When an affidavit is not really an affidavit: Bombay HC draws the line
A court can't fix a faulty affidavit. But can it let you swap it out? The Bombay High Court sets strict rules for replacing evidence that crosses the line into argument.
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A court can't fix a faulty affidavit. But can it let you swap it out? The Bombay High Court sets strict rules for replacing evidence that crosses the line into argument.
You file an affidavit in place of your testimony. But it reads like a legal brief. The judge says: this isn't evidence. Now what?
The Bombay High Court faced exactly that question in Harish Loyalka And Another v. Dileep Nevatia And Others. On the judge's desk lay a document — sworn, signed, notarised. It was meant to be a witness's account. But as the judge flipped through the pages, the smell of fresh print mingled with something else: the unmistakable tone of legal argument. The affidavit contained submissions, legal conclusions, and arguments that no witness could properly offer. The lawyer for the other side rose, his voice cutting through the courtroom's low hum, and read out the objection. The room fell silent. The judge looked at the document again, then at the lawyers. The affidavit looked like an affidavit. But was it one?
When the affidavit stopped being an affidavit
The case turned on a procedural requirement that sounds simple but carries heavy consequences. Under Order 18 Rule 4 of the Code of Civil Procedure, 1908 (the CPC, which governs how civil cases are conducted in Indian courts), a witness's examination-in-chief (the initial testimony a witness gives in court, before cross-examination) must be given on affidavit. The witness files a sworn written statement instead of speaking from the witness box.
But here is the catch: that affidavit must contain only what a witness could properly say in court. An affidavit that includes arguments and submissions is deemed not an affidavit within the meaning of CPC Order 19, Rule 3 (which sets out what an affidavit must contain), nor Order 18, Rule 4. The court observed this directly: an affidavit in lieu of examination-in-chief must contain, and contain only, such material as is properly admissible in examination-in-chief. When it crosses that line, it stops being an affidavit in the eyes of the law.
The file felt thin in the judge's hands. But the question it raised was weighty. The lawyer who had filed the document — Party A, the one who had submitted the non-conforming affidavit — argued that since errors were present, they should be allowed to replace it. This was, they said, a mere procedural correction. The opposing party, Party B, contended that allowing routine replacement would defeat the purpose of the law. If a party could file a defective affidavit, get caught, then file another one, they would effectively be testing the waters — seeing what the other side objects to and then tailoring a new affidavit to avoid those objections.
Why "testing the waters" is dangerous
The court weighed both sides. It held that while a chief examination affidavit with errors may be permitted to be replaced, this cannot be a routine practice. The court emphasized that permitting replacement is strictly within its discretion. The precise language from the court's observation was clear: a party should not be continually permitted to "test the waters" by filing one non-conforming affidavit after another.
The logic is straightforward. The affidavit is a sworn statement. It is meant to capture a witness's truthful account of facts they personally know. When a party files an affidavit that contains arguments and submissions, they are not testifying — they are advocating. And if the court allowed replacement as a matter of course, parties could file overreaching affidavits, wait for objections, then file a sanitised version. That would waste court time, prejudice the other side, and undermine the integrity of the evidence process.
The courtroom was quiet as the judge spoke. The words hung in the air: "testing the waters." The lawyer for Party A shifted in his seat. The lawyer for Party B nodded slowly. The judge had drawn a line.
The judge's red pen that could not be used
Here is where the procedural puzzle gets interesting. The court noted something crucial: it has no power to alter or delete certain portions in the affidavit in chief. A judge cannot take a red pen to a sworn document and strike out the inadmissible bits. The affidavit is the witness's statement, not the court's. If the judge could edit it, the line between witness and judge would blur. The document on the desk was the witness's word, sworn before God and the law. The judge could not rewrite it.
So the court faced a choice. One option: let the party file a fresh, corrected affidavit. The other option: reject the affidavit entirely and let the inadmissible portions remain on the record, potentially confusing the cross-examiner and the court. Neither option was clean.
The silence in the room deepened as the judge considered the implications. The affidavit sat on the desk, its pages curling slightly at the edges. The lawyer who had filed it waited. The lawyer who had objected waited. The court reporter's pen hovered over the page.
The verdict: a middle path with teeth
The Bombay High Court carved out a practical solution. It confirmed that in a given case, a party may be permitted to replace a non-conforming affidavit — one containing material that is clearly inadmissible or demonstrably irrelevant — with one that conforms to the rules. But the court also gave itself a second option.
If the court opts not to permit replacement, it may still rule on the portions of the affidavit to which objections are taken and direct that those portions be excluded from consideration as testimony. This means the judge can identify the offending paragraphs — those containing arguments and submissions — and order that they be treated as if they were never filed. The cross-examiner is then at liberty to ignore those excluded portions without fear of an adverse inference being drawn. Normally, if a witness says something in examination-in-chief and the cross-examiner does not challenge it, the court may assume the witness's version is accepted. But here, the excluded portions are simply gone. The cross-examiner does not have to waste time questioning the witness about material the court has already thrown out.
The impact of this ruling is significant. It upholds the integrity of the evidence process. It ensures that a party cannot file a non-conforming affidavit and then benefit from the confusion it creates. And it gives the court a tool to manage its own proceedings without being forced to either accept a defective affidavit or allow endless replacements.
THE PLAY: If you file an affidavit in lieu of examination-in-chief that contains arguments or submissions, the court may let you replace it once — but don't count on a second chance, and don't expect the judge to edit it for you.
What this means for practitioners
For lawyers drafting affidavits in civil cases, the message is clear. Stick to facts. An affidavit that reads like a legal brief is not an affidavit — it is a gamble. The Bombay High Court has just raised the stakes. The document on the judge's desk must be a witness's account, not a lawyer's argument. If it is the latter, the court may reject it, exclude it, or allow a single replacement — but no more.
The court ended where it began: with a document that looked like an affidavit but was not one, and a judge who could neither fix it nor ignore it. The silence in the courtroom had been broken by a ruling that would echo through every civil court in Maharashtra. The affidavit on the desk would not be edited. It would either be replaced — once — or its offending portions would be struck from the record. Either way, the message was clear: an affidavit is a witness's word, not a lawyer's brief.