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In Those Chaotic Corridors

Our correspondent lives to tell the tale of a day spent at the Mumbai sessions court

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In Those Chaotic Corridors
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"Are we on the board today? What time is our case?"

In the corridors of justice, outside every courtroom, the board occupies the pride of place. One badly scribbled line informs litigants whether it’s going to be their day in court today or they will have to wait for another date. The board determines the day for the hundreds who make their way to the Mumbai sessions court, often travelling huge distances. Regulars and lawyers have a well-oiled network to push a case up on the board but most litigants in courts around the country have to often spend years making endless trips, unsure about whether their case has moved at all.

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Fiction and cinema have injected courtrooms with a rarefied atmosphere. In reality, everything that happens in the Mumbai sessions court is very pedestrian. The mundane proceedings take place in an old Victorian building with imposing arches and ageing stone walls.

But the proceedings can become quite explicit and gory in a murder trial. In one room the details of the weapon used to kill are being discussed threadbare. There is a Kafkaesque moment when the discussion revolves around the size, shape and angularities of a big stone that was used to crush the victim’s head. A witness tells the court: "I know it was a stone, sir, but I don’t know if it was this big or that big." For the next half hour the witness who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time is cross-examined. Every question increases his confusion, exactly what the defence aims for. The public prosecutor shuffles through papers but is otherwise silent.

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At other times the proceedings focus on the trivial but critical issue of how to communicate with one of the six defendants in a case. The prosecutor says the man is untraceable. "What efforts have been made since the last time to trace the defendant?" asks the judge. The lawyer then proceeds to list the number of telephone calls made, the number of letters sent, the addresses to which they were sent, the couriers that were returned from the address. The proof of delivery from the courier firm is passed on as evidence of the attempt to make contact. The judge orders that one more attempt be made to contact the missing man. The case is adjourned for five weeks. Back to the board.

In the special court that hears rape cases, the judge takes the chair. It’s a woman judge who moved from divorce and child custody cases in the family court to handling rape cases. In the ongoing trial the accused has lined up a team of seasoned lawyers for his defence. Today, as on other days, they are seeking an adjournment as the accused is out on bail. The prosecutor complains: "Your Honour, this is stonewalling".

All trials can get nasty. In another rape trial, the defence lawyer says: "As it shows on page 7, Your Honour, this girl was dressed in very revealing clothes. She had barely covered." The prosecutor objects. The objection is upheld. The victim squirms. The law is not on her side. Section 155 (4) of the Indian Evidence Act states: "When a man is prosecuted for rape or an attempt to ravish, it may be shown that the prosecutrix (victim) was of generally immoral character." The victim in this case can merely hope that justice will be on her side. She’s been fighting this case for five years. But there are no guarantees.

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