JUST as general medical practitioners love to refer rich patients to specialists and experts for opinions, lawyers and solicitors too often advise corporate or monied clients to take opinions from designated senior advocates or retired judges.
The monied clients do not mind paying for such expert advice and the referring doctor or lawyer gets a specialist to share the blame if something goes wrong. Of late, referral fees too are a big motivating factor.
A long time ago, a good friend and senior colleague of mine was empanelled by a university and attended many of their cases in the Bombay High Court.
In the 1980s, on a divisive issue involving the enforcement of some discipline by insistence on a compulsory minimum attendance, there was a lot of acrimonious debate in the elected bodies of the university such as the general council and the senate between rival political factions about the new amendments proposed by the academic council.
My friend, besides being the senior-most panel counsel, was also a respected law professor. Let us call him Advocate Satyavan.
As the then vice chancellor had great faith in his assessment, evaluation and advice, she asked him for his opinion about the legality of the proposed amendments and the chances of these amendments withstanding judicial scrutiny on the anvil of reasonableness if the same were challenged upon introduction.
My friend got down in earnest to do the job of giving the vice chancellor his honest and informed viewpoint.
He studied the debates, the points of objection, similar provisions elsewhere and, of course, whatever precedents he could find in those days of non-computer-aided research and drafted an elaborate opinion.
He was going to share it with the vice chancellor when, somehow, the news of the vice chancellor having sought an opinion from a senior panel counsel of the university itself leaked out into the newspapers and resulted in an unwarranted hullabaloo.
Opponents of this course of action alleged nepotism and favouritism. They were vocal in questioning the value or worth of such an internal, subjective opinion.
My friend, therefore, suggested to the vice chancellor that the university should take a legal opinion but it should be taken from some independent legal stalwart of impeccable credentials and spotless reputation.
He also suggested the name of a recently retired judge having a clean image whose opinion would undoubtedly receive universal support.
The vice chancellor loved the idea. This judge whose name was recommended was Bombay-based and had ascended the rungs of the subordinate judiciary right up to the Supreme Court of India and retired as a highly respected senior judge of the court having penned many landmark judgments.
This retired milord was accordingly contacted. He agreed to give his opinion orally or in writing. His fees were reasonable by today’s standards but seemed stiff in those days.
The written opinion was going to cost more than double that of the oral one but being a public body the university wanted the opinion in writing and on record.
It agreed to the fees and even sent the advance sought by the milord for reading along with the file of the case for opinion.
My friend was asked by the vice chancellor to “coordinate” with the retired Supreme Court milord.
In the very first meeting, my friend realised that though the advance cheque had been cleared, the file containing the queries had not been read. So he patiently explained the entire case orally to the judge.
The meeting was at the learned judge’s residence and my friend was always treated with great courtesy on every visit.
On each visit, they had to start from where they had left off on the previous occasion, and every time it was my friend who spoke, showed the relevant provisions and case law and repeated the querist’s queries.
The Supreme Court judge just kept nodding and smiling, occasionally sipping his vegetable soup.
On the fourth such visit, my friend was in for a pleasant surprise.
The learned judge asked him: “Surely you must have formed some opinion by now.”
My friend had to reluctantly admit that originally it was he, who as senior panel counsel for the university, had been tasked with giving an opinion but due to political pressure and circumstances beyond her control, the vice chancellor had to refer this matter for opinion to His Lordship.
“Please bring your opinion and all supporting material for our next meeting which will be the last one,” the retired milord directed.
My friend took his leave and left.
As agreed, in the next meeting, he handed over his handiwork to the learned judge who went through the file cursorily and said: “You can send the entire balance amount of fees and have my written opinion collected next week. No further meetings will be needed.”
My friend too was glad that these meetings had concluded at last. He resided in a very distant suburb in North Mumbai and the learned judge resided in a plush society of retired milords which had been built on a plot of land originally reserved for housing those whose houses had been taken away in the heart of South Mumbai.
These meetings had invariably been held after court hours. Hence my friend used to reach home very late and had to face a bit of domestic disharmony due to that.
In the following week, the university peon delivered the balance fee cheque to the retired Supreme Court milord and collected his written opinion in a sealed cover.
The vice chancellor was very pleased and summoned my friend to show him his precious opinion. My friend dutifully went to meet her in her chamber.
She was beaming. “We got our money’s worth. What a lovely opinion. So erudite, so learned, so precise! No wonder these worthies make it to the Supreme Court. They are a class apart.”
The vice chancellor then passed that opinion on to my friend to peruse.
Imagine my friend’s shock when he found that it was a verbatim copy of his own opinion! The only difference was that he had given it to the retired milord on plain white legal-size paper and it had been re-typed and returned by the milord on an A4 size executive bond letterhead with his long, impressive signature at the bottom of it all!
The vice chancellor added: “I know he grilled you thoroughly on five evenings, Satyavan, but the result shows that every minute and every rupee spent on this was worth it. Please don’t forget to prepare a voucher for your taxi fare to and fro even though I know you travel by train. I shall pass the expense. It is the least I can do to appreciate your efforts.”
The statutes were then amended based on my friend’s opinion duly engrossed and signed by that highly respected Supreme Court milord, who is no more.
My friend Advocate Satyavan did not suffer either. They say the fruits of patience are very sweet. In his case, that saying literally came true. In due course he too got elevated to the Bench of the Bombay High Court, distinguished himself as a milord and retired after a fairly long innings.
Now he too is much sought after.
For what?
For giving opinions!
I have no doubt that he writes his own opinions. All is well that ends well.
