Court kacheri’s chaotic chakkar!

The protagonist declares, “[As far back as I can remember] mein toh saala kabhi lawyer banna hi nahin chahta tha (I never wished to be a lawyer)!”

Court Kacheri is a legal drama. But that’s a genre. 

The way it works with the OTT scene in general — and perhaps a reason so much of the content sucks — is if, say, a popular Hindi heartland thriller, historical fiction, or a courtroom drama, exists on a platform, the others order one for their own.

The courtroom is merely a setting, isn’t it? 

The emotional core will still come from the story, and the characters. At the centre of Court Kacheri is the father (Pawan Malhotra), son (Ashish Verma), and protégé (Puneet Batra), who work in a district court. 

‘Welcome to Sarjanpur’, yes; but I don’t know where it is. An inmate of sorts to this generic geography of small-town North India is the son, who feels gagged by his father’s natural ambition. That the dad’s set up a law practice, the son must inherit it. 

Puneet Batra, writer and actor; Ruchir Arun, director

It’s an interesting take on nepotism that comes with its own form of oppression. Wherein everything served on a platter inescapably inhibits life’s choices.

Kids in richest families, more so, suffer from this imprisonment. Another reason I’ve never envied them! 

The show’s writer, Puneet Batra (Kota Factory 3), says this tallies with conversations he had with district-court lawyers during his two-year research, surveying courts in Surajpur, Ghaziabad, Karkardooma, Tees Hazari…. 

Puneet, incidentally, also passionately plays young Param, the protégé to the senior lawyer on the show. He’s the outsider; treated no less than a son.

Director Ruchir Arun (Little Things) tells me this adds a nuance to nepotism as a phenomenon: “The [actual] son never resents Param. Who, in turn, treats the boy as his younger brother. There is an originality to this gaze. It’s my favourite part of the show.”

The starting point of which, I learnt, is a line in it, or the “kahaavat”/proverb, that you must stay away from “safed coat” (doctors), and “kaale coat” (lawyers). 

The fact is, Arunabh argues, “While the society views [lawyers] with disdain, there’s a realisation that when you’re in trouble, they’re the ones, who will see you through. There’s another line about a village that has no ‘vakeel’ (lawyer) — those who fight for others are called vakeel.” 

My favourite part of Court Kacheri — as with most shows we’ve loved on OTTs — is the casting curios. This is besides the brilliant leads, of course — that foul-mouthed daadi in the village; the corrupt babu in the rural hospital; the conscientious, no-nonsense head-constable in the local thana… 

These are inevitably unfamiliar faces, and names you’ll never know that, through OTT series, in particular, have wholly upended the Hindi film archetype of the ‘character actor’ — adding freshness and authenticity to the world the series is intimately set in. 

In some ways, the pioneers of this movement might well be TVF itself, originally a collective on YouTube, over a decade ago, introducing untested talents to the mainstream, since Bollywood had, for the longest, developed space for few. 

Its founder Arunabh tells me, “That’s how we began our journey. Back then, we worked with small budgets — we still do — and thanks to casting directors, with whoever was available. I read an article recently about 250 actors from TVF that nobody had seen before. Many of them still don’t live in Bombay.”

As for Court Kacheri, Ruchir adds, “That daadi, I think, is from Lucknow. Most of the subsidiary cast are from Allahabad, and thereabouts.” Which is where the series is shot. 

The other aspect you can equally credit TVF for is shining a light on villages, where over 60 per cent of India lives, but urban Indians barely get a genuine glimpse of, in their popular entertainment. 

Panchayat (Prime Video) remains TVF’s flagship enterprise. Medical drama, Gram Chikitsalay (2025, Prime Video), was a welcome addition. 

There’s much of rural India, while seeking humour/delight in the mundane — rather than poverty porn, or public service advertising — in Court Kacheri. The central case in it deals with a simple matter of property and divorce. 

The other legal drama as authentically diving into mofussil India, I can think of, is Guilty Minds (Prime Video), written-directed by Shefali Bhushan, daughter of top jurist, Shanti Bhushan. 

That stars Kulbhushan Kharbanda, 80, easily India’s most underrated actor, still.

You could’ve said the same for Pawan Malhotra, 67. But not anymore; once you watch Court Kacheri, Grahan (Jio-Hotstar), Tabbar… 

Speaking of the latter, I recall posting on LinkedIn about how “it’s not acknowledged enough: some of the most unique, intellectually sorted and hence, quite possibly, the all-time iconic Indian shows — Tabbar, Scam 1992, Rocket Boys, Maharani (first season), Gullak, Freedom at Midnight, The Hunt — have all been on Sony LIV.”

To which the crowd-sourced recommendation was, how could you miss mentioning Court Kacheri; super-crisp, five episodes’ flat, so finely written, directed, performed… 

Truly. How could I? You mustn’t either. 

Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture. 
He tweets @mayankw14 Send your feedback to  mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.

"Exciting news! Mid-day is now on WhatsApp Channels Subscribe today by clicking the link and stay updated with the latest news!" Click here!