The Irony of Verbosity in Legal Circles
In a profession where words are the primary currency, the irony wasn’t lost on anyone when Chief Justice of India Sanjiv Khanna proclaimed that lawyers need to talk less—or at least write less. At a farewell function that could have easily devolved into ceremonial platitudes and nostalgic reminiscences, CJI Khanna instead delivered a masterclass on legal drafting that left many Advocates-on-Record (AoRs) frantically taking notes rather than clicking photographs.
“One thing I still feel we haven’t really mastered is the art of drafting,” declared CJI Khanna, his voice carrying the weight of countless nights spent wading through verbose petitions. “I feel a huge effort is required. We need to understand ‘less is more’…” The collective gulp from the audience was almost audible. In legal circles, where charging by the word has become something of an unspoken tradition, this was tantamount to suggesting barristers abandon their signature black robes.
European Efficiency vs. Indian Exuberance
To drive home his point, CJI Khanna shared an anecdote from his days as a practicing lawyer, when he drafted objections to an award in a European Court. With obvious pride, he mentioned drafting a mere “8 to 9 grounds” for objection—practically haiku-like brevity by Indian legal standards. Yet his European counterpart, likely stifling a chuckle, informed him that these would be further reduced to just three grounds. The reason? “The costs would be higher otherwise.”
This moment of cultural clash perfectly encapsulates the difference between European legal efficiency and Indian legal exuberance. While our European counterparts treat words as precious diamonds to be carefully selected and displayed, Indian legal documents often resemble a wholesale jewelry market where every conceivable ornament is on display, just in case something catches the judge’s fancy.
The Judicial Plea for Mercy
“We need to have crisper petitions. It helps us read the files more easily,” CJI Khanna continued, in what could only be interpreted as a judicial plea for mercy. One could almost visualize the Chief Justice’s chambers, buried under mountains of paperwork, each petition competing with the next in a Dickensian contest of verbosity.
The statement reveals a rarely acknowledged truth: judges are human beings with finite reading capacity and patience. Behind the grand robes and elevated benches are individuals who must process thousands of pages daily. CJI Khanna’s appeal wasn’t just professional advice; it was a humanitarian request.
The Curious Case of the Invisible AoRs
Having addressed the quantity of words, CJI Khanna turned his attention to who should be delivering them in court. In what might have caused several Senior Advocates to spill their coffee, he encouraged AoRs to argue matters themselves instead of merely serving as conduits to more experienced (and expensive) counsel.
“You have direct access to litigants. Why don’t you come and argue in the court yourself?” he asked pointedly. The question hung in the air like a challenge, addressing the elephant in the courtroom—the hierarchy that often relegates AoRs to background roles despite their intimate knowledge of cases.
This gentle provocation highlights a peculiar aspect of India’s legal ecosystem, where despite having invested considerable time and effort to earn the prestigious AoR qualification (which grants them exclusive right to file matters before the Supreme Court), many prefer to remain backstage, briefing Senior Advocates who then take center stage in courtrooms.
Specialization: The Antidote to Generalization
Never one to stop at criticism without offering solutions, CJI Khanna proceeded to prescribe a career development path for the assembled legal minds. “Domain specialization coupled with mastery of facts will take you ahead than oratory,” he advised, effectively dismantling the popular notion that successful lawyers are primarily silver-tongued orators.
“Every case does not need a huge constitutional principle. Most cases are decided on facts,” he added, a statement that might seem obvious but represents a paradigm shift in a legal culture often obsessed with grand constitutional interpretations over the nitty-gritty of factual details.
The CJI’s recommendation for mediation training further underscored his forward-thinking approach to legal practice. In a system notoriously burdened with backlogs, alternative dispute resolution mechanisms offer a promising avenue for both lawyers and litigants seeking quicker, less adversarial solutions.
The Succession of Mentorship
Perhaps the most poignant moment came when CJI Khanna spoke about mentorship. “Anyone with 15 years of experience must mentor juniors,” he said, introducing an almost mandatory element to what has traditionally been a voluntary relationship.
This statement reflects a growing concern about the sustainability of legal practice. As law firms grow larger and individual practice becomes more competitive, the art of mentorship—once the cornerstone of legal education—risks becoming a casualty of commercial pressures.
The Promise of Continued Guidance
In a touching moment that bridged his past and future, CJI Khanna offered his continued availability for legal consultation even after retirement. “If I have an office in the future, I will always be open to give legal advice. It will be my pleasure if you walk in and seek advice,” he said, revealing the mentor’s heart beating beneath the judge’s robe.
This offer stands in stark contrast to the common trajectory of retired judges, who often retreat into private arbitration practices or head government commissions. CJI Khanna’s willingness to remain accessible speaks volumes about his commitment to the development of legal practice beyond his tenure on the bench.
The Social Responsibility of Legal Privilege
CJI Khanna concluded his address with a reminder of lawyers’ social responsibility, urging them to provide free legal aid to those unable to afford it. “Lawyers have a license to practice law, but for that privilege and status, lawyers have an obligation to provide legal services to those without ability to pay…that should be the goal,” he emphasized.
In these words, CJI Khanna distilled the essence of legal practice—not merely as a profession or business, but as a service imbued with social responsibility. It was a fitting final note from a judge described by his successor, CJI-designate Justice Gavai, as embodying “transparency and inclusiveness.”
Legacy of Transparency
Justice Gavai’s tribute to CJI Khanna highlighted how he lived the principle that “the CJI is only the first amongst equals and not superior.” This praise was echoed by SCAORA President Vipin Nair, who drew parallels between CJI Khanna and his legendary uncle, Justice HR Khanna, known for his lone dissent during the Emergency—perhaps the most famous example of moral courage in Indian judicial history.
Nair specifically commended CJI Khanna for his transparency in handling the sensitive Justice Yashwant Varma issue, where “all documents” were put “in the public domain.” This reference to transparency in dealing with contentious matters within the judiciary itself demonstrates how CJI Khanna’s principles extended beyond mere courtroom management to institutional governance.
The Final Gavel
As CJI Khanna prepares to demit office on May 13, 2025, his farewell address serves not just as a goodbye but as a roadmap for the future of legal practice in India. From crisp drafting to specialized practice, from mentorship to social responsibility, he has outlined a vision that balances tradition with innovation, expertise with accessibility.
In a profession often accused of being resistant to change, CJI Khanna’s parting words serve as both challenge and inspiration. As the legal fraternity bids farewell to his leadership, the true measure of his impact will be seen in how many take his advice to heart—writing shorter petitions, arguing their own cases, specializing their practice, mentoring juniors, and extending legal services to those who need them most.
After all, in CJI Khanna’s own words, “less is more”—except, perhaps, when it comes to the scope of one’s professional ethics and social responsibility. There, more is indeed more.
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