This interview has been published by Anshi Mudgal and The SuperLawyer Team
You have built a 14-year legal journey rooted in public service and constitutional values. What inspired you to pursue a career in law, especially as a first-generation advocate coming from a commerce background?
My foray into the legal profession was driven not by legacy, but by purpose. I come from a humble background, having topped my Commerce stream at Kendriya Vidyalaya, Ghaziabad with 90% marks overall. I then pursued B.Com (Hons.) at a reputed college under Delhi University. While most of my classmates were preparing for Chartered Accountancy in what felt like a rat race, my journey took a sharp turn during my final year examination.
One particular incident changed my life. During the final B.Com (Hons.) exam, a mischievous student in our college was caught using unfair means. When the flying squad arrived, he threw the cheating material near an innocent girl student. The squad presumed her guilty and began disallowing her from writing the exam. I was a direct witness to the episode and immediately intervened, raising my voice against the injustice. I requested the squad to verify handwriting and narrated the true sequence of events. One of the senior officials sarcastically asked, ” Kya aap vakeel hain is ladki ke? ” That statement, although meant mockingly, ignited something deep within me.
From that day, my classmates teasingly began calling me “Abhishek Vakeel,” despite my not even holding a law degree. What was meant as a joke became a badge of honour. It planted the seed that an advocate is the one who defends the innocent when no one else does.
This awakening found further support in my elder brother, Vivek Choudhary—a Class I Central Government Officer and currently pursuing MBA from IIM Ahmedabad on Government sponsorship. He’s my role model. He took me to visit the Supreme Court, where I witnessed top lawyers arguing passionately, fearlessly answering judicial queries, and defending public causes with intellect and grace. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I dreamt of standing in those very courts, giving voice to those silenced by systemic oppression. My brother recognized this spark, and he invested his income and emotional support to help me pursue law. He is my hero, and I owe the advocate within me to his belief in my purpose.
Many of your Public Interest Litigations have addressed significant socio-economic challenges. In your view, what role do PILs play in strengthening democratic values and public accountability in India today?
Public Interest Litigations (PILs) are not merely judicial tools—they are the constitutional lifeline for the voiceless. They provide hope to the one standing last in the queue for justice. To many, courts are like the moon—visible but unreachable due to cost, complexity, and lack of legal awareness. But PILs create a bridge to that lunar surface.
A PIL is like Ganga Jal—pure and accessible. Like Bhagirath brought the Ganga down for mankind, a bonafide petitioner brings the concerns of the unheard to the court. PILs install fear in law-breakers and deter corporations and individuals with malicious intent. They make the powerful pause and re-evaluate when they see justice knocking at their door on behalf of the powerless.
The beauty of PILs lies in the fact that no locus standi is needed. Anyone with a genuine concern for public welfare can approach the court. It democratizes justice by empowering individuals to act as the conscience of society. For me, PILs are not cases—they are missions. Whether it’s securing food for paramilitary forces or demanding healthcare for the underserved, PILs are my way of translating constitutional values into real-world action.
Having had such immense experience over the years, could you share a particular case that was especially challenging for you personally and how you navigated it?
Every case has its own challenges, but the fight for Martyr Status for Paramilitary Forces stands out. Despite their sacrifices, paramilitary personnel were long denied the dignity of being recognized as martyrs. I had to battle bureaucratic indifference and convoluted policy frameworks. But more than that, I carried the emotional weight of families whose pain had long been ignored. That PIL wasn’t just a legal win—it was a tribute to sacrifice.
Over the years, I have filed over 36 successful PILs without charging a single rupee, with not one attracting adverse court remarks.
Another notable case was when Delhi Metro officials held a train hostage at Dwarka Metro Station over a dispute with CISF. Commuters, including students and senior citizens, were locked inside for 45 minutes. I filed a PIL the same day in the Delhi High Court. The result? 56 officials were suspended, and Delhi Metro was declared an Essential Public Service. That PIL sent a message: public inconvenience cannot be held hostage to internal disputes.
In another instance, I filed a PIL demanding identity protection for brave jawans whose families were endangered due to media interviews revealing names, schools, and addresses. I pleaded with the court to mandate blurring of faces and anonymizing sensitive details.
I have also sought a special law on road rage, after witnessing its terrifying consequences in Delhi, where innocent commuters are assaulted over minor incidents by muscle-wielding individuals.
