Not Out

 One hot afternoon in the Bar Room of District Court, where the fans spin like they’re on strike and the chai tastes like sugar syrup with colour, a senior lawyer was in full mood.

He looked at Retired Judge Ramakant Verma, sitting calmly with his usual cup of over-sweet tea, and said with great pride, “Sir, your career is really great! Not even one corruption charge. So clean. So honest!”

Justice Verma smiled, stirred his tea, and replied, “Full credit goes to the corrupt people.”

The senior lawyer looked confused. “How is that, sir?”

The judge gave a calm reply, “In their eyes, I was not good enough to be offered a bribe.”

The whole Bar Room went quiet. Even the peon stopped pouring water into the leaking jug.

“You mean,” said the senior lawyer, “they didn’t even try to bribe you?”

“Exactly,” said the judge. “I sat on the bench for 30 years. Passed thousands of orders. Gave many judgments. But not even once did someone try to hand me an envelope. No fruit basket. No Diwali sweets. Nothing. I was so clean, I was invisible to the system.”

A young lawyer, who had just joined the profession and was still full of hope (and unpaid internships), asked, “Sir, weren’t you proud of your honesty?”

“Of course I was,” said Justice Verma. “But you tell me—can you be proud of not doing something you were never even asked to do? It’s like a cricketer saying he didn’t get out, but he was never sent to bat!”

Hot Notice

Wife: You again came late. Dinner was ready at 8. Now It’s 10 and dinner is cold now. Do you need legal notice for coming on time?

Lawyer Husband: If you desire so, please serve it. Just make sure it’s served hot... unlike the dinner.

The Lawfing Lawyer

Respectfully Ridiculous and humbly submitted

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyer and Litigation

Honesty

Senior lawyer:Your career is really great! Not even one corruption charge. So clean. 

Retired Honest Judge:Full credit goes to the corrupt people. In their eyes, I was not good enough to be offered a bribe.

The Lawfing Lawyer

Respectfully Ridiculous and humbly submitted

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyer and Litigation

Remembrance

Lawyer: My Lord, please recollect the judgment of the co-ordinate Bench—it’s directly on point.

Judge: Mr. Counsel, I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast. You expect me to recall co-ordinate Bench's  judgment? .

The Lawfing Lawyer

Respectfully Ridiculous and humbly submitted

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyer and Litigation

Logic Stick

Lawyer: “My Lord, give me less than 2 minutes, I will explain everything.”

Judge: “You may have magic Stick like Harry Potter, but I do not.”

Lawyer: No my Lord, I have Logic stick. 

Judge:Then go by Logic and not by magic. 

The Lawfing Lawyer

Respectfully Ridiculous and humbly submitted

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyer and Litigation

“Friends in Peace, Forgotten with Ease”

Two lawyer friends met after 20 years.

Lawyer 1: Do you remember me, we used to study together in library during exams?”

Lawyer 2: “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

Lawyer 1: “That day librarian shouted at you, and I saved you… remember now?”

Lawyer 2: “O Yes ! Now I remember you! We never had any fight!”

Morale :Friends in Peace, Forgotten with Ease 

The Lawfing Lawyer

Respectfully Ridiculous

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyer and Litigation

Chapter:5: In the Party, But Not of the Party

 In this life, humans suffer many kinds of deprivations and agonies. Some are deprived of wealth, some of love, some of dignity, some of food, and some of sleep. But there exists another class of humans whose pain is neither seen, nor understood, nor met with any empathy. This is the class of people who have never touched alcohol.

These are the souls who have kept their lips miles away from the mystical liquid that society alternately calls a “bad habit” and “a reason for happiness.” These people, who soothe themselves with titles like disciplined, devout, idealistic, and cultured, live a life where there's no chapter on thrill, frolic, or self-deception.

Whenever these beings arrive at social gatherings—birthdays, weddings, or office parties—they are instantly viewed with suspicion. As soon as someone asks, “What can I get for you?” and they reply, “Just plain water,” a strange silence descends. It’s as if someone just chanted an anti-national slogan on the mic. All eyes turn toward them. Whispers spread across the room: “That’s the guy who never drinks…”, “His wife must be really strict…”, “He must be religious…” and so on, birthing countless theories.

One person asks, “Is your health okay?” Another suggests, “Just start with a little—it kills stress.”

When this non-drinker answers all these curiosities with poise, he’s diplomatically escorted to a corner. No colorful liquid fills his glass. No ice cubes clink. No dazed smile graces his face. He sits there quietly, sipping lemonade, wondering, “Should’ve just asked for milk instead.”

As the night progresses and the crowd slowly tips into intoxicated abandon—dancing, wobbling, colliding with walls, and filming shaky videos—this disciplined soul collects his water bottle and whispers to himself, “Time to head home.” The weight of designated driver is also generously placed on his shoulders. While his drunk friends collapse like cargo in the backseat, he steers with one hand and plays devotional hymns with the other—just to maintain some balance on the road and in life.

His romantic life? Tragic. Women often find themselves drawn to men who are mysterious, slightly messed up, a bit broken. Drinkers embody this package. They hold the bottle, exhale dramatically and say, “I’m shattered,” and the woman’s heart melts. She says, “I’ll put you back together…” and love begins. Meanwhile, the non-drinker approaches a woman and says, “I drink tulsi-cinnamon tea,” and is promptly crowned “Bhaiya” (brother) and dismissed.

Health-wise, these men face a cosmic injustice. They wake up early, do yoga, sip lukewarm water, chew raw garlic, and meditate on their breath. But when the health report arrives, the doctor casually says, “Blood pressure’s a bit high. Don’t worry—just age catching up.” And when the same doctor sees the report of a chronic drinker, he gasps: “Your liver is in perfect condition!” One must wonder—was all this restraint just a long road to silent humiliation?

Even at home, there’s no reward. The wife says, “At least act like a man when you go out!” The kids say, “Dad’s so boring—never has any fun.” And when a relative visits and asks, “What do you keep in your stash?” he shyly replies, “Spice boxes.” He’s never seen as someone with hobbies. No one calls him “cool.” His life is neither bright nor dark—it’s just one long, straight road on which he walks daily with an umbrella, and if even one raindrop falls, he sighs with regret.

He never knows the thrill of disaster. He never wakes up saying, “What happened last night? I don’t remember…” because he remembers everything. Not once does he say, “Dude, I was wrecked yesterday…” His biggest mishap in life? “Too much sugar in the tea.” His version of excitement? Eating unsalted curd, biting into a chili-free samosa, or accidentally swapping pillows mid-sleep.

When he tells people that he has never touched alcohol, some swell with pride. They say, “You’re a great man!” But in the very next moment, the same people pop open a beer and say, “Come on, this life ain’t for you.”

This is a society that praises restraint, but never embraces the restrained.

And so, one day, this man sits alone in his room. In his hands, a cup of ginger tea. Before him, a religious book. In his ears, a devotional tune. He reflects, “I never did anything bad in life… and yet people never saw me as good.” Somewhere, in the distant corner of a party, his drunken friend, slumped with a bottle, murmurs: “Bro, you’re a really good guy… but not party material.”

So dear readers, if you ever meet someone who’s stayed away from alcohol their entire life, hug them. Understand their pain. Because while they may never have been broken by a bottle, they’ve surely been broken within—by neglect, by a joyless routine, by a society that couldn’t find fun in their discipline.

Chapter 4:Laws of Lateness

Chapter 4:Laws of Lateness

[from the funny satirical legal series “What a Judge Cannot Judge”]

In court, delay is like a magic trick — sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But in office, delay is like chai: everyone wants it, but nobody admits they drink too much!

This chapter is about two very different interns. One comes so early, even the office fan is still sleeping. The other? Well, he thinks time is like Delhi traffic — sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not!

Watches beep, coffee cups spill, and naps become secret weapons. All happening in Mr. Black’s office — a lawyer who wins cases even when he is late, but often deliver timely!

So get ready to laugh, because here the real question is — how much late is too late? Lets dive in timely to unfold the law of Lateness.

========

If you're too fast, you may get tired,
If you're too slow, you may get fired.
Smart is the one who works in flow,
Not too quick, and  not too slow!

It was a normal Tuesday morning in the office of Mr. Black, a High Court lawyer who was famous for two things—winning impossible cases and avoiding responsibility like it was a traffic fine. People said Mr. Black could convince a judge to see evidence that wasn’t even there. Some also said he could get adjournments faster than tea gets cold.

At exactly 9:55 AM, the office door opened like a court room rising for the judge.

In walked Mr. P, the intern who treated time like his religion. Everyone called him Mr. Punctual. His shirt was ironed so well, even a file would feel underdressed near him. His shoes shined like he was going for viva. He looked at his computer like it was a Constitution Bench. The screen turned on, and he smiled like he had already won one PIL before breakfast.

He sat, opened his notes, and said to himself, “One more day, one more victory against lateness!”

Just then, the door opened again.

