The gap between the words of the law and the reality on-ground surfaced starkly during my two-month internship experience at the Martha Farrell Foundation, which works on the rights of women in India. As a law student preparing for the fourth year, I entered the internship with considerable exposure to statutes, landmark judgments, and legal theoretical frameworks. However, my real education began with direct interaction, analysing cases, conducting legal research, and witnessing how legislative intent is mediated and sometimes diluted by local circumstances, resistance from institutions to change, and societal attitudes.
One of my central tasks was the study of case law surrounding the creation of the Vishaka Guidelines. The Supreme Court, through Vishaka v. State of Rajasthan and Ors, 1997, framed these guidelines in response to legislative silence on sexual harassment at the workplace; the action was catalytic, but it was the ground-level experience during my research that revealed the depth of the challenges faced during implementation. Despite the Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (Prevention, Prohibition, and Redressal) Act, now providing a more detailed statutory framework, many workplaces still approach compliance as a checkbox exercise. There is insufficient training for Internal Committees, hesitation in filing complaints, and, worse still, survivors continually fear retaliation.
In urban setups, compliance is sometimes better but perfunctory; in smaller towns, ignorance and resistance can be the norm. Working on legal research regarding the application of SHW to transpersons exposed another dimension of exclusion. While the law theoretically protects all employees, practical obstacles abound. Transpersons face additional discrimination, misgendering, and exclusion from policy discussions. They are even refused access to Internal Committees. Based on my previous interaction with activists and trans-rights organisations, I am now convinced that legal inclusion is only the first step. Real progress demands institutional will, awareness and sensitisation programmes, and actively challenging prejudices.
The SHW Act’s inclusive intent often fails against prevalent social prejudices, resulting in either under-reporting or outright denial of the incorporation of prevention and redressal mechanisms. Research into the Protection of Women from Domestic Violence (PWDV) Act, 2005, involved examining case laws. The Act promises comprehensive protections, the right to residence, maintenance, protection orders, and more, but ground realities are far more uneven than what the statutory text suggests.
Many survivors grapple with slow judicial processes, lack of awareness, and pressures (both within families and from society) to settle or withdraw complaints. Police stations, women's cells, and protection officers themselves sometimes lack adequate training or resources, and women who do seek justice frequently feel isolated, unsupported, or exposed to counter-allegations. These experiences, shadowed by the theory-practice gap, have shaped a core conviction that lawyers must remain grounded and sensitive to the lived realities of those at the margins. Too often, legal practitioners and students see the law as a series of elegant solutions, insulated from cultural, social, and institutional frictions.
My work at MFF forced an awakening to the truth, that statutes only reach their full potential when interpreted and enforced in alignment with the realities faced by people, especially those at the margins. It is not enough to cite Vishaka or SHW or PWDV Act provisions; meaningful advocacy demands empathy, resilience, and creative strategising.
Lawyers should listen to survivors, understand their context, be ready for challenges and certain setbacks, and push for small changes when big reforms do not seem possible. This is extremely crucial in the case of marginalised communities. Transpersons, in particular, navigate an exhausting landscape of exclusion even when laws appear affirming. Without lawyers who combine statutory knowledge with community engagement and active support, even the strongest statutes become brittle shields.
Similarly, survivors of domestic violence need advocates who can explain every right in accessible and easy-to-understand language, challenge misuse or misinterpretation of the law, and support them sensitively even through their inevitable emotional setbacks.
To conclude, the law’s promise is aspirational, but only lawyers rooted in the ground reality can help make that promise credible. My internship left me convinced that academic excellence alone does not equip one to bridge the gap; one must develop the skills and humility to connect, listen, and adapt. For future law students and interns, seeking out ground-level experiences and learning from civil society actors is not supplemental; it is essential to developing the stamina, empathy, and effectiveness required for legal advocacy in India. The case studies on Vishaka, SHW, and the PWDV Act are not just stories of reform; they are reminders that justice always begins with understanding the lived experience, not just the written law.
