WELCOME TO INDIA’S GREAT MERITOCRACY MYTH

“Work hard, study well, and everything else will fall into place.”

That’s the golden rule we grew up believing. And for many of us in lower-middle-class households, it was more than a rule — it was the only way out.

 I followed that path. I did everything “right.” Still chasing a “career break” that never seems to come.

Is It My Fault? Or the System’s?

On bad days, I ask myself:

“Am I not skilled enough? Not good enough?”

And on more honest days, I admit:

“The game is rigged — and always has been.”

Because while I struggle to find a foothold in the legal world, I see another reality unfold before my eyes:

• Children of top lawyers walk into chambers their parents built.
• Celebrity kids, with or without talent, star in films their parents funded.
• Business heirs “join” companies they were born into.
• Political dynasties sustaining themselves across elections. 

Nepotism may not be the whole picture — but it's often the passport into opportunity, while merit must beg for visas. From Ambani’s sons to Bollywood’s star kids to the High Court bar’s dynasties — we’re surrounded by examples of inherited privilege posing as success.

And suddenly, I realise:

If, even they armed with elite schools, global degrees, and social capital can’t find their way without nepotism, how was I ever expected to?

When Merit Becomes a Myth

A system that rewards only those with access is not a meritocracy — it’s a performance of merit, carefully staged to hide inherited advantage. India loves to worship “meritocracy” — the idea that success is based purely on talent and hard work.

But step into any professional sphere — law, media, corporate, politics and it becomes painfully clear: Merit matters… only when it is backed by money, mentorship, and the right last name.

Every day feels like you’re convincing the world — and yourself — that you belong here.

Being a first generation professional means: 

• Struggle to secure transparent, skill-building internships.
• Struggle to compete in interviews where English fluency or “personality” matters more than substance.
• Struggle to navigate complex court systems without mentors or family guidance.
• No inheritance, no contacts, no shortcuts.
• Your mistakes cost real time and real money.
• You navigate without a map, hoping you’re headed somewhere.

This reveals the difficult truth: degrees don't guarantee direction. The absence of guidance, grooming, and social capital often leaves first-gen professionals lost in transition — academically prepared, but practically unequipped. Meanwhile, others begin with access to chambers, case files, court familiarity, and judge connections — all before their first suit is tailored.

Are they bad lawyers? Not at all.

But they didn’t have to prove they deserved to be there. We do. Every single day. And Yet, We Persist. 

Because while privilege may give you the mic, only perseverance can give you the voice.

In this silent grind, I’ve learned a few truths:

• The legal profession is not a sprint — it’s a slow, punishing marathon.
• Confidence is often mistaken for competence, and accents for intelligence.
• Skill doesn’t shout. It whispers — and you need to be close enough to hear it.

Some reforms are long overdue:

1. Mentorship for First-Gens:

Bar Councils and law institutions must build structured mentorship programs, especially for those with no legal lineage.

2. Practical Legal Training:

Law schools must focus less on rote legal theory and more on actual litigation tools: drafting, filing, court conduct, client interaction, legal tech.

3. Acknowledge Class Disadvantage in Hiring:

HR teams, law firms, chambers — understand that fluency, grooming, and networking skills are often economic privileges. Look deeper.

Final words-

You’re not failing.You’re just trying to climb a ladder that others were born at the top of.

And the fact that you’re still climbing? Still showing up — that’s strength. That’s merit. Even if the system doesn’t recognize it yet.

Because meritocracy may be a myth — but your effort, your grit, your refusal to quit? That’s real.

And someday, when the elevator finally stops pretending it's broken, we’ll be ready. Not because someone gave us a lift —but because we built our own stairs.