FIFTH COLUMN
Legal System on TrailTime to
reflect on why it takes 20 years to dispose of a simple case.
By Tavleen
Singh
Have you noticed how Ottavio Quattrocchi, Sonia Gandhi's
ex-best friend, has been thumbing his nose at our judicial system? He is wanted in India
for a criminal offence and has been requested politely by our courts to return forthwith
to his former karmabhoomi but he refuses on the grounds that he does not trust the CBI.
What that means is he does not trust the ability of our courts to prevent his arrest
although they have ordered the CBI not to arrest him in the two weeks that he has been
requested to be in India.
To me, the most interesting aspect of the Quattrocchi story
is not his defiance (or his distrust) of our courts but the fact that the case against
him, for allegedly taking kickbacks worth $7.34 million in the Bofors deal, was registered
in 1990 and nine years on it is still merely trundling along at the pace of a bullock
cart. Why should Quattrocchi take our laws or our judiciary seriously when he knows that
even if he did condescend to appear in court it could take another 20 years before the
case is decided? Why should anyone take it seriously?
Periodically, the press will bring to our notice the fact
that in India you can remain an "undertrial" for years. Often, as happened with
Phoolan Devi, you can remain in jail during this trial period so that, in effect, even if
you are found not guilty at the end of it all you have still served a sentence.
But you only realise how appalling the state of our judicial
system is when you talk to someone like Bibek Debroy and he tells you quite calmly that it
will take our courts 324 years to clear the backlog of cases. That is, he adds, if no new
cases are filed. Debroy, who has spent years writing books and papers on the flaws in the
Indian judicial system, adds that it takes an average of 20 years for a case to be
disposed of in our courts -- if it isn't land-related. If there is land involved the story
-- as so many of us know -- gets much grimmer.
Now, consider that the average Indian lives in a village and
that in villages most litigation involves land and you realise how hopeless the judicial
system becomes when it functions, if it ever does, in rural India. In those years when
people like Jaya Prakash Narayan spent their time in the badlands -- the Chambal ravines
-- persuading dacoits to lay down their arms, us hacks used to be routinely despatched
from Delhi to discover why dacoits became dacoits.
I personally interviewed enough dacoits to do a book on the
subject and almost in every case there was a land problem involved. A problem that those
who became dacoits knew could never be solved in the courts.
Another interesting piece of information that I obtained from
Debroy is the fact that in 65 per cent of our civil cases it is the government, in some
form or the other, which is the litigant. Most of the cases should never have been brought
to court. Allow me to give you only my own humble example, for what it is worth when you
consider the enormity of the problem. The New Delhi Municipal Council had me in court for
10 years in an attempt to prove that I should be paying the house tax that would have been
due if I were earning rent from my flat. This is a matter that could have been settled in
one day since I had documents to prove that my flat had never been rented to anyone. But
the NDMC remained adamant and wasted taxpayers' money on an utterly useless case.
How many more such cases must there be? And if this could
have happened to me "of the English-speaking elite", as Medha Patkar once
described me, then think what happens to an illiterate villager?
So is there a solution? Most Indians who have suffered at the
hands of our judicial system will tell you that there isn't one. They will tell you horror
stories of corrupt judges and evil lawyers and hopeless situations. But, according to
Debroy, a solution can begin with Parliament having a special session on litigation.
There lies the real reason why our criminal-judicial system
is in the mess that it is in. Our honourable members of Parliament, even the best of them,
get easily excited when it comes to some sidekick in the Finance Ministry making
unsubstantiated charges. They can disrupt the House on account of demands for a joint
parliamentary committee on the subject. They can get equally hysterical over, for
instance, the dismissal of the Bihar government. But when it comes to something truly
important like the fact that the backlog of cases in our courts will take 324 years to
clear, then there is virtually no murmur of protest.
We in the media are not blameless either. Because not many of
us have faced anything more serious than the occasional libel charge since those dark days
of the Emergency, we tend not to come into sufficient contact with the judiciary to pay it
much attention. Also, we are scared. Judges are very good at initiating contempt
proceedings against the likes of us. We are, after all, nobody's ex-best friends. If we
paid the judiciary more attention though we might discover that one of the biggest flaws
in the system is that even preliminary hearings, which decide whether a case should be
tried at all, take more than three years in India. Can we then even claim to have a
judicial system? |