June 30, 2020: Today, we bid adieu to two library staff members who retired after dedicating over 30 years of their life to NLSIU.
We thank Dr R S Kumbar and Beerappa for the many years of committed service and hard work, and wish them all the very best for their life ahead. Here, they recall their journey with the University and some memorable moments along the way.
Dr R S Kumbar, Librarian (In Charge):
Hailing from a small village in Davangere, Mr Kumbar worked as a part-time lecturer in Shivamogga and a librarian at Mangaluru and Ballari colleges before being appointed as a Library Assistant at NLS Bangalore on June 28, 1990.
Mr Kumbar, who began his career with a Bachelor’s degree in Library Sciences, continued to pursue a PG programme and a doctoral degree while working at NLS. Incidentally, his PhD thesis topic was ‘Law College libraries with respect to implementation of ICT.’
How did your NLS journey begin?
I was appointed by NLS founder Prof Madhava Menon who had only one question for me: If I would be able to accept a lower fee. For me, it was a matter of pride to be working in a University and I accepted with no hesitation.
I recalled the example of my father, a freedom fighter, who had refused the pension he was entitled to. I started as a Library Assistant and am now retiring as the Librarian (In Charge) – that is a journey I am proud of.
Your experience at NLS:
In one word, NLS is family to me. There was no discrimination among faculty, non-faculty and students. We worked more for the institution and not just for the income.
My biggest inspiration and guiding force was Prof Madhava Menon who clearly emphasized on the concept of working together and the success it brings. The fact that NLS as a University has risen to such high standards is because it was started with such strong ideals in place during its early stages. I am also thankful for NLS founding faculty member Prof Vijayakumar’s support during my tenure.
Students were my happiness.
Interacting with our students on a daily basis gave me unforgettable moments and a lot of happiness. Many former students who visit the campus still make a beeline for the library.
Your memorable moments:
Soon after I started out as a Library Assistant, I got married and I was not confident of running my family with my salary at the time. I am grateful to Prof Joga Rao (former Registrar) and Prof Navalgund (former Librarian) who were extremely supportive. They advised me to help my wife study further and plan a future for my family instead of trying to manage it alone. It was because of such wonderful people at NLS that I could plan for an even better future than I had hoped for. (Kumbar’s wife is an engineer who currently works with Bharat Electronics Limited).
Looking ahead:
A few months ago, I was wondering how I would adapt to spending time at home after retiring. But COVID has made us get accustomed to staying at home as well. Now, my priority is to take care of my family – my father, wife and my two daughters.
Mr Beerappa, Library attender:
An office boy, a gardener, an admin assistant, a library assistant – Beerappa has donned many hats during his 32-year long stint at NLS. Hailing from Chintamani in Kolar district, he worked as an office boy in other companies before starting at NLS on January 1, 1988.
How did your NLS journey begin?
I was 27 when I was appointed as a gardener by then University registrar R Krishnappa. I met him in December 1987 and started work as a gardener the following year in the University that was housed in the Central College campus at the time. This was before the campus was set-up in Nagarabhavi. About two years later, I got opportunities to work with other departments in the University.
Your experience at NLS:
My experience has involved me dabbling with different activities. This included placing ads in the press, handing over letters at the Bar Council or Vidhana Soudha, and ensuring that posts were delivered to the right people. I worked in the administration department, the Registrar’s office, the VC’s office and most recently at the Library. Time was never a concern as we worked for several hours with each other without any complaints.
Memorable moments:
The faculty members were very warm and welcoming and I developed some beautiful associations with people on campus. I especially remember Prof Pillai (former Library committee member) who interacted with me.
Looking ahead:
Since my family also runs a milk delivery service, I will try to keep myself busy with that. Besides, I will also get more time with my wife and son (an engineering graduate).
]]>In the modern era, many amongst the so-called secular educated elite are choosing to disassociate themselves from the concept of organised religion. Most people I know are fairly ambivalent about their relationship with the Almighty. However I’ve happened to notice that our Lawschoolites (encompassing both current students and alumni) seem to have replaced spiritual God(s) with personality cults revolving around select mortals.
The features of the law school personality cult (hereinafter ‘LSPC’) are as follows: The person at the center of the cult (the ‘LSPC leader’) will usually be an upper-caste, upper-class, cisgender male. You can mock me for using ‘Social Justice Warrior’ terminology if you want, but if you ask any 20-something Lawschoolite who their aspirational figure is, you are likely to get the name of a person satisfying these characteristics. Our LSPC leader will also have one or more of these qualities: They should preferably be a graduate of one of the National Law Universities if they were born after 1970. They must also have had a high CGPA, secured a scholarship to a prestigious foreign university (Oxbridge/ Ivy League), participated in the holy trifecta of law school extra-curriculars – ADR, debating, and mooting (listed in alphabetical order to avoid any controversy as to which is more important), and served as the Convenor of some committee. Their politics are usually centrist or left of centre, but nothing too radical.
Post-graduation, this person did one or more of the following: became a respected academic, championed (or allegedly appeared to champion) high-profile litigations, or attached themselves to a trending cause, which ultimately led to their name being recorded in posterity. In cases of LSPC leaders who belong to an older generation of lawyers, the requirements of an NLU tag and the associated extra-curricular profile may be waived but other characteristics remain roughly the same.
Since cis-men are generally more likely to be rewarded for doing the bare minimum, male legal luminaries who champion WokeTM causes are more likely to acquire LSPC leader status. Equally successful and progressive women with the same career graph tend to maintain a low profile and their achievements are rarely publicised or celebrated on social media. However, there are always exceptions to the rule. Just like there is one female senior advocate for every 100 male ones, there will always be one LSPC dedicated to cisgender women as well (including yours truly) for every 100 LSPC’s to the contrary. Similarly, there are also examples of LSPC leaders who may not have had the most spectacular academic profile during law school, but who acquired cult status due to excelling in other areas such as debating, politics, sports etc. However the caste and class profile roughly remains the same.
As is in the case of religious leaders, LSPC followers extol their leaders even for their most basic achievements. This kind of fan-worship usually involves mistaking erudition (in English) with intelligence and progressiveness. Consequently, they are skeptical of any criticism about their cult leaders, which leads to disastrous consequences, as will be explained later in this article.
I know what readers must be thinking: what locus does she have to critique LSPCs? After all, as I have already admitted earlier in this article, I was and continue to be the beneficiary of one myself. The perpetuation of a ‘goddess’ myth around my scholarly abilities has enabled me to secure many professional advantages, and has kept people from discovering the finer nuances of my personality, such as the fact that I spend most of my time watching cat videos and Indian soap opera memes on Instagram. I am admittedly the member of a few LSPCs myself. Perhaps it is human nature to want to idolize those whom we see as more evolved creatures, though that is probably best explored in a separate thesis by someone with a Philosophy degree.
