I did the Buran Ghati Pass this June. A 15,000 feet pass in Himachal. The trek takes you through beautiful forests, enormous meadows, snow and, eventually, to a rather intimidating mountain pass. The pass-crossing day is the one that tests you: roughly 9–10 hours of trekking, a steep climb, and, depending on the season, a fairly dramatic descent down snow, ice or boulders, one straight out of the Chronicles of Narnia! (Except that we didn’t have any magical wardrobe but a straight and steep climb). By the time you get to the end of it, you have had enough of mountains, your legs have had enough of you, and you are seriously missing a hot shower!

Why Raghav! What is the goddamn point of this post! and where are we going with this ! Well, its supposed to be a post for me to unwind, so uptill now whatever you had to endure reading, has absolutely no bearing on what the post is about.

What struck me wasn’t just how difficult the trek was.

It was how well our trek leader managed to get a fairly large group of people — all with different levels of fitness, different personalities and, presumably, different ideas of what constitutes “fun” — through it.

And somewhere along the way, I realised that a good trek leader has an awful lot in common with a senior in a litigation chamber.

The obvious part is easy. Both have to get everyone to the other side.

You keep an eye on the person who’s falling behind. You make sure the person who’s racing ahead doesn’t disappear around the next mountain. You know when someone needs a push, when someone needs a break, and when someone is quietly contemplating whether it would be possible to live permanently at the current campsite.

Everyone’s who’s lived the chamber experiences knows that the equivalents are remarkably similar.

But the thing I really noticed was that the trek leader’s job wasn’t simply to get us from Point A to Point B. It was to make sure we enjoyed getting there.

And that, I think, is a surprisingly important part of being a senior. Litigation is already serious enough. There are deadlines, courtrooms, clients, conferences, briefs, hearings, research, drafting and urgent timelines all the time.

If the entire journey is going to be serious as well, everyone might as well give up.

A chamber needs jokes. It needs ridiculous conversations that have absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand. And sometimes it needs games that are so profoundly stupid that you can’t quite believe a group of otherwise functioning adults has decided to spend the next twenty minutes playing them.

On our trek, one such game was Bunny Bunny. I will not attempt to explain the rules because, frankly, I am still not sure there were any. We would break into some completely nonsensical game, accompanied by noises, gestures and an alarming amount of enthusiasm, while walking through the Himalayas.

It made absolutely no sense. It was dumb as fuck. And it was fantastic.

There were other equally pointless conversations and games. None of them helped us climb the mountain. None improved our pace. None contributed to our safety. And absolutely none would have survived even the most generous definition of “productive use of time.”

But they did something else. They made a group of tired strangers into a group of people who actually enjoyed being around each other.

And I think that is an underrated part of being a senior. You have to let your juniors have their silly conversations. You have to laugh at the terrible joke. You have to participate in the completely pointless argument. Sometimes you even have to play Bunny Bunny.

Because litigation is a long journey.

There are going to be enough people reminding you about deadlines, mistakes, court timings and things that need to be done.

A senior doesn’t need to make every interaction another item on that list.

Sometimes the most useful thing you can do, after a brutal day in court, is sit with the juniors over chai and talk absolute nonsense for twenty minutes.

The junior is going to remember the 14-hour day in court. But they will also remember the ridiculous conversation on the way back. They’ll remember the senior who joined in when everyone was taking the mickey out of each other. They’ll remember that, despite the pressure, the chamber was a place where you could laugh.

Of course, there is another similarity.

The trek leader is quietly thinking about the next day’s route while everyone else is sitting around having fun. The senior is probably doing exactly the same thing. The juniors have gone home. The jokes are over. The silly conversations have finally stopped. And somewhere, in the background, there is a senior looking at tomorrow’s board and wondering why there are seven matters listed when everyone had agreed there would be “a relatively light day.”

But perhaps that’s the deal.

You carry some of the responsibility so that the people around you can enjoy a little more of the journey. You keep an eye on the route. You make sure nobody gets lost. You push when they need pushing. You slow down when they need slowing down. And, every now and then, you forget about the destination and just enjoy the walk with them.