In came Mr. C, with sleepy eyes and a coffee cup that looked more awake than him. People called him Mr. Casual. He didn’t believe in clocks. He believed in cappuccino. He thought alarm clocks were a scam and time was just a suggestion. His entry was so slow, even the office lizard nodded off.

Mr. C (taking a sip of coffee):“Don’t stress so much, bro. Time is not onion to cut so finely.”

Mr. P (adjusting his collar like a lawyer ready for PIL):“Being on time shows respect—for work, for self, for system. Even Sun and Moon come on time.”

Mr. C (sitting back like a baba giving gyaan):“They come on time, but also go on time. Here, we come at fixed time but no fixed time to leave. So I take rest during work. That’s called balance.”

Mr. P:“Rest? You call watching YouTube in office 'soul care'?”

Mr. C (with calm confidence):“See, bro, people who come on time are always scared inside. Always rushing. Me? I am tension-free. Even Einstein never followed time. He discovered theory of time, but never wore watch.”

Mr. P (raising his eyebrow like a judge in mood):“Einstein gave theory of relativity. You are giving excuses of regularity.”

Mr. C:“Newton also didn’t care about time. One apple fell, boom—laws of gravity. No timetable needed. You want to stop me from becoming legend?”

Mr. P (firmly):“You mix legends with laziness. Delivering work late is not genius. It’s just delay.”

Mr. C:“I never delay. I may come late, but always finish my work on time. That is the real talent.”

Mr. P:“You’re lucky Mr. Black doesn’t care when we come. Otherwise, you’d be arguing your lateness in Labour Court.”

Mr. C (smiling like he won case in Supreme Court):“Exactly! Mr. Black cares about results, not wristwatch. He wins cases by being sharp—not by showing up early.”

Just then, Mr. Black entered the office. He looked around like a judge entering court. Everyone straightened up. Even the computer fans stopped buzzing.

Mr. Black (looking at Mr. C):“That infringement file—is it done?”

Mr. C suddenly sat straight. His fingers flew on the keyboard like they were on a deadline mission.

Mr. C (serious tone):“Yes sir, just completing the conclusion. Will send in 5 minutes.”

Mr. Black nodded and left without a word. But that one nod felt like a gold medal in courtroom Olympics.

Mr. C (turning to Mr. P):“See? I may not come like train on time, but I always land on time. Work done, boss happy. Balance achieved.”

Mr. P (thinking):“Maybe… being too early or too lazy—both are not great. Main thing is work should be done properly and on time.”

Mr. C:“Exactly! If you come too early, you get bored. If you come too late, you get scolded. But if you come smartly and finish work—then you win.”

TThe two interns looked at each other. The argument was over. Both had spoken enough. Silence came in the room, only the sound of the ceiling fan was left.

Mr. C leaned back, stretched his arms and smiled,“Yaar, from timekeepers to sleep seekers, all of us just want one thing—no tension in office and no shouting from sir.”

Mr. P let out a small sigh and smiled back,“True bro... I also get tired of running behind time daily. Half the time I'm early, but still stressed. Maybe you’re right... being too strict with time also doesn't help much. Main thing is—boss should be happy, work should be done.”

Both nodded. One was tired of chasing the clock, the other tired of explaining his delay. But in that moment, both agreed—Whether you come early like metro or walk in slow like WiFi, work should be clean, complete and on time.

Final Conclusion:If you are too punctual, you’ll feel pressure.If you are too lazy, you’ll face problems.
So better to be balanced—not too fast, not too slow. Just finish your work well and on time.

Respectfully funny and submitted with smile,
By The Lawfing Lawyer, Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman
Patent and Trademark Attorney, Delhi High Court
Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyers, and Litigation

Chapter 3:Forgiveness is free But not the court fee

Say sorry, shake hands, and let anger flee,

But don’t expect discounts from the judiciary!

Forgiveness may come with hugs and tea,

But don’t forget — you still owe court fee!

=====

Chapter 3: Forgiveness is Free... But Not the Court Fee
(from the funny satirical legal series “What a Judge Cannot Judge”)

It was one of those classic mornings at the High Court — foggy air, noisy tea stalls, and a courtroom full of eager faces. The reason? Mr. White and Mr. Black were going head-to-head. Again.This time, the case seemed simple. The clients had made peace. Smiles were exchanged. Hugs were almost given. And then... came a surprising request — followed by a loud thud, some hopping on one foot, and legal arguments that sounded more like a courtroom talent show.All seemed calm... until the judge gave a reply that no one saw coming.

What did he decide?

Let’s dive in.

====

It was one of those classic mornings — the kind where the smog hangs in the air like unfiled paperwork, the tea stalls outside the High Court were buzzing with under-caffeinated clerks, and inside Courtroom , something dramatic was brewing.

The courtroom was packed — not because of the importance of the case, but because everyone knew Mr. White and Mr. Black were going head-to-head. Again.

These two were courtroom celebrities. Not the kind with PR agents or Instagram accounts — the real deal. Mr. Black, known for his icy calm and surgical arguments. Mr. White, famous for drama, flair, and quoting poetry in written submissions. In a legal world full of gray suits, these two were pure theatre.

Mr. White, lawyer for Mr. Green (the Plaintiff), stood with a smile so bright it could win a toothpaste ad.Mr. Black, lawyer for Mr. Red (the Defendant), looked serious, like someone had just stolen his pen.

“My Lord,” said Mr. White with a sweet smile,“This case is now over! Mr. Green, my client, and Mr. Red, the other guy, have become friends again and matter has been settled in  the mediation. They hugged (not really, but almost), and now I want the Hon'ble court to close the matter.Also, can my client please get back half of the court fee? After all, peace has returned!”

Mr. Grey, the Hon'ble High Court judge nodded slowly, thinking. But suddenly—CRASH! Everyone turned. A file had fallen from the shelf, hitting Mr. Red right on the foot.

“Aaaargh!” Mr. Red cried, hopping like a one-legged chicken. “See, My Lord! The court itself is attacking me now!” The courtroom gasped. Even the peon dropped his pen.

Mr. Black sprang into action, as if this file injury was a turning point in legal history. “My Lord,” he said, pointing dramatically, “Not only did my client suffer during the case, but now he’s injured inside the courtroom! And let us not forget — earlier, your Lordship had ordered him to pay costs because he was late with his papers.My client has been punished enough. Let’s not now reward the other side with a refund!”

Mr. White didn’t even blink. He just turned slowly, rolled his eyes, and said:  “My Lord, allow me to gently remind my learned friend that his client never actually paid that cost. Not one rupee.So what kind of punishment is that? It's like putting up a ‘Beware of Dog’ sign, but there’s no dog. 

Some junior lawyer at the back almost choked from trying to hide his laughter.

Hon’ble Mr. Grey finally spoke. Calm, serious, and wise — with just a pinch of dry humor.“I see what’s happening here. Mr. White wants a refund. But not for peace.It is actually a sneaky way to recover what Mr. Red never paid.Well, clever… but not clever enough.Request declined.”

He leaned back, lifted his pen like a judge in a movie trailer, and delivered the final punchline: “This Court gives justice, not Buy-One-Get-One-Free offers.Yes, forgiveness is free... But the court fee? That stays with the court.”

Mr. Black and Mr. White both packed up their files with the dramatic flair of lawyers — except one had lost the case, and the other had lost the court fee.

And the Lesson, Mr. Red earned today was that Hon'ble Courts are noble, his Forgiveness was beautiful, But if one skip the payment and think he’ll quietly slip out the back door..., Be aware of court's penetrating eyes. Court doesn’t bark, but bites — through affidavits, exhibits and orders.

Outside the courtroom, the news cameras were already rolling. In front of Court, here was Mr. Orange, a reporter for a legal channel no one watches during cricket matches. His bright orange tie was as loud as his voice.

Mr. Orange, aired  this news on TV with the heading: In Litigation, Forgiveness Comes Easy… But Refunds? Not So Much. If you're looking for refund, Mr. Orange declared with a grin, try Amazon — not the Honourable Court.

Respectfully Ridiculous And submitted with humor and humility, By The Lawfing Lawyer,Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman,Patent and Trademark Attorney,Delhi High Court,Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyers and Litigation

Chapter 2: Mr. Black and Mr.White

Wearing white may look real bright,

But stains will find you—left or right!

In court, don’t shine with white might,

Wearing black helps, avoiding the fight!

=======

Chapter 2: Mr. Black and Mr. White

From the mammoth legal satire series

“WHAT A JUDGE CAN NOT JUDGE”

Welcome to another sizzling chapter of courtroom chaos, brewed with sarcasm and served with hot tea. In this episode, we meet two lawyers so different, they make black-and-white TV look colourful. On one side: Mr. Black—so serious he makes court orders look casual. On the other: Mr. White—so bright he needs a stain warning label.

Set in Delhi’s famous Justice Paradise café—where the tea is dangerous and the fans are louder than courtroom objections—this is the tale of sharp suits, sharper tongues, and a drop of tea that caused more drama than a PIL on WhatsApp forwards.