However, I do find it tragic that we take pride in ridiculing our family Whatsapp groups for deifying political and spiritual leaders when we are unwilling to focus the same kind of scrutiny towards our own role models. The aim of this article is to bring light to the ways in which LSPCs are symptoms of broader structural issues plaguing law school networks and to offer some constructive advice on how LSPCs can be maintained in healthier ways.
First, as mentioned earlier, LSPCs aren’t exactly known for their diversity. For example, we rarely hear stories about successful alumni from SC/ST backgrounds – yes, they do exist. Our guest lectures, seminars, symposiums and recruitment talks are attended by the same kind of people, though one sees efforts to change this in the recent past.
Further, the qualities prized by LSPCs reinforce elitist ideas of what constitutes ‘merit’ in law school. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a number of hapless law students force themselves into participating in University rounds or try to convert a project into a publication simply for the sake of ‘CV value’ and not because they derive any intrinsic joy out of it. They do so not only to impress corporate firms and foreign universities but also because their favourite LSPC leaders had followed the same trajectory and they believe that imitating it is the only way to succeed. Ask yourself – how many times did you dream of doing Jessup or getting published in an international journal not because you wanted it, but because you wanted to see yourself in the shoes of XYZ Prodigal AlumTM?
It may be argued that there is no harm in using examples of successful alumni as a motivating factor, particularly given that the effort of going through Law School often seems disproportionate to the rewards. This is certainly true, but it needs to be acknowledged that this idea of ‘success’ is one which is contingent on privilege. Someone may not have had the financial wherewithal to have done a criminal law LLM from abroad or the linguistic fluency to publish an academic paper on the same, but could still have a more thorough understanding of the CrPC than you do. The funny thing is that after you graduate from law school, you come to know of enough lawyers who have become successful in spite of not having satisfied any of the conventional ‘checkboxes’. Yet we continue to use LSPC leaders as inspiration porn.
Second, the perpetuation of LSPCs inevitably results in the monopolisation of discussion forums, both within and outside of law school. This monopolisation creates an infinite loop in which those who do not conform to the LSPC checkbox refrain from voicing their opinions because of the anxiety that ‘ABC is such a stud, how can I, an ordinary mortal differ with them, that too publicly, I don’t even have the same qualifications’ which in turn means that the domination of LSPC leaders remains unchallenged and sic mundus creatus est.[1]
There have been a few articles published recently which urge the law school liberal elite, in particular, to ‘pass the mic’ to their less privileged peers. However, the culpability does not solely lie with these elite LSPC leaders. The reason why LSPC leaders continue to ‘grab the mic’ is the same reason nepotism exists in Bollywood (yes, I have slipped in cinema analogies, sue me) – because at the end of the day, no matter how much it is critiqued, the audience continues to enable it. I don’t see the point of commenting ‘Yasss girl’ and ‘Will do better’ on ‘passing the mic’ articles when we as consumers keep displaying a marked preference for promoting content by people who subscribe to our ideas of ‘merit’ instead of amplifying voices on the margins.
It can be argued that ‘It’s not our fault some people happen to be more erudite and take more initiative than others’. That may be the case, but it is worth noting that many a times when people on the margins do speak out, they instantly attract tone policing from many of our favourite LSPC leaders and their followers, which makes them regret ever opening their mouth in the first place.
I will give a broad example of this with regard to gender – though I would encourage people to share experiences based on other forms of structural discrimination in comments. As mentioned earlier, though Law School women often tend to have higher CGPAs and better CVs than men; they promote themselves relatively less aggressively. From my conversations with other women, I get the sense that this arises out of imposter syndrome as well as the popularly held sentiment that outspoken women are arrogant or ‘extra’. The problem of imposter syndrome due to societal stereotypes is amplified for Dalit-Bahujan women, as Manisha Arya (Batch of 2019) has explained in an earlier Quirk article.
While one could say this is a general consequence of caste and patriarchy, the concentration of male LSPC leaders and their tendency to tone-check ensures that Law School women are ‘kept in their place’. Even as a woman with caste-privilege who has subscribed to conventional parameters of law school ‘success’, I’ve often received unsolicited feedback from presumably well-meaning law school men about how my opinions are uninformed or could have been better expressed. This has often made me feel self-conscious that perhaps I’m being too outspoken. Unsurprisingly, other women have managed to give me constructive feedback without being condescending about it.
Finally, as is the problem with any religious/celebrity cult, LSPC leaders are rarely held accountable for their mistakes. Anyone who has had the (mis)fortune of actually interacting with prominent LSPC leaders would know that, much like Bollywood celebrities, their carefully cultivated social media image is often in marked contrast to their actual personality and actions. LSPC leaders can be as prone to throwing bizarre ego tantrums and making tone deaf statements, just as the Kangy Runouts and SoYum Kapoors of the film industry. The ‘Golden Boys’ i.e. the upper-caste, upper-class men who sit at the top of the LSPC hierarchy and their followers are especially averse to any critical engagement unless it comes from somebody who is of the same perceived intellectual standing or social status. It’s no wonder then that today’s LSPCs end up being the origins of tomorrow’s Old Boys’ Clubs.
It is also not surprising that LSPC leaders are more likely to indulge in harassment, abuse, or general toxic relationship behaviour, but less likely to be exposed or to receive any stringent punishment even after being called out. Many LSPC leaders (usually the aforementioned Golden Boys) are famous for grooming impressionable juniors/batchmates through Kabir Singh style manoeuvres such as offering unsolicited academic or professional help, inviting them to be a part of their friend circles, before proceeding to eventually control their interactions with others, etc. It is naïve to assume that LSPC leaders do not know that it is easier to discredit allegations of abuse against a popular personality which are made in the context of a romantic relationship or close friendship. They are prone to single out non-LSPC people as romantic partners for this very reason – you can always say any allegations made later are motivated by envy or pure pettiness.
So what is the solution? Ideally, I would recommend as a general piece of life advice that it is unwise to blindly idolise or stan over anybody, no matter how perfect they seem on paper. In fact my thumb rule is that the more popular and beyond reproach a person appears in the public eye, the more chances are that they will be disappointing in private (for example, a certain Mataji who spends more time on Komolika throwbacks than Consti summaries nowadays).
However since not everybody may agree with this cynical approach to life, and I have violated this principle many times myself, my next suggestion would be to always remember that a person’s professional and/or intellectual standing is not a testament to their actual personality. You can appreciate their work without going ‘Love me Senpai!’ every time you interact with them (Note: My point is that good art does not equal to the artist being good, which is different from the converse debate about whether you should boycott the art if the artist is found questionable – that probably merits a separate article).
Further, even if the concerned LSPC leader happens to be a great human being, it does not automatically mean that they are more competent and qualified than you are. Even if they do happen to be smarter, you are allowed to disagree with them or point out scope for improvement in their ideas, though LSPC followers will grumble that your standards are too high. I’ve observed that even people on the ‘left-liberal’ spectrum tend to judge the merits of an opinion based on the person who’s saying it instead of forming their own independent assessment, which is a criticism usually levelled at ‘bhakts’. In the case of public personalities, it saves a lot of unnecessary heartbreak if you don’t think of them as Mr. Perfect in every situation.
