to property is given that investing in property remains worthwhile. At the same time, we should be careful in expanding legal protections to every creative activity. This also works with jokes. Therefore, the essential question that will have to be asked is: whether the regulators other than ‘law’ are sufficient to protect the creativity? As demonstrated above, market, architecture and norms collectively provide sufficient protection to creativity in context of jokes.

(Thanks to the timely vacation and internship opportunities, both of us were lucky to witness the ongoing proceedings in the Aadhar matter at the Supreme Court)

A degree of finality is associated with the decisions of the Supreme Court by virtue of its position at the top of the hierarchy of courts in India. At the end of the day, however, the Supreme Court is final, but not infallible. Judicial remedies in the form of review and curative petitions are available to account for such fallibility, while at the same time, ensuring a certain degree of finality through its strict procedures.

The Supreme Court’s latest order in the Aadhar case (October 15, 2015), however, seems to have created a new nebulous remedy which strikes against this essential characteristic of finality associated with the decisions of the apex court.

The Three Orders

After multiple hearings over the past few months in the Aadhar matters which began in 2012, a three-judge bench comprising of Chelameswar J., Bobde J. and Nagappan J., passed three orders on August 11, 2015. By way of the first order, the bench noted that the matters involved certain “questions of importance involving interpretation of the Constitution” and were, hence, required to be placed before “a bench of appropriate strength”. In furtherance of the same, the bench directed the Registry to place the matters before the Chief Justice for appropriate orders. Further in the second order, realising the urgency of the matters, the bench noted the desirability of an expedited hearing. The third order containing interim directions sought to balance the various competing concerns raised by the parties till the ‘bench of appropriate strength’ finally decides the ‘questions of importance involving interpretation of the Constitution’ i.e. the constitutional status of the right to privacy (hereinafter interim order).

In paragraph 3 of the interim order, the bench, inter alia, restricted the usage of Aadhar cards for the purposes of only two social welfare schemes – namely, the public distribution system and the LPG distribution scheme.

The Interim Applications

Subsequently, the Union flanked by a number of governmental agencies like the RBI, the SEBI etc. filed applications seeking clarifications and/or modifications of the interim order. To put it briefly, they argued that the interim order should be clarified and/or modified to permit the voluntary usage of Aadhar cards for other social welfare schemes as well. However, the Writ Petitioners submitted that such applications cannot be entertained by the three-judge bench and should be adjudicated by the ‘bench of appropriate strength’ supposed to be constituted for determining the “questions of importance involving interpretation of the Constitution”. In doing so, they relied on an order of the Supreme Court in Modern Dental. After hearing the parties on the interim applications, the three-judge bench passed an order on October 7, 2015 holding that these “applications for modification are also heard by a larger bench” [emphasis supplied].

What is interesting to note is that the Court used the phrase “a larger bench”. Arguably, ‘a larger bench’ can mean one of the following two things – (a) any bench with more than three judges OR (b) the ‘bench of appropriate strength’ which finally decides the ‘questions of importance involving interpretation of the Constitution’.

A Bench only For Interim Applications

The Chief Justice constituted a five-judge bench, on October 9, 2015, after being concerned about ‘sparing’ nine judges. Things took an interesting turn on October 14, 2015, when at the beginning of the hearing, the Chief Justice made it amply clear that the five-judge bench was constituted only for the purpose of adjudicating the interim applications. This observation was confirmed in the order made yesterday (October 15, 2015). He further observed during the course argumentation that the final hearing (on the existence of the right to privacy) may be conducted by a larger bench comprising of either seven or nine judges.

Clearly, the five-judge bench was constituted specifically for adjudicating the interim applications. Therefore, the Chief Justice understood ‘a larger bench’ to mean (a), as mentioned in the section above, and not (b). With all due respect, we are of the view that this is not only an erroneous understanding of the order (dated October 7, 2015) but also has far reaching implications on the aspect of ‘finality’ attached to decisions of the Supreme Court. It would have been perfectly fine if this five-judge bench was primarily constituted to decide the status of the right to privacy, and in passing, it also adjudicated the interim applications.

Review in Disguise

Intriguingly, the Chief Justice’s understanding effectively creates another nebulous stage in Supreme Court litigation, distinct from the stages of review and curative petitions.  Further, such a stage is without any basis in law – neither does the Constitution nor the Supreme Court Rules or precedent support such an understanding.

