LIFE in a chamber is an ecosystem in itself. It’s chaotic, exhausting, but also liberating. If you think courtroom dramas on TV capture the intensity, let me assure you: the real drama starts much earlier, often with a conference scheduled at the ungodly hour of 9 AM on a Sunday. God rested on the seventh day, but apparently, litigators do not. In this ecosystem, sleep deprivation is glorified like the ultimate badge of honor. If you’re clocking more than 3 hours of shut eye, are you even working hard enough? Mornings don’t begin with chirping birds or yoga stretches but with sheer panic. I didn’t choose the litigation life. The litigation life chose me… and now refuses to let me sleep. Meanwhile, the files on my desk have multiplied overnight like rabbits and my boss has sent 20 instructions to be fulfilled by 8 am. Social media is currently debating a 90 hour work week, but I say, why stop there? 90 hours, what we fondly call ‘light duty.’ While my friends in other fields complain about working weekends, I marvel at the concept of a weekend. Justice is a jealous mistress, she wants all your time to herself.My Boss Never Sleeps (at night)Talking about working weekends, my boss, I think he’s an excellent lawyer. I want to be him when I “grow up”. He approaches every matter, whether a monumental constitutional matter or mundane property dispute which sounds like a lullaby to me, with the same intensity, pouring his heart and soul into his work. But, and there’s always a "but", he likes to work late. While his eyes alight with ideas and strategies, mine threaten to close in protest. For him, the stillness of the night is when he finds his rhythm, dissecting constitutional bench rulings or strategizing how to outsmart the opposition, but my soul is astral projecting to my bed. So yes, I want to be him when I "grow up." But if it involves his hours? Let’s just say, I’m still hoping for a version of his genius that clocks out at a respectable hour. "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by." – Douglas AdamsOn the topic of missing deadlines, I would like to introduce you to our clerk, a Houdini level disappearing artist who deserves his own sitcom, or perhaps a self-help book titled “How to Not Give a F**: A Masterclass in Indifference”. Every litigation lawyer knows the eternal struggle of dealing with the office clerk, a mythical creature whose primary talent is the art of disappearing. Ours, however, is not just any clerk. He is a magician in his own rights. He vanishes into thin air just as the boss starts asking, “Where’s the file?” My boss once quipped to a friend, “My relationship with the office clerk is very intense. I spend more time with him than my wife. I long to see one, and I dread to see the other, you figure out which is which”. Our clerk has been informed by the boss how he’s single handedly capable of burning down his entire practice, getting our licenses cancelled and getting all of us sued by the clients where the clerk will be Defendant no. 1, followed by the rest of us. Some people create problems, some solve them, he’s of the former kind. Want an urgent filing done by this afternoon? He’ll make sure he responds within 3-4 business days. Your matter is next and you want your files? He’ll make sure he reaches the courtroom after the matter has passed or if it's your lucky day, you may get a bundle with half the pages missing, leading to frantic searches in court. And yet, like Stockholm syndrome, we can’t entirely write him off. His schedule is classified information, even to himself. He’s a mystery but somehow, against all odds, he’s always there, just not when you actually need him. I quite enjoy observing his misdemeanor and spreading the tales of our legendary office clerk. My boss pointed out -“I feel our clerk may become so famous through your writings. We better put tickets for sale for people to come and watch him. i) Premium Passes: See him (not) get a file; ii) Platinum pass: see him prepare a cause list.”The Toll on ClientsWhile we often joke about our chaotic schedules, the real burden isn’t just on the lawyers, it’s the clients who suffer the most. Litigation in India is a long, financially draining affair that can break even the wealthiest. Cases drag on for years, sometimes decades, and if the roster of the judge changes, you might as well restart the entire argument. Clients spend tens of lakhs, if not crores, on legal fees, procedural costs, and re-strategizing every time a fresh judge is assigned.If you want speedier justice, well, you better be ready to spend more. Engaging a senior counsel to argue your matter significantly increases your chances of moving things along. Of course, their fees can sometimes rival the cost of the dispute itself. Justice may be blind, but it’s certainly not cheap. I once saw a client who had already spent over Rs. 50 lakhs on legal proceedings, only to be told that if he wanted his case expedited, he needed to engage a senior advocate for another Rs. 25 lakhs. He laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh of amusement, it was the hollow, broken laugh of a man questioning every decision he ever made.The Emotional Toll of Losing a Case"Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." – Winston Churchill, or as we call it, a random Tuesday.While accepting my first client, I had confidently agreed to handle it for the princely sum of Rs. 15,000, not knowing the adventure ahead, waking up early for the lengthy journey from Jangpura to Rohini