October 7th - Day at the Court

The plan: pack up, check out, bring our things over to Aisha’s, drop by the court to attend a bail hearing, go downtown to get a SIM card for the phone, and catch the night bus to Goa.

Everything was going according to plan. We had breakfast, hit the internet café, then a quick lunch before checking out. We somehow fit all our bags into a rickshaw and made our way to Aisha’s. From there we headed over to the Court.

As part of our evaluation at ILS Law College, we had to visit the court, attend a hearing or trial, and then prepare a report and presentation about it. As is often the case, plans changed. While English is the official judicial language, most of what takes place here in Maharashtra is done in Marathi. Recognizing this, the lawyer we were to accompany, Mme Vartak, told us we would only need to attend one bail hearing for a suspected murderer. She told us the details of the case, which were actually quite interesting:

On March 21, 2008, the accused, a truck driver named Sanjay Taneji Suryavanshi, asked the deceased, a Mr. Jadhav, to come work with him as a cleaner. They left Pune together on March 21, 2008 and drove to Kerala. Once in Kerala, they proceeded to unload the truck. This is the last time Mr. Jadhav was seen alive. Following a long period of time during which her husband had not returned home, Mrs. Sharada inquired with the accused about the whereabouts of her husband and filed a missing person complaint.

During the inquiry that followed, the police questioned the suspect on his knowledge of the whereabouts of the deceased. At the time, the accused stated that after returning from Kerala, he went to Gurajat via Pune and dropped off the missing man there. The police also enquired with the office in Kerala where the truck had been unloaded as to their knowledge of the whereabouts of the deceased or if they knew where he would have gone. The Kerala office informed them that there had been a quarrel between the two on account of payments of money and that the accused had left the deceased in Kerala.

On a day like any other, one of Sherada’s neighbours went to do his groceries at a local shop. By chance, the newspaper that was used to pack the groceries was a paper from Kerala containing a picture of an unidentified body found there. After taking a look at the photograph, the neighbour noticed a striking resemblance to Mr. Jadhav. He quickly went to show Sharada the picture and although there was a story attached to it, it was written in a local Kerala language that neither understood. With the help of a translator, they came to know that a dead body had been found near the seashore in Kerala.

Mr. Jadhav had a name tattooed on his hand and so the identification of the body was easily done. About 9 months after filing the report, the crime was registered against the accused for the offence punishable under section 302 of the Indian Penal Code, murder.

Quite the story! We arrived at the court and made our way to Vartak’s office. She was busy in a meeting (I think it was a lunch actually) and we went outside to look for Megha, an American exchange student who was also to attend the hearing. Megha didn’t end up showing up though (lucky for her!) and we continued to wait outside Vartak’s office. During this time, I would snap random photos here and there of the court buildings, the gardens, lawyers walking around in their traditional attire but covered with a black jacket, prisoners escorted to and from hearings by armed officers, etc. No one at any point commented on my camera.

Except for me of course who told him multiple times to be careful what he photographed because we were on government property and, having travelled in other developing countries, they usually do not like people taking pictures on their property…but he was being pretty discrete about it.

Finally Vartak came out of her office and told us to follow her. We made our way into a very cramped court room, filled with lawyers and witnesses all sitting or looking for a place to stand. Vartak told us to wait at the back while she made her way to the front and took a seat near the bench. We watched as a number of lawyers made arguments and discussed different points of law with the judge. Unfortunately, almost all of this took place in Marathi and even in English it was hard to follow what was happening. I did my best to pay attention though, waiting for Vartak to stand up when it was her time to argue against allowing bail for our murder suspect. Suddenly though, after about 15 minutes, she stood up and walked towards the door. We followed her and realized that the bail hearing had just happened, but we didn’t realize it. Apparently she wasn’t the one to plead and we simply didn’t understand a thing. Back in her office, she briefly explained to us what arguments both parties had made and told us that the judge would render his decision tomorrow, and that was it for our court visit. At least it should have been!

As we made our way back towards the exit, we walked by the same court room we had just been in. I noticed that through one open doorway facing the judge, you could see his profile and those of his assistants, but without actually making out their faces because of the lighting. I took out my camera, and just as Emilie warned me that maybe I shouldn’t (it was more like “No, don’t take the picture), I snapped a photo. Before I even had time to put my hand back down, a man grabbed at my camera and yelled something in Marathi. The camera was still on a string around my wrist, and there was no way I was letting him have it. He kept hold of my camera though, while saying things in Marathi and calling for people. Someone alarmed at that point, I tried to explain to him that there was no problem, that I could show him the photo and delete it. I didn’t realize you couldn’t take photos, there were no signs saying you couldn’t (at least none in English and no little pictures of a camera with a big x over it). He either didn’t understand English, didn’t care, or both, and simply kept calling for someone while holding my camera in an iron grip. We soon realized he was calling for the police. Other people around us just stared in confusion or amusement, wondering what would happen next. Soon some men came and escorted us down a hall. I tried to explain to them what had happened but here too, no one listened or cared. We made our way to an administrative office, finally told to have a seat, and to wait for someone to show up. The room was filled with other staff members but none would initially explain to us what was going on. We asked but they just said to wait.

This is one very frustrating thing about India that we’ve noticed on several occasions. In many work settings, everyone has a role and specific duties. They will do only what is within their duties and nothing more. If it’s not their job to deal with you, then you shouldn’t hope for much help from them.

