A Different Kind of Bar

When I meet Indian people, I repeatedly get asked the same three questions in the following order:

What is your name?
Where are you from?
What do you do?

When I answer the third question by saying I am a lawyer, people's eyes bug out. It seems that the three best jobs you can have here - or more appropriately, the three best things you can be here - are a doctor, lawyer or engineer. We have passed many impressive residences in Kerala and elsewhere where, along with the house number, there is a sign displaying the fact that a lawyer - or more commonly referred to here as an 'advocate' - lives there, as in

123 Main Street
Rajiv Gupta, Advocate

And so, when Charlie suggested that we visit the Chennai High Court, I readily agreed, and am I glad I did.

Upon approaching the court house, Charlie and I asked an advocate who was passing by whether we could watch any of the proceedings. The man, who was about to make a court appearance himself, very kindly escorted us to three courtrooms that were in session. All were appellate courts, with two judges sitting in each. I sadly did not find out how decisions are made with a two-judge panel. What if the judges are split in their decision?

The building itself is gorgeous, with ornate wood and tile work - a relic of colonial rule. Pictures of Gandhi adorned some walls.

At one point, our escort showed us a wedding invitation he had just received from a colleague. The bride, the groom and the bride's father are all advocates before the Chennai High Court. How do I know this, you may ask. Because it was prominently printed on the wedding invitation, of course. That is how proud people are to be lawyers here.

I learned many additional fascinating things during our visit. First, advocates in Chennai get their own separate toilets and parking spaces. This appears to reflect their esteemed status in the community. I even saw a car with a "lawyer" license plate on it - as though it gives the driver the right to speed.

Second, a surprising number of advocates wear flip flops to court, along with the black robes and long-white-collared shirts inherited from the British court system (but not the wigs). The flip flops are an idea I intend to bring back to the California court system as soon as possible.

Third, I was fascinated to learn that all court proceedings throughout the country are conducted in English (albeit a thickly accented English I could hardly understand, truth be told.... Bad acoustics are partly to blame.) Each of India's many states speak different languages - Canada, Mayalam, Tamil, etc. English has been adopted as a compromise as the other idea - everyone speaking Hindi - is not acceptable to everyone.

Fourth, you are not allowed to kiss your spouse while in a courtroom that is in session. Even a quick peck is a no-no. Seriously, this causes a major scandal. We almost got kicked out.

Fifth, India is a land of contradiction. I already knew this. For example, India has both terribly bad roads and world-class internet service. The Chennai High Court follows the same pattern. The Court uses an electronic billboard system to alert the advocates where and when their matter is being heard and to alert those waiting outside what matter the court is presently on. I have never seen or heard of this before, but it is brilliant. And yet, the Court's file room is the epitome of disorganization. Seriously, check out the random piles of paper in the photo above. Any lawyer reading this is either gasping or laughing out loud, I am sure. And most of the files that I saw suspiciously appear to involve either handwritten documents and/or typed documents in duplicate or triplicate with carbon paper. It felt as though I have traveled in a time machine back to a legal world before computers. This is India for you - at its best and worst.