The First Case

Whilst in Bombay, I began, on the one hand, my study of Indian law, and on the other, my experiments in dietetics in which Virchand Gandhi, a friend, joined me. My brother, for his part, was trying his best to get me briefs.

While in Bombay, I began studying Indian law. I also began experimenting with my diet, joined by my friend Virchand Gandhi. Meanwhile, my brother was doing his best to find legal work for me.

The study of Indian law was a, tedious business. The Civil Procedure Code I could in no way get on with. Not so, however, with the Evidence Act. Virchand Gandhi was reading for the Solicitor’s Examination and would tell me all sorts of stories about barristers and vakils. ‘Sir Phirozeshah’s ability,’ he would say, ‘lies in his profound knowledge of law. He has the Evidence Act by heart and knows all the cases on the thirty-second section. Badruddin Tyebji’s wonderful power of argument inspires the judges with awe.’

Studying Indian law was tedious. I could make no progress with the Civil Procedure Code. But the Evidence Act was different. Virchand Gandhi was studying for the Solicitor’s Examination. He would tell me all sorts of stories about barristers and vakils. ‘Sir Phirozeshah’s ability,’ he would say, ‘comes from his deep knowledge of the law. He knows the Evidence Act by heart and knows all the cases concerning section 32. Badruddin Tyebji’s remarkable skill in argument fills the judges with awe.’

The stories of stalwarts such as these would unnerve me.

Stories of strong people like these would unsettle me.

‘It is not unusual,’ he would add, ‘for a barrister to vegetate for five or seven years. That’s why I have signed the articles for solicitorship. You should count yourself lucky if you can paddle your own canoe in three years’ time.’

‘It is not unusual,’ he would add, ‘for a barrister to struggle for five or seven years. That is why I have signed up to train as a solicitor. You should consider yourself lucky if you can support yourself in three years.’

Expenses were mounting up every month. To have a barrister’s board outside the house, whilst still preparing for the barrister’s profession inside, was a thing to which I could not reconcile myself. Hence I could not give undivided attention to my studies. I developed some liking for the Evidence Act and read Mayne’s Hindu Law with deep interest, but I had not the courage to conduct a case. I was helpless beyond words, even as the bride come fresh to her father-in-law’s house!

Expenses were rising every month. I could not accept having a barrister’s sign outside my house while I was still preparing for the profession inside. So I could not give my studies my full attention. I grew to like the Evidence Act and read Mayne’s Hindu Law with great interest. But I did not have the courage to conduct a case. I was helpless beyond words, like a bride newly arrived at her father-in-law’s house!

About this time, I took up the case of one Mamibai. It was a ‘small cause.’ ‘You will have to pay some commission to the tout,’ I was told. I emphatically declined.

Around this time, I took on the case of Mamibai. It was a ‘small cause.’ I was told, ‘You will have to pay a commission to the tout.’ I firmly refused.

‘But even that great criminal lawyer Mr. So-and-So, who makes three to four thousand a month, pays commission!’

‘But even that great criminal lawyer, Mr. So-and-So, pays commission! He makes three to four thousand a month!’

‘I do not need to emulate him,’ I rejoined. ‘I should be content with Rs. 300 a month. Father did not get more.’

‘I don't need to follow his example,’ I replied. ‘I would be happy with Rs. 300 a month. Father did not earn more than that.’

‘But those days are gone. Expenses in Bombay have gone up frightfully. You must be businesslike.’

‘But those days are gone. Costs in Bombay have risen terribly. You must be businesslike.’

I was adamant. I gave no commission, but got Mamibai’s case all the same. It was an easy case. I charged Rs. 30 for my fees. The case was not likely to last longer than a day.

I stood firm. I paid no commission, but I still got Mamibai’s case. It was an easy case. I charged Rs. 30 for my services. The case was unlikely to last more than a day.

This was my debut in the Small Causes Court. I appeared for the defendant and had thus to cross-examine the plaintiff’s witnesses. I stood up, but my heart sank into my boots. My head was reeling and I felt as though the whole court was doing likewise. I could think of no question to ask. The judge must have laughed and the vakils no doubt enjoyed the spectacle. But I was past seeing anything. I sat down and told the agent that I could not conduct the case, that he had better engage Patel and have the fee back from me. Mr. Patel was duly engaged for Rs. 51. To him, of course, the case was child’s play.

This was my debut in the Small Causes Court. I represented the defendant, so I had to cross-examine the plaintiff’s witnesses. I stood up, but my heart sank into my boots. My head was spinning, and I felt as if the whole court was spinning too. I could not think of a single question to ask. The judge must have laughed, and the lawyers no doubt enjoyed the spectacle. But I was too overwhelmed to notice anything. I sat down and told the agent I could not handle the case. I said he should hire Patel instead and take the fee back from me. Mr. Patel was duly hired for Rs. 51. For him, of course, the case was child’s play.