More importantly, someone’s LSPC leader status does not excuse their horrible or condescending behaviour towards you. Even if other people don’t believe you or tell you that you’re being ‘oversensitive’ or a ‘party pooper’, you are entitled to call out red flags when you see them and stand by your assessment. The world owes much to rebels who would dare to argue in the face of the pontiff and insist that he is not infallible.[2]
Another suggestion would be to widen your reach. Make an active effort to interact with or read up on people who are outside the conventional Prodigal LawschoolitesTM network. It will also serve as an opportunity for looking into alternate career paths and re-conceptualisations of what your law school CV should look like. On this note, I would suggest that Law School committees and discussion groups should put it on their agenda to invite guest speakers from diverse backgrounds for any community interactions, particularly those who are not widely known within the Law School community. I would also encourage that Law School alumni, particularly those in corporate firms and university admission/scholarship committees, evaluate their policies for biases that favour LSPC characteristics – which would also mean inquiring into structural hiring biases and the ethics of unpaid internships generally (don’t expect kids from ‘underprivileged’ backgrounds to magically collect ‘experience’ if what you pay them barely covers the cost of living in a metropolis). It is also important that institutions collect data on the privileging of certain kinds of ‘activities’ over others in admissions/hiring practices.
If you, like me, are the beneficiary of an LSPC status then actively evaluate your interactions with others. Do you tend to engage only with people who are of the same academic or professional standing, and more importantly, from the same caste, class, gender, etc.? Are your law school ‘mentees’ people with the same profile which you had in college? Have you adopted a condescending or snooty tone while talking to someone lower in the social/academic/professional hierarchy? (Law school men especially, please carry out some introspection in this regard). If yes, then please keep the ego inflation in check and try and use your social capital to prop up those who need it instead of using it as a ‘gatekeeping’ method.
I don’t think there is any overarching instant solution to the LSPC problem so long as the psychological impulse to glorify our ‘betters’ continues to exist and given that our conception of who is ‘better’ is itself moulded by larger forces beyond our control. However I do believe that in the short-term, pending structural overhauls, small-scale behavioural changes might pave the way for gradual reform. This includes staying silent during class discussions if someone who has rarely spoken up wishes to contribute, urging your ‘quiet’ friends to share their thoughts, promoting voices from the margins on your social media feed, resisting the urge to tone-police/be condescending if you disagree with someone with less ‘clout’ than you, etc.
I know that chances are that the vast majority of people reading this will only carry out some momentary introspection before returning back to the LSPC Matrix. I get it. It’s 2020, there’s a raging pandemic going on, and the last thing you want to do is arrive at the realization that your law school heroes are probably just as twisted, confused, and perennially dehydrated as you are. However I hope that this can serve as some sort of solace and guide to those of you who are becoming disinclined towards your Legal Gods and Goddesses. Trust me, the Constitution and your Bare Acts are more deserving of your love.
[1] ‘Thus the world was created’. For the benefit of non-viewers, the creation of the loop is a reference to the TV series Dark.
[2] Annihilation of Caste, Preface to the 2nd Edition (1937). The AoC and more particularly, Dr. Ambedkar’s response to Mahatma Gandhi’s indictment of the same were the original scathing anti-LSPC critiques.
Caveat: I am aware that because Law School is a Terrible Place, my advice might be construed as encouraging a counter-culture where certain people think that expressing unpopular opinions or playing the Devil’s Advocate constitutes some kind of unique personality trait which makes them Better PeopleTM. I would hence like to expressly clarify that this article is not meant for you peeps, sorry.
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As we reach the end of committee selections, Law School will soon witness an incoming spam of mails calling for volunteers for events also senior and junior co-opts when college begins (...oh, wait, junior co-opts selection will probably happen never).
We all know that committee mails will read very polite and sincere (probably because the Admin is also on our G-Suite group now!) but they actually mean something else altogether in reality. Quirk presents ‘Honest Committee Mails’ – a committee mail translator that reveals age-old secrets that everybody knows but nobody dares to say!
Mixing recent hits with the old-time favourites, this playlist is a pure throwback to our time at Law School. With the current pause on our lives, why not rewind and hit play on our favourite highlights from these courses over five years. So, look for a comfy corner, plug in those earphones, and dive right in!
If you like a tune, add it to your library. Here is the link to this playlist for Spotify.
1) Economics – Daft Punk’s Instant Crush for the marginal utility that never diminishes as far as our in-house RAW agent is concerned.
2) History – Arctic Monkeys’ Do I Wanna Know (what is history)? Psst, E.H. Carr says it’s a continuous process of interaction between the historian and his facts.
3) Legal Methods – Nelly Furtado’s Maneater because where would we be without the Case of the Speluncean Explorers?
4) Torts I – Drake’s God’s Plan for lessons on the Acts of God, because even in the legal world, “upar wale ki marzi thi” (“it’s God’s will”) is a defence.
5) Torts II – Eminem’s Love the Way You Lie, because even though puffery is permissible, misleading advertisements are not. Jaago Grahak, Jaago! (Wake up customer, wake up!)
6) Sociology – Luis Fonsi’s Despacito because just like the lyrics, we had no idea what Michel Foucault was trying to say.
7) Contracts – Beyoncé’s Drunk in Love + Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love to remind us that one can be drunk and/or crazy in love, but not while entering into a contract.
8) Political Science – Jonas Brothers’ What a Man Gotta (ought to) Do? was a question which haunted us all the way till the exam hall, courtesy an all-nighter studying political obligation.
9) Constitutional Law – Lauv and Troye Sivan’s I’m so tired… of learning those countless case names (but I must carry on because I also want those brownie points for remembering their citations).
10) Family Law – Taylor Swift’s Bad Blood for what started all the familial drama and left us dealing with Prof. Sarasu’s mind-boggling succession problems.
11) Criminal Law – Green Day’s 21 Guns for the times we watched Prof. Joga Rao “thak-thak” his way into our hearts and memories forever.
12) Jurisprudence I – Black Eyed Peas’ no, no, no, no, Don’t Phunk with My ‘Hart’ because there’s a debate Fuller’s ready to start.
13) Property Law – Kesha’s Timber for helping us remember that ‘standing timber’ is movable while trees aren’t.
14) Land Laws – Jason Derulo’s Tip Toe because that’s what we did five minutes into, and out of, each class.
15) Law, Poverty & Development – Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball because LPD came in like one right when we thought we had a ‘chill’ trimester.
16) Law of Evidence – Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love for the wise man who taught this course and made us love the law, so much so that we still remember his definition of hearsay.
17) Civil Procedure Code – The Pussycat Dolls’ Wait a Minute because that’s what anyone who hoped to make it before Prof. Shankara locked the classroom door, wanted.
P.S. He did not wait a minute.
18) Jurisprudence II – Nelly’s Just a (Bad) Dream we all wanted to wake up from.
