Lawyers Must Not Be Oversensitive to Criticism

 It is difficult to understand why some people tried to make a mountain out of a molehill over the Chief Justice of India’s obiter remarks about certain “parasites” and “cockroaches” masquerading as lawyers. The controversy ought to have ended after the CJI promptly clarified his remarks. Judges ordinarily speak through their judgments, and comments made during court proceedings—whether in repartee or in a lighter vein—should not be seized upon to malign a judge merely because he refuses to yield to pressure. Judicial decisions, once in the public domain, may certainly be criticised, but such criticism must remain free from personal attacks or imputations of motive against the judge concerned.

Coming to what Justice Surya Kant observed, it would not be entirely unfair to say that many law colleges in the country deserve closure. More than a decade ago, the then Solicitor General of India, Gopal Subramanium, who was also served temporarily as the  Chairman of the Bar Council of India by virtue of the office he held, introduced and implemented the All India Bar Examination (AIBE), intending to ensure that only those possessing at least a basic knowledge of law and a genuine interest in the profession are enrolled by the State Bar Councils. Initially, the measure did help filter entrants to some extent. While many competent and talented young lawyers continue to join the profession, there has simultaneously been an influx of persons armed with fake degrees from dubious institutions. Counterfeit law colleges and the lax registration systems of some State Bar Councils have enabled numerous fraudulent practitioners to enter the profession.

In many places, it is often remarked—sometimes cynically—that students unable to secure admission elsewhere choose law colleges merely to obtain hostel facilities while preparing for other competitive examinations. Such trends have unfortunately diminished the reputation of the legal profession. Even today, mofussil lawyers are frequently viewed as occupying one of the lowest rungs in the marriage market.

A visit to almost any court reveals overcrowded courtrooms and congested corridors. This, however, is not always a reflection of passion for the profession; in many cases, it is a consequence of widespread unemployment. A few years ago, when vacancies for peons were advertised, dozens of law graduates reportedly applied. When questioned about accepting a Class IV position despite holding law degrees, some candidly replied that at least the job guaranteed a monthly salary sufficient to sustain them, whereas legal practice often failed to cover even the costs of robes and transportation. In many district courts, one can also find touts functioning in the guise of lawyers. Such elements often receive tacit support from sections of the Bar for petty gains, ultimately bringing disrepute to the profession as a whole. There are many other drawbacks. For those who come from good families and are well-connected, the legal profession is like a lottery for them, but for most of the youngsters, this is highly disappointing.

Therefore, remarks made by the CJI in good faith should be viewed as an opportunity for introspection rather than outrage. Constructive criticism aimed at improving the profession ought to be welcomed. After all, the Chief Justice of India is the head of the country’s judicial system. If those at the highest-level refrain from acknowledging systemic defects, who else will initiate the process of reform?

Two hundred years of Hindi Journalism

 Udant Martand (The Rising Sun) was first published in Calcutta (now Kolkata) on 30th May 1826 by Pandit Jugal Kishore Shukla, a lawyer and freedom fighter from Kanpur. Originally a pleader from Kanpur, Shukla moved to Calcutta to practise and earn his livelihood. Calcutta offered the most lucrative opportunities for a legal professional at that time. He dedicated his resources, intellect, and career to the newspaper, advocating for the native Indian population against colonial laws. His decision to launch India's first Hindi weekly newspaper was influenced by several distinct professional and logistical factors.

In the early 19th century, Calcutta was the epicentre of India's nascent print culture. The city possessed the essential resources required to start a newspaper—such as established printing presses, a steady paper supply, and early Devanagari typesetting capabilities—which were entirely unavailable in Kanpur or the wider North-Indian Hindi belt. Thus, Calcutta has the distinction of publishing the first Hindi newspaper from a non-Hindi-speaking area.

