Unrecognised labour and the disguised slavery of the Indian Bar

For decades, the Indian legal profession has survived on a romanticised myth: the "apprenticeship." We are told that a junior advocate or a legal intern is a student of the craft and that the senior’s chamber is their temple. In exchange for "learning," they are expected to offer their time, intellect and physical labour for free or for a pittance that barely covers a commute.

But the mask is slipping. What was once a system of mentorship has devolved into a regime of unrecognised labour. While senior advocates charge lakhs for five-minute appearances, the juniors drafting the briefs, conducting the research and managing the filings often struggle to afford a basic meal. This is not "learning"; it is structural exploitation.

This cycle of exploitation begins long before the degree is conferred. Through mandatory internships, the Bar Council of India (BCI) requires months of practical training but provides zero protection for the student. In this regulatory vacuum, law students are treated as "shadow labour." When the Law Ministry tells parliament that "stipends are not mandatory," they are effectively endorsing a system of disguised unpaid labour. Students from rural or economically backward backgrounds are forced to choose between their education and their next meal, while their wealthier peers "buy" internships through social capital.

Former Chief Justice of India (CJI) Sanjiv Khanna noted that the "exodus of young talent from litigation is not a personal choice, but symptomatic of structural issues like financial insecurity." Former CJI BR Gavai called the current state of stipends "pathetic," urging seniors to look after the welfare of their juniors. Even the BCI has suggested monthly stipends. Yet, these remain "suggestions." In the trial courts, these numbers are a fantasy. The reality is a stipend of zero, justified by the archaic logic that "we also struggled in our time."

The breakthrough in Tamil Nadu must serve as the constitutional blueprint for every High Court and state bar council. Recently, the Madras High Court directed a mandatory monthly stipend of ₹15,000 to ₹20,000, observing that extracting work from junior advocates without payment is exploitation and in violation of fundamental rights. Exposure does not pay rent, it does not buy books and it certainly does not provide dignity. State bar councils must move from being passive spectators to active enforcers. Every state bar council must exercise its powers under Section 6 of the Advocates Act to mandate that the right to practice as a senior is inextricably linked to the duty of sustaining the junior. To treat the Madras High Court ruling as a mere "suggestion" is to wilfully ignore a judicial declaration on fundamental rights.

The urgency of this issue has reached a boiling point following the Supreme Court’s mandatory requirement of three years of practice for entry into the judicial services. This mandate, while intended to ensure "experienced judges", has created an economic filter. If a law graduate must practice for three years unpaid - or for a pittance that mocks professional dignity and remains woefully insufficient to meet even the most basic cost of living, we are effectively saying that only the wealthy can become judges. We are trading merit for affordability.

​The 3-year practice rule is not a neutral policy; it is an economic filter that bleeds into social exclusion. For a PwD (Person with Disabilities) candidate, the lack of a mandatory stipend is a death knell. In a profession already riddled with physical barriers, the financial burden of three unpaid years makes advocacy an impossible dream. Similarly, for women, the rule operates as a "career-compression" tactic, forcing them out of the Bar due to societal timelines regarding marriage and family before they even begin.

​A profound disconnect exists within our highest courts regarding this rule. Justice BV Nagarathna recently defended the mandate, stating: "Unless you get into the water, you can't swim," arguing that three years is a gain in maturity, not a loss of time. However, this assumes that every aspirant has access to a "pool." Justice Ujjal Bhuyan acknowledged that for those from the mofussil and for women, these years are defined by financial uncertainty and societal constraints.

The ground reality is simple: experience is essential, but experience without a stipend is a luxury. When a judge says, "don't think losing three years is a loss of life," they are speaking from a position of security. For a first-generation lawyer, three years without pay is not learning to swim; it is drowning.

India remains one of the few jurisdictions where 'exposure' is still considered a valid currency. But exposure does not pay rent, it does not buy the black robes required for the profession and it certainly cannot be traded for the basic dignity of a square meal. It is a hollow currency that only the wealthy can afford to spend, leaving the meritorious to go bankrupt while chasing a 'noble' dream.

​The result? A brain drain from our courtrooms. The brightest minds are no longer attracted to the black robes. They are fleeing to corporate law firms, LPOs, or leaving the law entirely. They are not afraid of hard work; they are afraid of poverty. Talent is not leaving advocacy because they lack passion; they are leaving because they lack livelihood.

When a law graduate sees their peers in IT or finance earning a living wage, while they are treated as "glorified slaves" and they are expected to work for "blessings" and "exposure," the choice becomes a matter of survival. If the litigation field does not professionalise its payment structures, it will eventually be left with only two types of people: the exceptionally wealthy and the exceptionally desperate. Neither is good for the rule of law. The time has gone when aspirants were willing to invest years in unpaid labour. Today’s talent demands recognition, remuneration and respect.

The Model Code being drafted by the BCI is a start, but it lacks teeth. To transition from a culture of favours to a culture of rights, we need a framework that is both enforceable and incentivised.

1. Linking stipends to 'Senior Designation' and Bench eligibility: The highest aspiration for many in the fraternity is the Senior Advocate gown. We must make fair compensation a criterion for merit. When a lawyer applies for senior designation, the BCI should audit their chamber's history of stipend payments. A senior who has built their legacy on unpaid labour should be deemed ineligible for the title. Seniors who consistently pay above the minimum threshold and mentor first-generation or PwD lawyers should receive Professional Social Responsibility (PSR) credits, which weigh in their favour during judicial appointments or committee selections.

2. The stipend stamp and welfare fund: The financial burden shouldn't rest solely on the individual senior. We need an institutional safety net. A nominal stipend fee should be attached to every vakalatnama filed in courts. This revenue should feed into a Junior Livelihood Fund, managed by state bar councils, to provide direct monthly subsidies to juniors practicing in district and mofussil areas.

3. Grievance redressal and institutional accountability: The BCI must establish a centralised, anonymous grievance redressal portal. This platform would help report professional misconduct, such as the denial of adequate remuneration or the non-payment of stipends. Upon verification of such reports, the BCI should enforce a rigorous regime of accountability, including the imposition of financial penalties and the debarment of violating chambers from hosting interns for a prescribed period.

4. Linking junior livelihood to legal aid: The State and District Legal Services Authorities (SLSA and DLSA) must be integrated into the junior’s career path. Junior advocates in their initial years should be given priority appointments for low-level legal aid matters with a per-appearance fee.

The Indian legal fraternity stands at a crossroads. We cannot continue to lecture the nation on social justice and constitutional morality while our own chambers function as sites of economic injustice. For those at the top of the fraternity, the choice is clear: you can either continue to defend a feudal system that is bleeding talent, or you can build a professionalised Bar that is accessible to all. The "struggling junior" or “legal intern” is not a romantic figure; they are a symptom of a systemic failure. When we deny them their stipend, we are not "toughening them up"; we are filtering out merit in favour of bank balances.

​The time for talks, suggestions, and sympathy is over. Every day a junior advocate or a intern works without pay, the legal fraternity violates the very principles of equity and justice it claims to uphold. Until the labour of the student and the junior is recognised as a matter of right, our claim to be a "noble profession" will remain a hollow lie and our courtrooms will continue to lose the very brilliance they need to survive.

Rayees is an independent legal researcher and writer. He can be reached at rayeeshere1@gmail.com