AN ADVOCATES OATH.

     — Siddhant Karki*

In polished Oxfords, 

I tread these shabby Kutchery halls alone,

A silent vow that clings beneath my bone, 

Where sunlight through these wide windows hardly falls, 

A tattered curtain to tether, though time has bid it to depart. 

I tell myself, I still have my moral oath to honour,

“Justice and loyalty are mine to bear.”


At Seventy-four, the ordinary tasks get difficult you see,

I used to hurry these slopes downhill, Trying to reach before my Mentor, 

Back when I was still Forty. 

Britain & Brunei taught me well, 

To serve as a Gorkha Soldier under Her Majesty, 

It may have brought pride to many, 

I am proud, please don’t get me wrong, 

But I realised my hometown silently awaited me, 

So I decided to take a self-imposed retirement,

To be back to my hills, to my people, and of course back to my family.


Maybe I’ll hang up my boots next year or so, 

And decide to write more often, 

To hopefully awaken my people, Perhaps through witty punchlines, 

That may make them chortle gleefully, 

But also hit them in the gut wretchedly, 

I have to muster some courage to write, if not for me, 

For my people, for the sake of past glories, for the pledge of future Horizons and, 

For the one and only dream; The dream of Gorkha Independence.


Returning to the contemporary, 

My patterned tie is knotted symmetric, tight & exact,

 My wife used to do it better though. 

I’ve got my Documents stacked in my right hand, 

Arguments ready crisp & clear, I revised my case once again, 

On one of my favourite silent green benches, 

obviously, lined with a deep, sombre fear. 

I reached the door, took a deep one, then headed in, I consoled myself again 

”The District & Sessions court is not a WWII war zone, Relax you hot-blooded Lahure.”


Inside the chamber, voices lift and fall like rain, 

I wonder if each question was seeking meaning, motive, justice, or right? 

I listen through the verdicts and refrain from trembling at the echoes in my sight. 

My turn next, I stand, I serve, I perform, I weigh what must be weighed,

I demand righteousness, I demand justice,

My words, my witness, my client, holding steady in the dim light, 

Yet somewhere in the stillness, the jury has strayed, 

A curveball I wasn’t prepared for, evidence shows up, an envelope that’s light. 

What should I do? What’s my next manoeuvre?


It was something the client kept from me, 

The envelope revealed a past conflict, 

A conflict where the twin of my client was involved, 

A twin sister who has been missing since the 2000s. 

Proof that both the twin & my client were guilty. 

Adjust, improvise or should I just lie? Will I be able to sleep tonight? 

Takes me back to the Peckham Murder story of ‘The Case for the Defence.’ 

As I close my eyes, my dead wife manifests herself before me, to scold and to counsel me, ”Don’t be derided by him, even though he’s your dear mate, you’ve always held your wit, 

You’ve always acted with probity. Remember your Oath, Hajur!!”


I open my eyes filled with remorse, I decided to let my wife win, yet again, 

I surely wanted to aid my dear friend, Weeks of Typewriting resulting in arid outcomes, 

But my fingers tremble now, caught in these unseen chains, 

Behind the words I offer and believe, Morality above all else. 

Somewhere deep, it still weighs heavily.

I go with ‘Withdrawing as Counsel.’ 

The courtroom’s cacophonous hums surround me, 

The verdict is reached, the accused convicted, 

The complainant celebrates through caricatured mockery. 

For all the past victories, this one I’ve lost. 


Underneath the solemn archways, I still tread alone, 

And so I serve, each day I ache, I remember the case often, 

As if it happened a sennight ago, an endless litany of what I can’t say, 

For I have my moral oath to honour, “Justice and loyalty are mine to bear.”


*This narrative is penned by Mr. Siddhant Karki, a resident of Darjeeling depicting his Grandfather's journey from a Gorkha soldier to an Advocate during the late 1970s and that one haunting trial he conducted in the Dist & Session Court, Darjeeling that forever etched in his memory. That sour case, now turned to a lore for his grand children, vividly portrays his morals and honour.


Greetings, I am a young legal professional and a proud Gorkha who’s eager as a morning bird, loves poetry and drama, listens to the Floyd and the Beatles, admires the court craft and is passionate about the little things that adds immense value.

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