While residing in Calcutta, Shukla observed a flourishing media landscape featuring journals in English, Bengali, and Persian/Urdu. He recognised a profound irony: although millions spoke Hindi across the subcontinent, and a significant Hindi-speaking mercantile community lived right in Calcutta (centred around areas like Bara Bazar), they had no printed voice. He is credited with having elevated the language to a medium of formal public discourse. The Marwaris living in Calcutta must be commended for extending all support to Pandit ji for venturing to bring out the newspaper, although it could survive only one and a half years, closing in December 1827 due to the British government's refusal to grant postal free concessions, creating an insurmountable financial strain on the newspaper.

Hindi journalism has made giant strides in the last two hundred years. More than in the print medium, its remarkable presence can be seen in electronic, web, digital, and social media. Hindi has now become a universal language. What to say of India, it is difficult to ignore Hindi even in the most advanced countries of the world. The very purpose of journalism is communication, which the Hindi media is doing superbly. Film, military, and railways have contributed a great deal to the growth of Hindi, but Hindi journalism has been the precursor of it all.

Therefore, it is our solemn duty to remember those rishis like Jugal Kishore Shukla, Pandit Ambika Prasad Vajpayee, and Babu Rao Vishnu Rao Pradakar, who brought recognition to Hindi journalism and helped it grow like a banyan tree.

Indian Federation of Working Journalists pays glowing tributes to the heroes of Hindi journalism on its 200th anniversary.

Has Mamata’s License been Restored?

 

The appearance of Mamata Banerjee in the robes of an advocate at the Calcutta High Court on the 14th of May is very surprising. She may be a law graduate or even enrolled as an advocate with the State Bar Council, but if she has had her licence restored by the State Bar Council in four days, that would be truly surprising. Even the Bar Council of India has sought certified copies of the original records relating to Mamata Banerjee from the State Advocate’s Roll.

Until the 8th of May, she remained the Chief Minister of the State. The Governor then dismissed her government, as neither she nor her party had been returned to power. As an MLA or MP, she could certainly have practised, but as a minister, she could not, as she would then be a public servant. Earlier, before the assembly elections, she appeared before the Supreme Court, but not as a lawyer, rather in a personal capacity. She was allowed to address the court for half an hour, but it was difficult to make head or tail of what she said. At that time, she claimed only to be a law graduate.

Therefore, the State Bar Council must bring forth all facts to inspire the confidence of the people in the advocacy, because presently, many charlatans pose as advocates.

 

Not only the Number of Judges, but AI will be required to revolutionise the Judicial System

 

The Union Cabinet has recently approved a proposal to increase the sanctioned strength of judges in the Supreme Court of India from 34 to 38. The proposal is to be implemented through the bill, which would amend the existing 1956 law governing the Court’s sanctioned strength.

The stated reasons, as published in the newspapers, are rising pendency of cases (reported to be around 92,000–93,000 cases), the need for quicker disposal of matters, enabling more Constitution Benches and regular benches to function simultaneously. This would be the first increase since 2019, when the strength was raised from 32 to 34.

In fact, even this number of 38 will be inadequate, which should be further increased, as now there is no dearth of space or infrastructure. However, the pendency cannot be reduced only by increasing the strength of judges, so long as Artificial Intelligence is not used effectively. For this purpose, the judges, staff members and advocates should be properly trained. It should be compulsory for the Bar Associations to mandatorily train the Advocates. If any advocate is unable to undergo, he/she should not be allowed to remain in the actual practice. Such advocates can be effectively used for other purposes. AI must be made compulsory in law schools and colleges for the benefit of new entrants.

 It is everybody's case that delayed justice amounts to denial of justice, but it should not be hurried justice as well, because that is bound to recoil upon the Bench, the Bar and the Clients. The training in AI must be imparted to all related to the judicial process; otherwise, the judicial system will become a mockery, for which the entire system would be held guilty by posterity. AI will also be able to eradicate large-scale corruption in the judiciary.

 The Supreme Court now handles not only constitutional adjudication but also massive special leave jurisdiction under Article 136, public interest litigation, election disputes, commercial matters, criminal appeals, and service cases. Therefore, increasing the number of judges is almost inevitable.

