The Trump administration is gagging America’s immigration judges

The change comes at a time when the perspective of immigration judges would be particularly valuable to the public.

For more than two years, immigration judges have been subject to a policy that more or less prevents them from performing an essential part of their civic duties: speaking publicly about their work.

Since September 2017, immigration judges and all other employees at the Justice Department’s Executive Office for Immigration Review have been required to adhere to an onerous pre-approval process whenever they desire or are invited to speak publicly on any issue, immigration-related or not. I learned of the policy through a Freedom of Information Act request my colleagues made to the department, as part of an investigation I’ve been conducting on the intersection of free speech and U.S. border enforcement.

It is not uncommon for government agencies to set rules on employee conduct and outside activities. But the perspective of immigration judges is particularly valuable to the public, especially one grappling with complicated questions about America’s immigration laws. In his 2019 year-end report on the federal judiciary, Chief Justice John Roberts commended American judges who, “without fanfare or acclaim,” take time to reach out to their communities in all sorts of public-education initiatives. As Ashley Tabaddor, the president of the National Association of Immigration Judges, told Congress in 2018, immigration judges “help the community better understand our immigration courts and their function in the community, helping to demystify the system and bring transparency about our operations to the public.”

LOREN ELLIOTT / REUTERS

Although immigration judges are employees of the executive branch, they’re judges in the truest sense of the term, presiding over cases that have enormous consequences for asylum seekers or people facing removal from the U.S. The Trump administration appears determined to remove from the public’s view the very people the chief justice  and Tabaddor believe play an essential role in promoting public confidence in the administration of justice. The Justice Department should heed their call—rescind its misguided policy and let judges speak.

In the 2017 memo, the official overseeing the work of immigration judges, James McHenry III, did acknowledge that “the public has become increasingly interested in hearing about, and understanding, what the agency does and specifically how Immigration Courts operate.” But the policy went on to severely restrict judges’ freedom to speak even in a personal capacity about these matters, requiring them to seek permission through the chain of command. “Supervisors will determine the capacity in which an employee is speaking,” McHenry’s memo stated, thus effectively eliminating a judge’s discretion to speak about immigration in public settings, even with a disclaimer that he or she was doing so in a personal capacity. Supervising judges and other senior employees have it even worse—they are simply forbidden from speaking at public events in a personal capacity at all.

Lawyers at the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, where I’ve been conducting my investigation, believe that the policy violates the First Amendment, and in early January issued a letter asking the Justice Department to suspend it. Their reasoning was grounded in well-settled Supreme Court precedent. In the 1968 case Pickering v. Board of Education, the Supreme Court recognized that public employees’ “right to speak on issues of public importance” doesn’t vanish the moment they take a government job. For the government to restrain public employees’ ability to speak, the Supreme Court has said, the Constitution requires officials to show that their interest in restraining speech outweighs employees’ interest in speaking and the public’s interest in hearing what they have to say. “The Government must show,” Justice John Paul Stevens explained in a 1995 case, “that the interests of both potential audiences and a vast group of present and future employees in a broad range of present and future expression are outweighed by that expression’s ‘necessary impact on the actual operation’ of the Government.” That’s a heavy lift.

The Justice Department hasn’t officially responded to the lawyers’ letter. But in mid-January, McHenry’s office did reply in a way: It purported to reissue the 2017 memorandum, calling it “established policy,” and unveiled an online portal through which immigration judges may submit their speaking-engagement requests for approval. According to the department, the new portal was necessary “to provide for more certainty and clarity” for judges, an implicit acknowledgment that the earlier guidance was causing confusion among immigration judges. (The reissued policy hasn’t been made public, but a person familiar with it showed it to me.)

Despite the claim that this was merely a reissuing, the policy did change: It now covers more types of speech. In a footnote, the government says that “speaking engagements” should also be understood to mean “written pieces intended for publication in any print or online media.” In other words, through its pre-approval process, the Justice Department wants to police, and possibly suppress, even more expression by immigration judges.

