The mystery of Supreme Court of India’s Court 10

Deep in the recesses of the Supreme Court is Court 10. Unlike its sibling courtrooms, which are overflowing beehives of disputes settled, won, lost, or adjourned, Court 10 is empty and closed. It has not witnessed objects being flung at the Bench or people nodding off to scholarly arguments from the Bar. If Court 10 could speak, it may have quoted Pierre-Albert Birot’s ‘The world pulse beats beyond my door’.

As court reporters, our first task of the day — or the previous night, if one is conscientious — is to check the causelist or the list of cases for the day. There are long rows of cases to watch and mark — some of them high-stakes. But they are all listed before the Benches of the other 16 courts; Court 10 is a white space on the computer screen. For a reporter struggling to make decisions about which cases to sit through and cover, Court 10 provides a much-needed break in the flow.

I have made some attempts to solve the closed-door mystery of Court 10, but only managed to draw hems and haws. A few looked at me blank-faced. Some gave me quizzical smiles. A few even turned combative: “Don’t you have anything better to do today?” One of them dithered: “Never thought about it. Have to find out. Let you know”. And off they all went, with not a moment to spare.

A kind soul invited me to come look inside Court 10. But I didn’t make the appointment, having convinced myself that I was far too busy for trifles.

A ‘highly-placed source’, as they are often called in reporting terms, said a pillar stands awkwardly inside the court room, making it difficult to function there.

Google, my next best source, informed me that Kerala High Court had “renamed” one of its court rooms 12A. Then, Google did a Shashi Tharoor on me, informing me that the fear of number 13 is called ‘triskaidekaphobia’.

Technology has changed our practice of court reporting. Hearings can be watched in isolation, in the comfort of personal spaces. Gone are the days when reporters would dash from one court room to another to catch the important bits of a hearing. I have outrun stalwarts in crowded court corridors, only to realise, once inside a courtroom, that the ‘important case’ was happening next door.

I would have probably cracked the Court 10 mystery in those days, pacing up and down before its closed doors. I might have played Sherlock, hunting for clues on my knees; or a Scout sneaking along the shuttered Radley home in To Kill a Mockingbird. Even Mr. Satterthwaite’s method in Agatha Christie’s The Man from the Sea could have worked — opening the door, only to find a beautiful, sad woman dreamily gazing at the deep blue. But none of that is possible. For one, there are no windows in Court 10, shuttered or otherwise.

The Supreme Court generates news in rapid succession. Amid the frenzy, Court 10 is a pause — an oasis of silence which has nothing to offer to the scribe, and easily overlooked. There are other such spaces too. The right wing of the court has a broad balcony lined with neo-classical pillars overlooking a lawn. It is bordered with beds of flowers. Here, a lawyer can be seen munching a sandwich or a court staffer can be seen taking an afternoon stroll. Court reporters are now distanced from this balcony because of video conferencing.

Postscript: Yesterday’s causelist showed that Justice Vipul M. Pancholi would preside in Court 10. “Great,” I said to myself. “Just when I thought I had something. The Supreme Court has a way of doing this to you.” Later in the day, I logged into the Court’s display board and looked at Court 10. I was not surprised. It read: ‘Not in session’.

krishnadas.rajagopal@thehindu.co.in