Hindustan Times: Chandigarh: Saturday, January 06, 2018.
It was on a
wintry morning in Karnal in 1993 that the 41-year-old banker, who had risen
from the ranks to become a manager, decided to quit his job and chart a fresh
path for himself. Twenty-seven years on, the banker-turned-lawyer, Hari Chand
Arora, is widely considered the knight in shining armour for thousands in
distress across the region with a whopping 400 public interest litigations
(PILs) to his credit.
The shy,
grey-haired lawyer is a one-stop solution for those struggling to get justice
with no funds to hire a lawyer. Arora, 61, who embarked on his PIL journey in
2005, has approached the courts on a wide gamut of issues, ranging from
inadequate facilities in schools to corrupt officials. The year 2005, he says,
was a watershed because he found a new ally in the Right to Information (RTI)
Act. “Earlier, it was difficult to get authentic information for submission in
court, and your PIL could be questioned or even dismissed due to paucity of
facts, but after the RTI Act, I could get inside information from governments,”
he says.
Ever since,
there has been no looking back for the lawyer, whose list of pending petitions
include one against the transport ‘mafia’ in Punjab, and the other on conflict
of interest in the case of Rana Gurjit Singh, the power minister of Punjab with
business interests in sugar mills.
Humble
beginnings
Born in
Fazilka to a revenue clerk, Arora was the fifth among six siblings raised in
Muktsar, where his father was posted. He was quite young when he noticed the
deeply entrenched corruption in the system, and developed a lifelong dislike
for it. He was 20 when he joined New Bank of India after completing BSc. It was
but natural that he gravitated towards trade union activities, and was
eventually elected vice-president of Punjab unit. “It was then I first came in
contact with the courts,” recounts Arora, telling you how a badly argued case
motivated him to study law. It was in 1987 that Arora enrolled for his law
degree. Today he has three books to his credit.
The PIL
journey
Arora says he
thought about law for years before deciding to quit his cushy bank job. “I
started losing interest in my job since 1991, and began to think about the law
practice. Though my wife supported me, others were wary,” he recounts, telling
you how he gave five months of notice to the bank when he finally put in his
papers in January 1993. “I returned from my morning walk, typed my resignation
and posted it. When I told my wife, she said it’s better to quit than to sulk,”
he laughs, recounting his journey from Karnal to Chandigarh, where he started
practising at the high court and the Central Administrative Tribunal.
He is hazy
about his first PIL in 2005, but says his second one sought guidelines for the
protection of whistleblowers. Over the years, Arora has come to be known for
his PILs that raise significant issues of public importance before the high
court. Many like-minded people too started thronging his office, some with
suggestions, others with inputs and even documents.
A much wiser
Arora says the success of a PIL depends a lot on the perception of a particular
bench. “Different judges view things differently,” he says, recalling how one
judge ordered a compensation of ₹3 lakh for acid victims, but another judge
disposed of the petition on non-compliance by the Haryana government, saying
that judicial intervention was not required.
PILs had
their own side-effects. It was in 2011 that a lawyer approached him to ask why
he was pursuing a PIL seeking removal of officers convicted in murder cases.
The PIL resulted in the dismissal of 54 officers, including six DSPs, by the
Punjab government. Arora says he did not feel threatened but he agreed to take
security when DS Shergill, another lawyer, requested the then chief justice MM
Kumar that Arora be provided security cover. Even today, a security personnel
accompanies him whenever he visits Punjab though Arora refuses security in the
city.
The PIL
specialist says he does not fear for his life, but for his reputation. This is
why he has now installed CCTVs at his residence in Sector 44 from where he runs
his office as well. “Anyone can come up with any kind of allegation,” he
shrugs.
Indu Bala,
Arora’s better-half who has supported him all through, says he never ventures
out without informing her. “I trust him completely. Sometimes, it’s from papers
I learn that he is handling a major case,” she says, adding they both believe
in destiny.
The couple’s
two daughters, Shweta Bajaj and Parul Gharvi, are married and settled in their
lives.
The poet
Arora, who
has penned poems on the lives of revolutionaries such as Bhagat Singh, Kartar
Singh Sarabha, Madan Lal Dhingra, Khushi Ram and Udham Singh, also loves to
meditate, and is a disciple of Swami Vishwas. He gets books printed from his
own resources, and then distributes them to anyone who comes to meet him. “I
want people to read something inspirational even if they are travelling instead
of listening to vulgar songs,” he explains.
A man who
believes in simple living and high thinking in a city full of luxury cars,
Arora drives a Maruti Alto and earns rs 2 lakh a month from his legal fees. He
doesn’t charge a paisa from widows, family members of martyrs or victims of
acid attacks. “I don’t represent the accused, unless I feel they are the
victims in the case,” says Arora.
The lawyer
also makes sure he contributes in case of any natural calamity in the country
even if it is with a sum of Rs 10,000. And no major festival, be it Diwali,
Christmas or Holi, is complete without charity work. “I feel blessed that I am
able to contribute something. I will keep filing PILs till I can,” he signs
off.
A lawyer
never retires.
.JPG)
.JPG)
