At the General Counsels’ Association of India’s Nyaya Nirmaan 2025, a forum bustling with ministers, judges and industry leaders convened to discuss the future of India’s legal foundations. Speaking at the event, Sanjeev Sanyal, a member of the Prime Minister’s Economic Advisory Council, remarked that India’s judicial system is the single biggest obstacle to the nation’s dream of becoming Viksit Bharat.

Without hesitation, he identified long court vacations as a symbol of judicial inertia, equated the legal profession’s hierarchy to a “medieval guild” and called for radical reforms, urging the need for the legal fraternity to pull up their socks if the Indian economy is to rise. To him, the use of words such as “prayer” or “My Lord” in legal proceedings was so anachronistic that it prevented the legal system from being forward-looking.

This is not the first time that courts have been painted as a millstone around the nation’s neck. There is, perhaps, a kernel in Mr Sanyal’s diagnosis. We have lived too long with the World Bank’s Doing Business indices reminding us of clogged dockets to seriously dispute that pendency, sluggish contract enforcement and procedural ossification are valid concerns that come in the way of India’s economic ambitions. Yet Mr Sanyal’s words are akin to prescribing the abolition of nightfall as a cure for darkness. The problems he identifies make for sharp soundbites, but do little to address the hard work of institutional change. 

First, let us rethink the idea of court vacations. Bibek Debroy, a former Chairman of the Economic Advisory Council, had raised similar concerns not too long ago. In his criticism, Debroy noted,

“Vacation has the same etymological root as “vacate”. During that period, the organisation is vacated, so to speak. It shuts down.”

One can play etymology both ways. Vacation may share a root with vacate, but it also shares kinship with vacuum, signifying a space in which thought can occur. The legal ecosystem endures not despite its periods of rest, but because of them. Given that a few benches operate even during the annual summer recess, the Supreme Court redefined summer vacation as partial working days in its calendar. During this period, judges read, write and reflect. This is evidenced by what followed in 2022, where the Supreme Court delivered 44 judgements on the day it resumed after summer break. As former Chief Justice of India DY Chandrachud put it,

“Judging is not about just disposing cases. It’s not just about the statistics. It’s about thinking through your cases.”

Indeed, justice hurried is often justice buried.

Across the world’s apex courts, the number of vacation days generally corresponds to the number of sitting days. India’s Supreme Court sits for roughly 190 days a year and observes about 100 official non-working days. Top courts in the US and Australia have far fewer sitting days. In comparison to India’s seven week summer recess, Pakistan’s Supreme Court is scheduled for a nearly three-month summer break in 2026. Bangladesh has sitting and vacation patterns broadly similar to that of India. Despite having one of the highest numbers of sitting days globally, the Indian Supreme Court’s case load is burgeoning because of the increase in the number of cases that get filed. Add another 100,000 cars to a road and see how traffic will sound.

Mr Sanyal further criticises the hierarchical structure of the Bar and traditional courtroom formalities, but these criticisms miss the forest for the trees. Systemic change requires structured solutions, not eliminating professional distinctions or trimming courtroom rituals. Mr Sanyal’s suggestion that legal qualifications could be bypassed in favour of use of AI by those without legal degrees can also be dismissed. It is one thing to propose that AI can complement the work of lawyers, which it certainly can, but it is quite another to claim that it makes legal training unnecessary. If his argument is stretched further, AI-driven adjudication is also a plausible goal. However, the real question is whether any litigant would accept having their case dismissed simply because an algorithm decided so.

How then should the system be reformed to avoid the judiciary being viewed as a roadblock to India’s economic progress? For reform to be meaningful, it must be tailored to the nature of jurisdiction which a court exercises. Criminal trials demand different solutions from writ petitions. Both differ again from commercial disputes, where efficiency and predictability are the primary demands. It is the last of these that has the most direct bearing on India’s economic aspirations.

Commercial courts were intended as specialist fora, applying streamlined procedures to complex business disputes. Much has been achieved, with strict timelines and summary procedures built into our commercial dispute resolution system. Mandatory pre-litigation mediation fits naturally into this framework. Far from being a burden invented to solely benefit lawyers, as Mr Sanyal claims, it is commercially sensible. Businesses value time, confidentiality and ongoing relationships. Mediation provides space for quicker, private and often more practical settlements that preserve both value and partnerships. But more remains to be done to realise the promise of commercial courts.

The path forward lies not in dismantling, but in deepening the design. Judges posted to commercial courts should serve stable tenures and receive induction in commercial law, so that benches can build real expertise rather than rotate in and out. Case management needs professional support staff to keep proceedings on track. Performance data, published transparently, would allow bottlenecks to be identified and corrected. Low-value matters could be directed to a fast-track settlement channel, keeping the commercial benches focused on disputes where specialist adjudication yields real economic value. The real clincher would be imposition of costs, where recalcitrant steps taken by commercial parties are met with appropriate cost consequences. The system needs to be put in a place where a commercial defendant knows that mounting a frivolous defence, just to buy time, will have far greater cost consequences than settling a case.

Surely, vacations, rituals and hierarchies make for spirited debate. But fussing over “My Lord” as a form of address does not make the journey any shorter.

Nakul Dewan is a Senior Advocate and King’s Counsel.