If one happens to be the son of a legend in any profession and then joins the same profession, it undoubtedly puts a burden of expectations on one’s back.
Not everyone can bear such weight. Many are unable to cope and eventually break down, or opt out.
Counsel Cranky belonged to this category but he survived despite his surname.
He was the son of a legendary advocate who was acknowledged for his mastery in constitutional law and his practice. Because Counsel Cranky bore an almost iconic surname, everyone expected him to shine like his father.
He had talent as well as sincerity of purpose but the weight of expectation combined with the curse of comparison is undoubtedly a deadly cocktail.
His father was respected as an epitome of honesty, probity and integrity. Naturally, Counsel Cranky also set his bar very high as far as these values were concerned.
What he perhaps did not quite realise was the fact that the generation which respected such values and cultivated them had passed on, along with the departed legend.
What remained were by and large their imitations and caricatures. Counsel Cranky was an original but he was often looked upon as a first copy.
When Counsel Cranky had to argue before milords whom he measured by the lofty standards of yore and found wanting, he used to raise his voice and start lecturing them.
Some milords may have got an impression that he was browbeating them.
Sometimes, just to spare their ear-drums, the milords obliged Counsel Cranky with some ad interim reliefs but many a milord remained unmoved throughout the bout and Cranky had to retire hurt.
I remember the day Counsel Cranky appeared before Justice Irascible. Both would not budge from their respective viewpoints. After about half an hour, civility escaped through the judges corridor and they stopped addressing each other as ‘Milord’ and ‘Mr Counsel’.
By then, the arguments had begun to sound like accusations. It was as if both were trading verbal blows.
At one point, Justice Irascible said: “I have heard you enough. Sit down!”
Counsel Cranky: “Who do you think you are? You are just a judge, you are not the law.”
Justice Irascible: “And you?Who are you?”
Counsel Cranky: “I am an officer of this court.”
Justice Irascible: “Then you must learn to behave like one.”
This was just too much for Counsel Cranky to bear.
He virtually thundered: “I wish to remind you that it is this honourable court which has conferred this senior gown upon me.”
The courtroom was jam packed. There was a lot of tension in the air. All of us waited with bated breath to see how Justice Irascible would react.
But Justice Irascible simply retorted with a chuckle: “Counsel Cranky, why are you reminding us of our biggest mistake?”
At this, many in the audience burst into laughter. Counsel Cranky went red in the face and sought a long adjournment. Needless to say, the same was readily and gladly granted.
Counsel Cranky was known to be a pugnacious nitpicker and a fearless attacker of mediocre milords. Clients who wanted the satisfaction of watching their counsel “firing the judge” would often choose him.
Some timid judges got overawed and granted some reliefs but mostly the results were negative. The clients, however, always got their money’s worth in decibels.
Even in his behaviour outside court, Counsel Cranky used to be whimsical and unpredictable.
Let me cite one incident.
In the posh building where he had his office, the marble flooring was being polished on a holiday weekend as most offices were either shut or had minimum staff.
No one had expected Counsel Cranky to land up there on a non-court-working-day in a T-shirt and bermudas to study some case.
As he tried to cross the freshly polished lobby of the building at his usual frenetic pace, he slipped, fell and fractured his arm.
After being treated and discharged from the hospital, Counsel Cranky started demanding compensation from the management of the premises society for “negligence”.
He bombarded them with long legal notices and harangued them in every meeting. Beleaguered and tired, the society management compromised on the matter.
Counsel Cranky got relief, but in kind. He was given a waiver from paying his monthly outgoings till the amount he had spent on his medical bills was covered fully.
The benefit, we heard, was considerable. Like a wrestler in the ring, Counsel Cranky had won with a fall.
When attorneys used to brief Counsel Cranky, their biggest problem used to be: “Whom do we engage as a junior counsel with him?”
Not many juniors were temperamentally suited or equipped to deal with his crankiness.
Ideally you needed a thick skin or a low IQ, or both.
Then, the barbs wouldn’t dent or demoralise the junior.
One of the rare junior counsels who had survived multiple appearances with Counsel Cranky told me that an attorney’s associate had once prepared a draft and after the junior counsel had vetted the same, it went to Counsel Cranky for “settling”.
At one place, the Latin phrase “inter alios” had been deliberately used.
But while printing the final version, the attorney’s associate, thinking this to be a typographical error, corrected it to “inter alia” which, as a phrase, was more commonly known and used in legal parlance.
When the final brief was delivered to Counsel Cranky, he spotted this gaffe immediately and his rage knew no bounds.
He first tried to take the junior counsel to task for this “blunder” but the junior counsel denied any culpability.
Further investigation disclosed the identity of the culprit.
The attorney’s associate who had “corrected” the “mistake” happened to be right there in Counsel Cranky’s presence.
As if he was a headmaster reprimanding an errant schoolboy, Counsel Cranky made that junior advocate (who was training to become a solicitor) to first repeat “I am an idiot” ten times in the presence of all present in his chambers and then repeat “I will not make such mistakes again” ten times.
The poor apprentice was traumatised.
As they headed out, the junior counsel tried to pacify the heartbroken associate by saying: “Don’t take it to heart. This is a learning experience for you. Remember, you have been fired not by some Tom, Dick or Harry but by the great Counsel Cranky himself!”
This was almost like telling a victim that a slap from this senior ought to be deemed a pat on the back.
Whenever I saw Counsel Cranky with a variety of multicoloured pens lined up in the pocket of his jacket, I was reminded of those ceremonial medals retired army men wear.
He sure looked like a disgruntled, battle-weary general with a scowl on his face.
It must have taken a very rare talent for someone to be associated as a junior colleague with a personality like Counsel Cranky’s for long.
I remember one junior who stuck to Counsel Cranky through all the ups and downs for many, many years. That in itself was considered a stupendous achievement by many.
As if in recognition of his unruffled demeanour amid the daily tantrums of an unpredictable senior, that junior was elevated to the high court Bench.
He deserved it on merits too.
Counsel Cranky became crankier for a short while at the “loss” of such an able assistant but his loss was undoubtedly the Bench’s gain.
I must say that Cranky’s junior was one lucky milord. He used to sit on the Bench with a smile on his face.
The gossip at the Bar was that the secret of milord’s smile was perhaps the realisation that as a reward for having suffered crankiness for so long he would now be spared the spectacle of having Counsel Cranky argue any matter before him!