Under the new guidance, the Executive Office for Immigration Review (EOIR) remains the sole arbiter for what counts as official- or personal-capacity speech, with near-total discretion to deny speaking requests through a laborious process that includes layers of review by a judge’s supervisor and three separate offices within the agency. “This process,” the new memo states, “ensures compliance with both the law and agency policy and consistency in EOIR’s communications.” Elsewhere, the policy notes that the red tape for personal speaking engagements is necessary “to determine whether they involve genuinely personal capacity events, whether there are any ethics concerns with the engagement, and whether the engagement will disrupt EOIR operations by requiring the employee to miss work.”

The effect of the restrictions on speaking engagements has been profound, according to representatives for the National Association of Immigration Judges and organizations that in years past have hosted these judges. Before the 2017 policy went into effect, immigration judges routinely spoke at national conferences, law schools, and educational seminars about the intricacies of immigration law and how specific policies played out in their courtrooms. Now organizations such as the Federal Bar Association, the American Immigration Lawyers Association, the Practising Law Institute, and Human Rights First can no longer count on the expertise of immigration judges at their events or trainings. Some of these organizations have turned to relying instead on retired immigration judges, according to Laura Lynch, a senior policy counsel with the American Immigration Lawyers Association. “We have been lucky that retired IJs have been willing to participate,” she told me in an email. Mark Shmueli, an immigration attorney who has organized many immigration conferences, said in an interview that he no longer bothers reaching out to active immigration judges. “We don’t even try any more,” he said. In a later email, he added: “Judges are definitely muzzled.” For their part, a number of law professors from different parts of the country raised alarms in a Slate article about how judges have had to turn down invitations to speak to their students.

Some judges, an NAIJ representative told me, don’t want to go through the trouble of seeking permission from their superiors at the Justice Department—and thus miss out on speaking opportunities altogether. And many of those who do seek permission are denied it, according to records maintained by the union. One judge, for example, was not allowed to speak about the legal standards for asylum at a conference; another wasn’t allowed to speak about the basics of immigration law at an educational conference. Others were denied approval to speak about the duties of judges and the mission of the immigration-court system, and to present at a county-bar meeting about best practices for bringing asylum claims. Pro bono trainings, which aim to teach lawyers how to provide free services to clients who couldn’t otherwise afford an attorney, are also off the table.

Perhaps the most absurd manifestation of the directive is how it prevents immigration judges from officiating at naturalization ceremonies—the pinnacle of the immigration experience for many new Americans. Amiena Khan, the executive vice president of NAIJ and a Manhattan judge, told me that in New York City, immigration judges no longer offer welcoming remarks or administer the oath at these ceremonies. For many judges, she told me, the ceremonies were the highlight of their time on the bench. Reflecting on the years he swore in new citizens, George Chew, a recently retired New York judge, shared with me the message he’d give new citizens: “I remember my standard speech was an exhortation for the new citizens to register to vote. I’d say, Your vote is equal to Donald Trump’s vote,” he told me in an email. As a result of the Justice Department’s policy, these new Americans are now being deprived of these civic reminders from people who have seen firsthand the legal hurdles immigrants face on the path to citizenship.

U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which conducts administrative swearings-in for new citizens, confirmed with me through a spokesperson that no immigration judges have participated in any such ceremonies “in recent months” in Manhattan, and referred further questions to the Justice Department. When I asked the department about judges’ exclusion from naturalization ceremonies, another spokesperson told me that it “considers requests to administer the oath of citizenship as immigration judges’ schedules permit.” She added that the agency’s “primary mission is to adjudicate immigration cases,” which I took to mean that civic engagement and public education in the immigration realm aren’t priorities.

In my conversations with the immigration judges’ union and the would-be listeners who are affected by this policy, I’ve discovered that just about everyone sees it as an attempt by the Trump administration to control the message—to manufacture the appearance of consensus about the fairness and efficiency of the government’s immigration agenda. But anyone who has closely followed how the Justice Department has tried to keep immigration judges in line knows that that appearance does not square with reality: The abridgment of judges’ right to speak publicly quashes dissent and prevents the public from knowing what is happening at the nation’s immigration courts.

