Vade-Sambar Dip

By B. V. Nidhishree

It was Monday again. I was ready to take on the day (the week even!). I had a case before the Chief Justice, quite high up in the list and so I had reached the red building, bright and early. Like any self-respecting advocate, I found myself in the canteen for a quick cup of tea to start the day with. At the canteen, a crisp uddin vade beckoned me. I navigated the maze of black gowns to a ‘standing table’, armed with the uddin vade swimming in piping hot sambar. The crunch of the first bite was as satisfying as I thought it would be. A good start to the day, indeed!

Art Credit : Bhumika Radhakrishna

I had eaten half of the vade, when a ‘brother’ advocate joined me at the table with a steaming cup of tea. We exchanged smiles. I went back to my vade, with an eye on the clock and making a mental note of the submissions to be made in my case. Without provocation, the learned ‘brother’ advocate leans in with a conspiratorial grin and asks me, ‘Yaake Madam, nivu maneli belige adige maadlilva?’ (Why Madam, did you not cook at home, this morning?)  I muttered something about this being a ‘second breakfast’, gulped the remaining morsels and bolted from there.

The case went well, but a feeling of disquiet followed me through the day. I found myself wondering if I would have been spared the question if I was a male advocate. I found myself thinking of a myriad other answers I could have come up with, to my learned brother advocate’s question. Sadly, the moment had passed!

17 years of litigating and counting; no two days are the same, no two cases are the same. What does remain the same over the years is the underlying gender stereotype assigned to the ‘lady’ advocate.  She cannot eat a vade in peace, without discharging her ‘primary’ responsibility of cooking at home. Yes, things are changing- there are more women at the bar and on the bench, than 20 years ago. Yet, the journey is slow and sometimes frustrating.  Just when you think basic gender battles have been overcome by the years of practice one has put in… Bam! You get smacked in the face by the unsuspecting patriarchal ‘adige’! Well, I have wiped the crumbs off my face and I am still litigating. I suspect that I will be litigating for years to come, irrespective of my culinary efficiency.

And, the next time I am accosted at the canteen, mid-vade, I propose to say- ‘No, my husband woke up late and forgot to cook me breakfast’ or ‘Illa Sir, I did not have time today. How do you manage to cook breakfast and reach Court in time?’