MERIT ON HOLD: REIMAGINING THE 3-YEAR RULE THROUGH A GENDER LENS
By
Adan Fatima, Jamia Millia Islamia.
Email id: adanfatima9310@gmail.com.
ABSTRACT
In Indian society, the journey of women from being denied representation to gradually being granted rights has been long, complex, and filled with both progress and setbacks. Yet, even today, a woman’s path remains far more difficult than that of a man, especially in a system deeply rooted in patriarchal norms. Against this backdrop, the Supreme Court’s decision on May 20, 2020, to reinstate the requirement of three years of litigation experience for entry level judicial positions such as Civil Judge (Junior Division) feels like a step backward. This move reversed a 2002 ruling that had allowed fresh law graduates to apply directly. While the intention to strengthen judicial efficiency may be valid, its impact cannot be ignored. For countless women who already face systemic and social barriers in accessing the legal profession, this new rule becomes yet another hurdle. Instead of opening doors, it risks shutting them out from a space they have fought so hard to enter. The mandatory 3-year practice requirement often becomes a significant barrier for women aspiring to enter the judiciary. In a society where deep-rooted stigma and gender bias still persist, many women see the judiciary as a relatively secure and respectable career path within the legal profession. However, the societal pressures, combined with preconceived notions about a woman’s role in law, often discourage them from pursuing litigation as a long-term profession. For such women, the judiciary offers not just a profession but a dignified escape and a means to continue their legal journey on more equitable terms.
Keywords - Gender, discrimination, Judiciary etc.
Reputation Over Aspiration: The Middle-Class Dilemma
Courtrooms in India continue to be male dominated spaces, and societal expectations often push women toward so called “respectable” professions. For a woman from a middle-class family, where reputation is everything, choosing a career in litigation is not just a personal decision, it becomes a battle against deeply held norms. Families, still rooted in traditions that glorify early marriage and fear public scrutiny, often hesitate to let their daughter’s step into courtrooms. The fear of judgment, exploitation, and loss of honor looms larger than her dreams.
The three-year litigation rule might be presented as a way to ensure “real courtroom experience,” but for many, especially women, it feels less like a reform and more like another door being shut. It fails to acknowledge the deeper struggles women face decades of inequality, rigid social expectations, and the daily hurdles that make surviving in the legal profession difficult in the first place. For many young women from marginalized communities, choosing law itself was a leap of faith—often taken despite societal odds and without the luxury of networks or connections.[1]
And yet, many of these women have gone straight from law school to topping judicial exams, proving themselves with determination, integrity, and sheer grit. To now suggest that they are not “experienced enough” feels dismissive like their efforts and excellence don’t count unless they fight through an extra layer of hardship.
This rule assumes the legal field is a level playing ground. It’s not. Not when caste, gender, geography, and privilege still decide who gets to shadow a senior, who gets heard in court, and who gets access to real opportunities. Calling this a “reform” ignores the reality on the ground—it risks pushing the system backward, not forward.
Structural Inequities and Gendered Fears
Scholars like Flavia Agnes and Bina Agarwal have highlighted how structural barriers, including lack of support systems, economic dependency, and safety concerns, disproportionately affect women's entry and retention in the legal field. Early marriage, domestic obligations, and societal apprehensions about women appearing in courts further reinforce these barriers. In such contexts, families often resist allowing their daughters to enter litigation, fearing not only exploitation but the potential “tainting” of the family’s reputation.
In such a space, it becomes incredibly hard for a woman to carve out her identity. Some manage to rise through sheer grit, sleepless nights, and relentless dedication. But many are forced to let go, not because they lacked potential, but because their circumstances did not allow them to continue. Their dreams are paused, buried, or endlessly postponed.
