After my journey through power corridors in the executive ended, I have shifted to another pillar of democracy armed with certificates in law that I’ve acquired over time.
The grandeur of my enrollment ceremony held me spellbound. I sensed an aura of justice on my face, as I disembarked from the dais. The next day I was ushered into a mofussil town court by my senior who could well be the senior-most in the profession. “You have no time to waste. So just jump up the stairs,” he said. “But I’ve not yet received the enrollment certificate, sir,” I murmured. “You have tied the knot already. That is enough. Now you can put on the gown and practise. Will you wait for the marriage certificate to begin your first night?” he asked sarcastically.
I’ve started off with petty cases where I have to plead guilty on behalf of the accused. The dignity and decorum of court as it began sittings was awe-inspiring, so much so that the familiar sense of indiscipline in the work culture at government offices vanished from my mind. I stood up with the others in extreme obeisance, bowing my head and praying before the judicial officer as she entered the podium.
A large crowd comprising cops and undertrials in handcuffs, offenders and witnesses and a number of onlookers thronged the corridors. The prosecutor led the proceedings. As I stood up to represent the accused, I faced curious glances.
I was all nerves. Instead of saying “I am for the accused, your honour, and pleading guilty,” I fumbled: “I am the accused, your honour, and pleading guilty.” A woman in a chair looked at me in disbelief. The lawyers around me were also baffled, but kept mum as I stood like a stone.
But the court was magnanimous. “Yes, yes, you are for the accused and pleading guilty. You are fined `2000 for the offence committed.” Just then an old hand wrapped my shoulders and consoled, “Never mind, these are common. Keep your calm and never be in a hurry. Within days you will get over all these starting troubles.”
I got used to all the formalities within days. In most petty cases you never meet the accused. Only their names and offences are communicated through the vakalat by a clerk. There are haves and have-nots among offenders. With summons in hand the poor wander about the court from morning in utter disquiet. A sense of shame of exposure of their crime in public and uncertainty of penalties seem to haunt them.
Seeing this every day, I was fed up and wished to do something else. As if reading my mind, the senior handed over a case to me with directions. I looked in disbelief. “I can’t handle these matters, sir,” I said politely. He asked why. It was an old case. The FIR was riddled with expressions like “culpable homicide amounting to murder”, “intention to cause death”, “bullet missing target and killing an innocent” and so on. The doctrine of “transferred malice” was explained to me.
“Frailties of human nature lead to criminality. We’re all prone to it and our actions are culpable till we are caught red-handed. So, understanding the human psyche is the first lesson for a criminal lawyer. Have sympathy on the guilty and try to free him from the clutches of law. That should be your endeavour. The words of Jesus should lead you in this,” he said and moved on.