Court. After much effort, I got the favourable outcome, leaving me exhilarated and slightly dazed. It was chaotic, nerve-wracking, and rewarding, my first taste of the unpredictable world of lawyering.However, the other side of the profession is how a loss (non grant of relief) makes you feel, not just the clients but the counsel as well. The incapacity to secure a favorable outcome for a client, who might have been relying on that relief to improve their situation, can be mentally and emotionally exhausting. It’s not just about professional setbacks, it’s about carrying the weight of someone else’s dashed hopes and expectations. Every loss lingers, replaying in the mind at odd hours, making one question every decision and argument made in court. “What could I have argued instead”. Some lawyers manage to compartmentalize, moving from one case to another with a pragmatic mindset, while others struggle with the deep seated feeling that they let their clients down. My mind takes losing very seriously, which is why I immediately blame the clerk, the registry, the system, and the alignment of the stars. Sometimes no matter how many nights you stayed up preparing the case, it’s not the merits of the case, but it’s fate, always blame fate first and foremost. If you secure a favorable outcome, you congratulate the client, and you move forward to your next brief. In case, the gods of litigation don’t shower their blessings on you, you take the loss, learn from your experience and you move forward to your next brief. This is the cycle which must be maintained. Every brief comes with its own destiny. Your duty is to represent it to the best of your abilities. Eventually, experience teaches you resilience, but no amount of experience can fully prepare you for that special kind of disappointment when a sure shot case doesn’t go your way.Filing Nightmare“Your suffering brings me joy”- Court Registry If there’s one thing that can break the spirit of even the most determined lawyer, it’s dealing with the court registry. Filing a case sounds simple enough, submit the petition, pay the requisite fees, and get a hearing date. But in reality, it’s a bureaucratic obstacle course designed by someone who clearly enjoys human suffering. Just when you think you've cleared all the hurdles, the registry introduces new, previously unheard of requirements that somehow were “always part of the rules.” As soon as noon arrives and the clock strikes 1:00.00, not 1:00:01, be prepared to have the shutter slammed to your face. The registry’s scrutiny is unmatched. A minor typographical error? Rejected. Margins not as per the prescribed format? Rejected. The paper gave someone a cut? Rejected. The list of possible reasons for rejection is as exhaustive as it is exasperating. Unless you find creative ways to get the listing, you may as well forget about the case till the earliest date available after 2 years. Even after correcting the errors, the file might ‘mysteriously go missing’, only to reappear weeks later with yet another clerical objection. “Paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all the paper. And the work.”― Darynda JonesThe Pay Reality CheckMoney talks, but all mine ever says is ‘goodbye’.Recently, my colleague and I stumbled upon a LinkedIn post lamenting how junior lawyers are often paid below minimum wage. Intrigued, we did some quick math, dividing our monthly salaries by 30 to calculate our daily earnings. Then we Googled the minimum wage for skilled workers in India. Dear readers, I am elated to inform you that we earn (slightly) more than that threshold. The moral of the story? Social media and public relations aren't always right (it isn't that the field is exploitative). However, this humble earning comes at a significant cost. The long working hours and unrelenting stress often make one question the sustainability of this profession. I studied law so I could afford a better life. Now, I can’t afford life because I studied law. For those without financial backing, surviving the early years in the profession requires either significant sacrifice or sheer resilience.Despite these challenges, many of us stay because of the passion for the profession and the eventual rewards that experience and perseverance bring. The hope is that with time and dedication, the financial returns will align with the effort invested. Until then, we learn to embrace the struggle, relying on the camaraderie of peers and the satisfaction of small legal victories to push forward.The Glorified ChaosLife in a chamber often feels like a blend of absurdity and adrenaline. The pressure is relentless, the pay is laughable, and the errors, whether your own or the clerk’s, could fill a comedy sketch. And yet, amidst the chaos, there’s something strangely addictive about it. Maybe it’s the camaraderie with colleagues as you laugh through the stress. Maybe it’s the high of winning a case against all odds. Or maybe we’re all just too sleep-deprived to think straight. The sheer unpredictability of every day keeps the mind sharp and the spirit strangely engaged. The thrill of outmaneuvering an opponent in court, the relief when a judge rules in your favor, and the rollercoaster of emotions attached to every victory and setback make the journey worth it. Lfe here is never dull. Whatever it is, it grows on you. So if you ever find yourself in the profession, remember: the files will always multiply, the clerk will always surprise you, and sleep is for the weak. Welcome to the dark side.