19) Corporate Law – Post Malone’s Circles because no class would be complete without Prof. Pillai circling back to pierce the Salomon v. Salomon corporate veil.
20) Alternative Dispute Resolution – Dua Lipa’s New Rules because hey, who wants to learn how to lose-win, when we can win-win.
21) Drafting of Pleading & Conveyancing – Shakira’s Can’t Remember to Forget You, for those word-for-word, letter-for-letter, and line-for-line conveyances you couldn’t afford to forget.
22) International Law – Priyanka Chopra’s Exotic for our desi dils (Indian hearts) learning some pardesi (foreign) laws.
23) Labour Law – Rihanna’s Work (work, work, work, work, work) even as the laws we studied are being tinkered with.
24) Human Rights Law – John Lennon’s Imagine for the dreamers amongst us, who, like Lennon, imagine a world with no religion, hunger and greed.
25) Professional Ethics – Imagine Dragon’s Bad Liar in honour of all of the bad “laa-yer” sneer that may come our way if we forget to play fair every day.
26) Environmental Law – Justin Timberlake’s Cry Me a River because that’s what we’ll have to do when there are none left.
27) Intellectual Property Rights Law – Billie Eilish’s Copycat is what you’ll be if you use any of these songs© without permission.
28) Taxation Law – Rihanna’s B*tch Better Have My Money because 2764187 Sections of the Income Tax Act, 1961 say exactly that.
29) Litigation Advocacy/Trial – Sam Smith’s Too Good at Goodbyes because while he may have been, with Law School coming to an end, we weren’t.
30) And in honour of the “one last, one last, one last” chants that would echo in the quad at end of a party, Maroon 5’s Memories, ‘Cause the drinks bring back all the memories; And the memories bring back, memories bring back, you.
We’d love to hear if these songs struck a chord with you and what you relate each course with!
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Island of Unproductivity – It’s where your mind goes as you scroll through an endless stream of banana breads on Instagram and binge watch three series consecutively on Netflix. You then decide to work and focus on that upcoming project for 5 mins until your phone pings and you immediately drop everything to fill out the newest bingo available on social media.
The Plain of Procrastination – A constant plane of existence to be honest, with constant stress and constant listlessness. The Plain seems to be an endless patch of land, with no achievable goal in sight.
Mountains of Mental Health – These are huge hurdles, which have always existed but now look taller. They make you feel like Sisyphus on the mountain but hey you must imagine him happy – fake it till you make it! To add a desi reference, you sometimes feels like Hanuman from Ramayan – carrying the weight of Sanjeevani – hoping that one day, you will not have burdens on your shoulder but instead, a metaphorical, life-affirming herb thing that will cure you of your troubles.
Department of Dreams – Weird, vivid and at times creepy. This department works in overdrive when you’re resting, just to ensure that you are not happy even when you sleep. To apply to work at this department, you have to exhibit a special level of sadism. Guaranteed extra weird dreams during the lockdown.
Sea of Sleep – Sometimes the sea is deep, sometimes it’s shallow, many a times there are sharks but one thing is for sure – you’re bound to die drowning.
Forests of Fear and Anxiety – Will law firms stop hiring?? Will I get infected? How long before my parents throw me out? Will communalisation get worse and am I going to witness riots soon? WILL THERE BE ANOTHER PROJECT EXTENSION? Involves staring at your phone for a potential mail from the admin providing an extension.
Swamp of Social Media – I feel so bad that everyone is PUBLISHING ARTICLES and that PEOPLE ARE ALSO DYING and that I’M JUST LYING IN BED- social media is the worst but also the only way to feel connected to friends.
Happy Place – Mostly elusive. Can be seen in the form of fleeting hopes. Can also be found occasionally while playing Pictionary and during Zoom calls with friends.
River of Regret – Shit man, should have gone out that last time everyone went for drinks! Oh damn, did I clean my room before leaving, whoops 
Oh god, I wish I’d travelled more! I really wish I’d started therapy earlier! Urgh, why did I snap at mom again, uff I’ll be nicer to her tomorrow *repeats cycle*, I wish I’d spent more time with my grandparents earlier ://
And so it goes.
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Once upon a time, long long ago, more than 500 of us studied an intensive course on a residential campus — in the midst of lush greenery and Nagarbhavi’s growing social scene, surrounded by the smell of strong Chetta coffee, constant banter, omnipresent PDA and several snakes. And then COVID-19 happened. The End.
Just kidding! Soon after the declaration of COVID-19 as a pandemic by the WHO, the Karnataka government issued orders on 13 March 2020 for the closure of universities. Over the weekend most of us left for home, with a heavy heart, but also with hopes of returning within this trimester (confidently packing a grand total of 5 t-shirts 
). The administration promptly and fairly efficiently resumed classes on 18 March 2020. Having largely stuck to the academic calendar and with no disruption to classes, we’re almost at the end of this trimester. Our projects have been submitted, the last set of vivas is scheduled for the next weekend, and exams are just around the corner (albeit with the guidelines having shocked us all). All is good.
H a h a h a
All is not good.
COVID-19 has been extremely dangerous, not only in terms of its physical health risks and mortality rate, but also because it has battered the economy and induced, possibly, the worst mental health crisis ever on a global level.[1] Many countries do not have adequate mental health infrastructure and even if they do, it is not accessible to all sections of the population. Around 300 deaths in the lockdown period in India were non-COVID-19 deaths, related to deteriorating mental health.[2] And this was just the figure around the beginning of May. One can only speculate how much worse this is going to get, propelled by rising unemployment, an increase in health issues, recession, anxiety about future prospects, etc.
‘No man is an island.’ Apparently, neither is Law School.
Several colleges have taken many pro-active steps to support students coping with academic pressure as well as the other problems they might have at home, and also to remedy inequitable access to online resources. At NLS, various stakeholders have been at loggerheads on how to approach online learning and adapt schedules and rules to these trying times.
To get a more “objective” insight into how all of us at NLS are doing, as well as for all those living in denial/under the assumption that students exist to lie/scam/cheat by feigning problems, Quirk sent out this survey to the student body on 10 May 2020. We received 130 responses to our survey, which amounts to roughly 25% of the student body. These responses were fairly evenly distributed across all batches.
76% of the respondents said that their work and academics were being affected due to several COVID-19 lockdown related reasons. This is an overwhelmingly large fraction, and it is quite alarming that students have to continue to push through this trimester – almost as if things were as usual – knowing that their academic performance is going to take a hit one way or the other. As one respondent put it, “cognitive skills have tanked like the economy”. Students’ university work has been adversely affected by (i) lack of empathy from college, (ii) worrying about people they know, (iii) financial trouble, (iv) social media, connectivity and network issues, and (v) stress on account of staying at/being unable to stay at home.
These issues have also manifested in many other ways – such as, procrastination, change in sleep schedules, and becoming more closed off.