Because whether you’re climbing a mountain or trying to survive litigation, the people you travel with can make a very hard journey feel surprisingly easy.

Even if, occasionally, they are the reason the journey takes longer.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a rather long time now! Since I’m a lawyer who has spent considerable time representing accused persons in criminal trials and victims on the criminal prosecution side and spent countless hours speaking to prisoners lodged in Tihar Jail (find my earlier blogpost here —https://medium.com/@advocateraghavmittal/lady-advocate-at-tihar-jail-and-her-tussles-with-the-ground-level-realities-6976a0b84bef — well, here’s me shamelessly plugging my earlier blogpost to promote my views!), Neville (John Lobo‘s son and my partner — Rhea’s dad) was nice enough to indulge me with thrilling criminal investigation stories of John Lobo!

For context, John was as decorated an officer as can be, in his lifetime. He was a career officer in IPS from the Maharashtra Cadre and also served in IB and CBI, personally requested by the Chief of Security for two serving Prime Ministers - Indira Gandhi and Morarji Desai.

Naturally, as someone who’s spent a lot of time dealing with police officers and understanding (somewhat) their struggles, I was intrigued by these conversations with Neville and wanted to know more. It is then that I was told that John had written a book — a memoir in many ways — recounting his policing experiences — Leaves from a Policeman’s Diary! But here’s the catch — I doubt you will find this book in print now.

Neville was again very kind to share a PDF copy, upon my request. Well…truth be told — he did share with me the printed book, but I am a very, very, very slow reader. So, when I saw the book, I requested he share a PDF version with me. Cause, as embarrassing as this sounds, I for sure knew that I wouldn’t be able to finish reading it in time and return the book while I was in Mumbai.

Back to the book!

History pre and post India’s independence

What makes this book extraordinary is not merely the cases it recounts, but the era it spans. From the complexities of policing in pre-independence India, shaped by colonial governance and its rigid hierarchies, to the evolving systems and challenges of post-independence law enforcement, Lobo offers a rare continuity of perspective. His accounts quietly document how authority functioned, how justice was pursued, and how the role of a police officer transformed alongside a nation finding its identity.

He hints at the vast changes he witnessed — from colonial policing structures to post-independence administrative evolution. There is a quiet humility here, but also a clear assertion: these stories are not fiction — they are fragments of reality.

For instance, in the opening chapter, he recounts his interaction with a dacoit, a figure that loomed large in rural criminal landscapes.
• The narrative explores:
• The psychology of hardened criminals
• The thin line between fear, respect, and authority
• The tactical and human challenges of dealing with outlaw networks

The Nanavati Trial

One of the biggest and most profound cases that he dealt with was the KM Nanavati Trial as the DCP. All law students read about this case since it was the last jury trial in India! This was one of the most highlighted cases in Indian history since it involved Kawas Manekshaw Nanavati, a Naval Commander, who was tried for the murder of Prem Ahuja, his wife’s lover. Commander Nanavati, accused under section 302 of IPC, initially declared not guilty by a jury, but the verdict was dismissed by the Bombay High Court, and the case was retried as a bench trial, with the Supreme Court ultimately holding him guilty.

What’s even more surprising is that despite his murder conviction, he only spent 3 years in prison and was given a presidential Pardon (Let’s talk about society and its shifting constitutional morality right? But more on that later)

John’s reflections around the infamous K. M. Nanavati case capture this interplay beautifully. Not as a sensational retelling, but as a measured insight into a moment when law, public sentiment, and media spectacle collided. Through Lobo’s lens, the case becomes more than a headline — it becomes a study in how justice operates under pressure, and how narratives can shape outcomes as much as evidence.

Importantly, he does not retell the case sensationally. Instead, he situates it within the institutional challenges of policing, showing how external pressures can shape investigative environments.

Thrilling accounts of Field policing

Perhaps the most striking parts of the book are the field stories — the kind that reveal both the brutality of crime and the composure of those tasked with confronting it.

The Headless Body Case

One of the most haunting chapters, this deals with the discovery of a corpse without a head.
• Key elements:
• The forensic and investigative difficulty of identifying the victim
• Reconstruction of events from minimal physical evidence
• The psychological resilience required of officers handling such cases

Lobo’s narration is strikingly calm, almost clinical. This restraint makes the horror more palpable — he focuses not on shock, but on the discipline of investigation.

