A First Generation Lawyer’s Path to Human Rights and Constitutional Advocacy – Sushant Inderjeet Singh

Sushant Inderjeet Singh, Advocate at the Supreme Court of India and various other courts of the country whose work bridges constitutional law, human rights, and public policy. A first-generation learner with academic roots at National Law University Delhi and SOAS University of London, he brings a perspective shaped by lived experiences and a commitment to social justice. Known for his grounded approach and impact-oriented advocacy, he reflects on access to justice, representation and the evolving landscape of equality driven legal practice.

This interview has been published by Anshi Mudgal and The SuperLawyer Team

What were some of the defining moments or challenges in your journey from a small village to global platforms that shaped your path as a first-generation learner and lawyer? 

I was born in a small village called Madhogarh in Bulandshahr, Uttar Pradesh, into a Dalit family that had lived through generations of caste-based exclusion. My grandparents were denied even the most basic dignity.My grandmother never owned a pair of slippers because Dalits were not allowed to wear them. Caste dictated every aspect of life, including the work we were “supposed” to do.

For me, education became an act of resistance, the only path to reclaim both dignity and freedom. My parents moved to Delhi in the early 1990s so that their children could study. They worked tirelessly, as a bus conductor, at a gas station, and even as a security guard  to fund our education. My sister went on to become a doctor, and I pursued law, carrying forward their dreams and sacrifices.

When I joined National Law University Delhi, I entered a world very different from where I came, academically rigorous, socially stratified, and deeply competitive. Navigating that space while confronting the subtle and not-so-subtle realities of caste was one of the greatest challenges of my life.

From that small village to the Supreme Court of India, and to global platforms like SOAS, University of London, and the House of Lords, every milestone reminds me that representation matters. When I was elected as President of the Students’ Union, Universities in the UK, House of Lords, and the Indian Embassy in London invited me to speak, a moment that reaffirmed how far a first-generation learner can go when given a chance.

What first inspired you to pursue law as a career? Was there a particular experience or turning point that directed you toward this field? 

I never planned to become a lawyer. In school, I studied science and imagined a different future. It was actually a friend who first suggested law to me, almost casually. At that time, I didn’t fully understand what it meant. AsI grew up, I began to see injustice around me more clearly, people treated unfairly not because of wrongdoing, but because of caste or lack of awareness of their rights.

The real turning point came when I first read about Dr. B.R. Ambedkar. His story moved me beyond words. Here was a man who faced the same barriers yet transformed the very system that oppressed him using law not as a privilege but as a weapon of liberation. That realization changed everything for me.

I began to see law not merely as a profession, but as a calling, a way to challenge inequality and make justice a lived reality. Since then, every step I’ve taken has been guided by that purpose.

During your time at National Law University, Delhi (NLUD), what experiences laid the foundation and influenced your decision to pursue an LL.M. in Human Rights, Conflict & Justice at SOAS, University of London?

NLU Delhi was transformative. It exposed me to constitutional law, rigorous legal reasoning, and spaces to debate justice, equality, and rights. But it also revealed the deep inequalities within elite spaces. I co-founded the Ambedkar Periyar Phule Study Circle (APPSC) to create a platform for marginalized students and to make the campus more inclusive. These experiences shaped my commitment to social justice law.

At SOAS, University of London, my perspective broadened further. The LL.M. in Human Rights, Conflict & Justice allowed me to study law through a decolonial and comparative lens. I engaged with global frameworks of equality and transitional justice, learning to connect local struggles in India with international conversations on rights and justice. That exposure strengthened my conviction that the fight against caste and inequality must be both local and global.

Growing up, I had no understanding of foreign education or the pathways to study abroad, my only reference was Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, who had studied in London and the United States. His journey inspired me to believe that someone from my background could also aspire to global education. During my years at NLUD, I saw many seniors and batchmates pursuing advanced degrees overseas, which motivated me to explore similar opportunities. I began asking people about the application process and started preparing my own LL.M. applications. However, I did not have the financial means to pay application fees, so I applied only to universities that waived them. That constraint shaped my choices, but it also strengthened my resolve to pursue higher studies with whatever limited resources I had.

With over eight years of experience in service matters, human rights law, constitutional law, and social justice litigation, what drew you to these areas of practice? 

