Case dismissed. Reason: Unusual

One more ‘what is happening to this country’ moment. Ajit Kumar, a subordinate judge in the Jharkhand trial court, has lost his job. The inspecting judge at the High Court said in his report:

“Kumar did not prepare judgments on his own, rather he used to get them prepared through somebody else before delivering them.”

The order had been passed in 2003, but the Supreme Court upheld it only yesterday, March 11, 2011.

How did this case come to light? On a supervision tour the inspecting judge found the judgements “unusual”. Did he go through all the case papers to reach this conclusion? Does unusual figure in legal terminology and in what context? If now the judiciary is wondering about the validity of cases, what is its position regarding the judgements already passed? Are they unfair? Or unusual?

Kumar was a subordinate judge, so did his seniors not notice something amiss? I hold no brief for him and don’t even know where Garhwa, where he operated from, is. But, it took eight years to sack him. Were the cases he passed judgement on reopened?

Now comes the question of asking someone to prepare the judgements. Has any inspecting supervisor gone around checking on superior judges? Does anyone imagine they go through every little piece of argument presented and they don’t have assistants?

We know from several instances that there are many factors at play – government pressure, industrial lobby pressure, underworld pressure, and the conflict between the various commissions of inquiry that are formed. Besides, when cases are moved from certain courts or the agency handling the case is changed, it does affect the judgement. Would anyone have the courage to call the bluff of ‘unusual’ judgements in these high-powered courts and by prominent legal luminaries?

Ultimately, every judgement is ‘unusual’ if it goes against the person who is at the receiving end of a sentence.

My attempt at 'diplomacy'!

I was meeting this Pakistani diplomat in a high-ceilinged room; he sat behind a large desk. Very suave. He said he would be visiting Mumbai and wanted me to suggest some hotel.

Given that he was an official of some standing, I mentioned the top-end hotels. I told him about the sea view in the old wing of one.

Then he enquired about the private airlines, and I told him.

He replied with a rather surprising, “Are they not too expensive?”

“Yes, they are, but you can buy coupons if you are certain about the dates of travel; then it turns out cheaper,” I said helpfully.

“Oh, and which one do you normally travel by?”

I gave the name. The places to eat and shop.

Happy about my potential as a tourist guide (so what if I will never be brand ambassador), I walked out. I saw him smile, the curve of his lips on one side rising higher than the other. The sort of smile when…ah, never mind.

I recounted this to an Indian diplomat who knew about our meeting. He looked aghast.

“Who told you to talk so much?”

“What do you mean? He wanted to know about my city.”

“Do you imagine you are the only source of information he has? He is a big guy with travel agents who know everything. They know more than they need to.”

“So why did he ask me about airline fares?”

“And you told him about coupons! This is really strange.”

“But the meeting went off well.”

“Yes, and he had a lot of information about you, which is what he wanted. This is their job. I know because we do the same. Have a good trip.”

I did.

PS: He does not feature in the book.

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Results of last poll

What image comes to mind when you think of 9/11?

Terrorists 5 (23%), Muslims 4 (19%), TwinTowers 7 (33%), George Bush 7 (33%), Nothing 1 (4%)

Why can't I shut up?

Sometimes, I need to just hold the reins, my horses and the whole stable…the following are mild oops situations. There are far worse ones…

Venue: Karachi, Rafi’s house.

We had moved to the open part of the terrace; it was quite dark. I was with this small group, mainly writers. A tall man walked in wearing a crisp starched white shirt. He was dark and had a thick moustache. Rafi introduced us.

“Yeh Abid Ali hai aur yeh Farzana…aapse kahaa tha na hamari Bambai se dost aayi hai?” (I had told you about this friend from Bombay…)

Abid Ali addresses me, “Bambai kaisa hai?” (How is Bombay?)

“Bas, Bambai jaisa hai,” I reply. (Just like Bombay.)

He smiles politely and is rescued from me.

I ask the friend who is sitting there, “Who is he?”

“You don’t know Waris?”

“Whose waris is he?”

“The drama serial…he is very famous.”

Okay, I had not seen Waris, although he did look familiar. And, yes, he has a voice that is a combination of an iron fist and velvet gloves…

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Venue: Does not matter

A woman is complaining about life to her parents.

“One day I will just get pissed drunk with vodka and stand in the middle of the road and let a car drive over me.”

“Gosh, what a waste of vodka,” I say.

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Venue: Covent Gardens, London

Had taken a quick city tour the first time. The group dispersed in different directions. I walked along with an American couple. The guy asked me, “Can you do that?” as he pointed to a group of jugglers trying to catch hold of several balls.

Without thinking I said, “Sure, but not with those.”

- - -

Venue: Delhi

IK comes to fetch me. His family has invited me for a perfect Tam-Brahm breakfast of idlis, dosa, upma. Unaccustomed as I was then to Delhi winters I had not carried many woollies. His Amma had sent a shawl for me.

“Here, wrap this,” he said as he revved up his bike.

Me: “I am very garam.”