Pupillage life or rather, pupillage existence in Mauritius!

Three years of reading law at university and one year of Bar Training for those lucky enough not to have failed any exam! It has then been four long years of loitering law libraries, of looking like zombies after burning the midnight oil, and of growing thinner eating pasta (and occasionally skipping meals). My family and I are broke and our property is on the reading list of the Sales by Levy in the Master’s Court. For those, like me, who come back to Mauritius to start off pupillage, it is the stage where we have to ‘shadow’ our learned seniors called Pupil Masters in their day-to-day activities for one complete calendar year before we can practise in the Mauritian jurisdiction. Needless to say pupillage, is not remunerated in Mauritius. My Pupil Master says that pupils used to pay their Pupil Masters. I don’t know whether he wants to send me a subliminal message. Anyway, so much for bringing the brains back to Mauritius. Reminds me of the history of my country... the way slaves and indentured labourers were lured in, if not brought by force. So, here I am, taking the bus from Mahebourg to Port Louis with my dark suit and tie which I bought from a charity shop before flying back. Oops! I forgot to cut off the tag on the left cuff. Having seating accommodation in the sunlight is really discomforting… for my neighbour, when I start sweating. I look out ignoring everyone, pretending to be lost in my own intelligent thoughts. My Pupil Master is an ageing Barrister who decided to have a late career change. He eventually completed his degree by correspondence and took the Mauritian Bar exam a few times. In the office (which they call Chambers), my morning would start by doing his coffee and doing some late photocopies for submissions in court. As misfortune never comes alone, today we ran out of paper! I would then carry his files to Court with all the pomposity that is required to carry legal files and materials. Following the pure traditions of the (Mauritian) Bar, my Pupil Master would walk at fast pace and would just expect me to stride behind him. Once in Court, I would place the files in front of him and sit a row behind him. Occasionally, he would allow me the privilege of running to the local shop to buy a bottle of water for him (and would drink from it in open court). He does not mind that I am a MBEW (Member of the Bar of England & Wales). For the moment, I am his UM (Unpaid Messenger). Today, he is in front of judges Grumpy and Goofy. Judge Grumpy, what a character! Never defended anyone in his life and never assisted any interview at a police station. He has always been prosecuting, became a magistrate without any training and went on to become a judge. Judge Goofy, on the other hand, hardly had any work at the Bar and chose to join the bench to settle his educational loans. He always gets all of his judgements reversed on appeal (apparently he is not even aware of this). Judge Grumpy would open the session after having perused the papers to carp the barristers and attorneys. This is usually his moment of glory:

• “Counsel do you know what is the difference between a normal appeal and an appeal by way of case stated?”
• “Huh.........Yes My Lord,” would coyly reply my Pupil Master.
• “DO YOU KNOW THE TIME LIMIT FOR AN APPEAL?”, would storm judge Grumpy.

This is my nemesis and my personal treat of the day as I really enjoy watching my Pupil Master doing his vocation with so much... humility. He usually batters the client in the conference room. I wonder how he feels now that he is on the receiving end. However, to the questions of judge Grumpy, I enjoy giving imaginary answers in the place of my Pupil Master since that is all I can do to assist him on his way to Golgotha. So my imaginary answers to the judge Grumpy’s above questions would take the following form:

• “My Lord my duty is to the court and I would be glad to assist the court to the best of my abilities. Since Your Lordship is asking a question, I would take it that His Lordship would want my assistance to enlighten the court on this very important question of law.” (In other words, ‘you are asking because you don’t know the answer’). I suspect that by this time Judge Grumpy would grasp the subtleties of my answer and get really irritated, get on his biggest horse and yell at me:
• “IT IS A SIMPLE QUESTION DO YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE YES OR NO.”
• “It is indeed a very ‘SIMPLISTIC’ question, My Lord,” I would calmly reply.
• “A law student knows this... If you cannot do your job properly, sit down. SIT DOWN Counsel.”  He even makes a commanding gesture with his finger, as if he is holding a magic wand or pulling some puppet’s string. Rather he looks like Master Yoda trying to move an object:
• “DOWN YOU SIT.”
• “My Lord, I have a duty to my client too... and it is well-known that sitting positions restrict the flow of blood and therefore, restricts the functioning of the brain.”