These cases aren’t just files—they are lived experiences of pain, injustice, and eventual hope. And they reaffirm my belief: law can be a healing force.
In matters such as the Ola-Uber drivers’ strike and the regularization of DTC contractual workers, you have represented often-overlooked issues. What do you see as the key legal and structural challenges addressing issues relating to contractual workers under labour law?
The biggest issue lies in the legal ambiguity of contract-based employment, which often serves as a loophole for employers to bypass fair wages, job security, and benefits. In the DTC matter, drivers were being paid on a per-kilometer basis. To earn a livelihood, many drove buses for days without rest, leading to fatigue-induced accidents and loss of innocent lives. It was exploitation under the garb of employment.
Contractors earned crores by billing “minimum wages” under their name, while the actual drivers received only a fraction. There was no social security, no medical aid, and no dignity.
During the Ola-Uber drivers’ strike, I realized that app-based economies further compound this problem by designating workers as “partners,” removing all accountability for welfare.
We need enforceable parity, not just legal jargon. The system must acknowledge the humanity of the worker, not just their productivity.
You have described law as a responsibility toward humanity. What advice would you give to young lawyers aspiring to pursue pro bono or public interest litigation, and what values and skills should they instill in themselves for the next generation of legal professionals?
To young lawyers, I say: do not enter this profession only to earn, but also to serve. Cultivate empathy, resilience, and a deep understanding of constitutional values. Pro bono and PIL work may not always bring monetary returns, but they enrich your character and sharpen your advocacy skills in unmatched ways. Build your credibility through hard work and sincerity. Learn to listen. Be patient with the system, yet persistent with your purpose. The next generation of lawyers must embody not just knowledge but also compassion and courage.
In India, a single citizen is directly or indirectly touched by around 3,500 laws—yet ignorance of law is no excuse in our country. Even a rickshaw puller breaking a rule cannot claim he did not know the law; that is where the true responsibility of a lawyer begins: to serve those who do not have the privilege or resources to know the law. Law is like an ocean—vast and deep—and the lawyer must be the boatman for those who cannot swim through its complexities.
Being the voice of the voiceless is the highest calling—just as only a mother understands the silent cry of her child, a lawyer must develop the instinct to hear the unheard and stand as the voice of the powerless. Trees cannot come to court when they are cut illegally; the air of Delhi cannot file a petition when it is poisoned. It is we, lawyers with vision and a sense of ownership for our nation as our own home, who must stand up. If there is dust in our house, we do not wait for the neighbour to clean it—we clean it ourselves. Similarly, if you see injustice in society, do not wait for someone from America or London to come and fix it. Be the cure yourself.
Don’t be disheartened if you stand against a senior or well-known counsel. For your client, you are their Ram Jethmalani, because you are the only one they can afford. Treat each client—paid or pro bono—as your most important one. Remember: a single satisfied client becomes your unpaid ambassador to a hundred more.
As Swami Vivekananda rightly said, “All power is within you. You can do anything and everything. Believe in that.” These are the words I always speak to my juniors, associates, and interns—my office has produced many brilliant legal minds who now carry this spirit forward.
As a first-generation lawyer, what were some of the key challenges you faced early in your career and how did you overcome them while building a socially driven legal practice?
Lack of mentorship, limited networks, and financial uncertainty were significant hurdles. Unlike peers with established family chambers, I had to create my own space. After graduating from Campus Law Centre, Delhi University, I initially prepared for the judicial services exams at Mukherjee Nagar. But while my heart was always with litigation, half-hearted preparation could not yield results. After an unsuccessful year, I enrolled for my LL.M. and decided to apply for law researcher positions before Hon’ble Judges of the Delhi High Court.
Each interview, however, started with the same question: “Who is an advocate in your family? Is there any judge?”—a question that always kept me outside the door. I faced rejection after rejection while seeing my juniors and batchmates being selected. I stopped applying altogether—until I heard that Hon’ble Justice Rajiv Shakdher, then of Delhi High Court and later Chief Justice of Himachal High Court, needed a Law Researcher. I applied again. There were 10-15 candidates that day, but Justice Shakdher asked me only questions related to my legal knowledge—and selected me on the spot. He never asked the question I dreaded.