Get ready to sip, laugh, and wonder once again…What a judge can’t judge, the chai definitely will.

=====

It was a Tuesday in Delhi so hot that the sun had filed a harassment case against the weather department. The kind of heat that could melt traffic signals, fry eggs on footpaths, and bake a biscuit on a scooter seat. Even the crows—usually full of gossip—were silent, sitting in the shade like overheated lawyers after a failed bail plea.

Outside the High Court, where justice sometimes takes years to arrive and parking takes even longer, stood a small restaurant with a grand name—Justice Paradise. It wasn’t much of a paradise. The chairs wobbled, the ceiling fan made sounds like an old scooter, and the food always tasted like it had been prepared during the Emergency. But the tea? The tea was legendary. It was strong, bitter, and sharp—like a legal notice served with lemon.

And that is where two very different lawyers came to have lunch.

The first was Mr. Black. He looked like he had just stepped out of a black-and-white courtroom movie—in full costume. Black coat, black pants, black shoes, black beard, black hair, and a black briefcase so old, it probably had an Aadhaar card of its own. His face was as serious as a Supreme Court bench during contempt hearings. Even his shadow wore a necktie.

The second was Mr. White. When he entered, the room became brighter—not emotionally, but literally. He wore a spotless white shirt, freshly ironed white pants, shiny white leather shoes, white beard, white hair, white brief case and a smile so wide it could file a PIL of its own. He looked like he had been dry-cleaned by angels and delivered by courier straight from a detergent ad.

Mr. Black (squinting):Well, well, well… If it isn’t the ghost of Article 14.Where are you headed? The courtroom or an audition for a milk commercial?

Mr. White (grinning proudly):I’m here to remind the world that justice should be seen, not just heard.And today, justice is looking fabulous.

Mr. Black (chuckling):Fabulous? Brother, you look like a tube light that overdosed on detergent.Seriously, are you representing a client or launching a new brand of toothpaste?

Mr. White (sitting down dramatically):Everyone around here dresses like they’re attending a dark legal ghost exhibition.I like to break the trend.Why mourn in black when you can sparkle in white?

Mr. Black (rolling his eyes):Sparkle? You’re one pigeon away from becoming a walking crime scene.I swear, if Gandhiji saw you, he’d come back and file a PIL on misuse of white khadi.

[Enter the waiter: A tired-looking four times failed law entrance test candidate  named "Mr. W". He walks like he’s carrying the weight of unpaid internships and pending casebooks.] He’s holding a metal tray with two cups of tea, shaking like a star witness under cross-examination.

Mr. W: (cautiously):Sir… here’s your tea.But please—handle with care.This tea has a criminal record.Last week it attacked a senior advocate’s white kurta. The poor man’s still in therapy.

Mr. Black (pointing at Mr. White):Then give it to him. He enjoys living dangerously.He probably sprays stain remover as perfume.

Mr. W:  (squinting at Mr. White’s outfit):Sir, no offence, but your clothes are brighter than my career options.Honestly, this tea might file defamation if it spills on you.

Mr. White (raising one royal hand):Young man, I have battled samosa oil leaks, mango pickle explosions, and once… even a full glass of buttermilk during a moving train.This tea is just a warm-up act. [He lifts the cup like it’s a piece of evidence in a high-profile trial.]

Mr. White (grandly):Let the record show—justice is fearless.

PLOP!!!!!!!

One single drop of tea escapes, flies through the air like a perfectly timed RTI, and lands smack in the center of Mr. White’s pure white shirt.

[Silence. Time stops.The fan slows down. The flies pause mid-air.Even the pigeon on the window frame lowers its head in shame.]

Mr. Black (face turning red, barely holding in laughter):Oh no. Oh my god.THE DROP has spoken!Your spotless justice just got a character certificate… signed by Chaiwala vs Shirt, 2025!This is the fastest verdict I’ve ever seen!

Mr. White (looking down at the stain):This… this is betrayal. Like Section 420 sent me a love letter. Like contempt of court personally kissed my chest.

Mr. W  (softly):Sir, shall I bring napkin… or a bail application?

Mr. Black (laughing uncontrollably):Your honor, I present Exhibit A!One drop of tea, one drop of truth.Guilty of dressing like a detergent ad in a street-side café!

Mr. White (still composed, lifts his chin):This isn’t a stain. It’s proof that even when you wear white with pride, life—and tea—will test you.But you must smile… and proceed. Case dismissed.

[Both burst out laughing. Even the next table—where two retired judges are sipping sugarless tea—chuckle. One of them whispers, “Objection overruled.”]

Mr. W (nodding seriously):Noted, sir. This café is now a courtroom.I will now take chai orders… under oath.

[The pigeon, not to be left out, poops gently on the Mr. White Shoe.The final judgment—white on white.]

Mr. Black:That pigeon just gave you a footnote, bro.

Mr. White (smiling proudly): Even the birds agree—white attracts white, the  justice… and sometimes, natural consequences.

=====

Respectfully Ridiculous And submitted with humor and humility,By The Lawfing Lawyer,Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman,Patent and Trademark Attorney,Delhi High Court,Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyers and Litigation

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

===== 

Chapter 1:You can not Judge the Judge

The Characters of this Chapter:

Mr.White:Lawyer for Mr.Green, the Plaintiff

Mr.Black:Lawyer for Mr.Red,the Defendant

Mr.Green: The Plaintiff

Mr.Red: The Defendant

M.Grey Black: The Hon'ble District Judge

Mr.Grey:The Hon'ble High Court Judge

Mr.Grey White:The Hon'ble Supreme Court Judge

Mr.G:The Senior Lawyer, who charges heavily [Also Known as The Giant Lawyer]

Mr.GS: The Lawyer, once batch-mate of Mr. Grey [Also Known as The Giant Slayer]

Mr.Orange:The Legal News Reporter 

---------

"In dreams, justice glows in the sky so wide,

But in real, it twists, no straight path to guide.

Like snakes and ladders, truths slip and slide,

And no one may judge how judge may decide."

In the land of courts, chai, and endless paperwork, I found myself sitting on a wooden bench, watching a drama unfold — not about murder or millions, but about a Brand of rice. Yes. Rice.But not your regular home rice —this was luxury rice.The kind of rice that comes in golden bags, with stylish English writing and a proud elephant logo, making you feel like royal even before cooking it.

---------

Background — How the Battle Began

Mr. White, a smart and idealistic lawyer with polished shoes and an even shinier forehead, was fighting for his client , Mr. Green, the proud maker of "Real Grain" rice.They had launched first — golden packet, beautiful cursive writing, and an elephant that looked like it belonged in a king’s courtyard.

But along came Mr. Black, the bold lawyer with a loud voice and an even louder tie, defending his client, Mr. Red, a new seller of "Regal Grain" rice.Similar golden packet. Similar elephant device. Different name — but suspiciously close!

Mr. White rushed to court, asking for an injunction — which means stop selling that confusing Regal Grain — claiming:"We are the prior user!""We used the elephant device first!""People will get confused!"

---------

First Round: District Court — Hon'ble Judge Grey Black

In District Court, Mr. White stood up first:"Your Honor, my client Mr. Green is the original seller of Real Rice Brand .We created this royal look first — name, design, elephant!Now, Mr. Red, by using  Regal Grain Brand is copying us!

Mr. Black countered, louder:"Your Honor, nobody owns elephants!And educated buyers can tell Real from Regal.Rich People confuse love , money and Tax , not rice bags!"

Hon'ble Judge Grey Black examined both packets seriously.He sniffed both packets (maybe hoping rice would tell him the truth — it didn't). Looked at provisions of Trademark Act 1999. Then, calmly declared:"Names confusingly similar. Looks similar. Product identical. Danger of confusion is real.I grant an injunction. Mr. Black, tell your client Mr. Red  to stop selling Regal Rice Brand!"

Mr. White smiled like a cricketer after hitting a six.Mr. Black’s tie lost half its color. Outside court, Mr. White’s client, Mr.Green jumped with excitement but still looked worried.

Mr. Green: "Sir, sir! We won! Right? So now Regal Grain vanishes?"

Mr. White: "Well... temporarily. May be till the next fight."

Mr. Green: (confused) "Next fight? I thought court is like final boss level?"

Mr. White: (laughing) "No, sir. This may be First Round. Now they may appeal in High Court. Think of it like PUBG — more levels, more enemies, less battery."

Mr. Green: started googling "How long does court case last in India" and immediately fainted after hearing the answer " 7-10 years approximately on an average."

---------

Second Round: Appeal to High Court — Hon'ble Judge Grey: Next stop: High Court.

Coincidentally, the High Court Hon'ble Judge was also named Grey. 

This time, Mr. Black argued with fireworks:"Your Honor, this rice is not for the common public! It costs more than a movie date with popcorn and cola!Only rich, educated people buy this.And educated people don’t mix up Regal and Real.They mix up taxes, not rice!"

Mr. White fought back:"Even rich people can make mistakes!Especially when all packets have golden shine and sleepy elephants!

