Trial and error: Life of a first-generation lawyer in Delhi

A hilarious, heartfelt account of a first-generation lawyer in Delhi.

—

I come from a background of doctors, so a professional degree was the obvious prescription. Since I did not want to be buried in textbooks as much as the other members of my family, I became a lawyer (yes, you read that right).

The life of an advocate is tough— chaotic, unhealthy, yet somehow managing to go on. But for a first-generation lawyer who moves to Delhi for work, it is a whole new level of challenge that even Mamla Legal Hai may not have prepared you for.

It is like being a hamster on a wheel, racing through the maze of Delhi courts, where every step feels like an uphill journey. For those of us not born into this legal privilege or legacy, it is not just about learning the law— it is about breaking through doors that seem permanently closed, where connections often carry more weight than merit.

The courtroom hustle

My first day as an advocate was a blur of excitement and exhaustion. Fresh out of law school, eyes wide open, I tried to take it all in— the black robe, the clamour of the court, the endless shuffle of case files. I stood there, ready to fight for justice, though I was also fighting off a headache from the night before at 4S. And yes, I was also determined to battle for a seat in the high court canteen.

Being a first-generation lawyer in Delhi courts is like being a contestant on Survivor, but instead of surviving on coconuts, you are battling heavy case files— since the office clerk has mastered the art of disappearing when needed, and the opposing counsel, who, let us be honest, is the stuff of nightmares.

The hallowed halls are an obstacle course— navigating through the oceanic egos of senior advocates and juniors carrying files heavier than their career prospects, especially if they happen to be carrying National Company Law Tribunal (NCLT) files.

Also read: Is the separation of power an obstacle to remove which Lord Ganesha can be summoned?

Half your life in the courts is spent figuring out the bureaucracy of court staff, and the unspoken rules of the legal world. The other half goes into clearing the never-ending defects. Once you rectify them, congratulations! You have just unlocked the next level of frustration.

The moment the judge's eyes land on you, your stomach tightens. Are they silently waiting for your rookie mistake, or simply amused by the wide-eyed look of confusion on your face? And God forbid you address the court from the wrong side— what follows is a chorus of smirks and glares, a silent lesson in courtroom etiquette that no one ever quite teaches you.

The 'perpetual junior' status

If you are a first-generation lawyer, you are probably spending your early years working as a junior in a senior lawyer's chambers. Here, you will learn a lot— mostly how to carry case files, read the cause list and nod thoughtfully while the seniors argue in court.

You may not always understand the Latin phrases they are throwing around, but hey, you can always google them later. And when you are not in court, you are in the office burning the midnight oil, hunched over a bowl of Maggi, wondering if this is really what you signed up for.

Working in a senior lawyer's chamber feels like an episode of Suits, except instead of Harvey Specter, you get a senior who is too busy to explain anything and expects you to read their mind.

And instead of glossy offices and high-stakes drama, you are in a stuffy courtroom where the only real challenge is trying to get that one empty chair that five other lawyers are making a run for.

And yet, this hustle is not the same for everyone. Some of us move through it with the cushion of family support, making the rough edges a little smoother. But for others— lawyers from small towns or families where education was a hard-won gift— the struggle cuts deeper. Language, class, caste and cultural divides all play their part, making the courtroom an even more challenging place.

But for female lawyers, this junior status comes with additional burdens. The legal profession is not immune to the kinds of harassment and discrimination we see in other fields— it is just better at hiding it behind robes and titles.

Also read: Cashback policy

Courtrooms that prepare and fight sexual harassment cases, and our chambers, where we prepare to fight such cases for others in the world, are often the very places where female lawyers face harassment themselves.

Perhaps this is the legal profession's way of demonstrating to female lawyers the practical aspects of harassment, but we are not laughing.

The unwelcoming environment is not just about the lewd, crude comments or unwanted advances— though those are all too real— it is the subtler exclusions: being left out of critical discussions, having your voice overshadowed by male colleagues, or worse, being seen as less competent simply because you are a woman.

The family factor

Let us not forget the endless questions from family members. As a first-generation lawyer, your family assumes you are halfway to becoming the next Kapil Sibal after you have barely managed to get one adjournment in a local court. Relatives will ask you to help with everything from traffic tickets to land disputes. Every family dinner becomes a legal consultation, except no one pays, and everyone is a client.

The paycheck that … isn't

Let us talk money, or rather, the lack of it. As a first-generation lawyer, you quickly realise that your starting salary is like riding a tricycle when you want a Ferrari.

Between paying your rent, daily metro rides, negotiating with auto drivers and endless cups of court-canteen coffee, you are left wondering if litigation really is the right path.

But hey, who needs money when you have got passion and a law degree, right? Well, you might need money when your starting salary cannot cover your rent, or your monthly travel expenses.

The silver lining (no, seriously)

Amidst the chaos, the late nights, and the frequent courtroom confusion, there is something truly exhilarating about being a first-generation lawyer in Delhi. Every case, no matter how small, feels like a victory.

Also read: Cover letter for job application for the post of judge

When you finally get a judge to agree with your argument, it is like hitting the jackpot at the casino (minus the money, of course). You might be starting at the bottom, but now you are here, and there is only one way to go— up.

After all, every senior lawyer once started out as a rookie, fumbling their way through the legal labyrinth. One day, you too will be the one booming in court, while a fresh-faced junior watches in awe— and possibly googles everything you just said— if AI (ChatGPT 2898) has not taken over by then.

Until then, here is to the daily grind, the perpetual hustle, and the eternal hope that one day, you will walk into court, and the judge will actually know your name.