What the young teach the Bench

It is a curious paradox: while my signature anchors judgments on the Bench, it is the laughter and earnest questions of interns that often leave the deepest impressions in my heart.

Nearly seventy, perhaps even more interns have travelled alongside in my journey on the Bench. I hope they have carried back memories, lessons and an enduring sense of belonging to this noble profession. 

From my side, I have always felt it my responsibility to ensure that their stint is not just a formality, but a period they will remember with warmth as a memorable chapter in their lives. Despite the unrelenting demands of my schedule, I have made it a point to spend a few minutes each day in conversation with them. We talk about law, yes, but also about life, society and the winds of change that seem to blow faster with every passing year.

It never fails to amaze me how much I learn from these young minds. They arrive brimming with questions, ideas and perspectives that often differ from mine. In that difference lies the essence of a true dialogue. Times are evolving rapidly, and so too is the character of our society. As I converse with my interns, I often sense the pulse of this change - their perception on various issues, their sense of fairness and their unwavering spirit to challenge accepted norms in the pursuit of truth. These exchanges are refreshing. They keep a judge grounded, free from the dust of complacency and in tune with the pulse of contemporary society.

In a case involving LGBTQ rights, interns in my chambers became my knowledge resources. Their understanding and empathy for the issue were nothing short of remarkable. They were unafraid to speak openly to present perspectives that I may have never considered and to push me to look further into the outlying areas of human dignity that the law must protect. As I listened to them, I realised they were, in a way, far more mature in their appreciation of these issues than I might have been at their age. 

In matters concerning the POCSO Act, particularly with reference to adolescent love and physical relationships, it was again their input and their humane approach that influenced my thinking. Law can sometimes become rigid; it is the voices of the young that often breathe the oxygen of compassion into it.

The truth is that mentorship is never a one-way street. While they arrive expecting to learn from a judge, I often find myself learning as much, if not more, from them. They enter the profession without the baggage that sometimes comes with experience, the hardened views, the sub-conscious biases and rigid convictions. In their questions and opinions, I see the removal of the invisible layers of muck that years of practice can sometimes deposit on our thinking. They approach the law not merely as a set of statutes and precedents, but as a living instrument meant to serve an ever-changing society.

I particularly reflect on the career aspirations of young women who join as interns. Many of them carry silent apprehensions about the uncertainties of a career at the Bar. Whether there will be space for them, whether they will be able to withstand the demands of the profession etc. I find them to be immensely capable, bright and willing to exert themselves that extra mile that differentiates them from the ordinary. And yet, sometimes all they need to move forward with confidence is a sincere voice telling them, “You belong here, and you have a place at the table.”

In my own small way, I try to be that voice, not merely as a judge, but as a parent would be to a daughter - reassuring, encouraging, convincing them that the legal profession will welcome their talent and reward their perseverance. If even one of them stays in the profession believing in her ability to make a difference because of something I said, I would consider it an achievement far more significant than any written judgment.

This mutual sharing where I give my experience and they give me their clarity of vision has been one of the most enriching aspects of my journey on the Bench. The exchange is not about hierarchy; it is about partnership in the pursuit of justice. They remind me of the purity of purpose that first drew me to the profession, a reminder one sorely needs when the daily grind threatens to blur the lines between routine and calling.

I know that one day, my time in this office will end. On that day, my true satisfaction will not come from the number of cases I have decided or the pages of law reports that carry my judgments. It will come from the hope that somewhere in courtrooms and offices across the country, my former interns will be standing up for justice, applying the law with both firmness and compassion, and carrying forward the ideals we discussed in those small, precious windows of time together. I will look back knowing that they were once here, learning and teaching in equal measure and that perhaps, in some small way, I helped shape a part of their journey.

In the end, I do not just see them as interns. I see them as my sons and daughters in the profession each carrying the potential to shape society, each with a spark that will burn brighter if only we nurture it. My role in their lives may be brief, but if it leaves even a small imprint of confidence, courage and commitment to the law, then I will leave this office with a heart filled with gratitude. For nurturing them is not merely an act of kindness; it is an investment in the very future of justice. There is nothing greater that I can aspire to leave behind.

Justice N Anand Venkatesh is a judge at the Madras High Court.