The Train Robbery and the Minister’s Death

Equally powerful is the account of the minister killed during a train robbery, where what began as theft spiralled into fatal consequence. The suddenness of the act — the blow against a pole, death in an instant — underscores a recurring reality in Lobo’s world: that crime does not always follow intention, and that the law must grapple with these unpredictable escalations.

Policing in Transition (Pre- and Post-Independence)

This is less about a single incident and more about institutional memory.
•He contrasts:
• Colonial-era policing — rigid, hierarchical, often detached from local realities
• Post-independence policing — evolving, but still grappling with legacy structures
Insights include:
• Changes in governance and accountability
• Shifts in public perception of the police
• The internal adjustment required by officers serving across eras

The Man Himself — unembellished, bold and deeply human

John, throughout his writing, is unembellished, precise, and deeply human. There is no attempt to dramatise, no effort to glorify. Instead, there is quiet courage in simply telling things as they were. That straightforwardness is what makes the book so compelling — it trusts the reader to understand the gravity of events without exaggeration.

And in doing so, it offers something invaluable — not just stories of crime and investigation, but a living archive of India’s policing history, told by someone who was there, who served, and who chose to write with honesty.

At a deeper level, the book also becomes a quiet commentary on the criminal justice system itself. Through cases like Nanavati and the many field incidents, it hints at the broader ecosystem — courts, media, public opinion — and how each influences outcomes in ways that are not always predictable!!

I’ve been meaning to write this for a very long time now. As it happens, I was going through a particularly patchy time in life (maybe still going through it — ok, I think it’s more of a constant state of depression now than a particularly patchy phase and yes — I’ve been seeing a therapist for it). Anyways, I don’t think I’ve managed to find a break yet. Particularly lost about my life aspirations and just not sure if I’m at the right place doing the right things at the moment. What’s surprising is that I haven’t the faintest idea why. I’m financially secure now with a decent job and a healthy relationship — anyway, I’ll save the ranting for another blog.

As usual, I was blowing off the steam, venting about it, to my partner, Rhea, (as I always end up doing) whilst scrolling through my YouTube simultaneously, when I came across Vir’s stand up and almost excitedly laughed out — “Babes, you know what — this dude is one of the few who makes you reflect on your life decisions, shares his vulnerabilities AND still manages to be funny about it”.

Next morning, I get an Amazon delivery of The Outsider: A Memoir for Misfits on my doorstep.

The best book gift ever! The memoir manages to keep you hooked to Vir’s story. There are several reasons why:

Being Vulnerable, humble and funny
Vir starts off being vulnerable about his life. If at some point in your life, you have lived abroad as an Indian, you will feel personally touched by how accurately it mirrors the daily struggles. I did too — minus the netflix specials, sold-out shows and the comforting knowledge that it would all work out.

The Privilege Paradox

Vir Das talks about growing up with exposure to global privilege - foreign cities, big ideas — all of this, but without the actual money that usually comes with that lifestyle. You know the type: where you end up going to fancy dine-ins with your extended family and have 7-course meals but deep inside you feel awkward about it all cause you know you couldn’t have been able to afford it and it feels like just a waste of money. The one where you can confidently pronounce Pannenkoeken, but buying one requires financial planning.

That hit close to home.

I, too, have seen the world of the rich from dangerously close quarters — enough to understand how it works, but not enough to participate without checking my bank balance, my conscience, and the exchange rate. This is a special kind of suffering, because ignorance would’ve been cheaper.

“Privilege teaches you the rules; money lets you play.”

