The Little People

I read an absolutely beautifully crafted article the other day. It was about two of the senior most judges in the country today; it was about their differences and their similarities and it was sprinkled with the kind of anecdotes which reflect not only a love for the law but for the profession as well. Well, perhaps “love” is too presumptuous a word to use; the anecdotes reflected a deeper understanding of the profession.by Kroswami .I read an absolutely beautifully crafted article the other day. It was about two of the senior most judges in the country today; it was about their differences and their similarities and it was sprinkled with the kind of anecdotes which reflect not only a love for the law but for the profession as well. Well, perhaps “love” is too presumptuous a word to use; the anecdotes reflected a deeper understanding of the profession..The article also made me think of judges and seniors and personalities who exude power. As a lawyer, you encounter such people on a daily basis and, truth be told, they add a dash of excitement to life. Their power radiates and charms its way into the air around you, and you can feel your heart beat thump just that little bit louder..However, the words I am about to share with you are not about the big, important people that I hope you have the chance to meet. Rather these are a few lines dedicated to those strangers who often pass us by, ignored or just unseen. This is about the little people, the ones who, I believe, make the courts so very interesting..-x-x-.Chottu (I never knew his real name) was the helper of the “outside xeroxwalla” and was a remarkably unintelligent fellow. Speak to him for a couple of minutes and he would either break into a completely imbecilic grin or would shrug his shoulders in genuine non-comprehension. He was also addicted to gutka and when he would grin you could not fail to see the stains on his teeth..For all his stupidity, Chottu was an absolute gem to watch when it came to xeroxing. This was when he was in his element. Sheets of paper would simply fly from one hand to another as the machine would labour over three copies of a hundred-page brief. Once that was done, he would grab all the pages together and then start laying them down into three, different sets. Oh it was a joy to watch, as he carefully flicked one page over the other, like an experienced shuffler dealing a deck of cards to three people. “Sets” prepared, he would whip them up, staple (or bind or stitch) and then present the copies with a flourish. The final touch was the actual counting of the pages, which would be done with a patient thumb and lightening quick fingers. It was a joy to watch. It really was..Chottu saved my prodigious behind on more than one occasion. Whether it be an early morning marathon session of Xeroxing petitions before briefing a senior, or photocopying an entire book (it would still end up cheaper than buying the book), Chottu always came through..He left around four months after I joined the Bar and I never heard from him since. Every now and then though, I think about his dirty, gutka-stained smile and the way he would count the pages, head bent over in concentration as his fingers flicked through a million pages..-x-x-.Aunty was a real gem of a person. Or at least I thought she was. She would sit at the counter of the stall in the outer canteen, a bundle of notes on her hand and an enquiring look on her face. She was a tough Punjabi with fair eyes and red skin and must have been touching fifty when I first met her. She had a very abrupt way of speaking and would occasionally break into loud growls if someone got to close too to the counter. Her son would man the counter, serving the food while she held onto the cash..The food she served was quite terrible but when you are hungry you eat. And so I ate. “Rajma-rice. Ek plate” was all I would need to mumble in order to get my daily sustenance. After a point of time I did not even have to tell her what I wanted. All I would do was show up and I would be handed the plate. When you are battling it out with a horde of hungry and impatient lawyers, this kind of special treatment would place you right on cloud number eleven..Every now and then Aunty would get some bhindi from home and then I would be in for a special treat. She would scoop a tiny amount onto my plate and hand it over to me, a warm smile on her face. Those were some special days. To this day, I don’t know why she did what she did but I will never forget that. When you are at the lowest rung in the hierarchy, you remember such acts of kindness and you treasure them..-x-x-.Ramesh (name changed) was a member of the High Court Staff. I think his exact position was that of peon but I am not too sure. He was tall and lean and walked with a bit of a swagger, his hair neatly combed to the side. He would often sit in the Inspection Room and chat with the other court staff. Ramesh manned the xerox machine in the Inspection Room which meant that if you wanted any court records xeroxed, you had to go through him..I first spoke to him when Boss had told me that he wanted some orders xeroxed urgently. “I want them yesterday”, were Boss’s words if I recollect correctly. So, ever the dutiful junior, I had trundled into the Inspection Room, applications signed and court file in hand. The application was inspected and then I was directed to Ramesh. Without saying a word, Ramesh picked up the court file and began to make copies. It was only when he reached the orders that he began to speak. “Oh yes, Justice _____, really learned man but did not get along too well with Justice_____. Too bad, he would have made a great chief one day.”.For a moment I thought he was simply making it all up so I just nodded silent assent. In Delhi, everyone is everyone’s best friend. The next order was passed by another judge and Ramesh once again began to list the strengths and the weaknesses of that particular judge. And this was not speculation. Ramesh even recounted the decisions given by that judge and what errors some of the judgments contained. Over the next half hour or so (the Xerox machine was positively ancient and I needed a lot of copies), Ramesh described the manner in which you could almost predict the judgement by the way a judge sat, what the judges would eat during lunch and which judges did not see eye to eye..I think it was somewhere around that point of time that I truly realised that there is just so much that I do not know..-x-x-.She used to come to court every other day of the week, especially in the winter session. She would stand in the outdoor canteen of the High Court. This is where lawyers who either did not have the patience or the money to eat in the inside canteen, would come to eat. This is also where clients would mill about, clutching their files and wondering whether the decision would be pronounced today..This is where she would stand, often holding a plate of cholle and oily bhature in her hand. She had sharp, clear features and skin like that of the people from the mountains. Someone told me she was from Manipur but I fear that was more fiction than fact..She would stand there all alone and she would scream. It was never quite clear what she was screaming or who she was screaming at. But she would scream and scream with tremendous anger. Sometimes she would scream at the trees, sometimes she would wave her fingers at strangers, hurling anger with every word. I remember that once a couple of lawyers tried to ask her what the matter was, tried to calm her with their soothing tones and gentle words. It did not work. She continued to rant and rave, as if she could not see them. The newcomers would stare while the older ones would simply continue to eat, dipping the home-made rotis into the plate of chole..There are a lot of mentally unstable people who come to courts. It is not up to me to say whether they were unstable from the very start or whether the painfully slow “system” made them so. I would not be surprised if it was the latter in more cases than one..I never did find out what her story and, looking back, I wish I had..-x-x-.I suppose what I am trying to say is that if I look back at the people who shaped my life, there are surely a few giants in the crowd. But amidst the glowering personalities and the razor-sharp eccentrics stand a few, “ordinary” people who have taught me about life, wisdom and everything in between. These are the “little people” in my life and I hope they never stray too far away.