One of the more obvious differences between litigation (and here “litigation” excludes the litigation branch of a corporate firm) and a corporate law firm is the money. Litigation does not pay, at least when you are fresh out of college. Though later on the financial rewards can be astonishing. Just after graduating you will barely be making enough to make ends meet. Thus, if you have just completed law and want to make the big bucks immediately, you would be ill advised to join litigation.

And I understand why one would opt for a corporate firm based on this reason alone. The escalating cost of law education itself leaves a large number of students with no option but to take a loan. And once the loan is taken, repayment of the same can only realistically be done with a law firm salary. But at the same time, I am also aware that law colleges desperately need good teachers, expensive software solutions etc. and this requires copious amount of money. But I tread on uncertain grounds here and hence I will go no further.

Where was I? Ah yes, in litigation do not expect to get paid. Fact.

In Delhi, where I landed up right after college, things are relatively better as compared to other parts of the country. If you join a senior counsel in the Supreme Court, expect a starting salary of at least twenty-five thousand a month. In the Delhi High Court itself, there are a few well-established counsels who are willing to pay their juniors thirty to forty thousand a month. Yet, the prevalent school of thought is juniors should not expect to get paid for that this is the way it has been for generations and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.

This low (non-existent?) salary is often difficult to digest, especially when most of your friends have managed to land the enticing salaries of corporate firms. While just a few months ago, they were also your compatriots in the Land of the Perennially Broke, now you are alone in the Land of the Cutting Chai while they are far away in the Land of the Foie Gras. It does hurt a fair deal and random bouts of jealousy are not that rare.

I remember a meal with a senior from college a few months after I had joined the Bar. She had been working for a firm for a few years by then and had been kind enough to remember me when she visited Delhi. She had invited me for dinner at an extremely well-to-do joint and I was more than happy to accept. At dinner, there were a few of her colleagues and, food consumed, the discussion veered to work and each one’s particular gripes and grumbles. As the talk got more and more animated, one of them burst out “My firm is becoming too cheap these days! Why this month, they capped our increments at seventy thousand! Can you believe that! Those stingy …….” All I could do was take a particularly vehement interest in studying the paint on the ceiling above. A few days earlier I had been walking on cloud nine since Boss had increased my salary by the princely sum of three thousand bucks.

The pay disparity also became the subject of jibes by friends. One friend of mine, if I was ever late in meeting him, would ask me “Where were you? Paying your income tax?” (Most juniors will not fall in the taxable bracket for a while). Although there was a complete lack of malice and it was, admittedly, quite funny, but still.

Of course things are not as bleak as you may presume. Occasionally, you could be appointed as Local Commissioner (“LC”) where you are paid a mind bogglingly fancy sum for barely a day’s work. Or, if you are lucky and competent enough, you may soon start getting a share in the fees your senior charges. At the same time, you may have the freedom to take up outside drafting (there is a severe shortage of good drafting) and thus supplement your income.

One last thing I would like to add is that the poor pay, however much I hate to admit it, taught me a great many things that I may not have learnt otherwise. I learned the true value of hard work, to negotiate harder with clients, to take xeroxes from the court library (it is about 25 paisa cheaper per page), to smooth-talk my way into getting discounts on every bloody thing possible etc etc.

 Of course, all this is in hindsight. When you have to think twice before joining your friends for a film at the multiplex with its’ expensive tickets (and horrendously over priced food) or when you have to take a bus back from court because you can’t afford an auto, well then the truth can bite and bite pretty hard. And it bites even harder when your mates from college are discussing the huge difference in pillows of the various 5-star hotels across the country.

I remember one of the finest moments occurred in the least likely of places: the Lok Adalat of the Delhi High Court. Theoretically matters sent to the Lok Adalat are ones where a chance of settlement is possible, although in reality this is not really the case. It normally has a Registrar Judge (district level) and a practicing advocate to preside over the matters.

Anyway, the client was the daughter of a driver in the state transport corporation who died while being suspended for an alleged misconduct. The Boss was particularly busy on that day and had told me to handle the matter.

The client was a gangly girl of nineteen and was accompanied by her sick and frail mother. She had absolutely no clue about what was going on. All she and her mother wanted was the pension. When the matter was called, both parties appeared and I said what I had to say. The opposite side though was clearly in no mood to settle and the matter was eventually disposed of as “Settlement failed. Place before Hon’ble Court”. Frankly I had expected no less. But as we were leaving the room, she looked at me with genuine gratitude in her eyes and said the words “Thank You”.

Just two words and they were worth all the money in the world.             

Kroswami, after five glorious years in Calcutta, chose to litigate in Delhi. Two years later, Kroswami decided to leave the Rajdhani and shift to Bombay where he occasionally meets people dressed in white shirts and black pants.

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