Perhaps the Justice Department doesn’t want judges to talk about how case backlogs have ballooned since Trump took office, to more than 1 million in 2019. Or to be frank about how they are now subject to case-completion quotas that may jeopardize their jobs. Or to explain that the attorney general has the power to overrule immigration rulings that he doesn’t like; that now even a political appointee has the authority to interfere with the adjudication process; and that the government is trying to decertify the immigration judges’ union, which in January appeared before a labor board in Washington to fight for its future.

All of this, and then some, is already in the public record, and judges are uniquely positioned to tell others about it. As Tabaddor, the president of the union, told me recently, the policy was “designed to intimidate and to muzzle anyone that would speak publicly.” That runs counter to America’s commitment to freedom of speech. Immigration judges, more than anyone else in America’s bloated immigration bureaucracy, should be able to speak about how immigration law and policy are shaping the adjudication of cases that come before them.

(Source: The Atlantic)

Suman Kumari makes history, becomes Pakistan’s first Hindu woman judge

Suman Kumari has become the first Hindu woman in Pakistan to be appointed as a civil judge, according to a media report.

Suman, who hails from Qambar-Shahdadkot, will serve in her native district.

She passed her LLB examination from Hyderabad and did her masters in law from Karachi's Szabist University, Dawn reported.

According to Pawan Kumar Bodan, her father, Suman wants to provide free legal assistance to the poor in Qambar-Shahdadkot.

According to her father, Suman wants to provide free legal assistance to the poor in
Qambar-Shahdadkot.(Photo Courtesy: Twitter/@Danyal Gilani)

“Suman has opted for a challenging profession, but I am sure she will go places through hard work and honesty.” - Pawan Kumar Bodan, Suman’s father

Her father is an eye specialist while Suman's elder sister is a software engineer and another sister is a chartered accountant.

Suman is a fan of singers Lata Mangeshkar and Atif Aslam.

This is not the first time that a person from the Hindu community has been appointed as a judge. The first judge from the Hindu community was Justice Rana Bhagwandas, who served as the acting chief justice for brief periods between 2005 and 2007.

Hindus make up nearly 2 percent of Pakistan's total population and Hinduism remains the second largest religion in Pakistan after Islam.

(Source: The Quint)

When ‘Japanese only’ rules were OK, and other odd Supreme Court cases

Yes, reading about the court’s orotund rulings can be a tough slog, even for us professionals. But if you spend enough time sifting through the gravel pits of grandiloquent legalese you find the occasional gem, writes Colin P.A. Jones, a professor at Doshisha Law School in Kyoto, on the JT. Read on: 

Did that headline grab you? I hope so. Because we really need to clickbait more of our online readers. How else are we supposed to get them to digest and discuss an article about Japanese Supreme Court cases?

Yes, reading about the court’s orotund rulings can be a tough slog, even for us professionals. But if you spend enough time sifting through the gravel pits of grandiloquent legalese you find the occasional gem. Today’s column will introduce some quirky things Japan’s top court has decided (including the case in the shameless teaser headline).

The case of the cat corpse and the night soil
First, my personal favorite: In 1992 the court had to decide whether putting a dead cat painted red in a fire chief’s desk drawer and dog feces in his coat pocket, “thereby hindering his ability to receive reports from his subordinate officials or perform the duty to decide various matters scheduled in the morning on that day,” constituted “force” for purposes of banging up the joker who did it for the crime of “forcible obstruction of business.” Of course, it did: conviction upheld. Nice that they made that clear, though.

Stretching the letter of the law
Reading criminal cases makes you numb to the reliability with which Japanese courts find a way to arrive at a conviction or uphold one on appeal. Occasionally, though, a judge takes a stand for justice, the presumption of innocence and clarity of law.

This involves some effort. Supreme Court judgments are researched and initially drafted by subordinate research judges staffed to the court. Judges who want to write their own dissenting or concurring opinions, however, are on their own. Some former top jurists even report having their proposed separate opinions disdainfully returned by researchers, full of red-lining.