After several minutes, another man came and sat down at a desk near us. While doing several other things at once, he would intermittently explain to us that we were not allowed to take photos on the grounds of the court, that we had done a bad thing, and that the judge would have to decide what to do with us. He didn’t really care to look at the photos, didn’t care if we were willing to delete them, it wasn’t his problem. After explaining on several occasions, to several different employees that came and went, that we were simply law students visiting the court, that I was taking photos to show my friends back home how the courts looked here, and that I didn’t know you couldn’t take photos, that I would happily delete them, etc. etc., the whole situation became a little joke to them. They chatted among themselves while looking at us and laughing, but never really letting us in on the joke. At one point I even figured we might get asked to pay a bribe and snuck Emilie my wallet so she could take the money out and hide it in her purse. If they did ask for money, I would only have a Rs 100 or so on me.

Finally after showing them our student cards, they called the college and spoke to the principal. After speaking with her for a few minutes, they passed the phone to us. Before the battery on the phone died and ended our conversation prematurely, the principal had time to identify who I was and to explain to me that I would have to write a letter to the High Judge of the District Court, who was in charge of the grounds. In the letter, I would have to explain what had happened, apologize, and ask the Court for its forgiveness and for my camera back. When I mentioned I had a bus to catch that evening at 7:30pm, she said that we would meet with the judge after 5pm and I shouldn’t have a problem catching the bus.

I was then given a plain white sheet of paper and pen, and began drafting my apology letter. By this time we realized of course that we wouldn’t be in any serious trouble, but I still did my best to sound apologetic and appreciative of my experience (I did want my camera back!). I finished my letter just as Emilie warned me not to kiss the judge’s ass too much.

What he also fails to mention is that my name also had to be on the letter of apology because I was with him…who knew he’d be the one to get us in trouble!

As we waited, a lawyer came over and started chatting in Marathi with someone. They clearly explained to him what happened, as they would to anyone who came and wondered what two white Canadians were doing sitting there (apparently this didn’t happen often). He started speaking with me, suggesting what I should say. No problem, you have student card? Ok ok. You have visa and passport? Ok ok. You tell judge you were taking photos, you’re a law student, wanted to show your friends back home, you apologize and no problem. I had the distinct impression he was going to be my lawyer for this hearing. After the exchange though, he just walked off and I wondered when he’d be back to get us.

5pm came and went but nothing happened, we sat and waited. Then to my great embarrassment, Mme Sakalkhar and Mme Vartak arrived. They sat down beside us, smiling reassuringly, and spoke with the men there. They explained we would meet with the judge, I would show him my photos, delete them, and it would be ok. We waited a while longer, and then finally made our way out of the room after being there for about 2 hours. We walked around some hallways and in the direction of the main court room. At one point we were told to stop, while Vartak and Sakalkhar made their way down a hall and into an office. While we waited one of the guards asked me why I had taken photos, it is not allowed. I told him I realized that now. He looked at me sympathetically as we waited several more minutes. From the open door, we could hear a little of what was going on in the room but not make out anything. Another 10 minutes or so and Vartak and Sakalkhar came out, but Vartak was no longer smiling and looked somewhat concerned. Sakalkhar still smiled at us and told us to wait, as they made their way through another door. Again we waited, not knowing what was happening, not knowing whether it was more serious than we first though, wondering whether Vartak was in trouble for having brought us here. Finally, the court session inside the room ended and the judge made his way out and back to his office. We were soon invited to come in. In a very large room, the judge sat at his desk, with Vartak and Sakalkhar in two chairs in front of him. I walked up trying to look as apologetic as I could. The judge asked to see the photos. I showed him and quickly realized this judge was a very reasonable man. He looked at two of the men that had detained us and basically asked them what the big deal was. These were just photos of lawyers, people walking around, and nice buildings. They explained to him that the rules prohibited all photos. I needed to ask for permission first. He looked again at the photos, and then asked me if I were to keep one photo, which would it be? That was a hard one for me… I told him I would just be happy to delete any photo he wanted me to, but he repeated his question. I sifted through my photos as everyone watched, and finally picked the one of an empty court room. I realized then that he didn’t really have a problem with me taking photos; he just wanted them to make his court look good. This is a small messy room he said, why would you want photo of this? After exchanging a few comments about the aesthetic qualities of Indian court rooms, he put on his glasses and took an even closer look at the photos, asking me to zoom in on some of them. More discussion followed and he finally made me delete two photos of the inside of the courtrooms and I was allowed to keep the rest. On the way out I thanked Mme Sakalkhar profusely and she told me not to worry about it, that they explained the situation to the judge and that he took it “sportingly”. She also asked whether I could print out a couple of the photos so that they could give them to the judge at a later time. Finally escaping the court, we just had enough time to hop into a rickshaw, make our way back to Aisha’, briefly recount the story to her and her roommates, grab our bags and make our way to the pickup point for our bus to Goa. This was our first look at a sleeper bus and it really was a memorable experience. One side of the aisle has 2 levels of single beds while the other side has 2 levels of double beds. On this particular bus you just had a curtain for privacy. We had an upper bunk and I gotta say that it wasn’t the most comfortable of rides! Our bus swayed and bounced all the way to Goa and while the two bars keeping me from toppling over the end of the bunk and into the aisle weren’t very comfortable, they were still much appreciated!