Hon'ble Judge Grey sipped his ginger tea and said thoughtfully: "Hmm... educated buyers are careful buyers.No real confusion. Injunction is lifted. Let Regal Rice Brand live!"

Mr. Black's face lit up like Diwali.Outside High Court, Mr. Green ,the owner of Real Rice Brand, was vibrating with stress. He asked his lawyer Mr. White.

Mr. Green:: "Sir... what happened?! Judge sir removed the stay? 

Mr. White: "Judge sir felt rich people don't get confused. Only poor heartbroken souls do."

Mr. Green:: (tearing up) "But sir, what about elephant device? Our emotional elephant?"

Mr. White: (patting his back) "In law, elephants have no emotions. Only evidence matters."

Mr. Green:: (whispering sadly) "First lost my rice market, now lost my faith in elephant."

Meanwhile, Mr. Black’s client celebrated by ordering biryani — sadly, now with Regal Rice Brand.

---------

Third Round: Supreme Court — Hon'ble Judge Grey White.

But Mr. White wasn’t done.He took the battle to the Supreme Court.And there sat the Hon'ble Justice Grey White — half logic, half poetry, fully unpredictable.After long arguments, Justice Grey White asked:"Who actually buys this luxury rice? Rich owners? Or their house help?"

Everyone froze.

He answered himself: "It’s usually the house help — drivers, maids, cooks — carrying heavy golden packets.To them, Real and Regal can easily look the same."

Then with a small chuckle, he added:"When you're underpaid, overworked, and shopping in a hurry, all elephants look alike!"

Finally, Hon'ble Grey White announced:"Injunction restored! Protect Real Rice Brand."

Mr. White almost performed a secret victory dance. Mr. Black looked like his tie might never recover.

---------

Outside Supreme Court:

Mr. Green: "Sir! Victory?! Finally?"

Mr. White: (grinning) "Yes sir. Now the Hon'ble Supreme Court has seen the unseen, the truth."

Mr. Green:: (scratching head) "Sir, does that mean only my driver’s confusion saved my company?"

Mr. White: "Exactly. Never underestimate the power of confused domestic help."

Mr. Green: (with deep breadth) "So not my rice quality... not my branding... not my elephant's royal tail... Only Bhola driver’s confusion saved me?"

Mr. White just smiled and patted his back like a friendly undertaker.

---------

Forth Round: Review Petition:Round 4: 

Mr. Black, The Comeback Counsel

Just when Mr. White thought he had cornered the market on temporary victories, Mr. Black returned—not defeated, but reinvigorated, like a lawyer who had just discovered a precedent in footnote 17 of an obscure Supreme Court ruling.

Mr. Black, undeterred by procedural pitfalls and poetic arguments, relentlessly pursued his client Mr. Red  to file a review petition. His new angle? A classic procedural uppercut: “The ground on which the injunction was restored,” he thundered, “lies beyond the SCOPE of the original pleading!”

With surgical precision, Mr. Black argued before the court, “Your Honor, nowhere in Mr. White’s pleadings is it claimed that only household servants buy these products. Nor is there a single document supporting this elitist stereotype. In fact, even the rich, the elite, and the Wi-Fi-enabled class of society buy rice! Is Mr. White suggesting the wealthy have stopped eating carbohydrates?”

The courtroom chuckled, but the bench listened.And it worked.

The judgment was reviewed. The matter was remanded back to the High Court for a fresh round of adjudication—this time with a twist. Mr. White was granted the liberty to amend his pleadings and, if he wished, bring fresh ground into the matter.

Meanwhile, the injunction—once hanging like a sword over Mr. Black’s client—was suspended till next date.

---------

Mr. White’s Office

A White-Washed Room with Legal Books, a Cold Coffee, and a Slightly Warmer Client

Mr. Green: (sternly):“Mr. White, I read the order. We were doing so well. How did Mr. Black turn this around?”

Mr. White (adjusting his glasses, very White-ly):“It’s procedural improvisation. He played the ‘Scope Card’. Said we didn’t mention who buys the rice—servants, elites, or extraterrestrials. Frankly, I didn’t think we’d need to specify the socio-economic diversity of rice buyers.”

Mr. Green:“Well now the injunction is gone! And he’s back in business. I had suggested we file a separate suit for defamation or maybe leak a media story—‘Rice of the Rich: A Grainy Conspiracy’. But you said no.”

Mr. White (calmly):“Because we are a courtroom client, not a newsroom headline. We win with pleadings, not publicity. This is not a WhatsApp forward war.”

Client (sighs, frustrated):“You always quote the law, Mr. White. But sometimes, strategy matters too. Every thing is fair in love and war. Maybe I need someone who blends both. At least the one who wins cases. (A tense pause.)

Mr. White (firmly):“You're free to change counsel. But remember—this isn’t chess. This is litigation. Every flashy move comes with a footnote.”

Mr. Green: (murmuring to himself):“Maybe a new lawyer, maybe a new plan. But I’m not giving up on this rice.”

---------

Round 5: Big Lawyers, Small Progress

After the Hon'ble Supreme court sent the case back to the High Court, Mr. White’s client Mr. Green decided to change his lawyer. 

Mr. Green hired Mr. G, a very famous and expensive senior lawyer. People called him "The Giant Lawyer". His fees were big, and his voice was even bigger.

Mr. Black did not stay behind. He brought in Mr. GS, a lawyer, known as "The Giant Slayer". Mr. GS and Mr. Grey , the Hon'ble High Court Judge,  had studied together in the same law college and were known friends. 

First Call [In the pre launch session]:

When the case was called the first time, Mr. GS was busy in another courtroom.Mr. Black said, “Please wait, Mr. GS will come soon.”

Mr. G shouted, “This is delay! We are ready!”. 

Mr. Grey smiled and said, “Alright, Sir, this happens to any lawyer. I will wait. Pass over.”

Second Call [In the Post launch session]:

Now Mr. GS was ready.  But this time, Mr. G was missing! He had gone to another court for a film star’s bail case.

Mr. Grey shook his head. “Enough for today. Come back next week.”He also said: “The earlier order will continue till we hear the case.”

And the litigation continues:

---------

An Extra Twist — Wisdom from the Crowd

As I packed my files, a media person sitting behind me in court, Mr. Orange,munching peanuts, said thoughtfully:

"Today I understood something very big.You can judge a judgment.But you can never judge a Judge."

He smiled, dusted off his kurta, and left — leaving behind the ultimate truth.And I stood there, smiling.

Respectfully Ridiculous And submitted with humor and humility,By The Lawfing Lawyer,Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman,Patent and Trademark Attorney,Delhi High Court,Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyers and Litigation

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

---------

Chapter 3:Files, Final over and IPL

I was sitting in my office. It was a hot afternoon. The fan was running slowly and making strange sounds like an old typewriter. Files were lying on my desk like tired witnesses waiting to be called. I was doing my legal work with full seriousness. Suddenly, I needed one file. It was an important file. Without that file, my case notes were half-cooked like hotel biryani.

So I called my clerk. “Dayanand!” I shouted. “Bring the blue file from the cabinet!”

But nobody came.

I waited one minute. Then two minutes. Then five. Still no sign of Dayanand.

“Where is this fellow?” I said to myself.

Then I got up. Slowly. Like a judge rising from his chair. I went to the back room. And what did I see?

There was Dayanand, hiding behind the almirah, watching IPL on his mobile phone. He had removed his slippers. He was sitting like a king in a courtroom, with eyes wide open and mouth half open. It looked like he was watching a spiritual video, but no—it was cricket. Not just any cricket. It was the final over of an IPL match.

“Dayanand!” I shouted.

He jumped like he got electric shock.

“Sir! Sir! Just six balls left! Please Sir! Just final over!”

I looked at his phone screen. On one side, the batsman was standing. On the other side, the cheerleaders were dancing like they were in some filmi item song. Music was playing. Lights were flashing. Half-naked foreign girls were jumping after every six. It was more like a dance bar than a cricket ground.

“Dayanand,” I said seriously, “you can watch all this drama after bringing my file. First do your duty. You are not cheerleader. You are file-leader.”

But he held his ears and begged. “Sir please! Just final over! My team is winning! Only 12 runs needed!”

I took pity on him. What to do? “Okay,” I said. “Watch this film—I mean match. But after that, come with file. Or I will file complaint against you.”

He saluted me like I was Captain Dhoni.

Fifteen minutes later, Dayanand walked in like a hero. He was smiling from ear to ear. He had the file in one hand and a glow on his face like a man who just won a land dispute.

“Sir!” he shouted happily. “My team won! Bravo hit two sixes! What a shot! Uff!”

“Very nice,” I said dryly. “Now sit down and do your real match—with files and affidavits.”

But he was still in IPL mood.

“Sir, why you don’t watch IPL? It is full entertainment. Music, dance, sixer, drama, everything! Foreign players, desi players, all are playing together. It is not cricket. It is cinema!”

I didn’t answer him. But I was thinking.