LIFE in a chamber is an ecosystem in itself. It’s chaotic, exhausting, but also liberating. If you think courtroom dramas on TV capture the intensity, let me assure you: the real drama starts much earlier, often with a conference scheduled at the ungodly hour of 9 AM on a Sunday. God rested on the seventh day, but apparently, litigators do not. In this ecosystem, sleep deprivation is glorified like the ultimate badge of honor. If you’re clocking more than 3 hours of shut eye, are you even working hard enough? Mornings don’t begin with chirping birds or yoga stretches but with sheer panic. I didn’t choose the litigation life. The litigation life chose me… and now refuses to let me sleep. Meanwhile, the files on my desk have multiplied overnight like rabbits and my boss has sent 20 instructions to be fulfilled by 8 am. Social media is currently debating a 90 hour work week, but I say, why stop there? 90 hours, what we fondly call ‘light duty.’ While my friends in other fields complain about working weekends, I marvel at the concept of a weekend. Justice is a jealous mistress, she wants all your time to herself.My Boss Never Sleeps (at night)Talking about working weekends, my boss, I think he’s an excellent lawyer. I want to be him when I “grow up”. He approaches every matter, whether a monumental constitutional matter or mundane property dispute which sounds like a lullaby to me, with the same intensity, pouring his heart and soul into his work. But, and there’s always a "but", he likes to work late. While his eyes alight with ideas and strategies, mine threaten to close in protest. For him, the stillness of the night is when he finds his rhythm, dissecting constitutional bench rulings or strategizing how to outsmart the opposition, but my soul is astral projecting to my bed. So yes, I want to be him when I "grow up." But if it involves his hours? Let’s just say, I’m still hoping for a version of his genius that clocks out at a respectable hour. "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by." – Douglas AdamsOn the topic of missing deadlines, I would like to introduce you to our clerk, a Houdini level disappearing artist who deserves his own sitcom, or perhaps a self-help book titled “How to Not Give a F**: A Masterclass in Indifference”. Every litigation lawyer knows the eternal struggle of dealing with the office clerk, a mythical creature whose primary talent is the art of disappearing. Ours, however, is not just any clerk. He is a magician in his own rights. He vanishes into thin air just as the boss starts asking, “Where’s the file?” My boss once quipped to a friend, “My relationship with the office clerk is very intense. I spend more time with him than my wife. I long to see one, and I dread to see the other, you figure out which is which”. Our clerk has been informed by the boss how he’s single handedly capable of burning down his entire practice, getting our licenses cancelled and getting all of us sued by the clients where the clerk will be Defendant no. 1, followed by the rest of us. Some people create problems, some solve them, he’s of the former kind. Want an urgent filing done by this afternoon? He’ll make sure he responds within 3-4 business days. Your matter is next and you want your files? He’ll make sure he reaches the courtroom after the matter has passed or if it's your lucky day, you may get a bundle with half the pages missing, leading to frantic searches in court. And yet, like Stockholm syndrome, we can’t entirely write him off. His schedule is classified information, even to himself. He’s a mystery but somehow, against all odds, he’s always there, just not when you actually need him. I quite enjoy observing his misdemeanor and spreading the tales of our legendary office clerk. My boss pointed out -“I feel our clerk may become so famous through your writings. We better put tickets for sale for people to come and watch him. i) Premium Passes: See him (not) get a file; ii) Platinum pass: see him prepare a cause list.”The Toll on ClientsWhile we often joke about our chaotic schedules, the real burden isn’t just on the lawyers, it’s the clients who suffer the most. Litigation in India is a long, financially draining affair that can break even the wealthiest. Cases drag on for years, sometimes decades, and if the roster of the judge changes, you might as well restart the entire argument. Clients spend tens of lakhs, if not crores, on legal fees, procedural costs, and re-strategizing every time a fresh judge is assigned.If you want speedier justice, well, you better be ready to spend more. Engaging a senior counsel to argue your matter significantly increases your chances of moving things along. Of course, their fees can sometimes rival the cost of the dispute itself. Justice may be blind, but it’s certainly not cheap. I once saw a client who had already spent over Rs. 50 lakhs on legal proceedings, only to be told that if he wanted his case expedited, he needed to engage a senior advocate for another Rs. 25 lakhs. He laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh of amusement, it was the hollow, broken laugh of a man questioning every decision he ever made.The Emotional Toll of Losing a Case"Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." – Winston Churchill, or as we call it, a random Tuesday.While accepting my first client, I had confidently agreed to handle it for the princely sum of Rs. 15,000, not knowing the adventure ahead, waking up early for the lengthy journey from Jangpura to Rohini