Was recently summoned—not by the court, mind you, but by destiny—to argue a pre-arrest bail matter under the PC Act in the noble trial courts of Bihar.
The client had received the honour of being summoned post-cognizance on a chargesheet. Being cautious creatures, we moved a pre-arrest bail under the illuminating glow of Satender Kumar Antil, armed with the Supreme Court's wisdom that courts ought not to behave like jail-brokers in robe.
Just before I was to unleash my well-prepared arguments, the local counsel—calm as a monk and blunt as a hammer—whispered, "Don't get your hopes up. Court's already denied 7-8 identical bails of co-accused." Apparently, the court was on a judicial losing streak.
Nonetheless, as members of the noble profession who thrive on optimism, caffeine (and sometime on nicotine) and binding precedents, I decided to press on.
Day 1: The court was interactive, alert, and almost Socratic. Every legal question hurled was returned with a clean drive to the fence. The Bench appeared intrigued, perhaps even mildly impressed. It directed us to file a short note on the post-Antil jurisprudential journey. We nodded dutifully, mistaking judicial curiosity for impending benevolence.
Day 2: Short note filed with the sincerity of a UPSC aspirant. Arguments ran for 90 minutes. The Bench listened, leaned forward, nodded, scribbled—classic signs of hope. The prosecution, sensing things going south, cleverly sought a date. Granted, of course!
Day 3: The prosecution arrived, delivered a 15-minute monologue—zero law, pure facts, mostly fiction. In rejoinder, argued the punchline of the season: "If the arrest was so essential, why didn't you arrest him during investigation? Now that you've let him roam free, why must the court step in as your arresting tool?"
Echoed well in the gallery. Silent applause ensued. Lawyers unaffiliated with the case patted backs and muttered confident blessings: "Done deal. Bail granted."
Everyone was convinced. Everyone—except me.
As it happens in litigation—where optimism is a liability and cynicism a survival trait—the order arrived four days later. Bail: Denied.
The order was proof that law may evolve, arguments may impress, and Supreme Court judgments may bind, but trial courts—well, they often remain romantically committed to the idea that custody is the answer to all existential questions.
Now we march to the High Court, riding on the chariot of Article 21 and Supreme Court precedents. But as any seasoned litigator will tell you: in this profession, the only thing more uncertain than the law is tomorrow's cause list. And yet, I still ponder the mystery of those three dates— hours of travel, toil, and temperance. If rejection was preordained, why the entire Shakespearean drama?
Originally published April 30, 2025.
The content of this article is intended to provide a general guide to the subject matter. Specialist advice should be sought about your specific circumstances.
