I like to believe that the legal profession lends itself far more favorably towards cinema than other professions. Perhaps this belief is in some ways influenced by my choice of education but I do believe that law would make for a great subject for a film. There is the fight for “justice” (no, the quote marks are not a mistake), there may well be an evil villain who is eventually defeated against all odds and the endings can be quite happy too. The best part about it is that the story writers would not have to be too imaginative; if they merely spent a few days eavesdropping in the court canteen, they would across enough stories to last them a life time.

And yet, I have yet to come across even a vaguely accurate representation of lawyers and the world of courts in Indian films or television serials. There is a much-perpetuated stereotype of what it is that happens in a court room, of what a legal argument is about and what lawyers do to make a living. Tell people that you are a lawyer and inevitably, someone will say “Taareek pe taareek” and smile earnestly, to convey that they too know what happens in a court.

I am not sure whether I find it irksome because of the fact that such movies present a terribly incorrect idea of what litigation entails or because of the fact that such movies propagate myths and misconceptions about a subject which is fairly opaque and misunderstood on its own.

Or perhaps it is irritation by the fact that while law students grow up on diet of “The Practice”, “Ally McBeal”, “Boston Legal” and the like there is no effort to produce something which realistically portrays what life as an Indian lawyer is like. If they can do it then why can’t we?

Nationalistic sentiment aside, the fact of the matter is that this “opaque” nature of law is something which lawyers exploit to their own advantage fairly often. There are many lawyers who will charge atrocious fees for something which requires a few minutes, taking advantage of the fact that most court proceedings are shrouded in mystery for the common man.

And nowhere is the perpetuation of this “mystery” more prominent than in Indian cinema. Even after discounting cinema’s need to exaggerate and entertain, the stark disconnect between real life and reel life can be a bit difficult to digest at times. Without further meandering however, I draw your attention to five Typical Bollywood Scenes (“Typical BS”) or five “angry young men” that typify what is wrong with films and the law:

1.Typical BS: The Judge hammering away with his gavel, screaming “Order, order”.

Fact: Gavels have not been used in a court room for a long, long, long time. A judge, at least one of the High Court and the Supreme Court, will rarely be required to raise his voice in order to maintain decorum in the courtroom. In case a particular individual refuses to listen, then the judge may ask the court officers to escort the vociferous individual out of the court room but this does not happen too often.  Of course there are situations when things deteriorate to a deplorable level but at such times a gavel would be of no assistance whatsoever.

2. Typical BS: There are two attendants on either side of the judge, dressed in finery and holding some sort of mace and or weapon in one hand.

Fact: Each judge is entrusted with a court officer who leads the judge into the court room and assists the judge to and from his seat. Sometimes during arguments, a lawyer may hand over some documents for the judge to study. But no, there is no weapon in his hand and he does not stand behind or beside the judge at all times. Incidentally, the court officer is a fairly reliable source of information regarding orders and where a particular file can be found. Some court officers can also be found at the well of the room, catching a nap away from the watchful gaze of the judge.

3. Typical BS: The gigantic court room is absolutely packed with people, each paying rapt attention to the court proceedings.

Fact: Court rooms can be surprisingly small in size and are rarely filled to capacity. Barring high profile matters, one involving a large number of litigants and the courtrooms of the Supreme Court on miscellaneous days, I have rarely been to a courtroom and not found a place to sit. And as for the “rapt attention”, well that is rarely the case. On more than one occasion I have observed litigants falling asleep during court proceedings, their sonorous snores interrupting the arguments now and then until they are shaken awake one more time.

4. Typical BS: A judge is referred to as “Mee lord”

Fact: Most judges are referred to as “Your Lordship” or “My Lordship” although the use of the latter is fast decreasing. In fact, there were a few judges in the Delhi High Court who urge lawyers to simply refer to them as “Sir” and drop “Lordship” from usage altogether. In trial courts, at least in Delhi, the judge is often referred to as “Janaab” or “Janaab sahib”, a term which I find most endearing and one which draws origins from the Urdu language. In fact, “Janaab sahib bula raha hai” (The Judge is calling me”) is something I have used more than once to discourage policemen from detaining me for too long over an alleged traffic violation.

5. Typical BS: A lawyer cross examining a witness till the witness finally breaks down and confesses/reveals vital information

Fact: Cross examination is an extremely subtle game, one which requires the deft handling of words and questions. The greatest masters, according to me, are those who can tease out the contradictions, place the same on record without letting the witness become aware of the said contradiction. For then, the witness will not even be left with the option to retract the statement or change it in any way. Also, cross-examinations are normally held in small court rooms, the witness may or may not stand in the witness box and the pin-drop silence shown in most films is almost never the case.

Oh yes and criticism aside, I do wish I could witness something like this.

If you have any favourite “lawyer scenes” of your own then please do feel free to share them.

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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