In old days, cricket was for country. We shouted for India. We waved Indian flags. We felt proud when Tendulkar scored a century. Now? Now we don’t know whom to support. Mumbai team has West Indian captain. Delhi team has Australian opener. Chennai team has South African coach. Hyderabad team has England bowler.

So who is the “us” and who is the “them”?

And above all, what is this business with cheerleaders dancing in short clothes after every six? They are not Indian dancers. They don’t know cricket. But they are dancing like it is wedding sangeet. Some of them look confused between four and six. But they dance anyway.

There is music, there is lights, there is dance. But where is the nation? Where is the pride? Where is the feeling of standing up when the national anthem plays?

Dayanand was still smiling and watching highlights on his phone.

I looked at him.

And I realized—maybe this is the new India. An India where cricket is not about country. It is about franchise. It is about sponsors. It is about sixes, selfies, and short skirts.

But deep inside, I missed the old India.

The one where winning the match meant beating Pakistan, not buying Glenn Maxwell for 16 crores.

So I quietly opened my file.

And Dayanand quietly opened YouTube.

And both of us returned to our modern duties.

Author: Ajay Amitabh Suman, Advocate, Delhi High Court and a Regular Writer on Contemporary Issues

Indian Colour Code

Indian Penal Code not, Colour Code bright,

Infringers in red while right in white.

Judgments are grey and grey is the law,

Still all are hoping for justice just raw.

Now, dear readers, before you must be wondering as to "Why these courtroom characters named after colours and not real people?"

Let me clarify.

Though I admit, when you hear names like Mr. Black, Mr. White, Ms. Grey, and Mr. Yellow etc, it might sound like a box of crayons had a legal degree and decided to sue each other. But believe me—these are real people. 

These colours represent actual beings—learned lawyers, Hon'ble Judges, overworked clerks, anxious clients, and the occasional reporter for whom courtroom proceedings are just live theater without popcorn.

Now, I didn’t pick these names because I do not want to hurt any body's emotion in any manner whatsoever. 

Ever heard someone say, “He’s feeling blue”? Or “She turned red with anger”? Or, my personal favourite, “He’s a bit grey in ethics, but golden in billing”? 

Exactly. I picked them because colours can reflect many thing but seldom offend any body. See, in this courtroom drama, names can’t capture the essence, which I wish to. Mr. Sharma or Advocate Rao wouldn’t tell you what kind of vibe they bring. 

Now, let me introduce them to you, one by one. But keep your imagination open and your sense of humour sharpened—We’re entering a world where justice is blind, but the characters are anything but colorless.

Mr. Black (One of amongst many lawyers) 

"The One who seldom cares legality and often immoral."

Let me introduce you to the one and only Mr. Black—the courtroom legend, the legal wizard who never uses Google Maps but knows the shortcut to victory. 

Now, Mr. Black is not your regular, boring, file-hugging, straight-faced lawyer. While most lawyers open heavy books and quote law like they’re reading from the Bible, Mr. Black walks into the courtroom like he owns the place—smiling like he knows a secret that the rest of us missed in law school.

Following the law? Ha! That’s for amateurs.Mr. Black doesn’t follow the law in a straight line—he zigzags, moonwalks, and sometimes jumps over it entirely. And yet, when the final verdict comes, guess who's standing there with a grin, a client in tears (happy ones), and a group selfie with the interns? Yep—Mr. Black. Again.

The Worshipped One (By Clients):His clients don’t just respect him—they treat him like " the god of Guaranteed Bail and Bonus Smiles.” They come with hopeless faces and leave with chai, confidence, and a belief in the Indian judiciary again—because “Aapko toh Mr. Black mil gaye!” 

One client said,  “Sir mere bail ke liye toh Bhagwan bhi shayad naa maan jaate… par Mr. Black ne toh judge ko ‘feeling’ karwa di!”

The Feared One (By Opponents): Other lawyers? Oh, they fear him like schoolkids fear surprise math tests. They read 400 pages of case law, highlight 37 judgments, and prepare speeches like it’s the UPSC interview.Then Mr. Black walks in, says something charming like,

“My Lord, this case is simpler than a samosa—crispy from outside, but full of layers inside…”

And boom—Most of the time, he is ahead in the race.The opposing lawyer flips pages desperately trying to find the legal response to "samosa logic." Spoiler: there isn’t one.

The Judges? Now, judges are very wise, very experienced, and very professional. But Mr. Black has a special talent: he makes even the judge raise one eyebrow and ask themselves, “Wait… how did he just win that?” It’s not that he breaks the law. No, he just… bends it like Beckham, with better vocabulary. 

Mr. White (One of amongst many lawyers) 

"He often cares about legality and rarely immoral"

Meet Mr. White. No, he’s not a toothpaste model or a spiritual guru—though his clients often say, "Sir, aapke paas toh ek alag hi noor hai." He is that rare species of lawyer who still believes that truth wins, honesty matters, and hard work pays off.

Unfortunately, in the real world (especially the courtroom world), these beliefs are treated the same way we treat those motivational WhatsApp forwards—nice to read, but not always practical.

He’s the Guy Who Actually Reads the Law. Word by Word. While others bring shortcuts and jugaad to court, Mr. White brings: Clean files, Neatly typed arguments, And five highlighters (each with a moral purpose), He quotes old legal judgments like he's reciting romantic poetry.

“My Lord, as Hon'ble Justice Grey White once said in 1973...”

Meanwhile, the courtroom watches him like he’s reading Shakespeare at a wedding—beautiful, but slightly out of place.

Justice Keeps Saying “Please Hold…”

Mr. White genuinely believes that the courtroom is a temple of truth. Sadly, truth here often takes a lunch break and forgets to come back.

He files the perfect case, makes the perfect argument, and wears the perfect tie. And yet…most of the time he loses.

But does he scream? Does he tear his coat or threaten contempt? No. He bows politely, thanks the Hon’ble Court, and leaves—like a man who just lost a cricket match but still claps for the winning team and prepares for Appeal.

His Worst Enemy? Luck. His Best Friend? His Conscience. Luck has never been on Mr. White’s side. He once got delayed because he helped an old lady cross the road—only to reach court and find his matter dismissed because he was late.

But his conscience? Always on time. Sitting on his shoulder like a full-time moral assistant.

Even when he knows he could twist the facts a little and maybe win—he won’t. He says, “What will I tell my inner self?” People around him reply, “Tell your inner self to pay your rent.”

 He Doesn’t Lose Cases. He Gains Moral Victories. (Which Can’t Be Deposited in Banks.)

He's like that clean, ironed handkerchief in a world full of wet wipes. Nobody uses it, but everyone respects it.

Mr. Grey Black (One of amongst many Hon'ble District Judges):

"Highly technical, rarely liberal, Provision oriented."

Fresh out of the Judicial Service Exam, with the ink barely dry on his appointment letter and his hair a fashionable mix of grey and black (half experience, half excitement)—meet Hon'ble Mr. Grey Black, the Hon'ble District Judge. 

In his court, there’s one mantra: “Feelings are optional. Sections are mandatory.” Bare Acts Are His Best Friends.

While others his age are busy quoting motivational Instagram reels, Hon'ble Mr. Grey Black quotes Bare Acts—with section numbers, sub-sections, provisos, and even obscure footnotes that normal people skip.

If you walk into his courtroom thinking you’ll win by emotional storytelling ("My Lord, his cat ran away, his wife left, and his tiffin got stolen!"), you’re in for a shock.Hon'ble Mr. Grey Black will adjust his glasses, give a kind smile, and politely ask,

“Please show me the provision where tiffin loss is recognized as a legal injury.”

At that moment, you’ll realize—you needed a citation, not a violin.If You Don’t Know Your Section Number, May God Help You.

Forget big emotional speeches. Forget dramatic pauses. In this courtroom, if you can’t say, “Section 14(2)(b) proviso second explanation clause (iii)” without blinking—you’re basically unarmed.

In fact,Lawyers now come with Bare Acts under one arm and prayer books under the other.Interns are seen whispering, “Quick, find the section number or we are doomed!”

Even Mr. Black double-checks his notes before speaking here. 

(Spoiler: There isn’t one.) Hon'ble Mr. Grey Black’s Golden Rule: "No Section, No Submission."

Forget about dramatic dialogues or “My Lord, mere client ka dil tootta hai!” Here, the rule is simple:

Speak the law.

Stick to the law.

Win by the law.

Otherwise, you'll be politely thanked, and your case will be directed towards the mythical land called "adjournment."

Mr. Grey (One of amongst many Hon'ble High Court Judges): 

"Sometimes technical, sometimes liberal,depending upon his mood, Judgement oriented."

Once upon a time, he was a lawyer,  — passionate, precise, and probably addicted to paper and post-its. Now he’s elevated as a judge. Meet Hon’ble Mr. Grey (Obviously matured one having grey hair) — a man whose courtroom is governed by the Constitution… and occasionally by Delhi’s traffic and his weather like mood.  Some judges are consistent.Not Hon'ble Mr. Grey.He is a judicial weather system.

Sunny Mood: Cracks a joke before dismissing the case.