Procrastination, often seen as a sign of laziness, can signal a drop in the productivity of students because of them being mentally unable to push themselves to work. 71.8% of respondents felt that they were procrastinating more than usual. We’re not always the most efficient cogs of a machine even when in college (which Chetta and Netflix can confirm), but efficiency levels have significantly worsened now, adding to guilt and worries regarding academic performance. There have also been very ableist messages going around during the pandemic, urging people to be banana-bread-baking-new-language-learning-webinar-viewing-high-functioning individuals, which only induces additional pressures. However, there are several factors which could account for people experiencing a drop in productivity, and leading to procrastination.
Some unique reasons cited by respondents included the summer bringing in a lot of seasonal work in rural areas, suffering from a chronic illness, and feeling like “nothing matters anymore so what’s the point of doing anything”. One respondent also said, “I feel very very discharged – I’m not someone who talks to people much, but I derive a lot of energy and strength from just sitting with people, even if I’m not actively participating.”
The mental strain has also contributed to changing sleep cycles, with 78% experiencing some degree of change and 10% of respondents saying they now have no regular sleep cycle at all.
Adapting to Atmanirbhar: The Newest Trend on the Block
80% of the respondents are not currently seeing a mental health professional, but about 25% of them said that might consider seeing one in the near future. Unfortunately, of the 20% who were seeing a mental health professional, a large majority (85%) are no longer able to do so under lockdown. While the college counsellors remain available remotely (albeit, in one case, taking weeks to respond to a student’s mail), there clearly remains a barrier to access which is disappointing, especially given the additional mental toll under lockdown.
We’ve also had peer group mental health sessions, organised by Aditya Rawat (Batch of 2022). While he’s had this idea for a while, the lockdown gave him the push to hold the first session on 28 April. He has moderated a few sessions of the ‘Check-in Circle’, open to all students, where students are free to share how they’re doing or just lend an ear and some support for others. Although only 20% of the respondents had attended the Check-In Circle, almost all of them (92%) had a positive or neutral experience.
When we asked Rawat what he thinks of the sessions and whether they take a toll on his mental health, he said that while it could be exhausting at times, it helped that “the participants were also active listeners, who hear out whatever it is I want to share. Also, all those who have joined us for these sessions so far, have been very supportive and understanding which helps ease whatever pressure there is supposed to be on me as the moderator” and that he looks forward to seeing more of us join the next session!
The Faculty Mentorship Sessions (which started this month and of which, only one session has been conducted so far) saw a slightly higher rate of attendance (29%), with 68% having a positive or neutral experience.
Several factors influence the rate of attendance: some students had not been allotted a Faculty Mentor or their Faculty Mentor had not conducted a session at the time of the survey, and some students may have chosen to attend/not attend based on which Faculty Member was assigned to be their mentor. The feedback was fairly diverse — some students didn’t feel comfortable sharing their problems with their Faculty Mentor, while some students felt like their session was well conducted by the Faculty Mentor. Most agreed that the discussions revolved around academic pressures, especially the forthcoming exams.
So, umm, what was the point of all this?
Well, primarily to check up on everyone and remind everyone to take care of their mental health in these tough times! We also wanted to collect tangible objective data to chronicle the effect of the lockdown and emphasize the need for better mental health infrastructure (and some sympathy for starters!).
From the rant column provided at the end of the survey, we came across at least one very grave mental health issue, which the person attributed to the apathy they faced from the university administration. On the other hand, one person mentioned that they were coping well, had higher productivity, and felt that the survey form was too negative (who are you and what are your ways?!).
Before you conclude that this survey was just a sob fest, we also asked how much people missed their friends and Law School, on a scale of 1-5. While over half the respondents seemed to miss both, almost one-fifth said they don’t miss Law School at all! But the general feeling towards this was perhaps summed up best by a respondent who asked, “Is there even any difference between these two questions?”
So, until we meet next, take care of your mental health, remember you’re not alone, and know that Law School misses you back!
Godspeed,
Jwalika and Smriti
PS: Quirk’s always here in case you want to share your rant!
Update: We’re happy to mention that the administration has introduced some measures to help improve the mental health infrastructure in college. These include shifting counselling sessions to Zoom for our online trimester, providing free access to self-help tools via the InnerHour app as well as TalkCampus – an online portal for connecting with college students from across the world. A Student Welfare Officer has also been appointed, to discuss any issues or concerns that students have individually. We hope these go a long way in addressing the evident mental health concerns we’d highlighted earlier!
[1] ‘Major Mental Health Crisis Looming From Coronavirus Pandemic: UN’ (NDTV.com) <https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/coronavirus-un-secretary-general-antonio-guterres-says-major-mental-health-crisis-looming-from-coronavirus-pandemic-2228460> accessed 23 May 2020.
[2] ‘Suicide Leading Cause for over 300 Lockdown Deaths in India, Says Study’ The Economic Times (5 May 2020) <https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/politics-and-nation/suicide-leading-cause-for-over-300-lockdown-deaths-in-india-says-study/articleshow/75519279.cms?from=mdr> accessed 23 May 2020.
]]>The most defining event in my student life, before I entered college, was the institutional murder of Rohith Vemula. I was compelled to think about my caste/class privilege and read Ambedkar – which left me aghast by the level of apathy and downright hostility I saw everywhere, in my family and friend circles. Cut to college and I found a safe haven, where despite its many significant shortcomings and fair share of problematic viewpoints, people wanted to talk and debate about issues our circles outside usually wouldn’t even venture into. Yes, the student body comes from all walks of life and has diverse perspectives that they were brought up with, but there are also people who proudly profess their identity and causes, and constructively engage with our not-so ‘there yet’ peers.
However, over my years here, I have become wary. The point of our liberal arts education, constant peer engagement and the painstaking efforts of some of our professors is to open our eyes to the broad contours of oppressions and discriminations that surround us. We are aware of what we are supposed to say and how to behave in our social circles. We know that womxn and minorities face hurdles that most of us cannot even imagine. We are constantly talking about discourse and changing the status quo. But is it just a smokescreen? While well intentioned and coming from a place of unlearning years of unchecked privilege, why do the privileged still hold the mic?
Now the distinction that I draw, and personally believe in, is that of being able to speak about issues and the praxis which one indulges in. So yes, I think it is okay for a cis-male to speak about womxn’s issues or a financially well off person to talk about gig economy workers. Only a particular community can fully comprehend the depth of their lived experiences, but there cannot be a bar on anyone else who wishes to engage with any social issue. However, the line that I wish we would draw is of not co-opting a communities’ narratives and exclusively holding the mic, but making that tough journey of true empathy in our own personal/professional circles.
When we come from homes/schools/communities where we didn’t know or understand the existence of the many injustices around us, a place and ‘woke’ social circles which constantly talk about topics of discrimination is amazing. We constantly learn to question it and our inherent biases, but talk is all we do. I am wary of fellow savarna feminists obsessively talking about what they perceive as oppressions being faced by Muslim and Dalit women, without having a spent a day in the latters’ shoes and this much-needed critique captures my sentiments the best. We post that ‘feministflowercrown’ story or tweet about our Bania-Brahmin government being oblivious to the real issues, but where does this activism go when it comes to our personal lives? After all, the personal is political.
