Those were the days — Court to college: The journey of VL Ethiraj

Kalki magazine usually had on its cover a singer, a dancer or a famous nationalist. And so, in 1944, people reading an issue were in for a shock. The cover was adorned by a totally new face — a man with clear-cut features and aristocratic poise, whom not one of them previously knew.

They hurriedly turned the pages to go to the editorial section where Krishnamurthy, the editor, confessed that the design had been chosen suddenly. “There have been in this world many unexpected events and amongst them is the cover of this week’s issue bearing the picture of VL Ethiraj, the public prosecutor of Madras courts,” he had written. He went on to add that this name was familiar only to those in criminal law circles. True, for Ethiraj’s earlier appointment as the first Indian-born public prosecutor hadn’t caused any ripples in the society. 

The recognition was actually in spontaneous response to the announcement that Ethiraj had donated Rs. 10 lakh for the establishment of a ladies’ college in the city (Kalki called the college Kalasalai). Kalki reiterated, “By doing this magnanimous charity, VL Ethiraj would show the nation that as in other fields, Madras Presidency was ahead of the rest in generosity.” 

The benevolence being wholly out of Ethiraj’s earnings made it all the more worthy. It was also surprising since Ethiraj was known for fast cars and expensive hobbies, and fund-raisers in the city had found him extremely tight-fisted for their pet projects. 

Ethiraj was the son of a railway civil contractor who had been excommunicated from his family for marrying an English woman. Tall and majestic, Ethiraj exuded class and charm. He lived like a prince in the prestigious Victoria Crescent Road on the banks of the river Cooum. Setting up his own criminal justice practice, he was known to have saved men from the gallows in an eight-minute defence. He was also known to have withdrawn a sure-shot case when he observed an error in the police FIR, only to be profusely thanked by the opposition. He was associated with high- profile cases including MKT’s trial.

The Madras Bar felicitated Ethiraj and the Madras law fraternity gathered to honour one among them. For once, it was not a legal victory they were extolling. As a memento, the Diwan of Travancore, CP Ramaswami, who presided was also asked to present a signet diamond ring. CP, that day, actually gave the greatest compliment possible from his lips. He compared Ethiraj to himself. “To us both,” he said, adding, “Law is not sacrosanct, sole, ultimate, exclusive and all absorbing ideal in life. We have taken up legal profession because it was a means to an end.” This prophetic statement would be recalled by those in the audience when CP in 1947 refused to let Travancore join the Indian union and nearly got Trivandrum bombed by Nehru. 

The high success rate of Ethiraj had always baffled the rest of the lawyers. CP took on this opportunity and attributed it to an infinite fund of tact and good humour, and a smile that doesn’t vanish from his face. “Hence, Ethiraj captivated the client and the judge. And hence this Rs. 10 lakh plus,” he quipped. 

CP added he had some unorthodox opinions with regard to the place women should occupy in society. “There is no doubt that in the coming reordering of the world the place of a woman must be beside the man but not as a replica or repetition.”

Work started in enthusiasm for the ladies’ college named after Ethiraj. There were 96 girls who joined when it was started on a land leased from Hobart School. The government then leased out a huge plot with a palatial colonial structure (which had earlier housed the public service commission) which abutted Ethiraj’s house. The College moved in there in July 1951. To this, Ethiraj added five and a half acres of his property. 

As expected, on his death in 1960, his will placed much of the proceeds of his estate with the official trustee of the High Court to be earmarked for grant of scholarships to needy girls. 

The alumni of the college have scaled great heights and the Commander-in-Chief road has been renamed Ethiraj Salai by a grateful city.