This is why it seems bizarre to see, in a case from Nov. 20, 2008, Judge Mutsuo Tahara writing an extended dissent from a judgment affirming the conviction of a man for the obscene act of “stalking a female customer at a shopping building and taking photographs of her buttocks in trousers with his cellular phone.” Available in all its glory on the court’s English website, his dissent includes a phrase rarely seen in Supreme Court jurisprudence: “I will examine the act of ‘looking at’ another person’s ‘buttocks,’ which precedes the act of taking a photograph of the same.”

Accepting that it “is true that the act of ‘looking at another person’s buttocks’ can be judged to be ‘obscene’ if it means ‘looking at’ the buttocks while putting one’s face close to them,” Takahara goes on to explain why simply taking bum snaps from a respectable distance does not constitute “obscenity.”

To be fair, police overreach through strained interpretation of the law is a problem everywhere. But it’s still odd to see this particular case being chosen as the place to draw that line.

In a similar vein, in 1978 the court took a stand against City Hall. A municipal authority had sought to shut down a “soapland” quasi-brothel by approving the construction of a playground nearby, which would then make operation of the soapland illegal (because … the children!). The court found this to be a tortious abuse of government power and the aggrieved plaintiff to be entitled to damages.

Abuse of power was also at issue in a 2002 case in which the court actually invalidated a village mayoral election. The incumbent mayor had used the powers of the office to prevent the town hall from issuing to a challenger a family registry extract, one of the documents required to apply to stand for election. Running unopposed, the incumbent won until the courts decided a do-over was required.

When doubt is unreasonable
A 2007 criminal case is sometimes cited for guidance as to what the “beyond a reasonable doubt” evidentiary standard for criminal convictions means. A man going through a messy divorce “made an explosive by connecting a considerable quantity of (chemicals) … with a detonating device consisting of an ignition heater, battery, etc., and putting it into a file case, and then putting this case into a nonstandard-size postal envelope.” He then mailed this to his mother-in-law.

Where justice rules?: The Supreme Court of Japan's gray exterior belies some of the quirky cases that have been heard within its walls. | VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS, CC BY-SA 3.0

The murder attempt failed and the man was caught and convicted. The Supreme Court’s opinion shows the fine level of detail Japanese courts (usually lower ones) feel necessary to put in their judgments. A week before the parcel was delivered, the man had “by using the computer situated at his residence, accessed and browsed internet websites that provide information on the methods for producing explosive substances … and methods for making detonating devices” and “purchased acetone and other chemicals … in the quantity that seems to have been used to produce the explosive.” There is also a long description of the stamps used, the color printer on which the address label had been printed, the postbox into which the package was dropped and so on. It almost reads as a manual on how not to send a letter bomb.

The appeal was grounded in the conviction being based only on circumstantial evidence, there having been no confession. Conceding the accused had in fact purchased the chemicals, his lawyer argued it had been used for other things. Also, it was possible that he didn’t purchase at least 10 of the 24 stamps used. And so forth.

The court wasn’t having it, declaring that the “beyond a reasonable doubt” standard did not mean that judges could not convict in the face of the possible existence of abstract alternatives or contrary facts.

He was asking for it, guv
The courts are more forgiving of police when they stray from the righteous path. In a 1997 case, the police had executed a search warrant on a residence and found illegal drugs. When presented with evidence of his guilt, the occupant said “Sonna aho na” (“That’s ridiculous”), which earned him a sound beating.

Considering whether the drugs should be excluded as evidence, the court acknowledged that “although the illegal acts by the police officials were committed at the scene of search, the violence occurred after the article of evidence was discovered and it was induced by the accused’s remarks.” Conviction upheld; apparently the beating was his fault too.

Guilty no matter what
A classic is the 1948 case where the court first ruled on the constitutionality of the death penalty. In a judgment containing the memorable phrase “the life of a single person is heavier than the Earth,” the court nonetheless upheld the appellant’s death sentence. At the time, the U.S. Occupation authorities were preparing to hang Hideki Tojo and other former Japanese leaders for war crimes, so any other conclusion would probably have been inconvenient.