Questioning the content this magazine puts out, made it introspect and actively seek different voices to publish on its platform. It still takes an incredible amount of courage to write what Abhishek and Manisha recently wrote or to chronicle the sexual harassment womxn continue to face in elite spaces like this college, because these are and will still be issues till an overwhelming political and social will to actually make that change comes. But what else have we done? We shared those stories on our social media accounts where our friends, coming from almost similar backgrounds, commented ‘aah yes, caste is real’. We tell ourselves the lie that ‘discourse’, ‘spreading awareness’ and sharing different point of views is the major extent of our contribution because ‘so many people just don’t know yet and something is better than nothing’.
Anecdotally, but I suspect also statistically, (considering the break-up of our student population, based on this still insightful survey), a lot of people who ‘speak up’ are people belonging to the dominant castes/classes. Our committees and various representative bodies are filled with the more privileged and so it is natural that they are put in positions to speak up more often. However, while it is widely accepted now to acknowledge the questions of caste/class/gender/sexuality when we discuss any policy affecting the student body, why is the question of representation only a check box to be ticked and making sure voices are heard the end of our responsibility? We never pause to internalise why our friend circle has nearly the same upbringing/world view like us – they just happen to be from a different tier-I/II city. Or why our committees value the same set of social skills and always have a younger version of some ‘super-studly’ senior. Our classrooms, practice debates and social media are filled with heavy academic discussions but our praxis extends to attending/organising a few talks, tweeting/reposting about oppression or any non-committal gesture which helps us feel better about ourselves for being a #ally.
I am guilty of this – my social circle and every space I have occupied in college is filled with people similar to me. I have spoken about diversity like it is not real life but another cutesy high school Netflix movie. We live in an astounding cognitive dissonance where we constantly talk about woke things and ‘cancel’ people who do not fit the right-talking-points mould. We will share the latest article on accessibility or attend a webinar on the hardships of migrant workers, but our friend circles will comprise people like us (a choice we perhaps make subconsciously) or unthinkingly end up mentoring juniors who come from similar privileges. We will support affirmative action in educational and work spaces, but fill our committees and our moot and debate teams with different hues of similarly-placed people. We will pat ourselves on the back for asking tough questions, but still be the gatekeepers. We will speak and speak and speak, but not pass the mic.
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If you wish to know more about allyship and appropriation here is a recommended read by the author – Between Savior and Seller: Critiquing Preface Politics https://roundtableindia.co.in/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=7312:preface-politics-does-annihilation-of-caste-need-an-introduction&catid=119:feature&Itemid=132
]]>For those who don’t know me, I shall give a brief introduction. My name is Megha Mehta. I had gained a considerable amount of fame at NLS for my summaries (which I think are still in circulation) and in later stages of law school life, for my movie reviews. I may also have acquired infamy for other reasons, but for that, you’ll have to wait for my full-fledged autobiography to be released 30 years later.
Without further ado or clichéd platitudes on Corona Pyaar Hai, I will jump to the aim and objective of my article, laa-school project style. I am currently clerking with Hon’ble Justice M.M. Shantanagoudar at the Supreme Court. I have written this piece to illuminate my fellow law school brethren about the potentialities of working as a law clerk for a Supreme Court judge post-graduation. Through this article, I wish to answer certain FAQs such as what is a clerkship, what are the responsibilities of a clerk, what is the learning experience like, how do you get a clerkship, is it true that the Supreme Court is run by the Illuminati, etc.
With regard to scope and limitations, I have deliberately refrained from commenting about my personal clerkship experience because I wanted this to be a general primer on clerkships and not a recruitment ad for my office specifically, though I have mentioned it briefly at the end of this piece. Also, I am continuing for a second year so that’s a separate piece which I will presumably write once my clerkship officially ends. Instead, this article is mostly based on an amalgamation of what I’ve seen and heard across various Chambers. It may not be possible for this piece to answer all queries, and some information has been kept vague on account of confidentiality requirements (particularly the Illuminati question). However, I hope this can give you a fair idea of what a clerkship truly entails.
What is a clerkship? What kind of work do you do?
A law clerk is basically a research assistant to a judge. The bulk of my work as a law clerk involves doing what I have already done for 5 years in law school — making ‘briefs’ of the case files which are listed for admission before Sir. Though the format of ‘briefs’ and whether a judge wants written or oral briefings differs from office to office, the contents of briefs are usually similar. They include the facts of the case, the case history from the trial court to the SC, and most importantly, the ‘grounds’ on which the case merits consideration by the Court. Apart from this, I also attend court and make briefs of arguments made during regular case hearings, and assist in preparing research notes for judgments and Sir’s public speaking engagements.
At the outset, I find it necessary to point out for the uninitiated that a clerkship is not strictly a ‘career’ as such. There is no scope for ‘promotion’ in a clerkship as there is in other jobs. Your pay and responsibilities remain the same irrespective of the number of years you spend in an office. Hence, people usually take it up as a short-term assignment. It is well known that out of these, most take up clerkships in the hopes of securing a recommendation letter that will help them pursue their Masters *cough cough*. However, a law clerk need not necessarily be someone looking for a stop-gap job whilst they apply for LL.M.s. It’s also a great opportunity for people looking for a break from the rigmarole of law firms/litigation, people who want to explore diverse areas of law before zeroing down on a particular field, or anyone who wants to see the ‘other side’ of how the Supreme Court functions.
It is important to bear in mind that the nature and volume of work differ from office to office. Some judges prefer long briefs; others want very concise notes. Some judges prefer not to delegate too much work to clerks. Even work timings vary largely. Some offices are as rigorous as Tier-1 law firms. I would strongly recommend that you intern with a judge or speak to a previous or current law clerk so that you know what kind of work will be expected of you, but more on that later.
What not to expect from a clerkship:
Let’s deal with the grey areas before the good areas. A lot of people who apply for a clerkship seem to be under the assumption that their work-load will consist entirely of Keshavnanda Bhartis and Navtej Johars. People, especially those who haven’t interned at the Supreme Court before, also bear the illusion that everyone who argues before the Court is a Seervai certified expert in constitutional law. If you have interned or worked at the Supreme Court, you would know that it is only a first among equals. The same problems of pendency, lawyers seeking adjournments on account of the fictional illness of some fictional relative which increases said pendency, frivolous litigation, bad lawyering, good lawyering to obfuscate an absolutely meritless case, etc., which one witnesses in other courts, exist at the SC.
Most importantly, you will not always be dealing with life-changing constitutional questions. In fact, what you will learn through clerking is that what we prioritise in law school debates is a very elitist conception of the actual legal problems which plague our population. We are trained to believe that we will be spending our life as Nani Palkhivalas and M.C. Setalvads, when actually your bread and butter is going to consist of demarcating the property boundaries of Raj Uncle’s Sector 16 flat and getting Simran Aunty her Provident Fund dues. At the SC, like in the lower courts, disputes are often won or lost on facts, and the sooner you understand that, the easier life as a clerk and as an advocate will be for you.