Odd Jobs, Existential Crises, and the Netherlands

While Vir hustled through comedy clubs and cultural whiplash, I was busy perfecting the ancient art of surviving as a lawyer and then again as a master’s student in the Hague and then after that, for a long time to find a job in Europe and after that, in India. I used to carry my CV every dayand distribute it to lawyers sitting out of the Defence Colony and Lajpat, hoping that someone would keep me and pay me something a little bit more than the minimum daily wage limit. For the uninitiated, this involves:
• Doing odd jobs that sound glamorous until you explain them out loud ( I used to love cycling, though, while being a Gorillas Delivery Guy)
• Pretending you’re “choosing minimalism” instead of being broke
• Learning that dignity is optional but rent and food is not

There’s something uniquely humbling about living and being surrounded by people where everyone is calmer than you and somehow doing better than you — financially and emotionally — while you’re calculating how many meals can be stretched out of one grocery run.

Why it works
What makes A Memoir of Misfits land isn’t the success story — it’s the in-betweenness. The constant sense of not fully belonging anywhere, of being culturally fluent but financially illiterate, emotionally resilient but permanently tired.

Misfits

If you look at my CV, you will notice that most things that I have done don’t make sense.

What it also tells you is that it’s fine not to have a path in life. Some people don’t and frankly shouldn’t follow a fixed path. Its ok to stand out and do things differently and you learn quickly when you do that, that “comfort and certainty are not siblings”

What I love about the memoir is the emphasis on building something that's going to take everything, despite being let down — daring to dream big, despite being poor and then rich — thinking of risks you can take with your life and why, some of the decisions you take in your life will never make sense to others but only to you.

Vir does all of this while managing to be deeply humble about his experiences and if you are going through a tough time, this memoir is sure to at least put a smile on your face, if not, shed tears of happiness for being reminded to be grateful for your experiences.

For most people, running is just exercise and metal is just noise. But for me — a lawyer who spends most of the day locked in a war of words and deadlines — these are lifelines. If I don’t run, I am angry. If I don’t listen to metal, I feel like a caged animal. These aren’t hobbies. They’re compulsions. Necessary ones. Some people meditate, some sip wine. I run until my legs scream and I blast blast-beats until my ears ring.

LET Me Explain!

Running gives me an exit. When I lace up and hit the pavement, something clicks. It’s not about mileage or pace — it’s about release. I run hard when I’m pissed. I run longer when I’m anxious. By the end, I’m spent but calm. Without it, I’m restless, irritable, short-tempered. I usually hit the peak of runner’s high at about when I have crossed the 9–12 Km mark when my head is just blank. No pain but I can almost inevitably feel my legs moving like its a machine.

I’ve sprinted hills in the rain because something inside wouldn’t shut up. Running forces my body to take on the burden my brain can’t carry anymore. It’s primal. It hurts. But afterward? I can breathe again.

My fuse disappears. Running isn’t therapy. It’s triage. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I’ve never felt that my therapist has been able to offer me a fraction of the triage I get from running.

Metal: The Soundtrack to My Sanity

Then there’s metal. If running burns the rage away, metal validates it. There’s a raw honesty to the genre. The chaos, the volume, the lyrics that scream what we’re all too polite to say out loud — it’s cathartic. I need double bass drums and guttural growls to wind down.

It’s not just background noise. It’s a way to metabolize the madness. If you saw me working silently but heard the beats of Slayer raging through my headphones, you’d probably think I was insane. But that’s the thing — without metal, I would be.

Bruises, Beats, and Brotherhood

There’s something wildly cathartic about being in a pit with total strangers, all throwing their limbs around in a ritualistic storm of pure, raw energy. On the outside, it looks violent. But inside the pit? There’s weirdly more respect, community, and release than most polite conversations I’ve had at social events.

You don’t go into a mosh pit to hurt people. You go in to let go. To shake loose the stress, the noise, the pressure. It’s therapy through impact. And the best part? No one’s pretending to be fine. Everyone’s there because, like me, they need to scream without screaming.

https://jmp.sh/s/DsufeXRQiiuQu1WYsLha

What is the correlation between Pain and Purpose

Both running and metal are intense, punishing, and oddly ritualistic. You commit. You embrace discomfort. And in return, you find clarity.

I’ve run in rain, on zero sleep, after 12-hour workdays. Why? Because my mind needed the purge. You could call it addiction, obsession, even compulsion. But I see it as survival.

Running makes me feel strong. Metal makes me feel understood. Moshing? That’s just the final exorcism. All of it together — it keeps me sane. Keeps me human.

