Stories are vital to human existence. It is through stories that we understand the world, make sense of our surroundings, and learn how to navigate through life. The practice of law, too, largely depends on developing a persuasive and believable narrative.

After all, as Bharat Chugh said, “It is the lawyer with the better story that often wins”. However, how is one to gather enough stories and tales? Of course, the best stories are those which are borne out of your own lived experiences. The other method is to read about great lives, about people much smarter than you, and to learn from their mistakes.

In this regard, reading a judicial autobiography can offer learnings worth a lifetime. Turning through the pages of a judge’s or lawyer’s life puts you in their shoes and right next to where the action happens. Reading Justice Sachar’s autobiography did exactly that for me.

At the outset, I must confess that I am skeptical of ‘reviewing’ an autobiography. For, how does one even proceed to review someone’s life. The situation becomes more complex when the book is about one of the greatest judges in Indian history and the reviewer is only a student. Hence, this essay shall deviate from the normative standards of a book review and attempt to share my learnings and thoughts from the book.

Justice Rajinder Sachar - or Sachar sa’ab, as people fondly called him - was a legal luminary, a staunch constitutionalist, and a vocal advocate of civil liberties and human rights. With the legacy he inherited, Justice Sachar was destined for nothing less than greatness. Yet, Justice Sachar, son of Bhim Sen Sachar - a three time Chief Minister of Punjab - and the maternal grandson of a leading criminal lawyer in Lahore - chose to carve out a path of his own.

After graduating with a law degree from Government College, Lahore, he surprisingly did not join his grandfather’s thriving and very busy chambers. Instead, he decided to get involved with the trade union movement and dedicated his early years to the cause of socialism. And, so, he moved to Bombay to work for the upliftment of workers, away from a life of luxury and comfort.

Naturally, this decision was a challenging one to make, and Justice Sachar writes, “I felt compelled to work for the downtrodden because I could not bear to see people around me in a deplorable situation. To be indifferent towards them was difficult as I had to battle a sense of guilt about being off than so many” .

A watershed period in Justice Sachar’s life was the Partition. At this time, he writes, that he was, “cast adrift”. He had to leave his family home and the place where he grew up to escape communal violence. Justice Sachar’s writing reveals how a deep sense of anguish prevailed among the populace and yet, the common folks, on both sides of the border, wanted nothing but peace and stability.

An incident Justice Sachar recounts is telling of this perception. Around October, 1947 properties of Hindus in Pakistan were declared ‘evacuee property’, that is, one could not sell his or her house. Justice Sachar’s family home had been allocated to a refugee lawyer from Ferozepur.

But, this man allowed Justice Sachar’s family to take even the smallest of things, from what was now rightfully his house without any ill-will and even arranged for a wagon to ferry them to the station. Justice Sachar writes, “the manner in which in which he welcomed us with open arms is still remembered and appreciated by our family” .

Justice Sachar finally joined the legal profession by force of circumstances and enrolled as an advocate in the Punjab High Court (which was then located in Shimla) in 1952. Justice Sachar, however, continued his association trade union activities. He shares several interesting anecdotes from his life as a young practicing lawyer to reveal how his early years shaped his convictions on law and justice.

He writes, “Good judges have no rigidity or vanity to feed. A good judge feels no embarrassment in taking a view different from the one he may have mentioned in the open court earlier. Laying down the correct law is his sole duty” .

A few years later, on 12th February, 1970, Rajinder Sachar was elevated to the Delhi High Court and assumed his role as a judge. As a newly appointed judge, Justice Sachar did not appreciate the practice of addressing judges as ‘My Lord’. He even wrote a letter to the then Chief Justice of India, Justice Sikri, and urged him to formally discontinue this practice which carried a lot of colonial baggage.

A resolution was passed that judges would now be addressed as ‘Your Honour’ in the Supreme Court and High Courts, and ‘Sir’ in the district courts. This resolution, however, has not been effective as the practice of addressing judges as ‘My Lord’ continues.

There is a widespread curiosity amongst non-lawyers to understand how judges, who are required to stay aloof and away from public eye, interact with their friends and family. Especially, if this interaction is with regard to a pending matter or case. Justice Sachar recounts two interesting experiences. First, when a long time acquaintance approached him for a rent matter which was to come up before him, Justice Sachar decided to send the matter to another court, despite earlier having made his mind to admit it.

And, second, Justice Sachar denounced the practice of lawyers offering gifts to judges on festivals like Diwali. This, he believes, sends a wrong message. Once, a senior advocate working in the area of tax law sent him a basket of fruits, Justice Sachar immediately ordered his staff to return it as even “the slightest delay could send the wrong signal”. Justice Sachar writes that accepting gifts would undermine the independent functioning of a judge and the society would have to suffer.

His most trying times as a judge were during the period of the national Emergency. He had to witness, not just an absolute breakdown of law and order and state machinery, but also the arrest of his family members, including his father and brother in law. Justice Sachar recounts his incredulity at the fact that the Supreme Court was effectively aiding the government in effectuating the Emergency by appalling judgements like the one in the ADM Jabalpur case.

Justice Sachar, horrified, writes about the judgement that, “I was stunned to see the majority relying on a decision given during the time of the Second World War by House of Lords in Liversidge v. Anderson. The English courts were so embarrassed by that decision that a conscious effort was made to throw it in the trash can and that says a lot.”

Unbeknownst to many, Justice Sachar was also appointed as the chairman of the High Powered Expert Committee on Companies and the Monopolies and Restrictive Trade Practices Act. Two recommendations of this committee are still of contemporary relevance. Firstly, the issue of including workers in a company’s board of directors, and secondly, the issue of not allowing corporations to fund political parties.

It is unfortunate that the Committee’s recommendation of disallowing corporate funding of political parties was not included in the Companies Act. In March 2005, Justice Sachar also headed a seven member High Level Committee to study the social, economic and educational conditions of a minority community.

Even after retirement, Justice Sachar continued working for social and humanitarian causes. He served as the President of People’s Union for Civil Liberties and used his expertise of the Constitution to become the voice of the marginalised, oppressed and, weak. Justice Sachar’s life teaches us how law can truly be used as a tool for transformative justice, if only its custodians show courage and the will to stay true to constitutional principles and ideals.

(The authors is a third-year student of law at VIPS, IP University)

Apprentice Lawyer is accepting student submissions via this page