India’s judiciary is deeply riddled with gender disparity and underrepresentation. Since its inception, the Supreme Court has only had 11 women judges. At the high court level, women constitute a mere 14.1 per cent of judges, and in the lower judiciary, they make up only 38.3 per cent of selected candidates.
The issue with the three-year practice requirement is not only that it creates an impediment, but also that it entrenches an insular vision of the ‘ideal’ judicial candidate: a fresh graduate who can devote the immediate years after graduation entirely to their profession and navigate it free from significant external constraints. In India, that vision is deeply gendered.
This is pertinent because the explanation often offered by the Supreme Court collegium while recommending judges for appointment to the apex court from the lower courts is a lack of ‘eligible’ women candidates. And the recently mandated requirement of a minimum of three years of legal practice before entry into the lower civil judiciary risks making this situation even worse.
The issue with the three-year practice requirement is not only that it creates an impediment, but also that it entrenches an insular vision of the ‘ideal’ judicial candidate: a fresh graduate who can devote the immediate years after graduation entirely to their profession and navigate it free from significant external constraints. In India, that vision is deeply gendered.
The weight of gendered patriarchal expectations
At first glance, the rule appears reasonable. Practical experience can strengthen judicial competence and courtroom understanding, although no empirical evidence was cited in the judgement to support this claim. Yet a closer examination through a constitutional lens reveals a significant lapse: formal equality is interpreted as substantive equality, undermining the fundamental principle underlying affirmative action.
By linking three years of legal practice to judicial entry, the Court assumes that all candidates are on a level playing field. In doing so, it overlooks the gendered, social, and economic barriers that shape access to the legal profession.
By linking three years of legal practice to judicial entry, the Court assumes that all candidates are on a level playing field. In doing so, it overlooks the gendered, social, and economic barriers that shape access to the legal profession. The result is an eligibility criterion that risks undermining the fundamental rights enshrined under Articles 14 and 16 of the Constitution by disproportionately disadvantaging women, queer persons, first-generation lawyers, and other marginalised groups.
A deeper examination through the intersecting lenses of gender, sexuality, caste, and class reveals the burden of this requirement. The irony is difficult to ignore. The judiciary has repeatedly recognised that supposedly neutral rules can produce unfair outcomes and has developed a rich jurisprudence on indirect discrimination, substantive equality, and affirmative action. Yet in mandating three years of practice, it appears to overlook the structural privilege embedded in the ability to endure the precarious early years of litigation.
Anecdotally, the years immediately following law school often coincide with a period during which many women face pressing social expectations related to marriage, relocation, caregiving, and family responsibilities. While their male counterparts are often encouraged to focus on establishing their careers, women frequently bear the burden of gendered patriarchal expectations.
Anecdotally, the years immediately following law school often coincide with a period during which many women face pressing social expectations related to marriage, relocation, caregiving, and family responsibilities. While their male counterparts are often encouraged to focus on establishing their careers, women frequently bear the burden of gendered patriarchal expectations. The gendered nature of this burden to accommodate family priorities in their professional decisions is evident from the Periodic Labour Force Surveys, which show that domestic responsibilities remain the single most common reason for women graduates across age groups to stay out of the workforce (59 per cent), while for men, it is either health or education.
The unequal gendered distribution of responsibilities and decision-making power within the patriarchal family unit can reduce women’s autonomy over career choices and make sustained legal practice more difficult. Data from the Bar Council suggests that women constitute only 15 per cent of registered advocates. By conditioning entry into the judiciary on three years of continuous practice during precisely this stage of life, the rule disproportionately disadvantages women and risks excluding talented candidates.
Subheading
The exclusionary impact of the rule extends beyond women. Apart from Justice Joyita Mondal, a trans woman judge in West Bengal, India’s judiciary has no openly queer judges. The legal profession remains marked by systemic hierarchies, resulting in social stigma, exclusion, and uneven access to courts for members of the queer community. For many LGBTQIA+ lawyers, establishing and sustaining a legal career requires navigating barriers that their heterosexual and cisgender counterparts are less likely to face. For example, family support cannot always be assumed for queer persons, depriving them of the financial, social, and emotional safety nets that many others take for granted.
Viewed through this lens, the three-year practice requirement raises a broader question: whose career trajectory is the judiciary treating as the norm, and more importantly, whose is it ignoring?
Moreover, the rule also disproportionately burdens first-generation lawyers and those from economically and socially marginalised backgrounds. For many such candidates, the judiciary serves not merely as a career choice but as an opportunity to achieve economic security, social mobility, and public authority for themselves and their families. By delaying eligibility, the rule effectively requires them to endure the early years of litigation, which are often marked by long working hours. meagre pay, and little job security. As a result, it risks transforming judicial entry from a socio-economic gateway into a privilege available only to those who can afford to wait.
Viewed through this lens, the three-year practice requirement raises a broader question: whose career trajectory is the judiciary treating as the norm, and more importantly, whose is it ignoring? Those who experience exclusion on the basis of gender, sexuality, or other forms of marginalisation are required to overcome additional hurdles before they can even become eligible; the result is not simply a smaller pool of candidates but a restricted understanding of who can even belong within that pool.
A judiciary that remains overwhelmingly male, heterosexual, and socially privileged risks enabling, and even reproducing, systems of discrimination and exclusion. This is particularly troubling because representation within the judiciary is not merely symbolic: judges bring lived experiences, perspectives, and sensitivities that shape how the law is interpreted.
The relevance of a vibrant judiciary is exemplified by this very mandate, delivered by a bench comprising male judges. A judiciary that remains overwhelmingly male, heterosexual, and socially privileged risks enabling, and even reproducing, systems of discrimination and exclusion. This is particularly troubling because representation within the judiciary is not merely symbolic: judges bring lived experiences, perspectives, and sensitivities that shape how the law is interpreted. If diversity on the bench is a constitutional value worth pursuing, institutional design must not only reflect competence but also ensure representation.
In our current political environment, the judiciary must remain a source of hope. The fight for true representation must move beyond reservations within the judiciary and towards structural reforms that promote the principles of equity, justice, and fairness. The judiciary must reconsider the three-year rule and develop relevant alternatives to create a more diverse, progressive, inclusive, and empathetic institution.
About the author(s)
Vasudha is a law graduate and researcher with a keen interest in gender justice, climate policy, and legal reform. Beyond her research, she is an emerging writer with a love for reading, cooking, and the classical dance form Kathak.
