History Lounge

“No man is more adroit in presenting his case” – a reflection on M.A. Jinnah: Part 1

Mohammad Ali Jinnah evokes strong responses in South Asia, and has been cast in a multitude of roles depending on which side of the political line he is viewed from – a master negotiator, a charismatic leader, a cunning politician, a secular liberal, and a conservative reactionary. Few, however, see him as a lawyer, his primary professional training that helped launch his career in public life and shaped both, his political career, and his ideological vision.

Lawyers of course, overwhelmingly dominate the galaxy of political leaders in colonial India. This was partly structural. Professional and middle classes have always played a significant role in republican movements. In British India, law, unlike medicine or engineering, was the only profession that could be practiced without being employed by the colonial government. Jinnah is unique in being amongst the handful of lawyers who became equally successful in both their fields.

A young Jinnah in traditional attire.
A young Jinnah in traditional attire.

Jinnah was born into a Gujarati Khoja Muslim family engaged in trade in Karachi. As a successful trader in British India, Jinnah’s father realised that they had to forge closer links with British traders. It was to learn trade that Jinnah was sent to London. At the age of 15, he began a three-year apprenticeship with the London office of the Graham’s Shipping and Trading Company, a firm that specialised in trading in textiles and port wine. The minutiae of trade did not interest Jinnah, so within a few months of reaching England, he enrolled instead at the Inns of Court to train as a barrister. An apocryphal story suggests that his choice of Lincoln’s Inn was guided by the fact that it listed the Prophet Muhammad’s name over its doors among a list of the world’s greatest lawgivers. Jinnah’s training was purely vocational: he did not have a college education, but he passed his Bar with flying colours, graduating at the age of 19 as the youngest Indian barrister of that time.

From liit's photostream, Flickr. Original at:
From liit’s photostream, Flickr. Original at:

Jinnah returned to Bombay to begin practice at the Bombay Bar on August 24, 1896. The choice of Bombay, instead of his hometown Karachi, was not surprising. Bombay was the leading city of colonial India: it was liberal and cosmopolitan, but perhaps most importantly, was the business capital of India and therefore, the centre of commercial litigation.

Unusually for a lawyer of that period, Jinnah did not begin as a pupil to someone else but started an independent practice. Indian barristers had a hard time building a practice in India, the Indian trained vakils were often hostile and litigants were indifferent to the ‘foreign qualification’. Contrary to popular perception, most Indian law students passed their exams with the help of coaches, and had a limited command over English. While they were versed in English law and procedure, they knew little about the workings of the Indian Penal Code. Moreover, much of the commercial practice was controlled by a monopoly of British solicitor firms, who had their own network of barristers.

Like today, most young lawyers in the 19th century relied on networks of family and kin to get cases. Belonging to a commercial family, it was not surprising that Jinnah’s first case came from home. At the age of 22, he represented his uncle, Ganji Walji, a Khoja merchant who another Khoja merchant had sued for the recovery of Rs.6,790/- due as interest. This litigation, when Jinnah stepped in, was ruining his father’s business.

He did find mentors in Sir Pherozeshah Mehta, a Parsi leading lawyer, and Mr. McPherson, the Advocate General of the state, both of whom allowed Jinnah to access their respective library. McPherson sought to help out a struggling barrister by nominating him to the lower judiciary. In 1900, Jinnah was appointed Third Presidency Magistrate for Bombay, a position that paid Rs.1,500/- a month, and which placed him among a handful of Indians who wielded tremendous executive power and influence. Six months after being appointed, however, Jinnah declined to continue in the position.

While he had built his practice as a civil and commercial lawyer, it was in the period following the Magistracy that he began appearing in criminal cases, often engaged by the government. Perhaps the most famous of his early cases was the murder of a Hindu seer, Sayaji Baba, by an ‘alleged lunatic’. Jinnah assisted the prosecution in proving that the accused held a grudge against the victim before the murder and thus, despite the appearance of lunacy, committed premeditated murder.

Jinnah’s career as a public advocate bloomed after he appeared as a lawyer in the ‘Caucus’ case. The case dealt with the interference of the government in the election of local judges to the Bombay Municipal CouncilThe Indian Councils Act had introduced limited self-government in municipalities and half the seats of the Corporation could be contested from a limited electorate of 12,000 taxpayers. The other half consisted of nominated officials. The ‘elected’ wing of the Corporation was dominated by moderate Congress politicians, including Jinnah’s mentor Pherozeshah Mehta. In 1907 the ‘caucus’ of nominated officials connived with the government and arranged the defeat of Congressmen like Mehta. Surprisingly, Mehta, a distinguished barrister himself, hired Jinnah to plead his election petition. While Jinnah won only a partial victory (Mehta was declared elected, but many of the charges against the government were not accepted), the case made Jinnah nationally famous. This was the first time the colonial government was accused of rigging elections before its own courts, and the proceedings were extensively covered in both, the English and vernacular press. This case perhaps exemplified Jinnah’s early politics, exposing the British regime’s faults and contradictions through the constitutional framework of British rule.