And if that means I have to keep logging miles with my ears full of screaming guitars and occasionally throwing myself into a pit of sweating, flailing strangers — so be it.

It’s not everyone’s path. But it’s mine. And it’s loud, long, excruciatingly painful and absolutely necessary.

The recent 28% GST on Casinos, Horse Racing and Online Gaming might spell doom for the industry: Negating industry growth and revenue without reducing gambling-related harms.

“You know the best part of the best drug in the world isn’t the high. It’s the moment just before you take it. The dice are dancing on the table. Between now and the time they stop, that’s the greatest high in the world.”

- Two for the Money (2005)

The Indian government seems keen on getting you off that high, dazzling the dance for you!

Earlier this week, the GST Council Meeting chaired by FM Nirmala Sitharaman, announced that Casino, Horse Racing and Online gaming shall be taxed at 28%! Yes, 28% on the face value of chips purchased or on the full value of bets placed. Most likely, this proposed amendment should be tabled in the monsoon session of the parliament slated to commence from the 20th of July to bring about suitable amendments to include online gambling and Horse Racing in the Schedule as taxable actionable claims.

It is not surprising to see that this move has been strongly condemned by major online gaming industry stakeholders. According to Ashneer Grover, who auspiciously invested in the gaming industry right before this propitious ruling, the online gaming industry “stands murdered now”. The All India Gaming Federation called it “unconstitutional and irrational”.

While there are many problems with this ruling, I’ll first address the broad motives provided during the press briefing by the GST Council for this ruling and point out why I disagree with them.

1) It was stated that the ruling will not have an effect on the issues which are sub-judice.

· This decision is in the teeth of the settled legal precedents. An actionable claim under the GST is defined as goods under the CGST Act, 2017. The settled legal precedents lay down online gaming and horse racing are games of skill and not of chance. Therefore, they are not actionable claims and higher GST should not be paid on such services.

o Recently, the Rajasthan HC in Myteam 11 Fantasy Sports v. UOI held that online gaming services are games of skill and not games of chance. The GST notice alleged that the petitioner had misclassified their supply of online gaming as services instead of actionable claims, for the purposes of GST. The Rajasthan HC came down relied on a number of earlier precedents stating that issuance of such a notice is nothing but an abuse of the process of law.

o Similarly, for Horse Racing, the Supreme Court has held that betting on horse racing was a game of skill since factors like fitness, and skill of the horse and jockey are to be objectively assessed.

o Similar judgments have also been passed by the Punjab and Haryana HC and Bombay HC.

· Evidently, adding horse racing and online gaming in the Actionable claims list now would contravene the settled law. This also undermines the settled legal classification between the games of skill and games of choice.

2) It was stated that while there was no agenda of ending the industry, considering the morality of such acts and services, this decision was taken. It was reasoned that there is a lot of opaqueness in these industries which cannot possibly be pierced through and therefore, such taxes are being imposed because we cannot possibly regulate such activities entirely.

· The model of using taxation as a public health measure to reduce gambling related harms has been asserted to be flawed. These models were being considered earlier, for instance by the UK Gambling Commission and Australia. This is simply because this model neglects the fact that it largely excessive gambling losses, rather than the act of gambling itself, produces gambling-related harm. Higher tax rates in India may deter consumers from utilising legitimate platforms and may push them to offshore ones.

· A possible approach could be to introduce a statutory levy which is used for treatment for such gambling-related harms.

· If the system is opaque, then by any means increasing taxes should not be the right way forward. Regulating the industry by safeguarding users should be the right way forward, something on which MEITY is already working.

3) FM justified it by also stating that we obviously cannot promote such activities more than the “Essential Services”.

· I fail to comprehend the rationality of this comparison but in any case, essential commodities were slated to be capped at 5% at the earlier meeting.

4) GST Council stated that it took pride in having held comprehensive and meticulous discussions, considering a wide multitude of factors such as its impact on revenue generation and interest of smaller states such as Sikkim and Goa where casinos are a major facet of the tourism industry. The decision will not hugely impact the industry.

