1. Kindly introduce yourself. Could you share a little about your early days in law school and what motivated you to pursue this field in the first place?
I was born and raised in Prayagraj. I am currently practising at the Allahabad High Court and at tribunals in Uttar Pradesh and New Delhi. I graduated from NUJS Kolkata, clerked for a year at the Supreme Court of India and finally went on to pursue my LLM at Harvard Law School before coming back home into litigation.
What first drew me to law was a mix of my own curiosity and a desire to articulate. I had always been interested in public speaking and writing, and the law seemed like a natural extension of those instincts. But what really concretised these instincts into a conscious choice for me was the realisation, especially in my early days at law school, that law is not just about rules. It is as much about negotiation of power, fairness, and how society organises itself. The culture of autonomy at NUJS meant that even as a first-year, I was constantly pushed to ask difficult questions, take ownership of impactful projects and think about justice in very real terms. Over time, that shaped my motivation. I came to see law not just as a profession, but as a site to engage with society and contribute to change.
2. Your journey has taken you from NUJS to Harvard, something a lot of law students dream about. What did that transition look like for you in terms of preparation, mindset, and adapting to a completely different academic environment?
This might sound like an unpopular opinion, but the transition felt less dramatic than I had expected. I do not think the classroom pedagogy at Harvard is fundamentally different from what I experienced at an Indian National Law University. While preparing for this transition, I was reminded of scenes from the movie, “Paper Chase”. I was anxious as to whether I would be able to adapt to a purely American style of learning, the cold calling, and the pace of the American education system. However, upon reaching Harvard, I realised, almost instantly, that there are many connections between our inherited pedagogical traditions and the aspirations we all carry as law students.
Drawing parallels, I reckoned that much like Harvard, my university in India also placed me amidst a remarkably diverse group of peers, many of whom remain my closest friends today. It fostered a culture of learning and unlearning by osmosis. In both contexts, I found that my most important educational experiences came less from the formal classroom and more from conversations, debates, and collaborations with other students. The Socratic method that Harvard is famous for was already familiar to me from back home. Perhaps the only real adaptation required was in discipline. What did feel different was the reverence with which Harvard students treat the classroom, as if it were a performance they had come to watch. The genius of Harvard perhaps lay in this atmosphere. What made Harvard feel different, was the atmosphere and the weight of its history. It gave you the sense, sitting in that classroom, that you were not just a student anymore but a part of something far bigger than yourself. Adapting to that, perhaps took me some time.
3. When it comes to applying for an LLM abroad, what do you think really makes an application stand out? Is it the Statement of Purpose (SOP), the referees, or something less obvious that students often overlook?
It is rarely about one element. More often than not, it is about the coherence of the story you tell. Your SOP is where you weave together your academic record, professional experiences, and aspirations into a narrative that feels both authentic and forward-looking. Academic referees would matter, but the extent of weightage given to them would depend on where you are applying and what stage of your life you are at while applying. As a thumb rule, I believe that any document submitted to the Admission Committee assumes significance if it can illuminate aspects of you that your transcript cannot. Something less obvious that students generally overlook is the fact that their transcript, SOP, and curriculum vitae (CV) are not disjunctive. Your transcript, SOP, and CV should each spotlight different facets of who you are, but they should all tie back to a common thread of purpose. Every achievement, every experience, should feel like part of your larger journey.
For US law schools especially, the person reading your application may not even be a lawyer. As such, clarity becomes fundamental. If you cannot explain it simply, you have not really explained it. And while it may feel like the different documents invite repetition, they are actually giving you space to tell your story in layers. They want you to show who you are, why you have made the choices you have, and how the LLM will enable you to contribute meaningfully to your field, your country, and, your own growth, in that order.
4. You also spent a year as a judicial clerk, not a role everyone considers right out of law school. What made you go for it, and what did that year teach you about the way courts actually function behind the scenes?
I was always sure that I wanted to litigate. As litigators, the first thing we are taught is to Know thy Judge. In this light, I believe that, for me, clerking at the Supreme Court of India was a conscious choice as it gave me incisive insights into what goes on in the minds of Judges when a particular brief is argued before them. The Supreme Court of India is one of the busiest courts in the world, and being in chambers meant I saw first-hand how Judges balance enormous caseloads with the responsibility of shaping precedent. My work ranged from briefing on dockets and researching new questions of law, to offering independent suggestions before judgments were delivered. What that year really taught me about making my own case was that: First, that Judges of Constitutional Courts will often look beyond legal doctrine to the lived realities of people before the Court. As such, you not only prepare your case on law, but on equity as well. Second, that the profession rewards those who value discipline and manage their time.
5. You have written extensively with over 40 publications on topics ranging from constitutional freedoms to public health mandates. What first got you into legal writing, and how has your style or approach evolved over time?