AI can assist justice but cannot replace judicial reasoning. It may, however, help in identifying precedents, summarising records, detecting inconsistencies, transcription, translation, scheduling, and reducing administrative burdens.

 

The Case for the Impeachment of Justice Yashwant Varma

 It is a troubling anomaly that, more than a month after tendering his resignation on April 9, 2026, Justice Yashwant Varma remains a judge of the Allahabad High Court on paper. While his resignation awaits formal acceptance by the President, the shadows of the March 2025 discovery—unaccounted, half-burnt currency found at his residence—continue to loom over the integrity of the higher judiciary.

The Investigative Trail

The evidence against Justice Varma is substantial. Following a fire at his official residence, an In-house Enquiry Committee found "strong evidence" that the judge exercised "tacit or active control" over the storeroom where the cash was discovered. When the judge refused to resign voluntarily in May 2025, the matter escalated to Parliament. On August 12, 2025, Lok Sabha Speaker Om Birla admitted an impeachment motion backed by over 140 MPs and constituted a three-member committee under the Judges (Inquiry) Act, 1968.

Justice Varma’s response followed a familiar script of procedural delay. He challenged the inquiry in the Supreme Court, claiming the Speaker's unilateral formation of the committee was invalid. In January 2026, the Supreme Court dismissed his petition, ruling that safeguards for judges cannot be allowed to paralyse the removal process. Having exhausted his legal shields, the judge resigned just as the inquiry panel was set to conclude its probe.

The Constitutional Lacuna

Legally, this situation tests the limits of Article 217(1). While the 1978 Gopal Chandra Misra precedent suggests a resignation is typically final upon receipt, the spirit of the law was never intended to provide a sanctuary for "proved misbehaviour."

By requesting "immediate effect," Justice Varma is not merely seeking retirement; he is seeking to render the parliamentary process infructuous. This strategy has been used before to evade the ultimate constitutional censure:

• Justice Soumitra Sen (2011) resigned after the Rajya Sabha passed an impeachment motion but before the Lok Sabha could vote.
• Justice P.D. Dinakaran (2011) resigned before proceedings reached their logical end.

The Need for a Final Verdict

Allowing a resignation to serve as a "get-out-of-jail-free" card sets a dangerous precedent. It allows a judge to avoid the loss of pension and retirement benefits that a formal impeachment would entail, effectively rewarding a strategic exit.

Accountability is not just about removal; it is about transparency. The public has a right to know the origin of the "half-burnt" cash and the extent of the alleged corruption. To let Justice Varma "wriggle out" via a resignation letter is an admission of systemic helplessness.

For the sake of public trust, the President should consider delaying acceptance of the resignation until the Judges Inquiry Committee submits its findings. Impeachment proceedings must reach their logical conclusion to ensure that the writing on the wall is not an invitation to flee, but a mandate for justice.

 

 

Mamata Government Must Immediately Be Dismissed to Promulgate President Rule

 There is little doubt that, in the last few days, Mamata Banerjee has gone completely insane. She urgently needs proper mental treatment. Although earlier she was also known for her bizarre behaviour, which was considered a sign of her struggling nature.

A politician can indeed sink to any level to gain and retain power, but it is difficult to imagine that a politician like Mamata Banerjee could reach the lowest ebb in public life, and even after being comprehensively defeated at the hustings, refuse to vacate the post of Chief Minister. She talks very highly of morality, constitution and compassion, but her actions are entirely contrary to what she preaches. In fact, there is a world of difference between what she says and what she does.

She contested the election in the name of constitutional democracy, but now, very shockingly, refuses to step down after her and her party’s defeat in the elections.

Thanks to the sagacity of the Election Commission of India and the Central forces, the elections to the Bengal assembly were, for the first time, the most peaceful, despite all efforts by the goondas to create mayhem. Now, while everything was going smoothly, she created a constitutional crisis by refusing to resign as Chief Minister.

The Governor, therefore, has no choice but to dismiss her government under Article 172, read with Article 164, to maintain peace and tranquillity. Thereafter, he will have to constitute the assembly and administer the oath of office of the Chief Minister to a person who enjoys the confidence of the House.

