Institute of Legal and Management Studies

In the days following Justice Abhay S. Oka's (hereinafter “Sir”) retirement, much has been said about his jurisprudence, his integrity, and his immense contribution to the Indian judiciary. But beyond his reported judgments lies a story that's rarely told, the story of Justice Oka as a mentor. This article is an opportunity for me to offer a glimpse into what it was to work with Sir.

On one lazy November afternoon in 2021, I received a call that fundamentally changed my career path. It was from Sir's personal secretary, inviting me for a short interview. Shortly after, I was appointed as his first law clerk, alongside my first colleague and my now close friend, Sanika Thakare. Our clerkship began on January 1, 2022, from the modest rooms at Karnataka Bhavan, just as the third wave of COVID-19 loomed.

Being his first law clerks, we stepped into a chamber where I knew it was both a privilege and a responsibility to help set a benchmark for what the role could mean in his chambers. Sir was known for his rigorous self-discipline, and sharp attention to detail so we had to set a benchmark which matched this. Sir was deeply self-reliant. He preferred handling every aspect of a case personally, which meant that in the initial weeks, our primary responsibilities involved drafting briefs and attending hearings, as we learned how to assist a judge who until then needed no assistance.

I vividly recall sitting just beyond the camera's frame during virtual proceedings, as he presided alongside Justice Ajay Rastogi. At the time, both judges conducted court proceedings remotely from their respective residences, connected through a secure line, this was during a period when physical courtrooms remained shut due to the pandemic. Watching them navigate complex matters in that makeshift virtual setup was a remarkable introduction to how the Court adapted, and how unflinching Sir was in maintaining judicial continuity.

Eventually, the chambers shifted to the memorable 5 Tughlaq Road residence, and over time, our working relationship deepened. With the arrival of Varun Dhond and Raoul Sawant, now my closest friends a small team took shape. It was then our working relationship with sir grew stronger, as the team grew, our interactions became more engaging, Sir would offer feedbacks, shared his expectations, taught us how to structure a brief, how to comb through annexures with care, and why relying solely on the synopsis or list of dates was a cardinal error.

Coming from the Bombay High Court, Sir dictated his judgments orally to his stenographer. He'd invite us to research specific questions and, when satisfied with his own drafts (often after multiple revisions), he would share them for our comments. If we ever disagreed, we were expected to back our views with solid research. These sessions showed me the weight a single sentence carries in judicial writing. They also equipped me to read judgments critically, not just for precedent, but for reasoning. Our discussions were never combative, but they were rigorous. For a law clerk, there's no greater privilege than being able to test one's argument before a Supreme Court judge without the colonial hangover of excessive formalities that often cloak such interactions. With Sir, substance always took precedence over form.

As a first-generation lawyer from a non-NLU background, I knew firsthand how difficult it could be to access opportunities as a student, especially within the higher judiciary. I proposed to Sir that we start an internship program in his chambers to give more students a chance to engage meaningfully with judicial work. He readily agreed, and added one important condition of his own: special consideration must be given to students from smaller towns and local state universities, those whose CVs may not stand out, but who still deserve a fair chance to show their potential, without being judged by their CV.

That's how the internship program began...not as a showpiece, but as a hands-on learning opportunity. It wasn't a program where you simply occupied space in expensive real estate; interns were expected to contribute meaningfully and were held accountable for the work they did. Sir asked them to brief him directly regularly, turning each interaction into a moment of mentorship and learning. These briefings were like mini-classrooms, where he would break down the essentials of case preparation and courtcraft. I take pride in having initiated that program, and I'm even more proud that subsequent batch has carried it forward.

One guiding principle which sir instilled in all of his Law Clerks was that, "Before you're a mouthpiece for your client, you're an officer of the Court." He would say the court must never be approached with unclean hands, and that integrity cannot be compromised in the name of advocacy. One evening, he told us a story that left a lasting impression on me. As a young lawyer in 2002, he had appeared in Chandrakant Govind Sutar v. M.K. Associates^[1] before Justice A.M. Khanwilkar. After the court ruled in his favour, he realised he had not placed certain binding precedents on record, precedents that went against his client. He immediately requested the matter be reopened. At the next hearing, he cited those very decisions, and the case was dismissed. J. Khanwilkar, who was then presiding, noted this in the judgment itself (Ref: para 9). He praised Mr. Oka's (as he then was) fairness and sense of duty, describing how he had upheld the standards of the profession by placing the interests of justice above client success. Years later in 2016, in para 35 of Heena Nikhil Dharia v. Kokilaben Nayak^[2], Justice G.S. Patel recalled this very incident in contrast to the conduct of an advocate who had misled the court by relying on judgments already set aside in appeal and suppressing binding precedent. That story, told without a hint of pride or performance, has stayed with me throughout my legal journey. It reflected not just a moment, but a philosophy that defines sir.

Sir's work ethic was equally legendary. During his entire tenure at the Supreme Court, he took just one day off. In his early years at the Bombay High Court, he had a 12-year streak without a single day of leave, commuting from Thane to Mumbai daily which was a 90 minutes journey one-way. At the Supreme Court, his focus was always on clearing as many matters as possible. On days with a "light" cause list of only 70 matters, he would instruct the registry to add more matters.

He stayed up late, preparing and reading every matter meticulously. For us clerks, this meant long hours, late evenings, and an unrealistic standard to match. Even on such late nights we all genuinely enjoyed the work, because we didn't act like colleagues, but we worked like a family and that's the culture Sir had imbibed in all of us. It was not only us Law Clerks but the residence staff, security personnel, and the secretariat staff, we all were part of one big Justice Oka Family.

To sum up Justice Oka in words feels reductive. He is, to me, not only a brilliant judge but a mentor who taught me how to think, to question, and to care. His chambers were a space where merit outweighed background, and where we were encouraged to speak, to dissent, and most of all to grow. As the Supreme Court becomes more accessible, I hope that even more judges adopt his approach of opening doors for diverse talent, and nurturing the next generation of lawyers with patience and purpose.

Also Read - Justice Abhay S Oka : One Of The Finest Judges, Rare Beacon Of Judicial Independence

2002 SCC OnLine Bom 1175 ↑

2016 SCC OnLine Bom 9859 ↑