I was drawn to these areas because they deal directly with human dignity. Service and constitutional matters may seem technical, but behind every case is a human story of someone fighting for livelihood, fairness, or recognition.

Human rights and social justice work demand both patience and courage. The cases are often emotionally demanding and under-resourced, but they hold immense potential to transform lives and systems. Each matter becomes not just a legal fight but a moral responsibility  to uphold the Constitution’s promise of equality and justice.

Could you share what the NOS Scheme is and how other eligible students can access or benefit from it?

The National Overseas Scholarship is a Central-sector scheme of the Ministry of Social Justice & Empowerment (for SC / DNT / landless labourers / traditional artisans) and the Ministry of Tribal Affairs (for ST / PVTG candidates), designed to enable low-income, meritorious students from historically disadvantaged communities to pursue master’s or Ph.D. studies abroad. 

Under the scheme (2025–26 guidelines), annually up to 125 fresh awards (subject to fund availability) are reserved under the SC-category scheme: out of these, 115 for Scheduled Castes, 6 for Denotified / Nomadic / Semi-Nomadic Tribes, and 4 for landless agricultural labourers / traditional artisans. Thirty percent of scholarships are reserved for female candidates.

To be eligible, a candidate must obtain an unconditional offer of admission from a foreign university (typically among the top 500 global universities), meet the prescribed academic criteria (e.g., 55% marks or equivalent in qualifying degree), and their total family income should be below the prescribed threshold (for SC/DNT scheme, historically around ₹8 lakh per annum; for ST scheme, previously ₹6.00 lakh per annum). 

If selected, NOS covers, at least in principle, the full cost of tuition fees, an annual maintenance allowance (in USD), contingency allowance, visa/airfare expenses, medical insurance, and other incidental costs. 

What inspired you to advocate for marginalized students in the National Overseas Scholarship, and which student experiences from your work left the most impact on you?

When I decided to represent marginalized students in the National Overseas Scholarship litigation, the motivation came from my lived experience as a Dalit first generation learner rather than from any personal benefit under the scheme itself. I did not receive NOS, but I belong to a Scheduled Caste community and I truly understand how difficult it is for a Dalit student to dream of studying abroad. For most students from our communities, even imagining foreign education feels out of reach. Admission may come through merit, but without financial help these opportunities simply collapse.

I was fortunate to study abroad only because I received a partial scholarship from the Government of Delhi and additional support through crowdfunding. That support allowed me to pursue my LLM at SOAS University of London. During that time I was elected the President of the SOAS Student Union, received several speaking invitations, and gained exposure that changed the direction of my professional and personal life. None of this would have happened without financial assistance. That is why I deeply empathize with Dalit and Adivasi students who secure prestigious admissions but cannot join for want of financial support. For them, the National Overseas Scholarship is often the only life changing opportunity.

The National Overseas Scholarship scheme is a central government programme designed to support students belonging to Scheduled Castes, Denotified Tribes, Nomadic Tribes, landless labourers, traditional artisans, and Scheduled Tribes who wish to pursue masters and doctoral degrees abroad. Each year a specific number of scholarships are reserved for these communities. To qualify, a student must hold an unconditional offer of admission from a recognised foreign university and their family income must fall below the prescribed threshold. Once selected, the scholarship covers tuition fees, living expenses, contingency grants, airfare, visa and insurance costs. For many first generation learners, this is the only viable path to overseas higher education.

However, the litigation revealed that the scheme was not functioning as intended. Many eligible and deserving students were rejected because of minor technical errors in documents or because their online submissions did not upload correctly. Some students received offers from foreign universities but could not join because the scholarship award letters were delayed beyond university deadlines. Others were rejected because of rigid documentation formats that did not account for ground realities. There were also years where funds remained pending and the ministry withheld scholarships despite students meeting all requirements. These issues showed that access to education is not just about having schemes; real access requires efficiency, fairness, and sensitivity in implementation. Litigation became essential because without judicial intervention many of these students would have permanently lost their only chance at higher education abroad.

Through this work, I realised again that equality in education is not merely a constitutional promise but a lived struggle. The fight is not about individual success stories alone. It is about ensuring that children of workers, bus conductors, farmers, labourers, and single income families are not denied opportunities simply because they were born into poverty. True educational equality is achieved only when the system recognises their merit without drowning them in bureaucracy or indifference.