To account for the characteristic of infallibility, two remedies (albeit at different stages of litigation) are available to a litigant.

The first remedy is to file a review petition under Art. 137 of the Constitution read with O. XLVII of the Supreme Court Rules of 2013. The Supreme Court has the power to “review any judgement pronounced or order made by it” under Art. 137 in accordance with the procedure laid down under O. XLVII of the Supreme Court Rules of 2013. The second remedy is to file a curative petition under, and in accordance with the procedure laid down in, O. XLVIII of the Supreme Court Rules of 2013. This remedy is available only in cases wherein a review petition has been filed and dismissed by circulation.

The setting up of a five-judge bench specifically for clarifying and/or modifying the interim order is essentially a review petition disguised as a referral to a larger bench. This inference is further supported by the fact that O. XLVII, R. 4 of the Supreme Court Rules of 2013 envisages modification of decisions by way review petitions and not by constituting larger benches.

The meeting started emphatically, as these meetings do, with a counter agitation by the ABVP with guns being pointed towards the sky. Rayees glanced at me as if to reassure me that this was as normal as the a Kashmiri eating beef. I stared, scared, into the blissful distant forests that the Ganga dhaba allowed to with the hope of surviving this protest march. Unperturbed, Rayees proceeded to the dais and began his speech with a solemn oath, he screamed, ‘Today, as Kashmiris, we mark the death of one of the latest martyrs for our cause. When he left to Jannah, he left with the fire that burns in Kashmir. His death adds not only fuel but also anger to this fire of our bloodied valley and country. If we don’t reclaim what is our birthright, no one will. I invite Shaukat Hussain Guru to enlighten us about our own cause against this imperialist, inconsonant, irrational India.’

Shaukat Guru was shortly built for a Kashmiri. His face was affixed with a frown which seemed to have been derived from the unpacifiable anger gathered over the many years in prison for an uncommitted crime. Rayees sniggered and said, ‘Shaukat has said that even he was found to have committed the crime, he wouldn’t feel he wasted his years in prison because his murder would have outraged the valley. He is right.’

Shaukat, sarcastically started, ‘These kafir say in their pledge that In our well being and prosperity alone; lies their happiness. Let it be known that they think our wellbeing is when they kill us. They probably do this because we can’t have a well being here. These encroachers say in their Constitution that they want to promote their own fraternity. How do they do it? They have an inside joke of killing Kashmiris and laugh about it. That’s how they do it. And they still want us to be part of them.’

At this point, the ABVP protestors switched off the electricity to the hall. Rayees got up and told me that the meeting was over.

The next day, I read in the papers that the protestors had punctured the tires of Shaukat’s car and slept the entire night in front of it to cause loss to Shaukat and the Kashmiris. I met Rayees in the office for the last time that day. He started by telling me that the meeting was successful because it got reported in all the right newspapers. Rayees said, ‘You’re a brave Indian. I wouldn’t go near any of my meetings if I were you. The injustice that is perpetrated in my country is unbearable for all of us. My own brother has been in jail under suspicion of being a terrorist, for 3 years and he is 24 years old. We lose our entire future on our collective identity that is not understandable for anyone outside Kashmir. There will be always paternal, patronising Indians, questioning our claim, telling us that we will be no good if there were no India, telling us that Pakistan is waiting to pounce on us. They don’t understand our identity. As a Kashmiri, I want to face these fights with my brother Kashmiris, and help from India and everybody else. I do not want you encroachers to scream into my ear that Kashmir is useless. If we are so useless, then just let us go. We are more than happy to fight our own battles. Remember that you have no claim to rule a people who do not wish to be ruled by you. Let us determine where our hostilities lie.’

Rayees left to Kashmir that night after his father was killed in mysterious circumstances.

Lucknow has always been my second home. After my grandmother’s death, my mom and grandfather shifted from Calcutta and permanently settled there in 1991. My mom says she bought every single light bulb, fan and painting in the house all by herself since my grandfather was busy with work; and did it all while she was pursuing her Ph.D. To cut a long story short, that house was my childhood getaway- where my grandfather spoilt me in absolute violation of the ‘How to handle kids’ Code prescribed by my mom. Over the years, the city grew on me- the regular visits to the zoo, the chaat at Neelkanth, the kebabs, watching the first day first show at SRS and shopping for Chikankari work at the Chowk. My grandfather continued to live there all by himself despite his rapidly deteriorating health, bound by the love of his neighbours and perhaps the peace he felt in the house.

