As you will remember from Jess’s earlier post, we are working to establish legal aid camps in accordance with the National Legal Authorities Act of 1987. Last week Jess and I helped to draft a proposal to collaborate with the Mewat legal aid office to establish legal aid camps in the villages. The following is a description, with some pictures, of our first encounter with the law in India.
Walking into the Mewat district courthouse was slightly intimidating. If I had not been with friends I probably would have kept on driving, calling only later to reschedule my meeting with Mr. Dome at a neutral location. The front yard of the courthouse was build up with ramshackle lawyer stations, some Hindu, most, Muslim. The lawyers and police were not rowdy, but there were enough of them in a small place to build a commotion. Prisoners were being brought in through the melee, hands bound in irons attached to heavy chains.
We walked through the front yard and around the back to meet Mr. Dome. A clerk led us to Dome’s door and then asked Professor Pandey for his calling card. The clerk entered his office and quickly came out with the Professor’s card still in hand. We were asked to wait until Mr. Dome was ready to receive us. Five minutes passed before we were led in.
Mr. Dome's office was large and spacious. Perhaps it used to be either a uniform and weapons closet, or maybe a large pantry. We sat five people around his big desk waiting to begin. I was struck by Mr. Dogra’s starched stiff white shirt. It looked like it was hand-made for him many years ago. He was probably a little shorter than 5’ 9” tall, and rotund. He had a thick black mustache, trimmed too short on one side, but otherwise he had a perfectly manicured face. His jerry-curled hair rose almost a quarter of an inch over his bald head giving him the appearance of wearing a large horse shoe.
The conversation ebbed and flowed, all in Hindi. Jess and I sipped our tea – masala tea, usually with milk and too much sugar – trying to overcome our nausea from the ride into town, when I realized that Mr. Dome was talking to me in Hindi. I begged his pardon, and he switched to English long enough to tell me that first I needed to learn some of the culture and language, then I could try to help the community. I nodded politely and Mr. Dome resumed his conversation with Professor Pandey in Hindi. But, Mr. Dome was not done with me. Dome began speaking to me in Hindi again, and I, again, begged his pardon. He switched to English to tell me that the district we wanted to work in was 99% Muslim, that the mothers were teaching their children Jihad, and that I should be careful. Again I nodded politely. Finally, Mr. Dome asked me if I knew who Osama bin Laden was. I bowed my head lightly thinking to myself that this man is trying hard to frighten me. I was temped to say that the ax hangs over all of us and it is no reason to avoid doing good work because we are afraid we might get scratched. But, I didn’t say that. Our conversation was at a disappointing end. Mr. Dome had not agreed to collaborate with us, although he also had not denied our proposal. I am told this is a win for us.
Mr. Dome showed us what he was doing to improve legal literacy and human rights in Mewat. First, he showed us his legal aid office. It was through the gauntlet of lawyers, prisoners and police officers running to and fro. Then, Mr. Dome described a legal aid van that drives around the district like an ice cream truck, waiting to be flagged down by people in need of help. We are told the newspaper has taken pictures of it. And, Mr. Dome invited us to visit a legal aid center on the Alwar Highway – the main highway from Gurgaon to Mewat. We visited the center on our way home. The gate was closed but unlocked so we walked in. All the doors were open but no one was there. A lonely sentry strolled in but did not deny us a look around. As you can see, the aid center is empty. Mr. Dome has not yet hung out his shingle to the public.
This was our first experience with the law in India.
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