While the political tension is palpable, it's worth separating the heated rhetoric from the constitutional reality. Article 172(1) dictates that a Legislative Assembly exists for exactly five years from its first meeting. For the current assembly, that clock runs out today, May 7, 2026.

Once the term expires, the government no longer has a legal assembly to be responsible to. If a Chief Minister doesn't resign by then, the Governor doesn't just have an option but a constitutional obligation to ensure a government that reflects the new mandate is sworn in.

Under Article 164(1), the Chief Minister and Council of Ministers hold office "during the pleasure of the Governor." Conventionally, the "pleasure" is withdrawn only when a government loses a floor test. In this scenario, where the election results are clear, and the incumbent has even lost her own seat, the Governor can legally withdraw that "pleasure" if the CM refuses to step down after the results are notified.

With the assembly term ending in less than 24 hours, the Governor will have to formally invite the leader of the majority party to form the government. And dismiss the current cabinet if no resignation is tendered, citing the expiration of the assembly's term and the withdrawal of "pleasure" under Article 164.

The AoR Examination Must Not Be Cancelled

 

The decision of the Supreme Court’s Advocate-on-Record (AoR) Examination Committee not to hold the AoR Examination in 2026 is deeply disappointing and difficult to justify. The reason reportedly offered—that the existing number of AoRs is already adequate—is flimsy, arbitrary, and contrary to the principles of fairness and professional opportunity.

The AoR system is not merely an internal administrative arrangement. It is the gateway through which advocates earn the right to independently file and conduct matters before the Supreme Court. Closing that gateway for an entire year amounts to denying deserving lawyers an opportunity they have spent years preparing for.

The numbers themselves tell a different story. About twenty-five years ago, only 10 to 15 candidates would pass the examination annually. Today, hundreds qualify. In 2024, more than 350 candidates cleared the examination out of nearly 1,200 who appeared. In 2025, only 207 passed out of more than 1,550 candidates. The pass percentage dropped sharply from nearly 30 per cent in 2024 to less than 14 per cent in 2025. These figures hardly suggest an uncontrolled flood of AoRs.

There are clear reasons why more lawyers now qualify. First, the legal profession today attracts far brighter and more committed students than it did decades ago. Earlier, many students entered law courses as a fallback while preparing for other competitive examinations. Today, law is often a first-choice profession, pursued seriously and competitively from the outset.

Second, the old Accountancy paper—long regarded as a stumbling block despite being only of school-level difficulty—has been removed. Its elimination naturally enabled meritorious candidates to focus on subjects genuinely relevant to Supreme Court practice.

But even assuming the Committee believes too many candidates are passing, cancellation is the worst possible remedy. If standards need tightening, make the examination tougher. Raise the bar. Test drafting, procedure, ethics, and court craft more rigorously. Permit only the deserving to succeed. But do not abolish the opportunity itself.

Every candidate is already required to undergo one year of mandatory training under a senior AoR with at least ten years’ standing. Many young lawyers have devoted time, effort, and income to complete this rigorous requirement. To deny them an examination after such preparation is manifestly unfair.

If the Committee’s logic is accepted, then whenever a profession appears crowded, entry examinations should simply be suspended. Should law colleges be shut for a few years because there are too many lawyers? Should medical admissions be halted because there are too many doctors? The absurdity of the proposition is self-evident.

More importantly, the very rationale of restricting AoRs by geography has weakened in the digital era. With e-filing, virtual hearings, online defect curing, and paperless systems, the old insistence on maintaining offices within a 16-kilometre radius of the Supreme Court has become outdated. A lawyer can now effectively work from any part of India—and even from abroad.

The Supreme Court has consistently spoken of access, merit, and modernization. The cancellation of the AoR Examination moves in the opposite direction. It restricts access, penalizes merit, and ignores technological reality.

The Examination Committee should urgently reconsider its decision and hold the AoR Examination in 2026. Standards must be preserved—but opportunity must not be denied.