Last week my parents informed me that they had finally managed to convince him to move in with us and that we will be putting up the house for rent. Although I was happy that he will be in our care, I was quite shocked- this felt like an abrupt goodbye. So as soon as my vacations began, we set off for Lucknow. The house looked just the same, except there was board hanging out the front which said “Available on rent, Contact”. Over the next two days, my family toiled through boxes full of paperwork, met neighbours, relatives and several interested tenants, while I mostly slept on my favourite sofa in the house, visited the corners I used to hide in as a child, strolled on the terrace and read the Readers Digest editions found in the store that went as far back as 1961. The night we were to leave, we discovered a huge box with my grandmother’s name written on it. It had her books, her own writings, her Ph.D. thesis, her astronomical charts, and her photos. I realised how our tastes matched as I went through her collection of novels, and how we would have made great friends if we had met. It was strange how cleaning this 24 years old house gave me the opportunity to meet my grandmother for the first time.

Soon it was done- the house was put up on rent, all the papers sorted through and the furniture sold. It was time to say goodbye. I felt quite tearful at the thought that this would be my last visit to the house, and in all probability, to Lucknow. Then I looked at my grandfather. I feared that he would break down, but he showed no signs of emotion. I asked him if he would miss the house. He simply  smiled and then went and sat in the car outside. I don’t know if he had already made peace with the situation long ago, or if at his age one understands the futility of attachment, or perhaps acquires the strength to overcome it. I didn’t shed a tear either. If he didn’t cry at the thought of being forced to leave the house he had built, loved and lived in for more years than I’ve lived on the Earth, how could I?

Every journey I take away a lesson from. And yet I sink back into immanence the moment I am done imbibing it. Makes one wonder about the fallaciousness of being human. The million platitudes pushed our way to help us reconcile with the contrarian, oft disappointing nature of existence within society – they serve the purpose of coating the latter with a tint rosy enough to make it palatable.

That remains the tragedy of our lives; that we repeatedly use coping mechanisms to brush disillusioning experiences under the proverbial rug. I truly believe that the hopelessness that accompanies humanity has been the reason for religion, the arts, for every possible human pursuit which effectively diverts the mind. Undoubtedly, then, having a more evolved mind than the other species is a double-edged sword. Indeed we have the benefit of being the lead contenders in the Darwinian order. Simultaneously however, we are cursed with the ability to think. Now that posits a challenge to the way our species lives, because we never did seem to be satisfied with the primal alone being taken care of.

We crave purpose, meaning if you will – an answer to why our desolate, individual selves have been placed on this earth. Only the human could be so arrogant as to believe that he was created to fulfil some pre-ordained destiny, crafted solely for it. The problem of believing one is special is that disappointment is inevitable when one holds a mirror up to that belief. The mirror of the humdrum sameness of human existence shatters the illusion of uniqueness that has been carefully built to envelope us; comfort us, as it were. Faithlessness is the ineluctable outcome of such a comeuppance of one’s ego.

And then commences the internecine struggle within oneself. It is a churning that shall never be laid to rest – because it shall never be able to locate the element that would stabilize it and restore it to the tranquil lake of self-assurance it once was. Every campaign peters out in gusto eventually. So too with the battle against the monster of existentialism.

So how does one overcome this?

One doesn’t. The average human reaction would be to suppress such an uncomfortable realization. As a corollary of hitting this plateau, we adopt subversive tactics to tackle the issue. We dilute our idealism, become more practical in outlook – and forcibly drown out that which won’t stop discomfiting our otherwise confident sense of self. We conveniently term this form of escapism as “growing up”. So convinced are we of the need to act sensibly that we attach connotations to the act that the establishment deems positive – it is thus viewed as a necessary step in the direction of adulthood.