A 1996 case affirmed a conviction for violating a proscription on the capture (hokaku) of birds using a bow and arrow (yumiya). The offender had used a “Western-style bow” (crossbow or yōkyūjū). As a former Dungeons & Dragons aficionada, I was disappointed by the lack of discussion into whether a crossbow was the same as a Japanese longbow. Instead, the court focused on whether you could still be guilty of “capturing” a bird if your arrow (I know, “bolt”) missed. Of course you could: conviction affirmed.

The court has been more discriminating when it comes to swords. Japan not only has famously stringent gun control, but tight sword control also. How tight? In a 1996 case, the court considered an appeal over a conviction for having a “cutting tool … for use at a traditional ritual of cutting food.” The court didn’t care that it was just a big cooking knife rather than a sword: conviction upheld.

Not all swords are created equal
The real discrimination came in the headline case, a 1990 case under the same law, which contains an exception allowing possession of swords (tōkenrui) that have cultural or artistic value and are registered with the authorities. The implementing regulations, however, only recognize Japanese swords (Nihontō) as eligible for registration.

The case was brought by someone seeking to register a Western saber. In a surprisingly long judgment (seven pages including a dissenting opinion) the Supreme Court declined to expand the exception to grubby Western swords. It explained that, after Japan’s defeat in World War II, Occupation authorities had sought to disarm the Japanese people completely. But the Japanese government had been able to wheedle an exception based on the aesthetic worth of Japanese swords, which are made using unique techniques that entitle them to special treatment as cultural artifacts in a way other swords are not. Two of the five judges dissented because the law itself clearly applied to all swords and the more restrictive implementing regulations should thus be invalid.

Forcing a confession
Finally, there is the only interesting civil case I have come across, a 2001 appellate judgment in a tort case brought by the developer of game software against a vendor of game-mod (modification) devices.

The software at issue was “a love simulation game in which the main character … becomes a student of a fictitious high school, selects his favorite schoolgirl from among the characters in the game and, with the aim of receiving a confession of love from this schoolgirl on the graduation day, steps up efforts through studying, incidents, events, etc., he experiences during three years, to develop his capabilities that deserve to receive a confession of love from his favorite schoolgirl. … The story is supposed to unfold based on the assumption that no schoolgirls appear until the values of the apparent parameters reach a certain level.”

The heinous game-mod devices ruined this wholesome game by making some schoolgirls appear prematurely and enabling players to skip straight to graduation and unfailingly reach “a level that is necessary to receive a confession of love from the player’s favorite schoolgirl.” Judgment for plaintiff upheld — without any creepy dissents. Who says there is no justice?

Do we have justiciable evidence against CJI Dipak Misra?

The charge against Chief Justice Dipak Misra is serious. But do we have justiciable evidence? asks Pratap Bhanu Mehta, vice-chancellor of Ashoka University, in The Indian Express. Read on: 

In times of deep institutional crisis the invocation of moral conscience, a reminder that posterity will adversely judge those who sold their souls is, on the face of it, an important and courageous gesture. Four Supreme Court Justices, with formidable reputations, have taken the unprecedented step of going public with their disquiet about the chief justice. They have confirmed that the Supreme Court is facing a serious crisis of legitimacy. Their concerns deserve serious attention. If handled well, this could be a moment for the regeneration of the Court. But Indian institutions are also replete with examples where self-validating moral consciences quickly descend into a grammar of anarchy. The challenge will be to ensure that this does not happen.

This case is particularly tricky because of the nature of the charge. The core issue in this instance is that the justices have lost confidence in the chief justice, Dipak Misra. They are alleging grave misconduct on his part. In that sense, the allegations are personal. Long-standing structural issues relating to the power of chief justices, Memorandum of Procedure, appointments, etc are in the backdrop of this case. The Court has been acting arbitrarily in a lot of cases. This crisis has been built up over a number of years with the complicity of a large number of justices. But this case is not about these issues. The judges can institutionally advocate reform. Some of the individuals will also, as future chief justices, have opportunities to initiate reform. Debate or advocacy over judicial reform does not require this kind of a public accusation. The core issue in this instance is the conduct of this particular chief justice.

