Life has become hectic. The tragedy is that there is barely any physical activity, but the day drinks up all the energy the body generates. I wake up every day to get dressed and rush to the Academy. The long drive through the traffic is timed as if it is a mission in GTA Vice City. I manage to reach only minutes before the reporting time, something that has become a routine. Despite the worrying hurry, I haven’t taught myself to start early from the house to make sure I have the comfort of time to breeze the drive. Nonetheless, this is only the start of a very long day.
It is a task to be cooped up in cushioned-up chair with barely any space to stretch my legs. Do it for six hours a day and you start to change as a person. Perhaps, this is an occupational hazard that isn’t spoken about the job I have. As this goes on every day, there was point when I decided that I really needed a break, only to realise that it was a Tuesday that day and I had four more days to reach a Sunday. I find respite in that my batchmates are good people. Generally, that is. I have been warned to not be embroiled in anything bitter and play safe if and when any disagreements crop up. If the first fortnight is anything to go by, I have been reasonably decent in doing this.
More importantly, I realise that every batchmate I talk to has a story to be told. For most, it was no walk through a flower-laden path. Some struggled with their family expectations, while some were tested by time. For many, reaching the Academy is an achievement they’re deservedly proud of. It has been the result of their hard work over the years and they are living the dream they dreamt all the while.
All this makes me humble. My story is unlike anyone in that room. A story that has left scars, something that you would know if you’ve read this blog over the past year. But listening to those who have given so much to stand where they do, I really thank my stars and feel grateful to have had a good life. I’ve cried and whined in so many of my texts that I post here. Not now. There’s much to thank Him and the privilege I’ve been blessed with.
Before I was summoned to the Academy, I had to do full-time work presiding my court at Mancherial for nine days. At first, it left me puzzled to find how an untrained Judge would be sent off to preside in a real court with no guidance. But in the hindsight, I realise that the sessions at the Academy now wouldn’t have made as much sense without the experience of those nine days. Barring some bail applications, remands, and interlocutory applications, I did not do any major work then. But just the feel of looking around and presiding the court helps put much of these training sessions in context, so much so that when a thing is discussed, I do imagine it happening in the same courtroom I frequented for that short span. This is akin to watching the movie before reading the book, something that helps ease pressure on your imagination as the brain can access the recent memory to frame the scene.
Over these weeks, however, my beard has grown faster than my wisdom. This is not because I fancy a bushy beard, but simply because I haven’t had the time to trim it. I have a little more than three months of this routine to follow and I hope to learn enough to operate independently as I conduct the court. Until then, I must smile, breathe, and more importantly, trim my beard.