After all this turmoil, we expect sanity of ourselves, in spite of the countless paradoxes we are schooled to desire. The discourse of normalcy within which we seek to pigeonhole everybody is stifling for this reason itself. We foolishly create impossible ideals to aspire to; ideals which are deliberately calibrated to remain unfulfilled. Because somewhere we know that aspiring to these unreachable ideals obfuscates our internal vacuums. It is these voids that we are too terrified to confront as our uncomfortable truths. We create a purpose to have a purpose. It is thus that we choose to fight our demons of despondence.

The resolution to this conundrum lies beyond the realms of our comprehension, primarily because we have yet to design the individual who would be socially conditioned without having acquired the burden of social conditions. Even assuming that such an individual exists, he has not been allowed to proliferate his nihilism in the public space, lest he corrupt the filmy gossamer the unsuspecting sheep have smothered themselves with.

What would we find were we not to teach ourselves to construct our time on this planet as a medium to deliver on imaginary ideals?

One marvels at the possibilities.

One always wonders if there is hope.

Mukul: “Papa, mujhe neta banna hai. Yeh desh badalna hai.”

Papa: “Haan beta! Tum banoge. I can see that spark in you.”

What exactly is this spark which the encouraging father is referring to? On what basis did he reach this conclusion? Is he misleading Mukul into believing something that is probably not true? Or is he himself being misled? The answers to these questions will probably become clear if one probes deeper into the life of our protagonist.

Mukul is a kid who who talks, eats and sleeps politics. He scores reasonably well in his school examinations and participates in extra-curriculars day in and day out. Further, he is a certified stud in his school, a certification which came not only from his peers but from elders alike. Come the board examinations and without a doubt, he aces this as well. He can thus see his dream of becoming a neta coming true, given his glittery credentials. In pursuance of this dream, he decides to sit for the entrance examination of one of the best law schools in the country, considering law to be a gateway to politics and clears it with flying colours. One would hardly require the services of a soothsayer to predict his journey in the college of his dreams, which, as one would expect, was full of accolades.

Thus, it is not entirely wrong to blame the father for goading Mukul into believing that he’ll become a neta at some future point of time. This is a kid who claims to have mastered the system, so what can possibly stop him from fulfilling his dreams?

Unfortunately, Mukul could never have imagined that it would be this mastery over the system that would precisely be a hurdle in him pursuing his dreams.

Mukul soon realises that he is not the only one who claims to have mastered the system. There are thousands like him with the same credentials – bright, talented and smart. The only difference is that they are not netas. Nevertheless, such people are recognised as successful by the society. Entry to this elite club is coveted by one and all as the membership of such a club guarantees one the privilege of leading a comfortable life, a life full of respect, a life comparatively free of tensions, a life guaranteeing security and a life full of that much sought after fruit called happiness.

Come the moment when our protagonist has to make a choice! As was expected, Mukul did receive the golden letter from the coveted club; a letter congratulating him for having made it so far; a letter promising him a gateway to a life full of pleasures; a letter which comes but once in a lifetime. However, our protagonist, who was by now a mature adult, wasn’t entirely happy, so to say. His childhood dream of becoming a neta flashed in front of his eyes. Should he risk the opportunity he had in hand at that moment to pursue his childhood dream? Was it worth the effort? Isn’t netagiri meant for uneducated people? Aren’t smarter people like him made for bigger things, such as being a member of the coveted club mentioned above? Plus, what guarantee did he have that he will succeed in politics? Facing such a dilemma, he consulted his peers, one of whose comments was, “I never expected a smart person such as you Mukul, to entertain such foolish thoughts in the first place.” He then spoke to his father, the same old encouraging father who saw the spark in him to be a neta once. “Aisi bachkaani batein mere saamne mat karo! You are a man now. Think like a man”, was the reply.

Thus, with a heavy heart, our protagonist accepted the invitation to join the coveted club, consoling himself by thinking that he was probably foolish to entertain the thought of becoming a neta in the first place; that the thought was probably the product of his immaturity, an immaturity that did not take into account the harsh realities of life. Of course, why would anyone as bright as him risk his entire educational career to plunge into something which did not guarantee success?

Little did he realise that his childhood dream essentially required him to break out of this system, the system that he had been trying to master for these many years; little did he realise that his childhood dream was for becoming a lion rather than for winning the rat race and still ending up as a rat; little did he realise that inspite of all his abilities, he lacked the one core element required to transform himself from a rat to a lion – that of COURAGE.

