In a thoughtful and compassionate decision, a Division Bench of the Kerala High Court, comprising Justice Devan Ramachandran and Justice Basant Balaji, chose to delete adverse remarks made against a lawyer in an earlier judgment, while still acknowledging that those remarks were rooted in a legitimate concern for professional standards. The Bench recognised that the criticisms, though sharply expressed, were not meant to destroy the advocate’s reputation but to caution him, as a young member of the Bar, to be more careful in the future. However, the judges were acutely aware that words once written in a judicial order have a long and powerful afterlife. Unlike an oral warning in a courtroom, which fades with the moment, a written judgment remains in law reports, legal databases, and public records, available for future employers, clients, and judicial officers to read. The Court therefore agreed to expunge the remarks, observing that leaving them on record would be unfair. “No doubt, of course, the judgement speaks with a slightly harsh stone, but we are of the view that it was not intended to be so, but only to caution the counsel so that he will be more careful in the future,” the Bench said. This statement is significant because it draws a careful line between intention and expression. The intended message was instructive, but the manner in which it was articulated could easily be perceived as punitive. The Court was unwilling to allow that punitive impression to stay alive forever in the record.
The case offers a powerful meditation on how judges should address the conduct of lawyers. The legal profession is not merely a job; it is a public vocation. Lawyers owe duties not only to their clients but also to the court, to opposing parties, and to the broader administration of justice. When a lawyer falls short—whether because of inexperience, oversight, or an honest mistake—judges have a legitimate role in saying so. Constructive criticism from an experienced judge can help a young advocate reflect, learn, and grow. Nothing in the Division Bench’s reasoning suggests that the Court intended to shield the lawyer from all accountability. Instead, the Bench understood that the original remarks were meant to “caution” him—a word that carries the spirit of a mentor’s warning rather than a public condemnation. Yet the gap between intention and perception is often wide. When a judgment uses severe language, readers do not pause to ask whether the judge merely wanted to correct an error. They see a judicial pronouncement, and they assume it reflects a settled view of the lawyer’s character or competence. The decision to remove the remarks is therefore not an act of leniency; it is an act of precision. It reasserts that judicial criticism must be proportionate, purposeful, and connected to the facts before the court. If the goal was to teach, then the lesson should not become a permanent scar.
Adverse remarks matter because they travel with a lawyer for the rest of his or her career. A young lawyer builds a name slowly, through years of dedication, appearances in crowded courtrooms, late-night preparations, and quiet lessons learned from senior colleagues. Reputation is fragile capital. One unfortunate paragraph in a reported judgment can undo much of that effort. It may be cited in later proceedings, mentioned in background checks, or remembered by litigants who search for information before choosing an advocate. The Kerala High Court was clearly alive to this danger. The Bench observed that leaving the remarks untouched “will certainly have an impact on his future perpetually.” The word “perpetually” is especially striking. It reminds us that a judicial decision is not merely a resolution of a dispute between parties; it is also a public document that shapes how a person is seen by the world. For an established lawyer, a passing comment might be absorbed and forgotten. But for a young lawyer still struggling to secure a place in the profession, the same comment can be devastating. Opportunities may dry up. Clients may lose trust. A prospective employer may hesitate to offer a role. The Court did not say that the lawyer’s conduct was wholly innocent, nor did it claim that judges must never criticise. Rather, the Bench recognised a boundary: criticism intended to correct should not be framed in a way that becomes a lifelong punishment. The removal of the remarks is therefore a thoughtful articulation of proportionality in judicial speech.
From a legal perspective, the ruling is entirely consistent with the established principle that adverse remarks should not be made casually, and that they should be expunged when they are not necessary to decide the case. Courts in India have repeatedly held that judges should avoid disparaging observations against lawyers or parties unless such observations are essential to the reasoning and resolution of the dispute. Unnecessary strictures, even if factually supported, are seen as an abuse of judicial power, because they injure persons who have no meaningful opportunity to defend their reputation in the same forum. In this case, the Division Bench appears to have found that the adverse remarks were not integral to the core conclusions of the earlier judgment. The Bench conceded that the judgment spoke in a “slightly harsh” voice, and while the original court may not have intended to attack the counsel, the portions that appeared to speak against him could not be allowed to remain. The Court said: “With that said, it will not be proper for us to leave the portions of that judgement, which appear to speak against the counsel without being interfered with, for the singular reason that this will certainly have an impact on his future perpetually.” This is a significant observation because it treats the record itself as a source of potential injustice. Even if no immediate punishment was imposed, the continued existence of the remarks in official records was enough to justify interference. By removing the remarks, the Court cleansed the record for the future while preserving the main judgment and its substantive findings.
The human dimension of this case is perhaps its most endearing aspect. Judges are often seen as remote symbols of authority, speaking only through orders and judgments. But here, the Bench revealed a willingness to stand in the shoes of a young lawyer and imagine how the words would feel from the other side. The phrase “slightly harsh stone”—whether understood as a typographical slip for “harsh tone” or as a deliberate metaphor—captures the problem beautifully. A stone is hard, cold, and heavy. It can be thrown once, but its effect lasts far longer than the moment of impact. It may be small, yet it can break glass or bruise flesh. The Court seemed to recognise that even a small remark, placed in a permanent record, carries the weight of a stone. This humanising perspective is valuable because it reminds us that law is not an abstract science. It deals with real people, with careers, dreams, and reputations. A lawyer appearing before a court may be nervous, overworked, or genuinely mistaken. The remedy for such failings is not to humiliate the lawyer publicly, but to help him improve. The Bench’s willingness to remove the remarks reflects an understanding that justice requires mercy, and that correction should not be confused with condemnation. In an age when social media and digital legal databases make every word instantly searchable, the power of a judge’s language is greater than ever before. A single sentence can be copied, shared, and permanently attached to a person’s name. A careless phrase can define a professional life. This judgment serves as a timely reminder that judges must choose their words with care, not only because of legal doctrine, but because of ordinary human decency.
Ultimately, the decision carries a valuable lesson for the entire legal community. Young lawyers must understand that they are not infallible. They will make mistakes, and they should be willing to accept constructive criticism with humility and maturity. Senior advocates and judges have a responsibility to guide them, not to break them. At the same time, judicial officers must remain mindful that their pronouncements often feel final to the person concerned. There is no need to use harsh language when a firm and respectful word would suffice. The Kerala High Court’s ruling is not an invitation to shield advocates from accountability. It is an invitation to rethink how accountability is expressed. The purpose of the legal system is not to punish errors forever, but to organise the pursuit of justice in a way that allows people to learn, grow, and serve. By removing the adverse remarks from the record, the Division Bench has shown that justice can be both principled and merciful. It has also sent a message to the legal profession: a moment of failure should not become a lifetime of shame. In the end, this judgment speaks to something profound—that the law, with all its rules and precedents, must never lose sight of the human beings who live within it, including the young lawyers who stand at the very beginning of their journey.