Forget that bloody computer, it’s more important to have a bloody mind,” the old lion thundered at the eager beaver lawyer who was briefing him. The poor chap meekly closed his laptop. That loyalty to mind over matter wasn’t just about computer hardware and software. It was a mere manifestation of a lifetime of plain living and high thinking.
I first got to know of Fali Nariman as a first-year law student 51 years ago, as the brilliant young Additional Solicitor General of India (there was only one then, and that designation sounded much grander than mere Solicitor General). And very soon got to meet him along with my classmates, as volunteers at the conference of the prestigious International Law Conference in Delhi. We were overawed but he soon put us at ease. I was still a law student when the Emergency was declared. And within a few days, the Additional Solicitor General tendered a simple, prosaic one-line resignation (censorship ensured that there was only a brief mention of its news in the next day’s papers tucked away somewhere inside). For my generation of lawyers, now touching 70, he was always there. Giant, colossus, doyen, pillar, and words like that seem so clichéd when you think of a man much larger than life and of such towering stature that the office of Attorney General, which eluded him, seems like a minor post.
He was the most zealous and fearless crusader for the independence of the judiciary in our lifetime. He appeared in every landmark case involving the judiciary and could in fact be said to be the real author of the collegium system. And so, his sharp criticism of the working of that system over the years has to be taken seriously. It is almost like he’s telling the young judges of the Supreme Court, “Look children, I got this created for you; now better get your act together!”
We saw him as a forbidding figure when we joined the Bar but he would make our confidence grow by complimenting us when he thought we argued well in Court. And then, as he aged, we began to think of him as a kind mentor. He became a moral compass for so many of us as we began to speak out ourselves.
Not every legal giant of his generation was the doughty, plain-speaking person that he was. They were excellent lawyers but stayed politically correct, taking care not to offend. He was nominated to the Rajya Sabha in 1999 by the Vajpayee Government but spoke independently in Parliament without ever feeling that he was obliged to the government of the day or the ruling party. Earlier, in 1998, he had refused to appear for the Gujarat government in any case after the violence against Christians in the state, as he felt the government had looked the other way.
Also read: Advocate Fali Nariman stood for what was right. Even at the risk of upsetting judges
The Fali-Soli rivalry
No tribute to Fali, the lawyer, can be complete without a mention of the great Fali – Soli rivalry which dominated the legal profession: first, in the Bombay High Court where they started and later in the Supreme Court to which they moved. Both were juniors in the chambers of the late Jamshedji Kanga, who was also the mentor to the great Hormasji Maneckji Seervai and Nani Palkhivala.
Reflecting on those days, Fali wrote touchingly in his memoir Before Memory Fades – An Autobiography, “For a long while we were rivals, later un-friendly rivals, but now, in the evening of our lives, we are friends”. And here, I must recount a great repartee from him. I was assisting Soli Sorabjee, then-Attorney General, in the Bhopal Gas tragedy review case. Fali, as is well known, was appearing for Union Carbide (many years later, he regretted appearing for them). He apologised to the judges for taking frequent sips of water during his argument, saying, “Sorry, age is catching up!” “My learned friend should try Yoga,” Soli retorted. “No, thank you!” came the reply, “I prefer my head the right side up.”
My closest and longest professional association with him was in the Ramaswami case, which was the first attempted impeachment and led to the constitution of a committee under the Judges (Inquiry) Act 1968. The committee was composed of three formidable judges, Justice PB Sawant (then sitting judge of the Supreme Court), Justice PD Desai (then Chief Justice of the Himachal Pradesh High Court and later Bombay and Calcutta High Courts) and Justice O Chinnappa Reddy (an eminent retired judge of the Supreme Court). They asked Fali and the late Rajendra Singh to assist them as senior counsel and me as the junior counsel. The sheer industry and erudition which marked his preparation and presentation were breathtaking, especially as foreign precedents were not available at the click of a button as they are now.
Also read: A great giant of law and an intellectual’, senior advocate Fali S Nariman dies at 95
Speaking for freedom
Any objective tribute must mention the failings, which even the greatest of them do have. In his quest for excellence and his anxiety to give his best, he could be very impatient with lawyers assisting him. This would often show even in court, and some judges were visibly embarrassed. And in contrast to many of his contemporaries, over whom he scored in so many respects, he didn’t keep or mentor juniors in his chamber. And there, I would say, the legal profession was let down.
Through the years and the tenure of different governments, he has spoken up for the freedom of the press and civil liberties, apart from telling the judiciary where has it gone wrong. He wrote, “I have lived and flourished in a secular India. In the fullness of time, if God wills, I would also like to die in a secular India”. Alas, that wish could not come true.
As recently as 12 December last year at the Ashok Desai Memorial Lecture by Pratap Bhanu Mehta, Fali was the guest of honour. He walked up to the stage without support and again went up to speak on the podium by himself. He told the story of the student parliament at the Government Law College, Bombay where he and his great contemporaries Soli, Anil Divan, Ashok Desai and Murlidhar Bhandare were active. He bemoaned the fact that almost all of them had gone and wondered why only a couple of them had been left behind.
God seems to have been there, hearing you, Fali. Two months later, he takes you away, leaving us orphaned.
The author is a senior Advocate in the Supreme Court of India. Views are personal.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)