This column is no fan of the chief justice. But we have to carefully parse out the issues. The core claim seems to be the chief justice has departed from convention and seems to be allocating cases in ways his colleagues find objectionable. But the gravity of this charge comes from two implications. First, that this is not just a departure from convention but an attempt to fix cases or manipulate the outcome, perhaps in politically sensitive cases.

The charges are serious only for this reason. Otherwise, the most you can accuse the chief justice of is lack of administrative skills and lack of judgement when it comes to handling processes. These are not trivial matters. But if it were merely these matters, they could have held their noses for a bit. It is only when you think that the stench of wrong doing is so overwhelming that you go public.

Justice Chelameswar, Ranjan Gogoi, Madan Lokur and Kurian Joseph at the press conference. (Express Photo/Abhinav Saha)

The second implication is that those judges to whom cases are being assigned will also somehow, at least in the chief justice’s mind, be amenable to being fixed. So the issue is not just four justices versus the chief justice. The issue is four justices questioning not just the integrity of the chief justice, but also by implication, of their colleagues. We are disposed to believe the truth of these accusations because there is a distrust in the integrity of the Court (like there was distrust of politicians).

But two difficulties arise. How do we adjudicate this core accusation? The charge is serious. For all we know, it may very well be true. But do we have justiciable evidence? The charge is so serious, that if there is evidence, it warrants formal proceedings against the chief justice. If any political party has evidence that the chief justice has exercised his discretion to “fix” cases, they should initiate impeachment proceedings. And the judges who went public will have to be material witnesses.

On the other hand, if the charge does not rise to this level of seriousness, or there is no justiciable evidence, then is it right to accuse the chief justice of wrongdoing publicly? The justiciable standard may be too high, but it is the only one that can apply when such a grave accusation is made. Or else you have the grammar of anarchy. It is alarming when legal luminaries from judges to lawyers, now use hearsay to pronounce guilt or innocence. Or the entire discourse has become about inferring motives. Poor Justice Karnan must be wondering why his more direct accusations against judges invited contempt.

The core issue in this instance is that the justices have lost confidence in the chief justice, Dipak Misra (File)

There is no half-way house when it comes to guilt or innocence. The judge’s press conference, and the artfully evasive letter, seem to suggest there is. But now that they have gone public, they have to follow through on the seriousness of the charge; otherwise this is just pressure tactics. It is dangerous pressure tactics because one implication will be that any “pro-government” decision on a bench allotted by the chief justice, will now have the imprimatur of doubt over it.

But the question is who will do the adjudication of the chief justice’s guilt? There is now no way of avoiding this question. The second dilemma is this. It is a good thing that everyone talking about institutional reform. Some, like a little more formalisation of the powers of the chief justice, are good things.

But given the nature of the accusation, those reforms are not what is at stake here. What is at stake is: How do you punish an errant chief justice? The Constitution secured the independence of the judiciary by making it nearly impossible to act against judges. The question is: Do you want to lower that protection? On the one hand, the implicit claim is that, as it is, the government is finding it easy to influence the judiciary.

Will giving the government more role in appointing judges or disciplining them weaken or strengthen judicial independence? So the dilemma will be this. The judiciary’s spectacular own-goal will increase calls for new mechanisms of accountability. But will those new mechanisms weaken or strengthen judicial independence? The political thrust of the current crisis and the punitive mood within the judiciary will increase the likelihood of reform that will threaten independence.

Can the judiciary recover? If Dipak Misra, as an act of statesmanship, addresses the fact that he has lost the confidence of the collegium and finds ways to recover it, perhaps. But this is unlikely. Taking charges the logical conclusion will be difficult. If they don’t follow through, then the whole drama becomes a saga of pressure tactics, intrigue and innuendo. The future does not look good. The usual Indian solution will be to sit out the crisis. The only silver lining is that in a year with so many important cases, the judiciary can redeem itself by the cogency of its reasoning and display its integrity.