Interesting and impactful personal experiences: 

Some of the students whose cases we represented illustrate this reality with painful clarity.

Dhiraj is a meritorious student whose father works as a bus conductor. He is the first person in his family to aspire for a masters degree abroad. He secured an unconditional admission offer for a Masters in Materials Science and Engineering at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore, yet faced scholarship roadblocks that threatened to end his journey before it could begin.

Manish is a talented Scheduled Caste student who secured an unconditional offer for a Masters in Computer Science at the University of Glasgow. Despite fulfilling every academic and income criterion, he faced procedural hurdles under the scholarship scheme.

Laxmi Narayan Dhire is the first in his family to pursue higher education abroad. He secured an unconditional offer for a Masters in Computer Science at the University of Liverpool, but was held back because his application was trapped in administrative delays.

Vishal is the son of a labourer and an Anganwadi worker. He secured an unconditional offer for a Masters in Economics at the London School of Economics. His family background made him entirely dependent on NOS funding. Without it, an admission letter from LSE would become meaningless.

Sagar Morle comes from a family that has lived through generations of poverty. Their total annual family income is only thirty six thousand rupees. His father had to give up his own education due to poverty, but Sagar broke that cycle by earning a PhD offer from the University of Sussex. He faced rejection under NOS despite clearing every requirement.

Lagan comes from a modest family with a heavy debt burden of thirty five lakh rupees. Her elder brother is mentally disabled and dependent on her father, the only earning member. She earned an admission offer abroad but was denied the scholarship that could have transformed her entire family’s future.

Vedant Fitter belongs to a family that has struggled for generations to meet basic needs. His father had to sacrifice his dream of education due to poverty and has now retired. With no stable income in the house, Vedant became the hope for his family when he secured admission to the University of Sydney for a Masters in Computer Science. Yet, he too faced denial under NOS.

There are many more stories like these. They demonstrate that behind every litigation file is not just a case but a family placing its entire hope in one child. These cases show that achieving equality in education requires more than creating a scheme. It requires ensuring that the scheme actually reaches the very people for whom it was created.

For me, taking up these cases was not a professional decision. It was an ethical one rooted in my own experiences, my community, and my belief that justice must translate into real opportunities. The struggle for fair and accessible education is not about courtroom victories alone. It is about dignity, hope, and the belief that a student’s future should not be decided by poverty or bureaucratic delay.

As a practitioner before the Supreme Court and the Delhi High Court, what have been some of the most challenging or meaningful cases you’ve handled?

Some of the most meaningful cases I’ve handled have been those involving students’ rights, caste discrimination, and service matters affecting livelihoods. I am currently representing the family of Amrutha, a student from National Law University Delhi who allegedly died by suicide, a case that raises larger questions about institutional accountability, mental health, and caste bias in educational spaces.

Preparing for such cases means immersing myself in both the law and the lived experiences behind it. I spend as much time listening to clients and understanding their realities as I do drafting arguments. Litigation in constitutional and human rights law is as much about empathy as it is about expertise.

What advice would you give to young lawyers who aspire to integrate legal practice with advocacy for social transformation?

I would tell young lawyers: don’t let others define what “success” in law looks like. Law is not only about corporate offices or billable hours, it is also about standing for something bigger than yourself.

Focus on learning the craft of research, drafting, and courtroom discipline, but also build empathy and social awareness. Be fearless in speaking truth to power, but stay humble and rooted in the communities you serve.

Above all, remember that the Constitution is not just a document it’s a moral promise. Your work as a lawyer can help fulfill that promise. Ambedkar is to follow and be the change maker to the lives of millions.

How do you manage stress and maintain balance between your professional commitments and personal well-being? 

It’s a constant effort. I’ve learned that sustainability is as important as passion. Beginning my mornings with exercise and meditation, help me stay centered. I often spend time in community spaces like the Buddha Vihar, play outdoor sports, or simply walk in the park to clear my mind.

I remind myself that justice work is a marathon, not a sprint. Taking time for reflection and travel helps me regain perspective. Most importantly, spending evenings with my parents and sisters grounds me. Their support reminds me where I came from and why I continue this journey.

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