My mentor, my Guru, saw not my background but my potential. Justice Shakdher brought out the best in me. During my training under him, I found my calling as a PIL activist. I still remember reading Ghalib’s poetry books from his chamber—a hobby I cherish to this day. I carry with me his wisdom: Abhishek, when your case is strong on merit, you need not argue loudly. But when it is weak, you cannot afford to stay quiet.” His guidance shaped my understanding of the law and the role of the press too “The role of the press is like a mirror—it tells the king when he is naked.”In this profession, a senior’s role is crucial. If your master is Krishna, you will surely become an Arjuna. My mentor was my Krishna—he picked a small-town boy with no connections and made him an advocate for the unheard voices of this nation.
As panel counsel to various government bodies and PSUs, including NDMC, what kinds of matters do you typically handle and what are some unique challenges that come with representing public authorities?
I handle a wide spectrum of matters—ranging from service disputes, contractual enforcement, regulatory compliance, to urban development and infrastructure litigation. Representing public authorities like NDMC or Indraprastha Gas Limited means you must defend government action with integrity while ensuring legality, fairness, and public interest remain paramount.
There is always public scrutiny, frequent bureaucratic hurdles, and complex policy frameworks to navigate. It demands a deep understanding of administrative law and an ability to harmonize governance with justice. I remember a unique matter while representing Indraprastha Gas Limited—where a pipeline connection for residents had to pass beneath the Chief Minister’s official residence in Civil Lines, Delhi. Security protocols disallowed digging there. But by taking the plea of larger public welfare, we convinced the Hon’ble Court to direct the CM’s Secretariat to allow the underground pipeline work so that adjoining residents could get gas connections. This demonstrated how, in matters of genuine public interest, even the Chief Minister’s house can be dug up—because the law always serves the people first.
You have received recognition for your contributions to socially impactful cases, including improving food quality for paramilitary forces and advocating for alternate employment for UPSC interview-qualified candidates. What motivates you to take up such causes?
I am deeply motivated by the belief that law must uplift the vulnerable and forgotten. After graduating from Delhi University’s North Campus, I did my coaching for judiciary at Mukherjee Nagar, where many of my friends cracked the UPSC and now serve as IAS and IPS officers. Through them, I learned the harsh reality—sometimes, a candidate misses the final merit by just one mark and, out of despair, takes their own life. I have always felt that any candidate who reaches the UPSC interview stage—clearing the world’s toughest preliminary and main exams—has immense worth. Why should they not get an alternative government job from the pool of interview-qualified candidates?
Similarly, when I discovered that paramilitary officers and lower ranks were eating food of vastly different quality, I filed a PIL for uniform food standards—because the motherland does not feed one son better than the other. In a family, when a mother cooks food, it is served equally to the elder and the younger. The same must be true for our forces.
These cases chose me as much as I chose them. They remind me daily that justice delayed is justice denied. I am driven by conscience, not convenience. The path is long, but its impact brings dignity, hope, and change for countless lives.
Managing a demanding public interest and litigation practice can be intense. How do you maintain personal well-being and avoid burnout amidst such diverse responsibilities?
Balance is critical, though not always easy. I believe in compartmentalizing my work and carving out moments for reflection and rest. Staying connected with nature, spending time with family, and celebrating small victories keep me grounded. My hobbies—poetry writing, painting, cooking vegetarian food, listening to songs, and playing cricket—recharge me. I even captained my batch’s cricket team at Campus Law Centre.
Beyond courtrooms, I find purpose in acts of compassion. In Noida and Greater Noida, I noticed stray cows suffering in the scorching summer heat without water. I took the initiative to install water tubs for them and donated these to the Noida authorities. Today, thanks to this step, many cows are saved from thirst and heat waves every year. I have received awards and recognition from NGOs and news channels for this effort, and several housing societies have now adopted similar practices by installing water bowls for stray cattle and animals.
At the end of the day, when your work is rooted in service, it ceases to feel like a burden. But yes—rest, reflection, and self-care are vital. Only a healthy advocate can truly fight for justice.
Closing Note
Thank you, SuperLawyer and LawSikho, for this thoughtful opportunity. If my journey can inspire even one young lawyer to choose justice over convenience, I will consider it time well spent. Law is not just a profession—it is a mission. May we never forget that.
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