NITIN Gadkari, the Union Road Transport and Highways Minister, had once narrated an incident when an entire train was redirected at a small town onto a different platform than its usual one just to facilitate his exit without having to climb any stairs.
This involved rescheduling and rearranging some other trains without notice.
It inconvenienced and angered hundreds of passengers.
Gadkari said he was not at all happy about such special treatment given to him at the expense of paying passengers and began taking the railway officials to task for this apparent folly.
However, they candidly disclosed: “Sir, it was your PA (personal assistant) who made this special request as you have difficulty climbing stairs.”
Gadkari thereupon quipped: “These PAs seem to be like kettles which are much hotter than even the tea!”
Chai se zyada kitli garam!
We find such ‘hot kettles’ in courts too in the form of court-masters and personal assistants of milords or their minions by whatever name they are designated.
As long as they are trusted and favoured by their bosses, they behave as if they themselves are the bosses.
This is a story of a very hot kettle of a very rotund milord.
Let us call him Mr Fixit with apologies to Fevicol.
But it is to his credit that come hell or high water, he has stuck around with Lord Rotund through the giant-wheels and merry-go-rounds of what passes off as justice dispensation in a high court.
To streamline the listing of cases before his Bench, Lord Rotund had delegated powers of fixing matters on his daily board (cause-list) to his trusted court associate, Mr Fixit.
Every morning, as lawyers queued up to convince Lord Rotund of the necessity and urgency of listing their cases on the supplementary boards the very next day, it was Mr Fixit’s job to ensure compliance with milord’s directions.
Fixit made a note about which matters were to be urgently listed and which had to be kicked off far and long with an expertise akin to a football goalie’s goal kick.
Lord Rotund had a very simple way to decide ‘urgency’.
If a senior gown was engaged to say it is urgent, that matter was deemed to be urgent. No one would spend lakhs to engage a pricey senior just for mentioning a matter for fixing a date if there was no urgency.
If, on the other hand, a junior counsel was engaged to mention a matter, it could be listed sometime after two to three months.
But if the filing advocate or advocate-on-record (AOR) mentioned it himself, Mr Fixit had been delegated the power to ‘give a date’.
Fixit, like a faithful goalkeeper on Lord Rotund’s team, then kicked the matter beyond four months. Milord did not applaud such kicks but he looked pleased with Fixit’s performance.
***
At this point, I must digress to re-tell that famous fable of the king and his pet monkey.
The monkey became such a favourite that the king trusted him even to stand guard with his sword while the king himself rested.
One afternoon as the king snoozed, the monkey noticed a fly pestering his master. The pet monkey decided to prove his worth as a guard by swatting this pest with his weapon.
Swoosh!
The sword came down as the fly settled on the dozing king’s nose.
The rest as they say, is his-story, or my story.
In all retellings, the end was understandably quite gory.
***
So why did I interrupt my story?
Well, you see, Mr Fixit had become Lord Rotund’s pet monkey in court. Some had even started likening him to a skunk rather than a monkey.
While designated seniors walked away triumphantly, having convinced Lord Rotund of their urgency, the lesser mortals were consigned to the whims of Mr Fixit. And boy did he enjoy that!
Soon, enterprising AORs got Mr Fixit’s number. Milords would grant urgent listings to a dozen matters and were sure Fixit would list them diligently. He would, of course. But he gradually started slipping in a couple of cases in that privileged list on his own.
What was his criteria or consideration? That is best left unsaid but it opened up a channel … which resulted in a steady flow for Mr Fixit.
Now, into this established scenario, a new junior milord got assigned for a sitting with Lord Rotund. It did not take him long to figure out what was going on. He kept a close watch and started making notes.
How many listings were actually permitted by the Bench and how many ended up getting listed the next day?
After having gathered all this data for about a week, he openly questioned Mr Fixit in court one day: “Yesterday, we had granted only 12 circulations for today. How come there are 15 matters listed on our supplementary board today?”
Mr Fixit was dumbfounded. At first he mumbled: “You are mistaken, milord; 15 circulations were granted yesterday.”
Junior milord: “No, Mr Fixit. I had noted every mentioning which was granted by our Bench yesterday. We want to know how and why three more cases have been added to that list?”
By now Mr Fixit had started shivering. All this was being heard by those present in that packed courtroom.
Lord Rotund too was taken aback momentarily. But he recovered very quickly and feigned a bout of cough to quickly shut off the microphone. It looked like tea was rushing to help the kettle!
Turning towards the junior milord, Lord Rotund engaged in an animated discussion which initiaĺy appeared as browbeating to all present but gradually turned into pleading … though no one could hear what was being said as the microphone had been switched off by Lord Rotund.
Junior milord was observed shaking his head as if in defiance, refusing to back off.
Finally, Lord Rotund switched on the microphone and announced: “We shall rise now.”
Then he hurriedly exited the courtroom. Junior milord had no option but to rise and retire to his chamber.
The Bar was abuzz.
Many who had availed of Mr Fixit’s ‘cooperative services’ were worried that any inquiry into the established pattern would blow open the lid on the mysterious case of random listings.
We did not need some Sherlock Holmes to solve the mystery.
Still, everyone waited anxiously to see how this crisis would be dealt with by one of the premier high courts in the country.
You will be happy to know that our high court is no stranger to such controversies. It has survived worse situations and retained its stellar reputation by effectively cleansing the system of black sheep and troublemakers in black coats.
In this case too, Mr Fixit was given a stern warning: “Your mistake was not just that you were doing something wrong … but that you got caught doing it.”
He was then let off with a warning never to get caught again. Else he would surely lose his job.
I must say Lord Rotund was luckier than that fabled king. He managed to retain his nose … as well as his pet monkey, Mr Fixit.
As for that troublesome junior milord who dared to question the integrity of our hallowed system, a proposal was drawn up to change his headquarters and pack him off to a place with a lot less work and a lot more time.
As an immediate measure, he was shunted out from Lord Rotund’s Bench so that Mr Fixit’s efficiency was not adversely affected by his hostile presence.
The moral of this story?
“Square pegs do not fit into round holes. Rotund one’s do!”