· India’s gaming industry was earlier expected to attain revenues in excess of $3 billion and the user base to triple from the current 180 million. The online gamers will have to pay 28% GST on the total pool amount for a game and 30% TDS on net winnings, in addition to the platform fees. Effectively, for an available amount of Rs. 100, the full value of the bet will be Rs. 78. The contribution of Rs. 100 in this instance, will lead to a reduction in profits by around 66.17%. This would lead to a substantial reduction in the player’s contribution towards the prize money and drive away the players.

I can’t help myself but quote The Hunger Games which may be more apt for the online gaming industry players now!

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds (possibly never) be ever in your favour!”

I have been spending some time in Roma lately. Since I like the countryside more than the metropolitan city, I chose a place that borders that Parco della Caffarella (one amongst the many historical parks in Rome). The Caffarella valley is a splendid example of how the great romantic travellers viewed the roman countryside, a few centuries ago.

Being a runner, I find this park to be quite fascinating, because of its immense historical significance. I try to take a different running route (through strava) to survey the many medieval architectural marvels. Yesterday, I embarked on a half marathon from Parco Della Caffarella to Parco Degli Acquedotti (Park of the Acqueducts). As a lawyer what piques my interest in the legal history edified in the architecture. One of such is the Ninfeo di Egeria.

The history of Ninfeo di Egeria is particularly intriguing for legal historians and more so, today on International Women’s day. King Numa Pompilius, the Sabine King who succeeded the Latin Romulus, was one of the most wise and pacific kings. He devised several codes and laws by which the Romans live for many centuries to come. But who the person behind all of this who have him the insight and perception to carry it out.

Egeria, a nymph (a mythological spirit of nature imagined as a beautiful maiden). Legend has it that she instructed the King on how to run the country and its religious institutions, during his walks (similar to what the legal advisors and secretaries to the political institutions do now) Egeria acted as a diving consort and counsellor to king Numa. She was a prudent legal advisor to the king (who also often combined legal advice with wisdom). She imparted laws and rituals pertaining to the ancient rome religion (As translated from an Italian book — La Caffarella un Tesoro sotto casa — gifted to me by my landlady). Subsequently, Egeria wanted to marry the king but the king died. Egeria was in great sadness. Another Goddess, Diana, was moved by Egeria’s tears and transmuted the nymph into a fountain, which the Ninfeo di Egeria is symbolic of.

Egeria was a giver of laws and rituals, one of the first female advisor and counsellors. She gave wisdom and prophecy in return for libations of water or milk at her sacred groves. She established the original framework of laws and rituals of Rome. Numa is reputed to have written down the teachings of Egeria in “sacred books” that he had buried with him. The legals works were celebrated for using religion to civilize the early Romans and became a symbol of the gods’ favour to the Roman State.

As history has proved time and again, it is the woman who make the man. In this case the long prosperity and peace during Numa’s 42 year long reign can be credited to Egaria. On the International Womens Day (ok I’m a bit late to publish this blogpost), this blogpost is dedicated to all such women, who have shaped the history but are more often than not, written out of history. History (specially legal history) has failed to give them the credit they are worthy of!

Happy Women’s day!

In consonance with its regulatory drive to hold erring insolvency professionals accountable, the Disciplinary Committee of the Insolvency and Bankruptcy Board of India (IBBI) passed another order today suspending an insolvency Professional.

A total of 20 such disciplinary orders have been shared publicly shared. These orders have been issued against the insolvency professionals and valuers, to hold them guilty for a range of violations ranging from procedural breaches to serious ones. Many experts have echoed the concern that such a drive promotes a healthy restructuring regime since the credibility of the resolution process is edified on their effective and just functioning.

The orders passed holding the registered valuers liable show that there does not exist a regime (in the same way as it does to hold the insolvency professionals liable) to regulate and hold accountable the registered valuers. For instance, in a recent order passed last week, the Disciplinary Committee observed that the determination of Fair Value and Liquidation Value of (i) Deposits under long-term loans and Advances, (ii) Inventories and (iii) Trade receivables, was clearly faulty and grossly contravened the Valuation Rules. Surprisingly, despite these observations, the valuer was let go with a warning to be more cautious in future (I wouldn’t even call it a slap on the wrist). A similar order was passed holding the Association of Certified Valuators and Analysts liable, who were let go with a warning.

