He said he served the old man. His army records said otherwise.
A will signed in 1970. A witness who didn't add up. And a propounder who was in the army—hundreds of miles away—when the testator supposedly needed him.
19
years.
A will signed in 1970. A witness who didn't add up. And a propounder who was in the army—hundreds of miles away—when the testator supposedly needed him.
The only witness to the will made the judge suspicious. Then the propounder's own army service record blew a hole in his story. By the time the Supreme Court finished with the case, a will that had already passed through two courts was dead—killed not by a single lie, but by a dozen small contradictions that added up to one big truth.
This is the story of a property dispute that turned on a single question: could a man who spent nineteen years in the army really have been nursing an old, unrelated village sarpanch in 1970? The answer, the Supreme Court found, was no—and that no cost the propounders everything.
The only witness who took the stand
The dispute began with Jagan Nath, a village sarpanch who owned property in what is now Punjab. When he died, two groups claimed his land. On one side stood Bhagwanti and others—the nearest blood relatives, called "cognates" (family members connected by blood rather than marriage). On the other side stood Jarnail Singh and his co-defendants, who claimed that Jagan Nath had left them everything in a will.
The will was dated 1970. It said Jagan Nath had given his property to Jarnail Singh in return for services rendered—for looking after the old man in his final years. On paper, it looked straightforward. In court, it fell apart.
The propounders (the people trying to prove the will is genuine) brought forward exactly one attesting witness—a man named Sadhu Singh, examined as DW3. He was the only person who claimed to have seen Jagan Nath sign the document. Under Section 63 of the Indian Succession Act (the law that requires a will to be signed and witnessed by two or more people, each seeing the testator sign), and Section 68 of the Evidence Act (which says at least one attesting witness must testify in court, if alive), Sadhu Singh's testimony was critical. Without him, the will had no legal legs.
But Sadhu Singh did not inspire confidence. The trial court and the first appellate court had accepted his word. The High Court did not. And when the matter reached the Supreme Court, the bench put it bluntly: the witness "does not inspire confidence" and, more importantly, "more so it creates suspicion in the mind of the Court with regard to execution and genuineness of the Will."
When the army record arrived
If Sadhu Singh's testimony was shaky, what came next was devastating. Jarnail Singh himself took the stand. He claimed he had served Jagan Nath—cared for him, attended to his needs, earned the old man's gratitude. That, he said, was why the sarpanch had written the will in his favour.
Then came the cross-examination.
Jarnail Singh admitted that he had served in the Indian Army from 1960 to 1979. The will was executed in 1970. For the entire period when he supposedly was nursing an elderly village leader, Jarnail Singh was, in fact, a soldier—posted hundreds of miles away, subject to military discipline, unlikely to be available for the kind of daily care he described.
The Supreme Court found this "highly improbable." The court used those exact words: "highly improbable" that Jarnail Singh had the opportunity to render service to Jagan Nath. And then it went further: it was "highly unbelievable" that the testator (the person making the will)—a village sarpanch, a man of standing in his community—would depend on the defendants, who were neither related to him nor belonged to the same community.
Why the pattern mattered more than any single fact
This is where the law gets interesting. A will is not like a contract. A contract can be proved by showing both parties signed it. A will requires something more—the court must be satisfied that the document genuinely reflects the testator's intentions, free from coercion, fraud, or undue influence.
Indian courts have long held that when a will is surrounded by "suspicious circumstances," the propounder must dispel that suspicion—must explain it away with clear, credible evidence. The burden of proof (the responsibility to convince the court) shifts to the person claiming the will is genuine.
In this case, the suspicious circumstances were not one big thing. They were many small things that together formed a pattern:
- The only attesting witness was unreliable.
- The propounder's own story about serving the testator was contradicted by his army service record.
- The testator had no reason to favour strangers over his own blood relatives.
- The propounders were neither related to nor from the same community as the testator.
Each circumstance alone might have been explainable. Together, they were fatal.
What the Supreme Court decided
The Supreme Court upheld the High Court's decision to set aside the will. The bench found that the High Court was "perfectly right" in interfering with what it called the "perverse finding" of the first appellate court—meaning the lower court had reached a conclusion that no reasonable person, looking at the same evidence, could have reached.
The result: the property went to Bhagwanti and the other plaintiffs, as the nearest cognates. The will was rejected. Jarnail Singh and his co-defendants got nothing.
The court's reasoning was clear: when the attesting witness creates suspicion, and the propounder's supporting evidence is weak or contradictory, the cumulative suspicion surrounding the will remains undispelled. The propounders had failed to discharge their burden. The will could not stand.
THE PLAY: When propounding a will, anticipate every inconsistency in your client's story—especially the ones that can be checked against government records—and address them before the court does.
The army record was the nail in the coffin. But the coffin was already being built the moment Sadhu Singh took the stand.