"Blood is thicker than water." It is an old saying, but every day in our courts, one wonders whether we have begun to forget its meaning.
Today,
I witnessed a matter that left a deep impression on me—not because of the legal
arguments, but because of the silent tragedy unfolding behind them.
Two
brothers stood on opposite sides of a courtroom, locked in a bitter dispute
over their late father's Will. The younger brother had challenged not only the
probate proceedings but had also filed a separate petition seeking revocation
of the Will itself.
The
advocates passionately debated provisions of the Code of Civil Procedure and
the legal principle of res judicata.
Res
judicata is a Latin expression meaning "a matter already
decided." In law, it prevents the same parties from repeatedly
litigating an issue that has already been finally decided by a competent court.
It is a principle intended to bring finality to litigation, prevent harassment
through endless lawsuits, and ensure certainty in the administration of
justice.
The legal submissions
continued with precision and intensity.
Yet, my thoughts drifted
elsewhere.
Seated quietly was a
ninety-one-year-old mother.
One could only imagine what
she must have been feeling.
Her
husband had spent a lifetime building his assets. Like many parents, he would
have known his children better than anyone else. He would have understood their
individual circumstances, their needs, their strengths, their weaknesses, and
perhaps even who had stood beside him during his advancing years.
After
careful thought, he exercised the right that every individual possesses—the
right to distribute his self-acquired property according to his own wishes. His
Will was supported by a medical certificate certifying that he was of sound
mind, and it had been executed in the presence of two independent witnesses.
Yet,
despite all these safeguards, the family had arrived in court.
The
law permits a Will to be challenged. There may indeed be genuine cases
involving fraud, coercion, undue influence, or lack of testamentary capacity.
Courts exist precisely to examine such allegations fairly and impartially.
But
beyond the legal rights lies a more profound question.
What
is the true cost of winning an inheritance if, in the process, we lose our
brother, our sister, and our family forever?
No
mother dreams of seeing her children become strangers.
No
father accumulates wealth so that it becomes the cause of lifelong bitterness
after his passing.
Parents
leave behind property as a blessing.
Children
sometimes transform it into a battlefield.
As
advocates, judges, and litigants, we naturally focus on legal rights.
As
human beings, perhaps we should also reflect upon our moral responsibilities.
An
unequal distribution in a Will does not always signify injustice. Equality and
fairness are not always identical. A parent may leave more to one child because
that child has greater financial need, has cared for ageing parents, has
sacrificed opportunities, or because circumstances genuinely warrant different
treatment. Every family has a story that outsiders may never fully understand.
Not
every perceived inequality deserves a courtroom battle.
Sometimes,
acceptance demands greater strength than litigation.
Another
reality deserves thoughtful reflection.
When
children marry, they gain a life partner whose advice, support, and perspective
are invaluable. A healthy marriage is built upon mutual trust and shared
decision-making. Yet every married individual must also preserve the affection,
respect, and lifelong bond they share with their parents and siblings. Wisdom
lies in knowing where guidance ends and where lifelong relationships must be
protected. Family decisions should be made with balance, maturity and an awareness that words spoken in moments
of anger can fracture bonds that took decades to build.
Property
can be earned again.
Wealth
can be rebuilt.
Even
fortunes lost today may return tomorrow.
But
the childhood memories shared between siblings...
The
laughter of growing up together...
The
comfort of having someone who has known you since birth...
Those
are treasures no court can restore once they are lost.
As
someone practising in the field of succession law, I have increasingly come to
believe that the greatest legacy parents leave behind is not their houses, bank
balances, jewellery, or investments.
It is
a united family.
Every
legal battle over inheritance should begin with one simple question:
"If
our parents were sitting beside us today, would this be what they wanted?"
If the
answer is "No," perhaps it is worth pausing before allowing property
to become more valuable than people.
Because
in the end, an estate can always be divided.
A
family should never be.
"स्वतःच्या अहंकारासाठी नात्यांना तोडण्यापेक्षा समंजसपणे प्रश्न सोडवायला शिका."
Instead of breaking relationships because of ego, learn to resolve
differences with understanding and wisdom.
"रक्ताच्या नात्यांमध्ये गैरसमज टिकवू नका, कारण नाती एकदा तुटली की पुन्हा जोडता येत नाहीत."
Do not let misunderstandings persist in blood relationships, because once
relationships break, they can never truly be restored.
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