 Thank you, Swas, thank you, Navtej, for conferring this honor, which I accept with humility. And congratulations to each one of you who have successfully completed your degrees today. I believe many of you in this hall are associated with the discipline of law, the field and practice from which I come. Law, as you know, is the instrument through which power is mediated. More particularly, it is in the silences of law that power is congealed and embedded. Law is thus a site of intense contestation. It does not provide a level-pilling field nor is it a neutral arbiter, a refugee, an immigrant, a retrenched worker, the dispossessed indigenous community, a rape survivor, a transgender person. All these are likely to experience the law and the legal system more as the state of exception that Agamban spoke about rather than as a forum of justice. In such difficult and despairing times, I draw my inspiration and my strength from quote-unquote my clients. When a young indigenous Adivasi woman leader who has suffered custodial sexual torture five years of incarceration and a chemical attack to disfigure her face says she wants to file a complaint against the superior police officer in the district and wants him to be punished. When a 64-year-old Muslim man, survivor of a lynching engineered on a false and fabricated rumour of cow slaughter, says to me, if God has kept me alive, it must be for a reason. I want to go to court and testify. When the workers of the entire automobile plant refuse the special lunch offered for the festival and instead keep a hunger strike in solidarity with their trade union leaders who have been falsely implicated and imprisoned. When the superior court summarily dismisses the appeal against the acquittal of a rape accused for the interpret the refusal to consent of a woman as a feeble no. And she says to me, you keep doing what you are doing and slowly things will change. That is where I draw my strength from. I want to end with a few lines which I've translated and I'm sure it's not an excellent translation from Hindi of a revolutionary poet from the northern state of Punjab who writes under the name of Pash. The robbery of your labour is not the most dangerous. The beating of the police is not the most dangerous. Betrayal and greed are not the most dangerous. The most dangerous is the death of our dreams. Wishing you all dreams, hope and resistance. Thank you.