Honestly, I first got into writing because of law school projects. The idea that my projects could potentially get published made me more accountable to myself. It was also quite a good way to collaborate with friends and mentors. It perhaps, also gave me a way to stay connected with the subjects I loved the most.
For me, writing has always been more about the process than the outcome. As for how my style evolved, it is really just been a function of time. In the beginning, my pieces were mostly descriptive. But as I started understanding the law more deeply, my experiences grew and my exposure widened. That reflected in my writing too. It became more analytical, more opinion-driven. Earlier my focus was quite localised. Now, I write across a wider canvas, both territorially and in subject matter. Disability rights, constitutional law, and statutory interpretation remain closest to my heart, but I have branched out into varied themes. My objectives for writing have also shifted now. I now want to write in order to be accessible, not just to publish. I want my work to speak to academic, policy, legal and non-legal audiences too.
6. A lot of students feel publishing is out of reach because they are “not ready” or their work is not “good enough.” From your own experience, how can they overcome that fear and start putting their work out there?
I do not think anyone ever feels “ready.” I certainly did not. Half my early pieces were just class projects I polished up and sent out. I have been rejected at least twice as many times as I have been published, but each one was a learning curve. Perhaps that is how you get better. Publishing is iterative, you get better only by doing. It is not about being perfect, it is about joining the conversation. If you care about an idea, put it out there and you will grow along the way.
To transfer some sagely advice that was given to me, your first piece does not have to be your magnum opus. Today, when I look back at the piece I published 5 years back, I can only see imperfections. What I write today, will probably suffer the same fate 5 years later from today. We grow in confidence and skills with each publication. But in order to get there, we need to start somewhere. So, send that cold email out, send that reminder away, because if not you, then who?
7. Much of your writing focuses on disability rights and accessibility, both in policy and in practice. From where you stand, what is the biggest challenge in these areas today? Is it in the laws themselves, or in the way they are implemented?
I believe the challenges in accessibility stem partly from how some policies are framed, but more significantly from the way our institutions have been conditioned to engage with them. Today, in almost all cases, accessibility gets reduced to a cost-benefit exercise. Institutions see reasonable accommodations as expensive add-ons rather than as investments that expand participation and inclusion. The reason for this is not far to see. Our institutions think of accessibility as a line item on a legal compliance checklist that is only to be addressed when a complaint is raised. They think so because our enforcement mechanisms project such accessibility only in terms of penalties and deterrents, both of which are post facto measures. As opposed to this, if our institutions are incentivised to think about accessibility in terms of tangible business benefits, whether through tax credits, recognition, or even cost-sharing models, they are far more likely to embrace it willingly. It is about shifting the conversation from compliance as a burden to inclusion as an opportunity.
As such, I believe that the biggest challenge lies in our institutional cultures. The law is only a tool that can facilitate accessibility, but the creation of incentives that make an institution proactively want to become accessible needs to come through policy. This incentive can only be fuelled when institutions are sensitised that accessibility is not just compliance but also about good economics, good governance, and good ethics.
8. During your time at Harvard, you worked with the United Nations on a project to design national policies for Somalian indigenous communities while working closely with their Government. How has this exposure to systems and policies abroad shaped your understanding of India’s own legal and policy frameworks?
Working on environmental peacebuilding in Somalia demonstrated to me that successful policies are a consequence of conversations and conversations themselves are a function of people. Designing seed policies there meant engaging not just with the law, but with farmers, indigenous practices, even conflict dynamics. My conversations with people in Somalia fortified the fact that good policy has to be interdisciplinary, anticipatory and proactive. It needs learn from the past, but should not allow the sand of dead habit to govern our future. Coming back to India, I see the same case study. Our frameworks are strong on paper, but in order to maximise their impact, we need them to reflect the lived experiences of our citizenry and anticipate challenges, instead of only reacting to them.
9. After your LLM, you plan to return to India and litigate. How does this decision connect with what you studied at Harvard, and what shaped your thought process?
For me, litigation was never a fallback. It was always the plan. I have always believed that a strong academic foundation is essential to be an effective litigator. In constitutional courts, you do not just argue what the law is. You often argue what the law ought to be. To do that persuasively, you need to be clear on the theoretical underpinnings of law, so you can walk the court through why an interpretation should align with deeper principles of your research.
Harvard sharpened this instinct for me. The focus on negotiations, the power of persuasion, comparative frameworks, unwritten principles, and best practices was less about rote rules and more about understanding the roots of a legal system. All of that translates directly into advocacy. So, when I returned to India, it was about making scholarship and practice speak to each other. Systemic change is deliberate and it needs lawyers who can fight in the courtroom, while also pushing for change outside it. Litigation gives me the chance to do both. It is demanding, it is versatile, and for me, it is the most natural continuation of what I have studied so far.
1. Advocate, Allahabad High Court.
2. Student Ambassador, Amity Law School Noida.
