DT
PT
Subscribe To Print Edition About The Tribune Code Of Ethics Download App Careers Advertise with us Classifieds
search-icon-img
search-icon-img
Advertisement

A full circle of democracy

  • fb
  • twitter
  • whatsapp
  • whatsapp
Advertisement
SOON after retirement, I took up legal practice. It was a departure from my career in public relations, largely spent in the Punjab chief minister’s office. I started my second innings with optimism, which was later tempered by realism.
As a public relations officer, I was entrusted with ensuring credible media coverage of Cabinet decisions and sensitive deliberations — ranging from law & order and internal security to inter-state issues and administrative matters such as postings and transfers of IAS and IPS officers. Confidentiality was the hallmark of this responsibility. Mediapersons often sought off-the-record information, while we were duty-bound to exercise restraint. One sought to reveal, the other to conceal — both performing their roles. Enhancing the government’s image without compromising propriety remained the guiding principle.
A colleague once took me to a village in the Malwa region. Our job was to collect feedback on the Mahatma Gandhi Sarbat Vikas Yojana. Spotting a labourer desilting a drain, I asked him whether he was satisfied with the scheme. His blunt response was revealing: “Uh ja yaar, apna kamm kar ja ke. Tu ki lena jaan ke, asi sukhi haan ya dukhi. Kise sarkar ne saadi baat nahin puchhi, te na puchhni ae. Asi gareeban ne tan narak hi bhogna ae, bhaven koi vi aa jaave.” (“Go on, man, mind your own work. What will you gain by knowing whether we are happy or unhappy? No government has ever asked about us, nor will it ever do so. We poor are destined to suffer in hell, no matter who comes to power.”)
That candid reply exposed what official surveys often miss. It captured the everyday struggles of ordinary people and sharpened my understanding of the executive.
My stint as a lawyer soon stripped away the idealism with which I had entered it. Courtroom life appeared driven less by argument than by adjournments — the notorious tareekh-pe-tareekh culture. Strikes, routine postponements, Bar abstentions and Bench reshuffles often stalled proceedings, slowing down the wheels of justice. Litigants — many of whom travelled from far-off places — waited anxiously, only to leave weary and disheartened.
Judges, I observed, carried an enormous burden with quiet dedication amid mounting pendency and rising expectations. Despite their diligence and perseverance, systemic constraints often impeded timely justice. In time, the weight of these realities led to quiet disillusionment, and I stepped away within months.
Around that time, I received a call from a senior advocate —under whom I had worked — asking me to spare my gown for a trainee. Perhaps I no longer needed it, yet I hesitated. Even today, my black coat and gown with a neck band hang in the wardrobe, bearing witness to a journey cut short.
Having engaged with the four pillars of democracy, the biggest takeaway for me was: governance fulfils its promise only when it truly serves the people, with accountability at its core.
The writer worked in the PR department, Punjab
Advertisement

Read what others can’t with The Tribune Premium

Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement
tlbr_img1 Classifieds tlbr_img2 Videos tlbr_img3 Premium tlbr_img4 E-Paper tlbr_img5 Shorts