Additionally, as you may have figured out, a clerkship is mostly behind-the-scenes work. This is perhaps the reason why, unlike in the United States, clerkships are less-publicised and have relatively lower value in public perception as a career choice in India. A pet peeve of mine is that relatives, fellow members of the legal fraternity, and Tinder matches view clerking as a glorified internship. Things marginally improved when I acquired the hallowed SC ‘Proximity Card’. Even then, a common scene in the SC canteen is to have hapless clerks bullied into vacating their seats by ‘advocates’ or for a rebellious clerk to proudly flash their proxi-card and refuse to give up their seat. Ek chutki black gown aur white band ki keemat tum kya jaano, vakeel babu. (translation: one pinch of black gown and white band – how would you know its value, you lawyer *based on the famous dialogue from the iconic movie Om Shanti Om*)
Jokes apart, a clerkship should not be viewed as an easy ‘getaway’ job even though it involves a different set of tasks than those performed by litigating advocates and transactional lawyers. You are bound by the same, or perhaps a higher degree of confidentiality as you would be in a law firm or lawyer’s chambers. You are operating under constant deadlines to deliver briefs and notes, and there is no opportunity for seeking an adjournment or extension. There will be moments where you will have to brief the most frustrating and mind-numbingly boring/frivolous files. Most importantly, there is always going to be the pressure that if you don’t perform, you will be disappointing a constitutional functionary. Therefore, you are likely to encounter the same degree of challenges as you would in any other job. Just that everybody thinks you’re an intern, but you’ll get over it.
What you can take away from a clerkship:
A lot of people have asked me if working as a clerk helps if you are planning a career in litigation. In terms of hard skills, maybe not so much. You will be foregoing one year of seniority which you could have acquired in a law firm or chamber, and you will not be learning drafting work or court procedure such as filing, inspection, etc. However, you will definitely pick up a lot of soft skills[1] in terms of understanding what kind of argumentative style can be persuasive to judges (hint: the number of juniors flanking you is not influential), in what cases they are likely to (or not) interfere with lower court judgments, etc.
Secondly, clerks are exposed to a wide diversity of matters. We go through law school patting ourselves on the back for knowing the difference between formal and substantive equality under Article 14 or being able to rattle off provisions of the IBC. However, as mentioned earlier, when you actually go through case files, you will figure out how much what we perceive as ‘mundane’ or small-fry topics in law school, make up the bulk of litigation. Inter alia, land acquisition claims, builder-buyer disputes, motor vehicle accidents, labour disputes and insurance claims are more likely to occupy your time and headspace than fundamental rights jurisprudence. This is not to say that the academic work we do in law school is useless. Every now and then there will be some headlines-grabbing constitutional matter which will usually lead to you gasping for breath and basically not hearing anything as 20-odd clerks fight for precious courtroom space with you (fellow clerks will guess what I’m talking about). However, our prioritisation of what legal issues merit discussion is configured from a privileged space and often does not account for what ordinary litigants actually care about, so it’s good to get that reality check. It’s also fun researching on a wide variety of topics, especially special legislations, which you were hitherto unexposed to (If anyone ever wants legal advice on mutawallis, you can approach me).
A clerkship is also really useful for learning statutory interpretation, and how important it is to the legal profession. Irrespective of your CGPA or University Round Rank in law school, if you can’t tell your ejusdem generis from your noscitur a sociis, you aren’t really a legal scholar yet. A lot of times, a case turns on how to interpret one ambiguous word in some archaic rule more than the application of some mind-boggling legal theory.
The most important take away from clerking for me personally is that it helps you become vastly more open-minded and practical about how the law and legal adjudication works. As a clerk, you will often be required to put your personal biases aside while conducting research. This might prove a difficult task, given that most of us are prone to inhabiting ideological echo chambers. You are either conservative or liberal. Feminist or MRA. Lover or hater of the green fries at joint mess dinners. And so on and so forth. Of course, as law students we are also trained to play the devil’s advocate, look at the grey side, employ post-modernism, etc. but we vastly tend to frame our judgements of right and wrong in terms of some ideological paradigm. There is a tendency to think that in any legal dispute, there has to be a ‘good’ side and a ‘bad’ side and as a lawyer, it’s your duty to help the ‘good’ side (from your ideological perspective) win. However, when you assist a judge, you learn that the factors that influence the adjudication of a dispute are vastly more complex. Sometimes the facts say one thing, but a badly-drafted statute might say something else. Sometimes the law is on one party’s side, but the facts favour another. Doing justice in one case would set a slippery precedent for future cases.
Those who have studied feminist jurisprudence or feminist legal methods under Prof. Elizabeth may have come across a term called ‘positionality’. Positionality requires that you should be willing to critically examine your worldview and consider those of others, without necessarily compromising or surrendering your principles to them. I think a clerkship is the best way to understand positionality as a method of thinking in practice. This works both ways — being a clerk also gives you the opportunity to put your perspective across to judges and share the outlook of the current generation of lawyers with them. Contrary to what you might think, they are often more than willing to engage with opposing/novel ideas and appreciate it if you take initiative in bringing the latest legal debates or academic developments to their notice.
Applying for a clerkship.
Now to the part you all are really interested in — how do you get a clerkship? There are two ways of going about it. The first is to apply through the SC Registry, in which case you will have to give an exam and an interview. If you are selected in this, the Registry itself will assign you to a judge. The second is to send a personal application to the office of the particular judge(s) you wish to clerk with, which usually consists of a cover letter, CV, and a writing sample. For obvious reasons, the second method is more popular.
There is no uniform set of criteria that can determine your chances of getting a clerkship. Every office has their own preferences and requirements for clerks, depending upon the nature of work involved. The best way to go about applying, in my opinion, is to intern with a judge beforehand so that they have the opportunity to observe your work and evaluate your application accordingly. I personally did not have the foresight to do so, but from experience, I can say that many judges prefer persons who’ve interned with them previously. The second option is to take advantage of good old NLS nepotism and speak to alumni who are already clerking so that they guide you in the application process. Even if you don’t know any alumni, it is desirable that you generally speak to someone clerking at a particular office so that you have a realistic picture of what their judge expects from prospective applicants. Most offices finalise recruitment around March/April, so you should start laying the groundwork at the beginning of your final year of law school.
The biggest mistake that people make when applying for clerkships is that they base their expectations of the kind of work they will be doing and their interactions with the judge they will be clerking with based on what is reported in the media. Merely because a particular judge is hearing a high profile case or a case in your favourite area of law at the moment does not mean they will be hearing those kinds of cases on a daily basis. It is also important to keep in mind that there are no specialised ‘benches’ which exclusively deal with the death penalty, IPR, tax, etc. It is true that certain judges tend to deal more with ‘commercial’ or ‘social welfare’ matters etc. based on their area of expertise, but the most accurate way of gauging what matters a judge actually hears is the Judges’ Roster on the Supreme Court website. It is recommended that you check the Roster before applying, because that is going to be 99% of the subject matter of the work you do, irrespective of what you may know through hearsay.
