cognisable by the police, who go off and arrest B and lock him up. Of course, at the trial the experienced magistrate detects the truth, firmly disbelieves the rupee, and convicts A of an assault only. But B is quite satisfied. Has not A been locked up for a week? The perspective therefore of the Indian Penal Code is wrong. It is taken from English law, which is also wrong, that is, opposed to common sense. How it arose I know, but this is not the place to enter into that. Therefore the very definition and classification of offences are repugnant to the people, and are themselves causes of evasion: the Indian Penal Code itself is wrong. But that is nothing to the wrong-headedness of the Criminal Procedure Code. For whereas the Penal Code only partly offends the people, the Court procedure is wrong from top to bottom. Its very foundation principle is wrong. What is its principle of a trial? Is it a means of finding out the truth? Is it an impartial inquiry into what has happened? Not in the least. A trial is a duel. It is the lineal descendant of the duels of the Middle Ages. The place is changed, it is a Court and not a field; weapons are witnesses and tongues, not swords nor spears; the parties fight by champions, not in person, and the umpire is called a judge, but the principle is the same. Take any criminal trial. On one side is the Crown prosecutor, on the other the advocate of the accused. They fight. All through the case they fight. The prosecutor calls his witnesses, asks them only the questions the answers to which will help his case. The other champion cross-examines, bullies, confuses them, tries to make them contradict themselves, drags in irrelevant matter, and tries to destroy what the other side has built. When the defence is on, the state of affairs is reversed. Neither wants the truth, and only the truth, and all the truth. Each plays to win, and that alone. If either knows evidence which would help the other side he suppresses it. The judge is almost helpless. He has to take what is given. He sees _lacunae_ in the evidence, he cannot fill them. He can't get down from off the bench and go out into the country finding evidence for himself. He knows that every witness brought before him has been tutored--not directly perhaps, but indirectly by suggestion, by question, by influence. The case is cooked before it reaches him, and therefore hopeless. He knows he never finds out the exact truth about any single thing. How should he? He knows and sees that witnesses are lying. He knows the reason, because it is a duel, and they are, on one side or another, fighting for vengeance, fighting for liberty. He knows that though they are a singularly truthful people outside, yet inside, their consciences absolve them from the necessity of truth because the Court is so constituted as not to be a place for an inquiry into truth, but the arena of a duel.