Compared with his contemporaries, like Gandhi, Jinnah spent a relatively short period as a ‘briefless barrister’. His eloquent speaking style and incisive arguments helped his practice grow. As Frank Moraes was to describe his courtroom manner in later years, “Few lawyers command a more attentive audience. No man is more adroit in presenting his case. If to achieve the maximum result with the minimum effort is the hallmark of artistry, Jinnah is an artist of the craft. He likes to get down to the bare bones of the brief; in stating the essentials of his case, his manner is masterly. The drab courtroom acquires an atmosphere as he speaks. Juniors crane their necks to follow every movement of this tall, well groomed figure, senior counsels listen closely; the Judge is all attention.

Jinnah’s public prominence grew in 1916, when he appeared as the defence lawyer for Bal Gangadhar Tilak in a sedition case. Tilak had previously been convicted for sedition and had spent time in prison. Jinnah was unsuccessful in securing Tilak’s release in the District Court of Poona, but was able to have the conviction overturned at the Bombay High Court. His argument was twofold: firstly, he argued that Indians as British citizens were entitled to criticise the bureaucracy and they owed loyalty to the British crown and not the government of India; secondly, the C.I.D. had translated Tilak’s Marathi speeches incorrectly, and the English translation wrongly gave the impression of sedition. The case turned on the nuances of Marathi, a language Jinnah was unfamiliar with, but after careful study and briefing, he ably led the cross-examination of expert witnesses. Incidentally, Jinah had prepared the line of defence in this case, and the adoption of this line was a condition for this accepting the case. While presenting his bail application in 1908, Jinnah had reluctantly refused to defend Tilak in his first sedition case because of Tilak’s insistence of dictating his own line of defence.

Jinnah engaged a number of what could be termed ‘free speech’ cases, challenging the draconian press laws that were enacted during the First World War. The most prominent of these was his defence of the Bombay Chronicle, a nationalist English language daily. Jinnah, as a classical liberal lawyer, often spoke up for civil liberties, most famously attacking the colonial government in the Central Assembly over the illegality of Bhagat Singh’s trial. Since Bhagat Singh and his co-accused had refused to cooperate with the prosecution, a special ordinance was promulgated, which permitted the trial in absentia. Jinnah’s scathing attack on the government turned on the harm caused to the rule of law by this ordinance. He argued, “I say that no judge who has an iota of judicial mind or a sense of justice can ever be a party to a trial of that character and pass the sentence of death without a shudder and a pang of conscience. This is a farce which you propose to enact”. The law he pointed out failed to meet the standards that British common law demanded. Even at his most emphatic, Jinnah’s arguments were framed in legal terms.

(Rohit De is a scholar of legal history.)

Law Schools Lounge

District collector in shining armour

The District Collector of Krishnagiri in Tamil Nadu caught the attention of the English-language press when he acted quickly on a call for help from a 15-year-old schoolgirl. He sent a team to the venue and stopped her marriage moments before it was to take place. Alumni of N.L.S.I.U. posted the link to the Times of India story (September 6) on Facebook, and happy chatter ensued about the official in question: Arun Roy, a 2002 graduate from the Bangalore law school. The man himself was not overly excited.  “It is an everyday occurrence here“, he laughed over the phone as he agreed to answer my questions.

Before taking office in Krishnagiri in June this year, Roy served as Deputy Secretary and as Under Secretary in the Finance Department of the Government of Tamil Nadu. During that time, he also served as a Director (Finance) at several P.S.U.s, including the Tamil Nadu Industrial Investment Corporation, the Tamil Nadu Civil Supplies CorporationTamil Nadu Cements LimitedPallavan Grama Bank, and the Tamil Nadu State Transport Corporation.

As Collector, he is the chief executive of the district and the nodal person responsible for governance in the district. He implements the development schemes of state and central governments in the district, including the N.R.E.G.S., the public distribution system, and the social security pensions and other welfare schemes.

A good part of my work is also regulatory, which is nothing but the interpretation and application of various laws, which is much easier for a law student when compared to others,” he said. The Collector is the ‘District Magistrate’ under the Criminal Procedure Code, and is responsible for the law and order of the district. He is also responsible for the implementation of various regulations relating to essential commodities, mining, dowry prohibition, child marriage, pollution, public nuisance, public health, road transport, and the protection of senior citizens. He also has powers of preventive detention under various Acts, such as the National Security Act and the Goondas Act.

Arun said he imbibed two important values from law school life, and those were not from the classroom. “The first is tolerance and sensitivity, which has helped me handle difficult situations and difficult people. There is also the art of talking a lot without conveying and committing anything, which we all learn in law school! That has always helped me in tricky situations like law and order problems!