Cloudy Mood: Listens silently, stares deeply, makes you sweat.

Stormy Mood: Asks “Where is the law?” in a tone that melts senior counsel like butter on paratha.

Every lawyer entering his court first whispers at the door:“How’s his mood today?”

It’s courtroom code for survival. Morning Vs Evening Mr. Grey – Two Sides of the Same Bench.

In the Morning:He’s strict, sharp, and scanning your pleadings like Sherlock Holmes on espresso.

If your petition has a spelling error? “Is this how you assist the court?”

If you misquote a section?“Do not waste judicial time, counsel.” 

Post-lunch, he transforms.Soft eyes. Softer tone. Possibly daydreaming about samosas.

He may hear a long emotional argument and nod slowly. He might say, “Okay, let’s consider this humanely…” He could even smile — a rare judicial phenomenon.

The same judge who grilled you at 11:00 a.m. might grant relief at 4:30 p.m. with a gentle, “Hmm, alright.”

So if you ever appear before him—Bring your law, your logic… and maybe a plate of intriguing arguments. Because in his court, justice is not just delivered —It is timed between lunch breaks, traffic updates, and unpredictable brilliance.

His anger may last five minutes; his wisdom lasts a lifetime.Strict But Fair. Moody But Wise.

Mr. Grey White (One of amongst many Hon'ble Supreme Court Judges): 

"Highly Liberal, rarely Technical, Justice oriented."

Aged? Yes.

Experienced? Beyond measure.Hair? A majestic combination of grey, white, and wisdom—the kind of hair that makes you want to stand up and say “Yes, My Lord” before he even walks in.

Once a fiery trial court judge, then a High Court heavyweight, and now recommended to the Supreme Court by the Collegium. 

 

His Judgment Is Final. His Patience Is Not.

He’s read thousands of files.He’s written hundreds of judgments.And now, he reads fresh petitions like a school principal checking last-minute homework.If he raises one eyebrow at you, even your most confident argument might start stammering.

He doesn't need to say “Order reserved.”His silence itself is a judgment.

He’s Seen the Whole Drama: Appeals, Reviews, Regrets, Repeat. Over the decades, Hon’ble Mr. Grey White has seen every version of Indian legal cinema:

The Emotional Petition: “My Lord, my family has suffered for 47 years…”

The Repetitive Review: “Same facts, just a fancier font, My Lord.”

The Regretful Apology: “I deeply regret my earlier regret, My Lord.”

The Reformed Accused: “Now I’m running a yoga center, My Lord.” (who was earlier running a smuggling ring.)

He’s seen lawyers cry, clients collapse, and even junior counsels faint (mostly from caffeine withdrawal).Nothing shocks him anymore.Law Is Long. Life Is Short. Orders Should Be Shorter.

Once upon a time, he wrote 300-page judgments with footnotes, charts, and philosophical quotes. Now?He simply says:“Writ petition disposed of with liberty.”

The man has discovered the magic of brevity.Why?Because he knows:

Litigants can’t afford ten hearings.Lawyers charge by the hour (plus GST).And court files have started resembling ancient scrolls.

So, he focuses on “justice with economy of words.”The Only Thing He Has No Time For: Nonsense.

He knows:When a sob story is genuine.When a delay is deliberate.And when a “technical glitch” is just code for “I forgot the deadline.”

He might grant relief.He might pass a strong order.But above all, he will make sure truth is not lost in legal gymnastics.He Has a Secret Question: How Are Litigants Still Affording All This?

He has no time for drama.No love for delay.And no tolerance for weak arguments dressed in strong perfume.What he truly wants is simple:

“Come prepared. Speak the law. Respect the process. And keep your petition shorter than a movie script.”

Mr. Yellow (One of amongst many junior lawyers) 

"He is young,He is tired,He is unpaid, Recently hired, in the fear of being fired." 

He is the Baby of the Courtroom — fresh out of law school, still figuring out how to tie his band properly.  He may not know much about CPC, CRPC, or Life,but he definitely knows where the canteen is — because that's where broken dreams get some samosa therapy. Slow in Learning, Low in Earning, and Always Running. 

His legal knowledge is solid… in theory.He knows Article 14 guarantees equality.But in real life, even the chaiwala doesn’t treat him equally — because he still pays in coins.

He is Target Practice for Everyone.Judges. Seniors. Clients. Security guards. Photocopy guys. Everyone takes a turn:

Hon’ble Judge (mildly frustrated): “Are you even a lawyer or just lost on your way to DU campus?”

Senior Advocate (very frustrated): “Why haven’t you typed the brief yet? It was due last night!”

Client (totally confused): “So you are the main lawyer, right? Or the driver?”

His smile? Still intact.

His soul? Slightly cracked.

His bank account? A horror story.

Knows the Law. But Law Doesn’t Know Him Yet.

He has memorized every important case law from college days.Keshavananda Bharati? Yes.Maneka Gandhi v. Union of India? Of course.How to file a rejoinder in 17 copies before lunch? No idea. 

Every time he tries to help in court, he gets that look from seniors — the look that says:“Don’t touch anything. Just breathe silently.”But He Has Dreams. Big Ones.

He watches Mr. Black walk into court with swagger, quoting confusing laws and still winning.He watches Mr. White charm the judge with soft words and strong points.And he thinks:

“One day, I’ll be like them. But richer. Definitely richer.”

Every time a case is adjourned, he sighs.Every time his senior says “Draft it again,” he cries inside. Every time the client ignores him, he pretends he didn’t notice. But he never quits.

He stays.

He listens.

He learns.

And slowly, painfully, he grows.

From carrying bags…

To carrying files…

To carrying arguments…

Someday, he’ll carry a full-fledged case.And maybe… just maybe… he’ll carry the day in court.In Conclusion: A Junior Today, A Legend Tomorrow (With Better Shoes). 

He may be laughed at now.He may be ignored today.But the baby of the courtroom has one thing no one can take —Unpaid optimism and unlimited chai-fuelled dreams. And who knows?

In a few years, he might be the one shouting at juniors, confusing judges, and sending bills that look like Supreme Court volumes.So if you see him in court, struggling with a giant bag and a tiny voice, don’t laugh.

Because hidden under that overstuffed black coat…is the future Mr. Black.

Mr. Brown (One of amongst many court clerks)

"Also known as : file kahan hai? guy."

He doesn’t wear a black coat.He doesn’t say “Your Lordship.”He doesn’t shout “Objection, My Lord!” But make no mistake—he is the unofficial manager of the courtroom.If the Hon’ble Judge is the brain, and the lawyers are the mouth, then this man is the spine—slightly bent, overworked, and holding everything together with binder clips.

He is The Clerk,  Looks pale yellow? That’s Just His Default Setting. Yes, he looks like he hasn't slept since the GST Act came into force.But that’s just because he’s been chasing paperwork that mysteriously disappears and reappears like magic.

His uniform is simple:

Faded shirt

Ink-stained fingers

Face like a man who’s read 10,000 names today and forgot his own

People assume he’s slow.They assume he’s just “a file guy.”But only a fool underestimates the man who knows where the file is buried—sometimes literally. Brown, Not From Sunlight—But From Courtroom Survival.

His complexion?A unique mix of dusty file brown, photocopy black, and chai-stain beige.He breathes in file dust instead of oxygen and swears he once coughed out a photocopied page of a 1987 judgment.He Knows Every Code—But None of Them Are Legal.

No, he doesn't know Section 420 IPC.But he knows the exact shelf where that old eviction file is hiding, buried under a mountain of case laws and one leftover samosa wrapper.

He speaks in a unique code language:

“Bundle 19A-Upper Shelf” = Civil revision matter

“Red thread wala” = Urgent case

“Woh file jo madam ne last week li thi” = Missing forever

And when someone dares to say, “The file is missing,”he doesn’t panic.He just adjusts his spectacles and whispers:

“Chamber ke peeche dekho. Third drawer. Behind the Election Commission folder.”

Boom. Found.He’s Not in the Bar or on the Bench, But He’s in Every Movement.He doesn’t argue cases.

He doesn’t pass judgments.But the Judge doesn’t start court till he nods that everything is ready.

Without him, the courtroom is like a Wi-Fi printer—expensive, overqualified, but totally useless without the right connection. Master of Time (and Delay).He can make time move.Not metaphorically. Literally.

Want your file to reach the Judge today?Smile, say please, and maybe offer a biscuit. Want to delay your case for a week?He knows which pigeonhole to "accidentally" drop it in.

He doesn’t bend the law.He just… tangles it slightly to teach it patience.He’s a Volcano of Forgotten Deadlines

Inside him simmers a pressure cooker of:

Half-typed orders, Lawyers demanding certified copies “ASAP”,Judges asking “Why is this file not on my table?”,Registry clerks on the phone yelling, “WHERE IS THE ANNEXURE?!”

And through it all, he survives.With only two weapons:A fading rubber stamp, Unofficial power

The Hero Without a Post, But With a Post-It for Everything.