In yet another order passed last week, Mr. Sandeep Kumar was held liable for having contravened the Valuation Rules. It was observed that a total sum of Rs. 13.97 Crores (130.97 million) was irrationally assumed by the valuer to not be recoverable. His license was suspended. In my opinion, apart from suspension of license, provisions relating to recovery of damages and for penalty, should also be expressly provided. This would be one of the cases where such recovery measures may be fruitful for a successful resolution.

The only disciplinary action that may be taken against the erring valuers under the Valuation Rules, is to suspend or cancel their certificate of recognition under Rules 19 and 20. Compare this to the broad range of measures, available for the disciplinary actions (Regulation 11) against the Insolvency Professionals. In the past, the Disciplinary Committee has used these provisions to penalise Insolvency Professionals and also provide for corrective measures to be set in place, which are best suitable for the resolution.

Given the crucial role that the registered valuers play as frontline regulators, it may be the right time to consider having a regulatory regime for them, similar to the one existing for the Insolvency Professionals under IBC. More importantly, it is important to provide the Disciplinary Committee a range of flexible options for initiating disciplinary actions against the valuers for contraventions, including penalties and damages. The Ministry of Corporate Affairs has recently issued a notice to consider amending IBC. I opine that further discussions on this aspect are germane for the effective functioning of the registered valuers under IBC.

When I joined the bar, I was of the firm opinion that law and activism are two different, yet divergent routes to achieving social reforms. That is not to say I was not enthused by the likes of revolutionaries like Che Guevara, Fidel Castro (who was also a lawyer) and even, Bhagat Singh. But, as a law student, I was always taught that the right approach to transforming society and through it, the law, is also through a judicial process (the so-called “Due Process” in accordance with the principles of “natural justice”).

However, in contrast to the likes of Guevara and Bhagat Singh, the dilemma, however,is that a “lawyers’ role in society is not to change the rules of the game, but to assist in maintaining the rules and to help resolve conflicts under established rules”

Many senior lawyers have often told me to completely refrain from making public comments on controversial political/social topics. “Don’t combine activism with lawyering”. A lot of lawyers will refrain from making any public comments, lest they might be judged by their clientele and the bar.

But then also there are some distinguished senior lawyers who have told me that to be a great lawyer, you should be willing to define changes required in the law. You must have the courage to speak up and take a stand against a draconian law or practice. I am often awe-struck when I come across certain judicial pronouncements where the Bar and the Bench have notably had the gal to stand up against injustice.

From the little that I have worked with human rights activists, I have realised that the so-called line of demarcation, between legally permissible social activism and the use of other means, is often blurred.

To my mind, one of the best instances of this can be found in the judgment of Nandini Sundar v. State of Chhattisgarh, where JJ. Sudershan Reddy and Surinder Singh, came down with an iron fist upon the executive for having provided unbridled access to firearms and immunity to Salwa Judum forces. While reasoning with the actions of the tribals for taking up arms, in this judgment, J. Reddy states

“people do not take arms, in an organized fashion, against the might of the state, or against fellow human beings without rhyme or reason. Guided by an instinct for survival, and according to Thomas Hobbes, a fear of lawlessness that is encoded in our collective conscience, we seek an order. However, when that order comes with the price of dehumanization, of manifest injustices of all forms perpetrated against the weak, the poor and the deprived, people revolt.”

…That violent agitator politics, and armed rebellion in many pockets of India have intimate linkages to socio-economic circumstances, endemic inequalities and a corrupt social and state order that preys on such inequalities has been well recognised.”

While this judgment an instance where the steps taken through judicial means have borne fruits, we are all aware of the cases where this process has simply not worked. One of the prominent examples of this failure if the farmer’s protest movement spearheaded by the Samyukt Kisan Morcha (SKM) for more than a year. Several petitions were pending before the Supreme Court challenging the three contentious agriculture laws but the matter was not unfortunately never heard. After more than a year of protests and many deaths later, in November 2021, these farm laws were repealed, citing an inability to be able to explain and convince the farmers.

One wonders if the matter would have reached finality, had there been no protests because well, the matter was subjudice.

