I met Sr Adv Manohar Usgaoncar for the first time in the early 1990s. It was during my second or third Public Interest Litigation in the High Court and Adv Usgaoncar was counsel for the beach resort whose constructions I was challenging. I was aware that he was a skilled lawyer. I had prepared very well but was still understandably nervous about facing such a formidable senior opponent. I was therefore delighted when I got interim relief in the matter, but as I walked out of the court I felt embarrassed to look Adv Usgaoncar in the eye, for he was after all an acclaimed lawyer and I, just a young upstart, and yet had emerged victorious.
But it soon turned out that my uneasiness at facing him was entirely unwarranted. I was more than astonished, in fact, when he came up to me later that morning and congratulated me on my performance. “You argued very well,” he said. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he added: “I am new to this environment law. Wait till I master it. You may not get orders so easily then.” I laughed. The ice was broken. We shook hands and I instantly began to like the man.
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Over the years he became a life-long friend. As I reminisce about this brief first encounter, I marvel at his modesty. True, the Environment Protection Act was a brand new law that not many senior lawyers were familiar with at the time. But which senior counsel would admit to a junior colleague, that he still needed to get acquainted with its intricacies? Only a great individual, confident of himself and of his inherent worth.
We would meet often after that in court proceedings where he was always on the opposite side. But we would also chat briefly outside the court hall, now and then. In those days, the High Court was located on the first floor of a building opposite the Pai Bhale stationery shop. There was no bar room, and we lawyers all hung around in the corridor between the two court rooms, so there were many occasions during which you bumped into colleagues while waiting for your matter to be called out. On one such occasion, I remember saying to him, “Adv Usgaoncar, I am surprised that you are still willing to chat with me after I fight you so bitterly in court!” Pointing to the court’s door, he remarked, “Forget about what happens in there, once you come out of that door. There we may fight. But here we are always friends.” It was a lesson for me in court etiquette that I never forgot and till today I am always happy to chat with lawyers from ‘the other side’, whether I win or lose a court battle.
During the hearing of one petition, the judge referred me to some Supreme Court judgment and suggested that I look into the issue from its perspective. The matter was adjourned to the following day, to give me some time to consider. I did not have any idea about the case that was referred to and must have come out of the court looking rather perplexed. In those days I did not even have my own library of law books – an essential adornment of any legal office. Adv Usgaoncar must have been in court, because I remember him telling me, “You can come and look for the case in my office. I have a very good library.”
I did visit his office not just on that occasion, but many times thereafter. Once he even said to me, “If you need any assistance, I will also help you.” Then he added, in his usual mischievous manner, “Even if I am on the other side. I will help you to find judgments. But you must take my assistance on such occasions with a big pinch of salt, because I may have an interest in getting you to quote those judgments.” A combination of integrity and humour –how much we miss that nowadays!
I was thoroughly impressed with the practical utility of the cabinet system he had designed in his office – files were kept standing on their spines in partitioned spaces, rather than stacked one on top of the other on shelves. This made them easy to retrieve. I copied the same design when I set up my own legal office. It serves me good to this day.
When Adv Usgaoncar came to know that I used to cook the family’s meals, we would occasionally discuss food as well. He was a great fan of his wife’s cooking and would give me details about the way she prepared certain vegetarian foods. He even gave me a copy of Mrs Usgaoncar’s book on Saraswat cooking saying, “You will get more ideas from here than I have given you!”
The casualness of the banter between these two colleagues would reflect in many ways. I remember that in response to a casual “Good morning, how are you Adv Usgaoncar?” he smilingly replied: “Well, to know the answer to that query, you have to ask my wife. My health is entirely in her hands!” After that, whenever I greeted him, I would invariably ask: “And how is your wife?” And he would reply with a very straight face, “I am fine!” Of course when his wife passed away, this funny exchange, much to my regret, promptly came to an end.
After Adv Usgaoncar stopped appearing for matters in the High Court, we did not have occasion to meet very often. But whenever we did — at court functions or on the occasions that I dropped by at his office to see him — he would always embrace me very warmly and we would talk for awhile about this and that. By the time I read in the papers that he had passed on, it was too late for me to visit the family home to pay my last respects. I condoled with his son Sudesh (also a lawyer) the following morning and said to him, “You know, I was very fond of your father.” He replied, “Yes, I know that. And also, that he was very fond of you.” That remark lightened my heart and made it easier for me to accept the fact that I would no longer see him again.
(Norma Alvares is an advocate of the Bombay High Court and an activist
and campaigner)