And yet, somehow, I am a little put off by the thought of competitive sport. My earliest first-hand experience of approaching a sport competitively was swimming in middle school. Overnight, my conversations changed from being about how cold the water was and whether I thought Ash could ever tame Charizard (a Pokémon character- for the unawares) to a talk of timings and techniques. What had once been an afternoon of fun was now approached with some amount of trepidation. I was no longer merely happy with the fact that I was a good swimmer and enjoyed swimming; I now needed to ensure that I would be on the team. Eventually, my interest in the sport tailed off until it was rekindled almost a year later by the scorching heat of Bombay’s summer.

My second brush with competition came barely a year later when I found myself on the fringes of the school cricket team. I had started playing at the school ground (read: parking lot) because friends in my building had stopped coming down to play thanks to our collective obsession with board exams. Once again, it started off as me going to play a sport I enjoyed, and culminated in me struggling for my place in the XI. The stories I’d tell my parents on going home changed from ‘woah, I actually swung a ball’ to ‘I think I’m better suited for this position than him’.  Wanting to hang on to my love for the sport, and buoyed by the fact that a whole set of friends had finished their boards, another sport was quit.

Recently, I had occasion, yet again, to quit a sport in order to hold on to my love for it. This time it was debating. You may laugh at my characterization of debating as a sport, but that was precisely my problem: along with several others, I had begun approaching debating as a sport. It started with a love for debating for the sake of debating itself. I was fascinated by the idea of being forced to think about things I’d never cared for, often in support of positions I abhorred, trying to find that argument that would clinch it. A year in, and I found myself hankering after breaks and wins. Like many other law school debaters, I was reading up as much as I could to be prepared for any motion that could come my way. Arguments were not always things that were arrived upon with great thought in those fifteen minutes leading to a whoop of delight; they would often be ones I had used before and was refining or had read in an editorial. Thinking was on its way out.

The fact that competition changed the way I approached the sport wasn’t all. In each instance, with little in the first and a lot in the last, came along sniping and whispering. There would be talk of who was better and quite often, it wouldn’t be very pleasant. At the start, I would always tell myself not to let others affect my enjoyment of something I loved. But it did.

Competition does push us in ways that we wouldn’t dream of otherwise. I have swum with cuts all over my hands from a fall, stinging with each stroke, merely because that practice session was essential. But if it stopped being fun, what was the point?

As I write this, I am less than 24 hours away from graduating, once and for all, from this place that has been my home for the last five years. And if someone asked me right now, ‘what is it that you learnt in law school?’ , I’d have to say: “I learnt to have fun!”

It’s ironic that my first ever post on 19(1)(a) will also be my last one. But if I didn’t post on this typically law school forum once before I left, I’d probably regret it for a long time to come. And God knows, I already have had a few significant ones in this place!

To be honest, sentimental hand washing is not something we are used to seeing on this august forum (which is usually reserved for the far higher purpose of entertaining cat fights!). However, I would be lying if I said I won’t miss this place…a lot. And, for a lot of time to come, possibly… forever.

Soon, we shall be lost to law school. Another set of alumni.  And while, there seems to be no prima facie ‘rational’ reason to explain what connects law schoolites through generations;  it probably is the knowledge that, like it or not, we chose to be here. No matter, if it was our first option, whether our parents forced us to write the CLAT, or foreign admissions just didn’t happen; in the end, we did nail that one two hour paper…and in doing so, became an unmistakable part of this place.

 I know, a lot of things aren’t the same as they were before. And when I came in, we were systematically taught by some of our seniors that those changes were proof of falling standards of law school.

In the last 5 years, I have been witness to and, more importantly, lived through quite a few significant moments. We won Jessup, Man Lachs, made finals of Vis, helped poor farmers in the remotest of areas, won an international debate and kept getting our jobs. We also fired our best professor, vandalized the acad, mismanaged funds and never fixed the damn internet. Mostly though, we (or at least some of us) drank a hell lot, smoked like chimneys and abused illegal substances that so deserve to be legal (:p).

And yet, here we are, after around 3000 hours of class with over 90 exams in 60 courses with 58 projects down the line…just as abnormally normal as the ones who have gone before us.