I hastened from the Court, not knowing whether my client won or lost her case,, but I was ashamed of myself, and decided not to take up any more cases until I had courage enough to conduct them. Indeed I did not go to Court again until I went to South Africa. There was no virtue in my decision. I had simply made a virtue of necessity. There would be no one so foolish as to entrust his case to me, only to lose it!

I hurried out of court, not knowing whether my client had won or lost her case. But I was ashamed of myself. I decided not to take any more cases until I had the courage to handle them. In fact, I did not go to court again until I went to South Africa. There was nothing virtuous about my decision. I had simply made a virtue out of necessity. No one would be foolish enough to entrust a case to me, only to lose it!

But there was another case in store for me at Bombay. It was a memorial to be drafted. A poor Musalman’s land was confiscated in Porbandar. He approached me as the worthy son of a worthy father. His case appeared to be weak, but I consented to draft a memorial for him, the cost of printing to be borne by him. I drafted it and read it out to friends. They approved of it, and that to some extent made me feel confident that I was qualified enough to draft a memorial, as indeed I really was.

But there was another case waiting for me in Bombay. I was to draft a petition. A poor Muslim man’s land had been confiscated in Porbandar. He came to me as the worthy son of a worthy father. His case seemed weak, but I agreed to draft a petition for him. He would pay for the printing. I drafted the petition and read it to friends. They approved of it, and their approval made me somewhat confident that I was qualified to draft a petition. In fact, I really was.

My business could flourish if I drafted memorials without any fees. But that would bring no grist to the mill. So I thought I might take up a teacher’s job. My knowledge of English was good enough and I should have loved to teach English to Matriculation boys in some school. In this way I could have met part at least of the expenses. I came across an advertisement in the papers: ‘Wanted, an English teacher to teach one hour daily. Salary Rs. 75.’ The advertisement was from a famous High School. I applied for the post and was called for an interview. I went there in high spirits, but when the principal found that I was not a graduate, he regretfully refused me.

My business could prosper if I drafted petitions without charging fees. But that would bring in no money. So I thought I might take a teaching job. My English was good enough, and I would have loved to teach it to boys preparing for Matriculation at a school. That way, I could have met at least part of my expenses. I found an advertisement in the papers: ‘Wanted, an English teacher to teach one hour daily. Salary Rs. 75.’ The advertisement was from a famous high school. I applied for the job and was called for an interview. I went in high spirits, but the principal found that I was not a graduate. He regretfully turned me down.

‘But I have passed the London Matriculation with Latin as my second language?’

‘But I passed the London Matriculation exam with Latin as my second language?’

‘True, but we want a graduate.’

‘True, but we want a graduate.’

There was no help for it. I wrung my hands in despair. My brother also felt much worried. We both came to the conclusion that it was no use spending more time in Bombay. I should settle in Rajkot where my brother, himself a petty pleader, could give me some work in the shape of drafting applications and memorials. And then as there was already a household at Rajkot, the breaking up of the one at Bombay meant a considerable saving. I liked the suggestion. My little establishment was thus closed after a stay of six months in Bombay.

There was nothing I could do. I wrung my hands in despair. My brother was also very worried. We both decided that there was no point in spending more time in Bombay. I should settle in Rajkot, where my brother, a minor legal advocate himself, could give me some work drafting applications and petitions. Since there was already a household in Rajkot, closing the one in Bombay would also save a considerable amount of money. I liked the suggestion. So I closed my small household after six months in Bombay.

I used to attend High Court daily whilst in Bombay, but I cannot say that I learnt anything there. I had not sufficient knowledge to learn much. Often I could not follow the cases and dozed off. There were others also who kept me company in this, and thus lightened my load of shame. After a time, I even lost the sense of shame, as I learnt to think that it was fashionable to doze in the High Court.

While I was in Bombay, I attended the High Court every day, but I cannot say I learned anything there. I did not know enough to learn much. I often could not follow the cases and dozed off. Others dozed off too, which made me feel less ashamed. After a while, I even stopped feeling ashamed, as I came to think it was fashionable to doze in the High Court.

If the present generation has also its briefless barristers like me in Bombay, I would commend them a little practical precept about living. Although I lived in Girgaum I hardly ever took a carriage or a tramcar. I had made it a rule to walk to the High Court. It took me quite forty five minutes, and of course I invariably returned home on foot. I had inured myself to the heat of the sun. This walk to and from the Court saved a fair amount of money, and when many of my friends in Bombay used to fall ill, I do not remember having once had an illness. Even when I began to earn money, I kept up the practice of walking to and from the office, and I am still reaping the benefits of that practice.

If the present generation in Bombay also has barristers without clients, as I was, I would offer them a practical tip for daily life. Although I lived in Girgaum, I hardly ever took a carriage or tram. I made it a rule to walk to the High Court. The walk took a full forty-five minutes, and of course I always walked home. I had grown used to the heat of the sun. Walking to and from the Court saved me a fair amount of money. And although many of my friends in Bombay often fell ill, I do not remember being ill even once. Even when I began to earn money, I continued to walk to and from the office. I am still enjoying the benefits of that practice.