Home-cooked food, gossip and bonhomie: How SC judges bond over weekly lunches

Wednesdays are special for the Supreme Court judges. They wait for the hour-long lunch break that day with keen anticipation.

All 28 of them rise ten minutes before the clock strikes 1pm, go to their chambers for a quick change and then proceed towards the common dining hall where a delectable three-course meal awaits the “lordships”.

The lip-smacking cuisine from a particular part of the country is not sourced from a restaurant or hotel, but is home-cooked.

A sitting SC judge hosts the weekly common lunch. The dishes are part of the host judge’s home state, prepared at his residence.

A minimum of five food items have to be served in the main course and paan – as per each judge’s choice – is a must to end the lunch. Sources said judges sometimes call cooks from their native place to prepare dishes with the right local flavour.

On other working days judges eat lunch in their own chambers.

This Wednesday the judges tucked into home-made traditional food from Madhya Pradesh that was cooked at Justice Arun Misra’s residence. Pumpkin soup, bharvan bhindi and baingan, malai-kofta and paneer lababdar were on the menu. More than the main course, the dessert was much appreciated. “The roasted kheer, pineapple kesar halwa and maalpua were just to die for,” a judge told HT.

Last week Justice RK Agrawal from Uttar Pradesh was the host. Dry green peas, kadhai paneer and dum aloo flavoured with local spices were laid out at lunch time.

THE JUSTICES ARE SERVED
In a charming tradition, Supreme Court judges meet for lunch every week, with each of them taking turns to bring ghar ka khana from his or her home state.

1Jagdish Singh Khehar
2Adarsh Kumar Goel
3Deepak Gupta
4N.V. Ramana
5Abhay Manohar Sapre
6Kurian Joseph He brought dishes from Kerala such as spicy mushroom laced with gravy, kappa (tapioca), parboiled rice, papad, neatly chopped pineapples and the unusually long ripe bananas found in the state
7Navin Sinha
8Madan Bhimarao Lokur
9Arun Mishra
10Prafulla Chandra Pant
11Ranjan Gogoi
12Sharad Arvind Bobde Recently, he treated his fellow judges to sambhar wadi with mircha ka thecha, patal bhazi and arhar ki daal cooked in Maharashtrian style. Puran poli (a special dal-stuffed chapatti) with ghee was the high point of the meal
13S. Abdul Nazeer
14R.K. Agrawal
15Ashok Bhushan
16Uday Umesh Lalit
17L. Nageswara Rao
18Mohan M. Shantanagoudar
19Pinaki Chandra Ghose
20R.F. Nariman
21Sanjay Kishan Kaul
22R. Banumathi
23Amitava Roy
24A.M. Khanwilkar
25Dipak Misra
26D.Y. Chandrachud
27Arjan Kumar Sikri brought Rajasthani delicacies when it was his turn: bajre ki roti, bajre ki kichidi, dal bati churma and Rajasthani kadi
28Jasti Chelameswar He treated the judges to spicy sambar, rasam, idli, dosa, salt pongal, avakkai (mango pickle) and gongura (sorrel leaf) pachadi

The week before that Justice SA Bobde from Maharashtra treated his fellow judges to sambhar wadi with mircha ka thecha, patal bhazi and arhar ki daal cooked Maharashtrian style. Puran poli (a special dal-stuffed chapatti) with ghee was the delicacy that afternoon.

And before that the judges had Rajasthani delicacies from Justice AK Sikri’s kitchen - bajre ki roti, bajre ki kichidi, dal bati churma and Rajasthani kadi.

Vegetables from Justice Kurien Joseph’s own kitchen garden were used to cook traditional dishes from Kerala such as spicy mushroom laced with gravy, kappa (tapioca), parboiled rice, papad, followed by neatly chopped pineapples. The unusually long ripe bananas from the state were served after the meal.