The point I’m trying to drive across is that over the years I have realised that in certain matters I believe that there is a need of Movement lawyering focused of supporting, advancing and strengthening social movements. Such lawyering requires open communication between community members and the lawyers. I also believe that you are better aware and prepared to argue when you are associated with such movements and understand the struggles faced.

K. Balagopal (one of the most fearless and adroit human rights lawyer) had quite aptly coined the expression “Living knowledge” where a lawyer’s knowledge is based on his active engagement with the world rather than just observing it from a distance. As he states

“you can properly interpret the world only in the course of changing it”

The past couple of days have been quite taxing for everyone in my close family.

Last month, I was suffering from symptoms of Covid-19 and after much persuasion, ultimately acceded to my mother’s demands (who is a doctor) to come back to my hometown to stay in home-isolation. I tested positive.

At around the same time, my Mamaji (mother’s brother) had also tested positive. Despite having a hectic (arguably frantic) practice, my mother made sure we had everything we needed to recover.

A couple of days after that, my grandmother also tested positive. This was a time when a lot of my close family relatives had tested positive or had symptoms and my mother, being their ‘go-to’ doctor, was constantly attending their calls and providing them medical advice.

Despite everything untoward, she never even faltered once. She continued to relentlessly work (like she always does) and make sure everyone is provided the best medical care possible.

After almost a month now, we have all been fortunate to have recovered. In these tough times, my mother remains to the ‘go-to’ doctor for all our family relatives and continues to work persistently without expecting anything in return. This (according to me) is as close as you get to being a real-life superhero.

While we often judge a person’s success by his job title or professional accomplishments, I don’t believe that these necessarily are the only factors that determine a person’s success. We are all surrounded by people who have chosen to make professional sacrifices to make sure that their dear ones are cared for, in these difficult times. While they may not relatively be renowned (or professionally qualified), I believe that all of them are quite successful in their own ways.

As someone who has been involved in handling animal welfare socio-legal cases, I find the recent order of the Hon’ble Bombay HC (https://lnkd.in/d-w6zmEm) problematic on many levels.
Firstly, it is premised on a number of, off the cuff observations such as:
“Some of the stray dogs have been seen to have made little children and babies as their targets of unwarranted aggression and attack, injuring them, mauling them and in some stray incidents even killing them.”
“Many of these strays are aggressive, ferociously wild and simply uncontrollable in their behaviour.”
“Fed on the goodies provided by the animal lover, many of the stray dogs become insolent and get even more violent in their behaviour towards human beings in general and children in particular.”

What is the legal effect of these off the cuff observations? Do they constitute the law of the land under Article 141 of the Constitution?

Secondly, the order seems to have arrived at certain generic observations, based on a very superficial and cursory knowledge of the pragmatic issues involved. It is generally opined that
“If these so called friends of stray dogs are really interested in protection and welfare of the stray dogs, they must adopt the stray dogs, take home the stray dogs or at least put them up in some good dog shelter homes and bear all the expenses for their registration with Municipal Authorities and towards their maintenance, health and vaccination”

Unfortunately, in India, it is a daunting task to find shelters for stray dogs. The ground reality is that the authorities in the first place have completely failed to provide these stray dogs with appropriate shelters, which they are obligated to. If the vaccination and sterilisation programs had been working, we would not be facing the menace of stray dogs in the first place. More often than not, while people would not have the necessary space to provide feeding areas for street dogs, they provide them food to ensure that the dogs survive. Street dog deaths are mostly human influenced with less than a fifth surviving till reproductive age (https://lnkd.in/d3yykWRW)

Lastly and most importantly, is giving directions to ensure that ‘no feeding of street dogs takes place at any place except at the own place of the dog feeder’, really the best way forward?

Intriguingly these directions are quite different from the directions passed by the Hon’ble Delhi HC judgment (https://lnkd.in/dHvJDHzY ) which stated that street dogs have the right to food and it shall be the duty of every Resident Welfare Association or Municipal Corporation to ensure that every community dog in every area has access to food and water in the absence of caregivers or community dog feeders in the said area.
#animalwelfare #straydogs #legal