Again, I am sure judge Grumpy would interrupt me, as he does not really want my statement to go on record:

• “Mr Barrister... that is not what I am asking, I think you do not understand the issue here... let’s get to basic. Shall we?”

As I am not sure whether I want to get to Judge Grumpy’s ‘basics’, I would just keep my composure:

• “My Lord....”

Umpteenth interruption:

• “Mr Barrister, if you don’t know what you are talking about just give your gown back...”

Now that the exchange is taking the form of a police interrogation (before the enactment of PACE) with me in the role of the suspect with no alibi to provide, I might as well make a full confession:

• “My Lord, since it occurs to me that Your Lordship understands the subtleties better than I do, perhaps in his wisdom he would be so kind to share it with the Bar.”

Mr Grumpy would get mercurial and even more ‘basic’. Even my colleagues at the Bar are putting their hands in front of their face with the expression that says: ‘Don’t drag us all into your... quicksand.’ I am more isolated than having provoked the ire of Jupiter. My feet are feeling suddenly weak, but I fend to maintain my composure. Mr Justice Grumpy, seething in his chair, would lean to his brethren Goofy and would whisper things in his ear. It must be something really tickling as they are both chuckling. I wonder what makes them so happy when my client is facing 10 years imprisonment. Surely it can’t be my answers, as I hardly had the opportunity to exert my ‘right of audience’. They occasionally would stare and grin at me. Five minutes have passed and as I do not want to disturb the ‘brethrens’ aparté, I just lean to my colleague sitting next to me and ask him whether he has also watched yesterday’s movie on ZeeTV. At that precise moment, I can hear the thunderous voice of judge Grumpy again:

• “Counsel... your point does not stand.”
• “Perhaps Your Lordship would be so wise to... LISTEN TO MY ARGUMENTS FIRST... and then pass judgement... and perhaps it will be equally wise to give an opportunity to my most able friend of the prosecution to enunciate his counter-arguments as I am sure he DOES NOT NEED ANY ASSISTANCE.”
• “Let me get this right Counsel are you insisting on this ground? Because if you are this is VERY SERIOUS MATTER. ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GO AHEAD WITH THIS... THE CONSEQUENCES CAN BE VERY SERIOUS!”
• “My Lord I am not sure anymore whether I want to press on with this ground, as I am not sure anymore whether this court is a court where my client can come to seek justice and redress without him getting the temptation of having recourse to his own justice with all the SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES that might follow!”

In his conniption, Judge Grumpy would just pull the few remaining hair from his head and threaten me for contempt for causing maelstrom in his court. He would then ask me to rephrase my application:

• “Barrister of your experience should be more knowledgeable.”
• “I am negotiating a Faustian pact with Mephistopheles My Lord.”
• “Fost what? This case is not about syphilis Counsel.”
• “Oh no My Lord! I was only saying that only fools know-it-all. Still My Lord is right, there is a deadly contagion in the air.”

I am just waiting for the moment that a bullet would come out from his fiendish eyes and strike me dead.

• “WHAT IS THE AUTHORITY IN THIS CASE Counsel?” says Judge Grumpy. He now looks like someone suffering from a stroke and his eyes show pandemonium.
• “Swinburne, My Lord!”
• “SWINE WHAT? WHAT COURT? WHAT YEAR?”
• “The court of Love and Understanding, My Lord. The year is not important as Swinburne is timeless:
• More than half beaten but fearless
• Facing the storm and the night
• Breathless and reeling, but tearless
• Here in the lull of the fight
• I who bow not before thee
• God of the Fighting Clan
• Lifting my fist I implore thee
• Give me the heart of a man.”

Doubtless, I would be sent straight to the gallows and they would unfrock me… my peers that is. Relieved that this exchange was only imaginary and that there exist no such judges or barristers in this jurisdiction, I carry my Pupil Master’s stuffs back to the chambers whilst still sweating in my suit.