Are law schoolites of today failing at life more often? No. Are some of them losing their way abysmally? Yes. Are some of them poised to change the world? Hell Yes!

So…where is the fall? Maybe, just in our attitude towards this place.

What is often ignored in the cacophony of negatives is that there is still ample learning for those who want it. Ample opportunity for scam for those who want that. And, in my opinion, that’s been the best and the most unique thing law school has had to offer: The opportunity to do what you want and be who you want to be.  (I believe debaters have a term for that stuff :p)

Because college, for me, is the ideal (and probably the only) time for experimenting and learning new things…about the world and yourself, without serious repercussions. We can be stupid without fear. We can and should make mistakes.

And as long as NLS continues to remain the same open, all-encompassing society it has been in the past, law school and law schoolites will not fall. For the one thing that has not changed (and I hope never does) is that, no matter what and how many attempts at the opposite, law schoolites have remained zealous guardians of their own liberty.

My parting two cents: Guard it with pride, flaunt it, experience it, and most of all, strive to be worthy of it. This freedom is really hard to come by anywhere else. 

Maybe, law school was, once upon a time, a more ‘classroom-oriented’ rigorous place. However, I think today’s law school is rigorous for those who want it to be. There are more academic activities outside class, more opportunities for learning the law there.

It is also true that some of our best professors today happen to be ad-hoc faculty. But, for a professional course, it is naive to expect otherwise. The focus has shifted and needs to continue to shift to learning from the best professionals in the industry, coming back and teaching us in short bursts. Single-credit courses, seminars, special lectures, even teaching one or two modules out of a course characterize the way forward. Gone are the days when the best professionals in the legal area decided to shun work and become permanent faculty for peanuts. And while, some of us may choose to whine about it and make great romantic arguments about money-mindedness and what not, the smarter (or atleast the more dynamic ones) ought to adapt.

We need to create space for the above, either by combining some of the existing courses, reducing class hours for some ones or figuring other alternatives. That classroom learning has better substitutes is undeniable (and I think project exemptions are one of the many ways the college already recognizes this). Our aims have changed too. While some of us love the law, many of us see learning the law as ancillary, and as an instrumentality, to other aims. (I am not sure which part of that divide I fall in personally!)

That said, it true that our lead on the top has narrowed. Or more accurately, the top tier now has some non-schoolites and does not have some law schoolites. My guess is, that’s only natural.

In any case, maybe, when a national shooter, a female footballer who nails almost all males in her batch at it, a steadfastly driven Rhodes scholar, two of the sharpest logical minds with the eloquence that could put Obama to shame on most days, a perpetual convener who has arranged for more courses than can be counted, a politician whose heart very literally beats for anyone who is screwed and many many others get together for five whole years and work, sometimes in their self interest, sometimes for the greater good, mostly just discovering themselves without realizing it, the results are…well, pleasantly unexpected and unexpectedly grand.

My aim is not to paint an overly rosy picture of law school or the world. However, this happens to be the only place in my experience where one can pick up a conversation with 350/400 students (and quite a few MPPs too :p) and learn something utterly new and interesting.

I cannot end this post without mentioning the administration and our VC once. And, while I will be hard pressed to say that I agreed with all decisions made by the admin (I have reserved my strongest disagreement with some measures) however, on the whole, I am glad I was a student here during his tenure. He has, and at various points most others have, been encouraging to say the least and assiduously liberal to say just a little more.

As far as I am concerned, I think I grew as a person in law school. For that, I have a certain sense of gratitude towards this place. It allowed me to prioritize things my way and live on my own terms. It was a conscious decision from me to not consider classroom academics as very important. It allowed me the time to try out various different things, but mostly, after a somewhat checkered school life, college was, for me, a phase of life where I  just wanted to ease out. NLS allowed me that, and for that it will always have my thanks.

In the end, as we walk off into the sunset and face the ‘real’ world (a phrase that continues to confuse me more and more each day)…new challenges, new friends, new experiences await. For now though, there are the old memories which bring about a satisfied smile and a few tears of nostalgia.

And if I might take just another moment to preach to the choir, I’d say:

‘Always hate losing, I hated it with all my heart. But the only thing I hated more…was to not try for the fear of losing.’ 

Goodbye my fellow law schoolites and good luck!