In the hierarchy of court, he may not be high.But in the reality of court, he’s the guy who ensures that anything moves at all. He’s never mentioned in case law.But if courts had end credits, he’d be first in line.

So the next time you walk into a courtroom and wonder how this massive machine of justice keeps rolling—Don’t look at the judge. Don’t look at the lawyers.Just follow the smell of strong tea and the sound of stamping paper.

There, you’ll find The Clerk Who Runs the Show—the silent superhero in a dusty shirt,who files , files faster than a speeding adjournment.

Mr. Green(One of amongst many Right holders)

"The Right Holder – Truthful, Hopeful, and Hopelessly Contesting"

Every courtroom needs drama.Every drama needs a hero.And in our great Indian legal theater, that hero is often “The Innocent Party.”

He walks in — not with a lawyer’s confidence, but with documents, hope, and a trembling folder that’s been stapled so many times it qualifies as an antique.

He’s not there to argue.He’s there to beg justice to look his way just once — like a middle-class dad hoping the waiter notices his table.He Believes in Truth. But Truth Has a Busy Schedule. He grew up hearing that “sach ki hamesha jeet hoti hai.”

Well, now he knows — truth does win, but only after 47 adjournments, 12 affidavits, 8 photocopies, and a mental breakdown.

He believes his story will move the judge.He believes his documents will bring justice.He believes the law will protect him. But the only thing that protects him is a cheap umbrella and an expired hope. He Brings Every Document Ever Printed.  He places it all lovingly on the judge’s table…only to hear:

“This matter is not listed today. Come back next week.”

His hope? Deferred.

His heart? Crushed.

His file? Still heavy.

But real life doesn’t work like that.You can wave a court order all you want — the shopkeeper still won’t vacate, the police still won’t file FIR, and the builder still won’t return your money. The only thing that disappears is his sleep and peace of mind. He Tries to Speak in Court, But the System Speaks Louder. But before he utters a full sentence:

“Your matter will be called later.”

“Please speak through your counsel.”

“We are not hearing this today.”

“Put up after lunch.”

“Call next case.”

And just like that, he’s muted. By a system louder than his pain.He Tries Every Department. All of Them Try His Patience.

Still, he smiles weakly… because that’s all he can afford.He’s Not a Litigant. He’s a Survivor.

He didn’t want to come to court.

He didn’t want to hire a lawyer.

He didn’t want to know what “Caveat” or “Objection” means.Instead, he got a lesson in law, delay, and despair.

But here’s the wild part—he still believes in the system.He still comes.Still files replies.Still folds his hands before Hon’ble Judges with hope in his eyes. But he understands this:"In court, even the truth has to wait its turn."

Mr. Red (One of many violators) 

"The law-mis interpreter with Confidence: “Dates Please, Not Judgments”

He walks into court not with fear……but with flair.While most people in court carry a worried face, a fat file, and a prayer—he carries  A confident smile,A phone on silent-but-vibrating

And a lawyer who charges more per hour than the flight that brought him here. 

He is not a criminal.

He is not a saint.

He is something far more dangerous.

He is... legally flexible.

His favourite line?  “Kya date mili?”(Because all he ever came for was the next one.) While Others Bring Documents, He Brings Influence.

You might carry: Photocopies,Affidavits, Notarized statements,Handwritten emotional appeals.  He brings none of that.He brings... someone who knows someone who once met someone important.

"You have paperwork.He has network."

His Lawyer? A Walking Armani Suit with Law Degree.He doesn’t hire lawyers. He recruits them like cricket players.No “local lawyer uncle” for him.No junior counsel who forgets the section numbers.He comes with an entire legal orchestra—advocates, interns, coffee boy, and one silent man who just folds papers impressively.

His brief is never brief.It is typed in gold font, spiral bound, and smells faintly of imported cologne. Loopholes Are His Playground,  While others look at the law as rules to follow,he sees it as a maze to escape. He’s polite, smooth, and oh-so-formal.But somehow, the moment he stands up, the judge’s face says, “Yeh phir aa gaya.”He begins every sentence with:

“With utmost humility and deepest respect…”And ends with:“…we request a short adjournment.”

And magically, he gets it. Most of the time.He’s Not the Villain—He’s Just... Exceptionally Creative.Look, he doesn’t technically break the law.He just stretches it, like pizza dough, till it becomes unrecognizable.

He’s not unethical.He’s just “ethically adventurous.”

He’s not guilty.He’s just strategically misunderstood. He’s not here for justice.He’s here for survival. Court is his game.Delay is his victory dance.And “Next Date” is his national anthem.

So, the next time someone tells you, “Justice delayed is justice denied,”just remember—

he’s the one who delayed it… but with a very charming smile.

Mr. Orange (One of amongst many media persons) 

"He is not a lawyer,He is not a judge.,He is not even a clerk, but often reporting sans, true understanding"

But somehow, he knows everything, questions everyone, and blames someone—all before lunch.

Meet Mr. Orange, the loudest voice in the entire court complex—sometimes louder than the court bell, definitely louder than the facts.

He walks into court like he's reporting from a war zone, whispering into the mic like it’s a national secret, while standing next to the tea stall.Armed with Mic, Cameraman & ‘Masala Vocabulary’

His weapons of choice: A mic that’s seen more drama than Indian TV serials,A cameraman who silently regrets all his life decisions.A dictionary full of dramatic adjectives: “shocking,” “explosive,” “earth-shattering,” and of course, “Constitutional crisis!”

When a lawyer ask for a date?Mr. Orange reports:“In a shocking turn of events, justice was postponed once again, leaving millions heartbroken!” And turns every adjournment into “a threat to democracy!”Where You See Procedure, He Sees Conspiracy.

Mr. Orange: “EXCLUSIVE: Is this delay a hidden plot to suppress the voice of the common man?”

A notice served after two years?He calls it: “Legal Ghosting.”

A client crying outside?He reports: “Judicial heartbreak LIVE – we bring you tears, tension, and turmeric tea!”Always Reporting. Sometimes Understanding too. 

Because in the world of Mr. Orange, sensation is more important than sense. He’s not here for accuracy.He’s here for airtime. And even though:

Mr. Orange stands tall, outside the court gate, pointing at the camera and saying: “Truth will prevail… right after this ad break!”

(Mr. A to Mr. Z etc.)

"Because alphabets hurt no one, but can reflect all."

As for Mr. A to Mr. Z etc which shall be used in coming episodes, Yes, they stand for people. No, they are not real names.  Why Alphabets, You may Ask? Well, because naming people may be risky.If we name a character Mr. Sharma, someone will say, “Why always us Sharmas?” If we use Mr. Khan, someone else will tweet, “Aha! Agenda exposed!” If we say Ms. Iyer, a WhatsApp group will suddenly start discussing South Indian representation.

So instead, we said: “Let the alphabet take the blame.”

From Mr. A to Mr. Z, every character is:

Fake, but frighteningly familiar.Made-up, but very much based on real-life legends.

Symbolic, but don’t lie—you’ve met them. At court, at work, at the chai tapri.

Each Letter is Not Just a Name, yaar. It’s a full-on personality.

A may be  a “client”—or so he says, in between selling apples and giving free stock market gyaan. He tells everyone, “I run the apple business,” with Steve Jobs-level confidence. But please, don't get excited—this A sells actual apples, mostly outside court, sometimes suspiciously shiny. He once said, “Next time an apple falls, I’ll file case against gravity.”

B may be one hailing from Benaras and he’s full josh. Spiritual businessman. One day he's filing PILs against DJ music, next day he's selling Ganga jal in tiny bottles calling it “liquid evidence.” He speaks in Sanskrit-laced legalese and for reasons only God knows, always brings a tabla to court. Yes, tabla.

C may be a Chartered Accountant. Why? Because he once downloaded a CA PDF. Now he calls himself “CFO of A & Associates (only employee: also A).” His balance sheets look like modern art and he once deducted GST from pani puri. He’s also giving legal advice to D. Which is very scary, because...

D may be a driver—but don’t underestimate him. Knows more court gossip than the registry. He reverse parks logic and forwards WhatsApp “judgments” like they’re Supreme Court orders. Spends most of his time in parking lot, playing cards and calling himself “the killer of time.”

E may be  an ex-court reader. And by “ex,” we mean he got kicked out for reading Chetan Bhagat during dictation. Now he roams the corridor correcting people’s Latin, and randomly whispers “res ipsa loquitur” behind judges for fun.

F may be the court file. Poor fellow. Mutilated by photocopies, missing half the time, and carrying secrets, soda stains, and 2011 adjournment slips. Smells like paper, stress, and betrayal.

G may be  Giant Senior Lawyer. Giant in size, louder in voice, and biggest in fees. Charges by the breath, and files affidavits fatter than the Constitution. Starts every argument with “My Learned Friend...” and ends with a 6-digit invoice. When he walks into court, even the stenographer stands up. Judge sometimes pretends to be on leave.