Justice J Chelameswar, who stirred a controversy with his decision to skip collegium meetings, too was a good host when it was his turn. His lunch treat of spicy sambar, rasam, idli, dosa, salt pongal, avakkai (mango pickle) and gongura (sorrel leaf) pachadi left the judges licking their fingers.

An unwritten rule is strictly followed at these lunches – only vegetarian cuisine is served to respect the sentiments of those who do not eat non-vegetarian food. The host is selected according to the judge’s seniority.

Justice AK Patnaik, who retired in June 2014, fondly remembers how the then Chief Justice Altamas Kabir had added a new rule not to convert the lunch into a competition between judges. “He introduced a penalty for those who exceeded the number of dishes fixed by him,” Justice Patnaik recalls.

“Behind every successful meal is a judge’s wife,” a senior judge told HT. But not for Justice R Banumathi – the lone woman judge – who would have to supervise the lunch herself when her turn comes.

The Wednesday lunch not only gives judges an opportunity to taste a variety of Indian cuisines, but also shows their bonhomie. Work is never discussed and judges leave their differences at the door. Food is the only topic of discussion with some of the judges boasting about their local cuisines.

A senior judge is appointed as the marshall and he penalises any judge who breaks the rules. At present Justice Bobde is the marshall. An argument with the marshall can aggravate the penalty.

“A marshall is like a class monitor to whom a complaint is made if a judge is seen breaching the rules. He is also the one who announces the end of the dinner that follows a standing ovation for the host judge,” a sitting judge told HT on condition of anonymity.

Retired judge Justice Kuldeep Singh who suggested the idea of the weekly lunches in the early Nineties gets nostalgic when asked about what triggered the idea. “Justice Ranganath Misra was the Chief Justice then and he agreed for the weekly lunch so that we could all get together. It gave a personal touch and became an exciting event which everyone looked forward to,” Justice Singh said.

It was an opportunity to unwind and relax over food. “Therefore, the rule that work should never be discussed. When we left our gowns in the chambers, we also left our work behind. I always looked forward to meals from south,” Justice Singh recollects.

Justice GS Singvhi who retired three years ago also has fond memories to share. “Those were the only moments when we never discussed work. The lunch ensured that we brushed up our knowledge related to food cooked in our houses” he told HT.

Nor can he forget the south Indian dishes he had at these lunches. “Home-made paisam (dessert), rasam and brown rice of Kerala were my favourites. I never eat sweets due to my sugar problem, but I could not resist the home-made paisam served by a brother judge from the south,” he says.

“Yes, it was difficult for judges to avoid home-cooked preparations, despite health issues. When it was my turn I got two types of dessert ready, which included a sugar-free dessert. To my surprise nobody touched the sugar-free sweet and I always thought that judges were too old,” muses Justice Patnaik who enjoyed the variety of chutneys his brother judge from the South got for lunch.

A judge recollects how Justice Aftab Alam in his farewell speech on April 18, 2013 described the Wednesday lunch as a congregation of “mini India.” “He said the one thing he would miss post retirement would be the weekly lunch,” the judge recalls.

Former Chief Justice of India RM Lodha holds a similar view. “The Supreme Court is a mini India. You have judges from all over the country. The lunch used to a gastronomical delight of regional cuisine,” he told HT.

Justice Lodha had served dal-bati when it was his turn to host the lunch. “It was soaked in ghee and I remember that after the lunch session all the judges felt so sleepy.” Justice Singhvi, who also got dal-bati, says his preparation was different from Justice Lodha’s family recipe. “Dal-bati is cooked differently in the Jodhpur region and in the Jaipur region of Rajasthan. That is the beauty of Indian food,” he explains.

The lunch is laid out on a large rectangular table presided by the CJI. The host sits on his right and gives a brief introduction about the dishes. The rest sit wherever they like.

However, the seating arrangement keeps changing. During former CJI HL Dattu’s tenure, the judges used to sit around circular tables and places were decided as per the lucky draw. A judge recollects how the present CJI JS Khehar ended up sitting next to Justice Dattu thrice. And when the former CJI asked him what conspiracy he was up to, CJI Khehar said it was the lucky draw’s fault!

(Source: HT)