He remembers Dr. V.S. Elizabeth, who taught him History at law school, very fondly. “It has nothing got to do with her classes. She has given me a lot of food in her house. And I always loved making fun of her and I still do.

The essence of good administration is to take the right decision at the right time, and this requires a lot of common sense more than anything else. Since law is nothing but common sense, my lack of common sense was to an extent made up for by a knowledge of law.” By this time, I can’t decide if he is joking or being humble. A little later, he tells me that he used the free time in his fifth year of law school to prepare for the Union Public Service Commission examinations. “I used some postal notes also but did not go to any coaching institute. The internet and the Law School library were sufficient for obtaining the necessary study material.

The shining armour rests easy on this District Collector.

(Aju John is part of the faculty on


Beef fry advocacy



I decided to give Shubho, a friend from Calcutta, a glimpse of Kerala outside the tourism brochures. We were about 20 km from Alleppy town, and on our way to Kumarakom.  The plan to do the trip on a Bullet 500 was waylaid by two Kerala inevitabilities – rain and hartal. After taking a detour and riding an extra 15 km to avoid the local hartal, rain caught up with us. Realizing the eternal wisdom of “if you can’t escape it, enjoy it”, we stopped at a lonely roadside shack, a ‘thattukada’.

We had got prime seats for a surreal view of the monsoon when a bearded man in his mid thirties appeared and let loose at the pace of mutual funds being subject to market risks. I could make out a few words like beef, chicken, prawn, fry and “kappa” (meaning tapioca). I ordered everything dead, fried and roasted.

Shubho had been sore and angry about work as a litigator, and I had been trying to persuade him about the thrills of litigation. “I didn’t study five years of law to argue on notice period for a demand of payment”, he thundered.

Suddenly, the voice from inside the shack said, “within fifteen days of receiving information from the bank”. “See, even he knows that,” said Shubho, but I was taken aback. In Cochin, I had even seen an auto-driver reading Das Kapital, but this was unbelievable. Not only did this guy seem to know the law on the subject, he was speaking decent English too.

As soon as I had glibly finished explaining to Shubho how even small traders in Kerala were very literate about commercial laws, came the next bomb. “I am an advocate also”. My confusion at that point would have been similar to the feelings of friend after he had been “tranny tricked” in Pattaya. Shubho was so surprised that the beef fry remained untouched for 15 seconds.

Spurred on by our stunned looks, the man told us his story. Justin (name changed, the real name is ironically derived from the patron saint for advertisers) told us that he was a graduate from Ernakulam Law College, an education that continued for almost a decade. He had repeatedly flunked jurisprudence and constitutional law. The same teacher had taught both courses, and he suspected some personal bias probably because he used to be seen with a group that once almost buried the teacher’s car under sand for refusing to cancel class to commemorate Vietnam Day.

He waited till the teacher retired from service and then another two years for re-exams to be conducted, and almost a year for the results to be declared and moderated. Finally, on a rainy day in 2004, he enrolled as an advocate.

I wanted to ask him many questions, but realized that he had just started with his story. He proudly told me that when he finally passed his jurisprudence and constitutional law exam, he got full marks for his viva on the “Hard-devil debate”.

“I was always good with people. While studying in the college, I used to do a lot of odd jobs; I worked as an LIC sub-agent for almost a year. I used to earn enough money to survive”, he said to Shubho with a smile.  “After enrollment, I started working under an advocate in Alleppy. For the first 3 months, I did not make any money. It was a hard life. You had to be in court all day and in the evenings be in the senior’s office when the clients came. The job was basically scavenging whatever files the senior needed. After 3 months, I started appearing in court for adjournments. It was around that time that I was appointed as the fact-finding commission in a property dispute. It was like a miracle, so many juniors were sitting in the court and the judge had to choose me. I got 2000 rupees for the job. It was a lot of money for me then.

“Around that time, I realized that being just an advocate was not going to be enough, and my friends and I decided that it was time that we started some business. It was Christmas season and we had the idea to sell firecrackers. We got the money together and bought the crackers wholesale from Sivakasi. We made around 50% profit. But then, you can sell crackers only during season.

“Then, my uncle who had been running this shack fell ill. Anyway the business is only in the afternoon and I can go to court in the mornings

The rain was over and we had finished our food. It didn’t seem odd that Justin was not interested in knowing more about us, even after figuring out that we are also lawyers. He was just happy he found someone to talk to. We paid for the food and lit a cigarette. Shubho, who was finding it hard to divide his attention between the delicious food and Justin’s story, thought that he should take over the running of Calcutta High Court canteen.

We walked back to our bike, which was left in the rain. Confirming fears, it refused to start. My brother had warned me about the faulty wiring when he gave me the bike. After a few semi hearted kicks, I turned back and asked Justin expectantly, “Eh…do you by any chance know something about bikes too?”

Ajith James works at Rainmaker.