LLB, LLM courses in English but for lawyers in lower courts, regional language command key to win cases
The family from Nampally, Hyderabad, began speaking as soon as they sat down. It was 2024 and they were with Charan Konga, a junior advocate, and at a tea stall near a district court.
They spoke rapidly, switching between colloquial Telugu and a local dialect. Konga listened closely, but as the account unfolded, key details began to escape him. “I understood the broad issue,” Konga said later. “But the details went for a toss because the dialect was not clear to me.”
Only after revisiting documents and speaking again to the family did he realise how much he had misunderstood. “That can completely change how you draft a case,” he said. “And you only realise it after the damage is done.” Konga had lost the case and his clients, compensation of over Rs 5 lakh, in a defeat he now attributes to the language barrier between them.
Such moments, lawyers say, are not isolated. Across India, young advocates practising in lower courts, describe a structural gap between how law is taught and how it is practised – they study in English but are expected to argue in the vernacular. The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 has attempted to address this, recommending legal education in the vernacular. But nearly in every state, English is important for the higher courts and for lawyers hoping to rise enough in their careers to practise in them.
Law courses in English, cases in vernacular
In Ramanagara district court in Karnataka, Kriti G, a junior advocate who graduated from a Bengaluru-based law college, said it was months before she could follow proceedings with confidence. “All my education was in English — statutes, judgements, exams,” she said. “But court work here happens almost entirely in Kannada.”
She said the difficulty was not legal understanding but speed and fluency. “Arguments move fast,” she said. “By the time you translate in your head, the matter has moved on.” She also added that her mother tongue is Kannada but the different dialects whilst conversing with people has caused hindrance in her case understanding and presentation.
The hesitation that follows is often misunderstood. “If you pause or ask for repetition, it is seen as lack of confidence,” Kriti said. “But you are still learning the language of the courtroom.”
In Tiruvallur district court, S Pavithra, a recent law graduate enrolled in 2023, said adjusting to Tamil-language proceedings was overwhelming. “You know the law,” she said. “But if you cannot follow arguments quickly, you feel lost.”
She said even routine hearings require quick comprehension. “Judges ask questions, seniors make submissions, clerks speak in shorthand Tamil,” she said. “You are constantly afraid of missing something important.”
Senior lawyers say this silence is often misread as lack of preparation. Chitra, a senior advocate practising in Tamil Nadu for over two decades, said she has seen many juniors struggle not because they lack legal grounding, but because they are still processing the language of the courtroom.
“When a junior does not respond immediately, we tend to think they have not read the file,” she said. “But very often, they are translating in their head — from English to Tamil, from formal Tamil to the shorthand used in court.”
Chitra – she doesn’t use a last name – said district court proceedings leave little room for that transition. “Questions are asked mid-argument, instructions are given quickly, and the expectation is instant reply,” she said. “If a junior pauses even briefly, it is taken as uncertainty.”
She said the problem is compounded by hierarchy. “Juniors rarely feel comfortable saying they did not understand a word or phrase,” Chitra said. “So they stay silent, and that silence gets interpreted as lack of diligence.”
Over time, she said, this misreading affects confidence. “Once a junior is labelled as ‘slow’ or ‘unprepared’, it sticks,” she said. “Language, not competence, becomes the deciding factor.”
Chitra said she has begun consciously slowing down when working with younger lawyers. “If we do not acknowledge that language itself takes time to process, we lose capable lawyers,” she said.
Lawyers and language barrier at district courts
In Gujarat, Khushi (name changed), a junior advocate who began practice in 2023, said language cost her one of her earliest cases.
“It was a compensation matter,” she said. “The family explained everything in a regional dialect I did not fully understand. I believed I had the facts right, but I hadn’t.” The mistake, she said, altered the outcome. “Key details were missed, and the family lost compensation worth a few lakhs,” Khushi said. “That amount probably wiped out their entire savings.”
She said the case changed how she practises. “We are trained in law, not in listening across dialects,” she said. “But in district courts, that difference can decide whether a family gets justice or not.”
In Karur district of Tamil Nadu, Lavanya R, a junior advocate, said legal education does little to prepare students for the linguistic depth of district courts.
“The Tamil we study is formal and modern,” she said. “But many expressions people use come from older forms of the language, including Sangam Tamil or sometimes from camps that have Ceylon Tamil.”
She said the absence of such exposure leads to hesitation during arguments and client interactions. “When someone uses a phrase rooted in older Tamil, you pause. You are not fully sure you understood it, and that shows.”
Lavanya questioned how law colleges evaluate students. “Colleges give us projects and tests that directly deal with districts without first giving us that linguistic practice,” she said. “You are assessed on something you were never trained for.”
Gaurav Jain, a law graduate from Delhi, said his early months of practice were shaped by this disconnect when he began working in a district court in Rajasthan. “I thought Hindi would be enough,” he said. “But the court and clients speak Bagri, which is completely different.”
Jain said the language gap also affected how he was perceived. “When you ask for clarification repeatedly, clients feel you are not attentive,” he said. “In reality, you are trying not to make a mistake.”
A senior advocate who is also Jain’s mentor from Rajasthan said that dialect plays a decisive role in credibility, particularly in district courts where proceedings are oral and informal. “Clients trust lawyers who sound like them,” said a practising advocate. “When you speak the same dialect, people open up more easily.”
That fluency, the advocate said, often becomes a marker of authority. “Two lawyers may know the law equally well,” he said. “The one who speaks Bagri confidently is seen as more capable.”
Legal Education: Policy push, practical limits
The National Education Policy 2020 places strong emphasis on the use of regional languages in education, including higher education.
On the contrary, Kunal Vansh (name changed), a retired district court lawyer, said the National Education Policy’s emphasis on regional-language instruction raises difficult questions when applied to legal education.
“In school education, teaching in the mother tongue makes sense,” he said. “But law is different. Law is largely rules, regulations, statutes and precedents, and those exist primarily in English.”
He said translating legal texts is not a simple exercise. “You are not just converting words,” he said. “You are fixing the meaning. A slight variation in language can change how a provision is understood.”
The retired lawyer said producing authoritative law textbooks in multiple regional languages would require constant updating. “Laws change, rules are amended, judgments reinterpret statutes,” he said. “Keeping accurate, standardised legal material updated across languages is a massive institutional task.”
He also cautioned against uneven interpretation. “If different states use different translated versions of the same law, you risk inconsistencies,” he said. “In law, uniformity matters.”
At the same time, he acknowledged the gap young lawyers face in district courts. “The problem is real,” he said. “But the solution cannot be rushed. Legal language has to be precise, and precision is harder to guarantee when everything is translated.”
Litigation: Translation in judicial system
A family from Kolar Gold Fields (KGF), involved in a long-running land dispute, said they assumed their lawyer had fully understood them when they first explained their case in the local dialect they speak at home.
“We spoke slowly and explained everything in the language we are used to,” a family member said. “We never imagined that the way we spoke could become an issue in this case.”
It was only as the matter progressed that the family realised key details had not been conveyed as they intended. “When the case did not go the way we expected, we were told that some facts were not clear or were missing,” the family member said.
The realisation, they said, came too late to correct the damage. “By then, important hearings had already taken place,” the family member said. “We felt helpless because we had trusted that our words would be understood.”
The family said their experience left them questioning how accessible the system truly is. “We do not expect special treatment,” the family member said. “We just want a system where language does not stand between people and justice.”
“This is not something you can solve by changing one policy or one syllabus,” said a senior advocate from Bengaluru. “Courts, laws and people all speak different languages. For now, everyone is just trying to keep up.”