I had been very impressed with the courts we visited to see my

The fearless Asma Jahangir, warrior for justice, recalls the spark of her youth when she proclaims: “I had been very impressed with the courts we visited to see my father. The judges wearing wigs, the lawyers, the legal arguments – it was all exciting stuff for a kid.” These words, though tender in tone, are filled with the fire of destiny. They speak of the moment when the innocent eyes of a child glimpsed the pageantry and power of the law, not as dry parchment or cold walls, but as a living drama where right and wrong clashed like titans. From such impressions are born the seeds of greatness, and from such seeds did Jahangir grow into one of the fiercest defenders of human rights her land has ever known.

Her memory reminds us of the ancient truth: what a child sees with awe, they often pursue with their life. The judges wearing wigs, the robed lawyers arguing their points, the grandeur of legal ritual—these were not mere costumes and words. To a young girl whose father himself stood boldly before those courts, these symbols became emblems of courage and resistance. For her father, Malik Ghulam Jilani, was no ordinary man; he was a political dissenter who suffered imprisonment under unjust regimes. Thus, the courts Jahangir visited were not abstract halls of order, but arenas where her family’s fate, and the fate of freedom, was being contested.

In this way, her childhood awe carried both innocence and pain. The legal arguments may have thrilled her, but behind them stood the suffering of her father and the courage of those who resisted oppression. This duality—of admiration for the majesty of law and anger at its misuse—shaped Jahangir into the advocate she became. She grew to see that courts could be both temples of justice and instruments of tyranny, depending on the integrity of those who served within them. This, too, is a lesson as old as civilization: the law is a mighty sword, but it cuts justly only when wielded by hands committed to truth.

We find echoes of Jahangir’s story in other lives. Consider the young Mohandas Gandhi, who as a student in London was equally entranced by the robes, rituals, and precision of the English courts. Yet, like Jahangir, he came to see that the grandeur of law meant little when it served empire and injustice. His eventual path—to use the principles of law and morality to challenge colonial rule—mirrors Jahangir’s own journey to challenge authoritarianism in Pakistan. Both were inspired by the majesty of legal systems, but both sought to redeem them from corruption by aligning them with justice, not mere power.

From this tale we draw a lesson both inspiring and sobering: impressions of youth matter. What we show to the eyes of children becomes the architecture of their dreams. A young girl, watching her father’s fate debated under wigs and robes, became a woman who would later stand in those same courts to defend the voiceless and the oppressed. This is why we must be careful with the symbols we uphold and the examples we live—children see, and children remember.

For those who walk the path of law, Jahangir’s words are a call to humility. The gowns, the wigs, the rituals may inspire awe, but they are hollow if they are not animated by courage and truth. Administrators of justice must remember that their actions are not only for the present, but for the generations watching. To protect the innocent, to speak for the silenced, to uphold fairness even against tyrants—this is what gives life to the majesty of the courts. Without such substance, the robes are but costumes, the arguments mere noise.

So, children of the future, let Jahangir’s words be your guide. Find inspiration in the symbols of greatness, but never stop at the surface. Let awe lead you to action, let fascination mature into conviction, and let admiration of institutions become the courage to reform them when they fail. Practical wisdom follows: nurture the curiosity of the young, expose them to courage, justice, and truth, for from these impressions are born the leaders of tomorrow. And if you yourself serve in power, remember: the young are watching, and your every act may plant the seed of their destiny.

Thus, the memory of a child gazing at the judges, wigs, and arguments becomes more than nostalgia. It becomes prophecy. For the same girl who once marveled at the courts became the woman who challenged them, reshaped them, and defended the powerless within them. This is the alchemy of life: awe becomes resolve, and resolve becomes legacy.