Similarly, people often tend to presume that they know everything about a judge based on what they’ve read off Bar&Bench or social media. They may have their subjective reasons for the same, which are perfectly valid. However, the facets of a judge you get to see while working in their chambers is often in stark contrast to how you see them in court (which is something you’ll get to know after speaking to clerks). In my opinion, the most important part of a clerkship is not about deriving validation for having worked with an SC judge or having attended the hearings of a landmark case. These are experiences which can also be replicated with a Senior Advocate. It is mostly about what you can take away from your personal interaction with a judge. Your most important lessons during a clerkship are not going to be from the research you do for a judge, but from the little nuggets of wisdom they drop while discussing a case or recounting personal anecdotes. It’s not just that they know the law better than you; they also know a great deal more about life than you do. Therefore, don’t clerk merely because you want to put ‘Besties with XYZ judge’ on your CV/Insta or because you see yourself being part of some revolutionary judgement. Be sure before applying that you genuinely want to learn from the person you are applying to.
Conclusion
Sorry, this got a tad too long. ‘Briefly’ speaking about my own experience, I have genuinely had a great time in the past year (which is evident in the fact that I’m continuing). To be honest, there were moments of FOMO in the beginning when I wondered if I was following the right life trajectory and if I should have taken up a law firm job instead. However, ultimately I don’t have any regrets. For those concerned about financial planning, you won’t be rolling in money of course, but a clerkship pays enough to live reasonably in Delhi (unless you spend all your money on tandoori momos and Big Chill like a certain someone who is not me).
Of course, if you are absolutely sure that your goal in life is to become a Senior Advocate or become an equity partner, then I suppose there is no point in doing a clerkship. The reason why the clerkship worked for me was because I don’t come from a legal background and my litigation internships during law school had been quite shitty. I hadn’t even interned at the SC before. Doing a clerkship helped me get a reality check about how the Supreme Court actually functions. So for those who want to test the waters before plunging into the Dark Sea of litigation, a clerkship is a good preliminary option. A clerkship is also a great option for people who prefer a career in academia or policy to hone their research skills. To sum up: great research opportunities, good opportunity to observe a mix of both ordinary lit matters and high stakes constitutional drama, and a daily dose of Lutyens sightseeing (the India Gate circle panorama is going to be imprinted in my brain for the rest of my life).
That’s it from me folks. If you have any other queries, feel free to PM. Stay safe, and remember to wash your hands, you detty pigs.
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[1] Just in case someone is wondering, no reference is intended to a recent batch group discussion.
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[Image Description: The focus of the picture, in the centre, is the NLS library. Surrounding it are doodles of various things in Law School. There are mentions of all the food places in and around campus – Bistro, Chetta, Rohini, Hungry Hub, Juice Shop, Atithi and Gokul. Law School events are depicted – Spiritus (with a basketball hoop), SF (with a strawberry wearing headphones), Univ Week (with a banner), GCL (with a cricket bat and ball), Mooting (with a trophy) and Nego (with client and counsel placards). There are doodles of Dan, Dominos, Pride, a laptop running out of charge, a bookshelf, a hot beverage, weak wifi, a clock with the bell – various aspects of Law School. These are accompanied by mentions of Nagarbhavi skies, field scenes, Maggi and bun butter bhujia, tort v torts, “pedagogy” and “academic rigour” – all those little things that make Law School, Law School.]
P.S.: We still love you, Law School.
]]>Ever since I was a child, I have been a huge Bollywood fan. My earliest memories are dancing to Kajra Re and Kanta Laga, much to the horror of my parents. The downside of this, however, was having unrealistic expectations. I had always imagined that my college life would be like that in Main Hoon Na. Not the being-held-hostage-by-a-terrorist part, but the living-each-frame-like-it’s-a-musical part. For those who are unacquainted with this masterpiece of a movie, it is similar to High School Musical, except it has an India-Pakistan angle, SRK in a romantic lead role and Sushmita Sen conveniently located next to a hairdryer in each scene. But I digress. Basically, in my head, college was one big party with immaculate outfits, little to no academics, and Gori Gori playing in the background.
NLS however, to my disappointment, felt much more like 3 Idiots. It was not only the academic rigour and strenuous trimester system that provoked this comparison. Rather, it was the complete lack of empathy towards student concerns and a very competitive, suffocating environment. Coming into college, I admit I was a bit naive and deluded about what to expect and my expectations were a bit far-fetched, but nothing could prepare me for the initial monotony and dislike I experienced for this institution. Apart from a very energized Rang de Basanti-esque student protest, most of law school life is centred around either academics or “legit” co-curriculars. Extra-curriculars and sports are given little to no importance. My first realization of this was during Spiritus, which far from living up to its hype and resembling Chak de India, just became an excuse for seniors to take a three day vacation.
This initial disenchantment was not easy to look beyond. Especially when most of my friends were running from one DU fest to another. However it took six months of being in NLS to realise that although it is definitely not a Bollywood movie, it does have its Bollywood moments.
What NLS does give you, is exposure. I had come from a very sheltered bubble and NLS made me realise that not everybody shares the same privileges and background that I do. I learnt how to acknowledge where I had come from, its benefits and also its drawbacks. Moreover, NLS allows you to think in ways that you have never thought before. Whether it’s a formidable professor like Prof. Elizabeth or one like Prof. Rahul Choragudi, you begin to hold yourself to a higher standard and think beyond what you’ve been taught your entire life. You begin to understand issues that have been explored in Pink and Article 15 from an academic lens. And let’s be honest, Prof. Somashekhar in his pink t-shirt is no less than a Bollywood heartthrob.
Moreover, you begin to realise the vast expanses of opportunities that are available at your disposal. Whether you want a Suits career or the opportunity to make a ‘Tareekh pe Tareekh‘ dialogue, you have all the resources at your behest to do so.
Lastly and most importantly, it is the people you choose to engage with and befriend that really contribute to your Bollywood moments. Law School is a scary place and much like 3 Idiots, we all need some Ranchos in our life. My Yeh Jawaani Hain Deewani memories of NLS involve chilling at Chetta with my friends, dancing on the field to (you guessed it) Kajra Re and exploring Bangalore on the back of a Bounce.
Also much like a Bollywood movie, NLS has moments where you feel like it’s all going to go to shit, but miraculously it doesn’t, and all is well and good (if only for the next half an hour). Whether it’s a History viva or an Eco exam paper, things do go from bad to worse, but somehow they always manage to get a little bit better.
By this point I sound more sappy and cringe than I intended to. It also seems like I’ve fallen into the classic Law School trap of giving unsolicited and unnecessary advice. But what I ultimately want to end with (and yes there will be a Bollywood reference) is that I’ve come to understand that NLS is like Shah Rukh Khan’s career- spanning a very long period of time and a very mediocre body of work, but when it brings you the occasional good movie, it really really is worth it.
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