Court. After much effort, I got the favourable outcome, leaving me exhilarated and slightly dazed. It was chaotic, nerve-wracking, and rewarding, my first taste of the unpredictable world of lawyering.However, the other side of the profession is how a loss (non grant of relief) makes you feel, not just the clients but the counsel as well. The incapacity to secure a favorable outcome for a client, who might have been relying on that relief to improve their situation, can be mentally and emotionally exhausting. It’s not just about professional setbacks, it’s about carrying the weight of someone else’s dashed hopes and expectations. Every loss lingers, replaying in the mind at odd hours, making one question every decision and argument made in court. “What could I have argued instead”. Some lawyers manage to compartmentalize, moving from one case to another with a pragmatic mindset, while others struggle with the deep seated feeling that they let their clients down. My mind takes losing very seriously, which is why I immediately blame the clerk, the registry, the system, and the alignment of the stars. Sometimes no matter how many nights you stayed up preparing the case, it’s not the merits of the case, but it’s fate, always blame fate first and foremost. If you secure a favorable outcome, you congratulate the client, and you move forward to your next brief. In case, the gods of litigation don’t shower their blessings on you, you take the loss, learn from your experience and you move forward to your next brief. This is the cycle which must be maintained. Every brief comes with its own destiny. Your duty is to represent it to the best of your abilities. Eventually, experience teaches you resilience, but no amount of experience can fully prepare you for that special kind of disappointment when a sure shot case doesn’t go your way.Filing Nightmare“Your suffering brings me joy”- Court Registry If there’s one thing that can break the spirit of even the most determined lawyer, it’s dealing with the court registry. Filing a case sounds simple enough, submit the petition, pay the requisite fees, and get a hearing date. But in reality, it’s a bureaucratic obstacle course designed by someone who clearly enjoys human suffering. Just when you think you've cleared all the hurdles, the registry introduces new, previously unheard of requirements that somehow were “always part of the rules.” As soon as noon arrives and the clock strikes 1:00.00, not 1:00:01, be prepared to have the shutter slammed to your face. The registry’s scrutiny is unmatched. A minor typographical error? Rejected. Margins not as per the prescribed format? Rejected. The paper gave someone a cut? Rejected. The list of possible reasons for rejection is as exhaustive as it is exasperating. Unless you find creative ways to get the listing, you may as well forget about the case till the earliest date available after 2 years. Even after correcting the errors, the file might ‘mysteriously go missing’, only to reappear weeks later with yet another clerical objection. “Paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all the paper. And the work.”― Darynda JonesThe Pay Reality CheckMoney talks, but all mine ever says is ‘goodbye’.Recently, my colleague and I stumbled upon a LinkedIn post lamenting how junior lawyers are often paid below minimum wage. Intrigued, we did some quick math, dividing our monthly salaries by 30 to calculate our daily earnings. Then we Googled the minimum wage for skilled workers in India. Dear readers, I am elated to inform you that we earn (slightly) more than that threshold. The moral of the story? Social media and public relations aren't always right (it isn't that the field is exploitative). However, this humble earning comes at a significant cost. The long working hours and unrelenting stress often make one question the sustainability of this profession. I studied law so I could afford a better life. Now, I can’t afford life because I studied law. For those without financial backing, surviving the early years in the profession requires either significant sacrifice or sheer resilience.Despite these challenges, many of us stay because of the passion for the profession and the eventual rewards that experience and perseverance bring. The hope is that with time and dedication, the financial returns will align with the effort invested. Until then, we learn to embrace the struggle, relying on the camaraderie of peers and the satisfaction of small legal victories to push forward.The Glorified ChaosLife in a chamber often feels like a blend of absurdity and adrenaline. The pressure is relentless, the pay is laughable, and the errors, whether your own or the clerk’s, could fill a comedy sketch. And yet, amidst the chaos, there’s something strangely addictive about it. Maybe it’s the camaraderie with colleagues as you laugh through the stress. Maybe it’s the high of winning a case against all odds. Or maybe we’re all just too sleep-deprived to think straight. The sheer unpredictability of every day keeps the mind sharp and the spirit strangely engaged. The thrill of outmaneuvering an opponent in court, the relief when a judge rules in your favor, and the rollercoaster of emotions attached to every victory and setback make the journey worth it. Lfe here is never dull. Whatever it is, it grows on you. So if you ever find yourself in the profession, remember: the files will always multiply, the clerk will always surprise you, and sleep is for the weak. Welcome to the dark side.
