BENCH CLOSED FOR WOMEN
Imagine a young woman, fresh out of law school, her eyes bright with dreams of becoming a Civil Judge. She has spent five gruelling years earning her degree, balancing late-night study sessions with family expectations. But now, a new Supreme Court ruling has placed a daunting hurdle in her path: three years of mandatory legal practice before she can even apply.
For many Indian women like her, this isn’t just a procedural change—it’s a disheartening setback that threatens to derail hard-earned aspirations. On May 20, 2025, the Supreme Court of India reinstated the requirement that candidates for entry-level judicial posts, such as Civil Judge (Junior Division), must have at least three years of legal practice. This reverses a 2002 decision that had allowed fresh graduates to apply directly.
While the intent—to improve judicial efficiency—is understandable, the impact on women is deeply troubling. In a country where women already fight systemic barriers to join the judiciary, this new rule risks pushing them further out of the picture.
A Timeline That Clashes with Reality
Though framed as ‘gender-neutral’— the rule has a disproportionately harsh impact on women. For someone like Priya, a 24-year-old law graduate from a small town in Uttar Pradesh, the numbers don’t add up. Five years of law school, now three years of practice, plus the judicial selection process—which often takes 1.5 years—and an additional year of mandatory training before she can even preside over a court. That’s nearly a decade of preparation, taking her well into her late 20s or early 30s.
This already long trajectory is further burdened by irregular and unpredictable nature of judicial vacancies. For Indian women, this timeline clashes with societal pressures to marry and start a family. “I want to serve justice, but my family is already talking about marriage,” Priya shared, echoing a sentiment many women feel.
An X post I came across summed it up painfully: “Five years of education, three years of practice, and years of waiting—all in a society where women are expected to follow rigid timelines for marriage and family. The impact on women’s participation in the judiciary will be deeply regressive.”
The Struggle to Gain Experience
The requirement isn’t just about time—it’s about access. Securing three years of legal practice is no easy feat, especially for women, who account for less than 15 percent of practicing lawyers in India. The legal profession in India is heavily male-dominated, and women often face discrimination, lack of mentorship, or even harassment while working as junior advocates.
For women in rural areas, the challenges are even greater. Opportunities to work under senior advocates or in courts are mostly in urban centers, forcing many to relocate. But for someone like Ayesha, a single mother from a village in Maharashtra, moving to a city like Mumbai means leaving her support system behind—a risk she can’t afford. “I want to gain experience,” she says, “but how can I survive on the meager pay of a junior advocate while supporting my child?” Her voice trembles with frustration.
Even when women manage to secure roles, the financial burden is immense. Junior advocate positions often pay little to nothing, and the certification process—requiring approval from a Principal District Judge or a senior advocate with ten years of standing—can be riddled with bias. Women, who often lack the influential networks their male counterparts have, may find it harder to get these certifications, further stunting their progress.
A Blow to Judicial Diversity
Women remain markedly underrepresented at every level of the judiciary: they constitute just 38.3% of district judges, 14% of High Court judges, and a mere 6% of Supreme Court justices (India Justice Report, 2025). In over 75 years of independence, no woman has ever been appointed Chief Justice of India—a stark reminder of the systemic barriers that continue to block women from the highest judicial positions. Yet, this new policy risks further shrinking the pool of women candidates, widening an already glaring gender gap. The irony is hard to miss—a judiciary meant to uphold justice may become even less representative of half the population it is meant to serve.
What This Rule Overlooks
The three-year litigation mandate—framed as a step toward ensuring courtroom “experience”—functions less as a reform and more as an act of exclusion. It overlooks decades of structural inequalities, entrenched social norms, and the everyday obstacles that women face within the legal profession.
More importantly, it disregards the track record of hundreds of women who, straight out of law school, have topped judicial service exams and gone on to serve with competence, commitment, and integrity. To imply that they were somehow unprepared or underqualified is not only inaccurate—it is dismissive of the merit they have already demonstrated.
This rule rests on the flawed assumption that the legal profession offers a level playing field—that every aspiring lawyer, regardless of gender, geography, or social capital, has equal access to litigation opportunities. Nothing could be further from the truth. What’s framed as reform risks becoming institutional regression.
Towards inclusive reform
The system was not broken— it lacked mentorship, institutional support, and equal opportunity, not more arbitrary gatekeeping .Instead of enforcing a rigid three-year litigation requirement — which disproportionately excludes women from the judiciary — the system must adopt inclusive, context-aware reforms.
These might include reforming legal education, strengthening post-selection judicial training, recognizing internships, clinical legal work, and clerkships as valid substitutes for court practice, and launching subsidized training programs and mentorship initiatives specifically for women.
Additionally, creating paid litigation fellowships and improving safety and support systems in courts would allow women to gain meaningful experience without being pushed out of the profession. Real reform must aim to open doors, not quietly close them to those already on the margins.
Conclusion
By reinstating the three-year litigation requirement, the judiciary risks becoming even more exclusive—reflecting only a narrow, privileged segment of society. This not only undermines public trust but also robs the system of the diversity of experience and perspective essential to delivering inclusive justice.
This rule does more than delay women’s entry into the judiciary—it deters it. It doesn’t elevate standards; it reinforces systemic barriers. If India is truly committed to gender justice, its highest court must confront a fundamental question: Experience at what cost—and whose experience truly counts?
The Bench is not just a seat of authority. It is a space of representation. And unless women from all walks of life can reach it without running a gauntlet, the scales of justice will remain forever tilted.
(Author is a Lawyer and can be reached at:[email protected])