H may be the Head Clerk—but don’t be fooled by the “Head.” He hasn’t moved from his chair since 1997. Controls case numbers like a DJ controls the beat. Want your matter listed fast? Bring samosa and respect. He types with two fingers and gives side-eye with full power.

I may be the intern—fresh from law college, carrying files, dreams, and confusion. Thinks “mentioning” means name dropping, and “listing” is some kind of online shopping. Drinks more coffee than arguments, and always asks, “Sir, where is Court No. 12?” (Court No. 12 does not exist.)

J may be Judge’s peon—undisputed boss of the courtroom. He decides when fan goes on, when door stays shut, and occasionally, who enters. Speaks only in monosyllables: “Hmm.” “Nahin.” “Baith.” Wields the judge’s teacup like a sceptre. If you’re nice, you get a chair. If not, you stand like statue.

And so it goes on—from K to Z, each one a beautiful disaster in our legal circus.

They’re not just characters. They’re reflections.Cracked by confusion,Twisted by legal arguments,And occasionally wiped clean—when the Hon’ble Judge is not on leave or in migraine mode.

So buckle up.Because coming up are the tales of Mr. A to Mr. Z—each one louder, sillier, smarter, sadder, and more court-kacheri-certified than the last.

(Not to hurt, but to heal the Judgement delivery mechanism)

Let’s get this straight— No, this story is not a personal attack. No, this is not contempt of court. Rather I respect the Law, Lawyers, Litigants and Hon'ble Judges. And definitely It is not here to mock the legal system.It’s here to tickle it. Lovingly. With a feather of satire.

You see, the legal world—our judges, lawyers, clerks, litigants, and reporters—is not just full of rules and robes.It’s also full of drama, delays, deep sighs, and chai breaks.It's serious—but also seriously funny, if you’ve survived a few hearings.

So why not laugh a little?Why Satire? Why Now?Because sometimes, laughter can say what petitions cannot.

Let’s be honest. Some legal realities are too strange for logic and too slow for Netflix. So, we use satire.

It doesn’t insult the Bench.It just gently points out, “My Lord, your Lordship's wifi is slower than the case progress.” When Done Right, Satire Doesn’t Hurt. It Heals. You see, satire is not a slap. It’s a smirk. It doesn’t say, “You're wrong.”It says, “We’ve all been wrong. Let’s do better, but first—have a laugh.”

And no, it’s not meant to offend. It’s meant to reflect.To amuse. Intention is not to ridicule, but to reform. To wake up the sleeping parts of the system with a gentle nudge and a giggle.Because Justice Deserves Laughter Too.

Respectfully Ridiculous And submitted with humor and humility

By The Lawfing Laywer,Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Patent and Trademark Attorney,Delhi High Court

Lawfing Tales of Law, Lawyers and Litigation

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Prologue

WHAT A JUDGE CANNOT JUDGE"

A Satirical Journey Through India’s Most Serious Comedy Show – The Litigation Circus

LAWFING TALES OF LAW, LAWYERS AND LITIGATION

By The Lawfing Lawyer

Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

Patent & Trademark Attorney, Delhi High Court

INSPIRED FROM REAL COURT LIFE EXPERIENCE

IN LOVE WITH LAW

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Foreword (Also a Friendly Warning)

If you’ve picked up this series, expecting serious law talk, put it back, Or gift it to your ill wishers.This series won’t help you win a case—but it might get you thrown out of court... for laughing too hard! It’s not law, it’s courtroom comedy with extra tadka!"

Here, you won’t find IPC. You’ll find LOL.No legal amendments. Just LAWFING TALES OF LAW, LAWYERS AND LITIGATION.And forget “Justice delayed is justice denied.”Here it’s “Justice adjourned... LAWFER guaranteed.”

Because our courts don’t just give judgments —They also give performances. Live, free, and daily — with no intermission (but plenty of interruptions).

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How It All Began 

One pre launch session in High Court— I was waiting for my case to be called.The Hon'ble judge, already tired after just three cases, looked at a  lawyer surprisingly: .

Hon'ble Judge (raising eyebrows): What are you saying, Mr. Counsel? Your client stated on affidavit ten years ago that he was 28 years old. And today also, he claims to be 28? Has he discovered a fountain of youth or taken rebirth in the same body?

Lawyer (with a straight face): My Lord, my client is a man of principle. He gave his age under oath in an affidavit — and how can he now betray it? He is not just being consistent. 

Hon'ble Judge (mock serious): So, if tomorrow he claims to be 28 on Mars, would that also be admissible?

Lawyer: Only if the affidavit was notarized on Mars, My Lord. We do follow jurisdictional limits.

Hon'ble  Judge (with a smile): This court needs a medical report, not a time machine.

Lawyer:Noted, My Lord. But affidavitally — he remains 28.

And I… I laughed. But then I stopped and thought: This is not just funny, satirical too. Because facts narrated on sworn affidavit may change by passage of time like law too. Whom to say right or whom to say wrong? That was the moment this was born. From LAWFER, yes — having element of satire too, but with respect and not to defame or hurt anyone. 

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This Book Is...A tribute to:

"The Lawyers who wear black coats in 48°C not because of justice… but because the dress code doesn’t believe in weather. 

The Hon'ble  Judges who’ve mastered the art of napping with open eyes and moving pens. 

The Opposing lawyers who scream “Objection!” like they’re pressing buzzer in a quiz show. 

The Clerks who can type 120 words per minute, but still call you “Mr. Sharma” when you’re “Miss Shalini.”

Courtrooms, where phones must be silent, tempers are hot. Every chapter brings a new episode from the legal reality show — where everything is under oath, except people’s patience."

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So What’s This Really About?

It’s not a book. It’s a VIP ticket to India’s courtroom reality show.

Lawyers = actors

Hon'ble Judges = directors

Clients = unpaid extras

Truth = running late with chai in hand

Emotion = always on time

Logic = stuck in traffic

And remember:Justice is blind… but satire wears glasses with extra zoom. Even Lady Justice wears a blindfold — not always to be fair, but sometimes to avoid watching the show.

And The biggest irony of the courtroom?The Hon'ble  judge — the one who judges everyone — often has no idea if what they delivered was actual justice… or just a grammatically correct decision with a polite “disposed of” at the end.Because let’s be honest — real justice doesn’t always come with a file number.Sometimes it’s just about who showed up, who had the better lawyer,or who didn’t mix up their affidavit dates.

And while the courtroom has rules, forms, citations, and five volumes of paperwork —truth walks in late, justice takes a tea break, and judgment? Judgment just tries to keep the Wi-Fi working long enough to upload the order.

So yes — judges pass orders.But whether it was justice or just closure with formatting?Even the Hon'ble  judge isn’t quite sure.

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Meet the Central Cast (Because Every Circus Needs Its Characters):

Mr. Black & Mr. White – Amongst two of many lawyers, who’ve been practicing for 30 years... separately. But when they’re in the same courtroom, it’s like watching two GPS systems argue in different accents. Coordination? Not applicable. Ego? Supreme Court level.

Mr. Grey Black – Amongst one of many Hon'ble District judges. Doesn’t panic when the mic fails. Does panic when the AC stops working.

Mr. Grey –  Amongst one of many Hon'ble High Court judges. Hasn't smiled in years but once raised an eyebrow — and it was legendary.

Mr. Grey White –  Amongst one of many Hon'ble Supreme Court judge. Quiet, sharp, philosophical. Once gave a judgment that was quoted in a wedding speech.

Mr. Yellow – Amongst one of many newbie lawyers with clean shoes, confused expressions, and unlimited bookmarks on legal apps.

Mr. Brown – Amongst one of many court clerks who walks like he’s in a hurry but will still say, “Kal aana.”

Mr. Green & Mr. Red –Amongst two of many Clients, who’ve attended more hearings than school PTMs. They no longer ask “Why is it taking so long?” They’ve accepted it as a lifestyle.

Mr. Orange – Amongst one of many Journalists, who tweets from outside the courtroom and still knows more than half the people inside.

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Presenting:

“What A Judge Cannot Judge”

A book about the funny, frustrating, and frankly unbelievable world of Indian courts.Written not to mock, but to remind: the law may be serious — but the people inside it still laugh. And cry. And sometimes forget their files. 

Respectfully ridiculous, and submitted with humor and humility.

By your loyal court-side commentator,

The Lawfing Lawyer, Advocate Ajay Amitabh Suman

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DISCLAIMER:

This book is fiction. Except when it isn’t. The names are changed, the facts are mixed, and the only thing that’s always true is that someone is still waiting for their next hearing. It is not intended to defame, discredit, or dishonor any individual, group, profession, or institution. If any section of this work inadvertently hurts the sentiments of any person ,institution or community, the author tenders an unconditional apology. The intention is to provoke thought and laughter, not offense.

COPYRIGHT:

All rights to the content of this book are reserved with the author. No part of this book, including its text, characters, plots, or any adaptation thereof, may be reproduced, used in any manner including stored, transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the author.

And If you still want to copy it… just become a lawyer or a Hon'ble Judge and quote this in your written submission or Judgement.

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