For a woman entering the world of litigation, the courtroom is not just a workplace — it is a battleground of perception. Senior Advocate Indira Jaising, drawing from her own journey, has voiced what countless women feel but cannot always say: to speak up is to be called "aggressive," to take space is to be labeled "too much," and to assert authority is to be reduced to being "delightful" — so long as she does not raise her voice.[2]
At an event marking Lady Lawyers Day, Justice Prathiba M. Singh captured the reality with painful clarity: women are either encouraged, patronized, or faced with outright chauvinism and still, they smile and move forward. Yet beneath that smile is often a weight they carry alone. With only 15% of lawyers in India being women, the odds are stacked, and the pressure to prove oneself to give not just 100, but 120 percent is both constant and exhausting.[3]
Judiciary: A Safer Dream, Yet Still Out of Reach
In contrast, the judiciary offers something more secure with a structured system, fixed hours, and above all, societal respect. In a country where status often overshadows passion, the title of a judge is revered, while the struggle of a young woman advocate is overlooked. It is heartbreaking that for many women, their love for law is only considered valid when it comes with a title that earns approval, not just from the system, but from their own homes.
For many women belonging to marginalized communities such as Dalits, tribals, and Muslims choosing to study law is not merely an academic pursuit, but a courageous step driven by hope and the aspiration for empowerment. The legal profession, particularly the judiciary, is often seen as a path toward dignity, independence, and upward social mobility. After investing five rigorous years in legal education, many of these women view the judiciary as a safer and more respectable alternative to litigation.[4]
However, their journey is marked by significant challenges shaped by the intersectionality of caste, religion, and gender. Women from these communities often lack the professional networks and references that are crucial for entering and succeeding in litigation. As a result, their capabilities are frequently overlooked or not taken seriously. In contrast, the judicial service offers an institutional framework where merit and knowledge can lead to advancement and recognition. For these women, the judiciary becomes a space where they can realize their full potential, overcome systemic biases, and gain the respect they deserve in society.
CONCLUSION
The mandatory 3-year practice rule brings their aspirations to an abrupt halt. It places yet another barrier in a journey already filled with hurdles social stigma, financial strain, lack of mentorship, and cultural resistance. This requirement not only delays their progress but, in many cases, derails it entirely. Instead of opening doors, the rule closes them pushing capable, educated women away from the judiciary and back into spaces where their talent remains unseen and their voices unheard. For those who have fought so much just to get to the courtroom, being told to wait again or worse, to give up is not just discouraging, it’s unjust.
This rule has unintentionally narrowed the path to the judiciary in a way that mostly benefits those with privilege those who can afford to spend three years in litigation, who have the support systems, networks, and financial means to sustain themselves during that time. But for a large section of aspiring candidates, especially women, this sudden shift in policy feels like the rug has been pulled from beneath their feet.
While the intention behind the rule might be to strengthen the judiciary through experienced recruits, its impact is uneven. Many law students particularly first-generation learners, women from conservative families, or those from marginalized communities had planned their future around the earlier eligibility. They invested years of effort and hope, only to now find themselves in limbo, with no backup plan and fading confidence.
For women especially, the stakes are higher. With limited freedom, fewer financial resources, and societal pressure to settle down early, waiting three additional years is not just inconvenient it can mean the end of the dream altogether. The delay could translate into missed opportunities, forced career changes, or pressure to marry and leave the profession entirely.
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[1] The SCS’s Three‑Year Practice Ruling is a Case Study in Indirect Discrimination, The Leaflet, available at: https://theleaflet.in/women-and-children/the-scs-three-year-practice-ruling-is-a-case-study-in-indirect-discrimination (last visited Jul. 21, 2025).
[2] Are Women in Litigation Disproportionately Affected by Mental Health Concerns? Unpacking the Intersection of Women, Litigation and Mental Health, SCC Online Blog, (8 Mar. 2024), available at: https://www.scconline.com/blog/post/2024/03/08/are-women-in-litigation-disproportionately-affected-by-mental-health-concerns-unpacking-the-intersection-of-women-litigation-and-mental-health/ (last visited Jul. 21, 2025).
[3] HC Judge Laments ‘Huge Disparity’ in Legal Profession: Only 15 Per Cent of Practising Lawyers are Women, The Indian Express, (10 Dec. 2022), available at: https://indianexpress.com/article/india/hc-judge-laments-huge-disparity-in-legal-profession-only-15-per-cent-of-practising-lawyers-are-women-8319647/ (last visited Jul. 21, 2025).
[4] 3‑Year Rule a Setback to Judiciary Aspirants”, The Hindu (22 May 2025), available at: https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/3-year-rule-a-setback-to-judiciary-aspirants/article69597321.ece (last visited 21 Jul. 2025).