Delhi Barfly goes anthropological, and describes some of the lawyers you’ll meet in Delhi’s colourful district courts ecosystem.

The Living Room Lawyer (LRL)

Possibly the most charming of all the different breeds of trial court lawyers, the Living Room Lawyer (LRL) comes with a honey voice — the kind that drips with sweetness, convincing judge after judge that what they’re suggesting is for the sake of the court and nothing else.

One LRL faced a difficult situation in which his client - alleged to be an arms dealer - faced deportation to a 1st world country.

He'd been instructed that a public arrest wasn't desirable, but they were staring down the barrel of a Ministry of Home Affairs extradition notice.

"Arrey milord, don’t need the drama-shaama of an arrest here. She will buy a ticket to the country. She will surrender herself,” was the LRL's submission to the court.

The bemused judge asked what the chances were of his client not buying a ticket to another country without an extradition treaty this time. And, quick as a mongoose, the lawyer replied, “You have my guarantee. She doesn’t get there; I will have myself arrested. What more can you want?”

Another LRL, on being asked how he had come to representing a client who had been absconding since the arrest warrant had been issued, dismissed the question as if it were a fly on a hot day.

“Cops ko kya pata hota hai, sirji. I know where he’ll be when he signs my vakalatnama,” he was heard saying.

That is the operating premise of an LRL. Throw the judge off with unearned - sometimes earned - familiarity and dodge difficult questions with over-the-top promises.

Basically, bas chokdi bana key beth jao court mein; sab kuch thik ho jayega. And the truth of it is, sab kuch thik ho bhi jata hai … for his clients.

The Eternal Junior

This lawyer peaked — peaking being a generous term — when he was still young. As a baby litigator, he was lucky enough to work in a prestigious chamber.

Perhaps his then senior is now an attorney general; perhaps the senior got lucky and now only handles Supreme Court or high-profile matters.

Whatever happened, proximity to that luck did not work out for the Eternal Junior. He remains, much to his chagrin, still dependent on that once-upon-a-time senior lawyer to give him the ‘good’ cases.

Often this lawyer is as charming as an LRL, in theory anyway. He lacks a certain relaxed persona, a je ne sais quoi required to be able to get away with being straight up insolent.

Instead, his courtroom demeanour is meek. His curtseys are so low it’s as if he’s about to break into a surya namaskar. His ‘mi lords’ may cause the judge to travel back to colonial times.

For his senior — his golden ticket to bigger and better things — the EJ will do anything and often does. Rumour has it one EJ regularly goes out of pocket to fly across the country just to ‘keep an eye’ on a matter.

He’s also fiercely possessive of the senior — there’s nothing gloomier than an EJ, who learns of his mentor engaging someone else for a fresh newsworthy litigation.

“Oh, well, of course, I don’t know everything he does. We have different chambers now,” he’ll rush in to explain.

All the while though, his hurt feelings — so painfully apparent in his skirting eyes and downturned mouth — are a dead giveaway that “different chambers” is an not entirely accurate description.

Stay tuned for number 3 and 4 soon…

Delhi Barfly writes of the comings, goings and other gossip clogging up Delhi’s court system.

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