Sonipat lawyer couple: At 4 am, while the rest of Sonipat sleeps, Yogita Kaushik Dahiya is already mentally rehearsing a cross-examination. In the quiet of their shared study, she and her husband, Vineet Dahiya, prepare for a battle most find unthinkable. The lawyer couple shares a rare professional bond: both are Additional Public Prosecutors at Delhi’s Rohini Courts, and together, have secured over 150 convictions—a staggering 85 per cent of which fall under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act.
For Yogita and Vineet, justice isn’t just a profession; it’s a shared burden and a symbiotic mission. Whether they are navigating hostile witnesses or resisting the pressures of “threats and bribes,” their resolve remains unshaken.
“This is when I gather myself. You cannot enter these cases unprepared, not just legally, but mentally,” 40-year-old Yogita says.
Nearly two hours later, her husband Vineet, 41, rises and slips seamlessly into the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast is modest and unchanging, poha or daliya (porridge), tea poured without ceremony. By 7.30 am, the couple is seated side by side at a shared study table, files arranged with quiet precision.
Sitting in their cosy office space of about 100 square feet adorned with soft lighting arrangements with bookshelves full of law books, spiritual reads and the case files becomes a focal point of what will transpire in a day when they appear before their respective courts.
Lawyer couple Yogita and Vineet share the same study to prepare for the day’s cases.
A wooden desk complimented by an ergonomic chair, one for the desk and two comfort chairs for the guests have been witness to countless case files, discussions, mourning as well as celebrations depending on the outcome of the case
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The paperwork is heavy in every sense. Depositions, medico-legal reports, charge sheets annotated in the margins. Almost all of it relates to cases under the POCSO Act, rape, aggravated sexual assault, molestation, and sometimes murder. These are not just legal briefs but chronicles of both broken childhoods and adolescence.
“It is duty,” Yogita declares, without drama or self-congratulation. A prosecutor since 2014, she speaks with the clarity of someone who has long accepted the weight of her role.
“We owe it to the victims and survivors. Our responsibility is to ensure the law reaches its logical conclusion,” she insists.
Vineet, a prosecutor since 2011 and the quieter of the two, agrees.
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“By the time we step into court, the case is already alive in our minds. Once we’ve gone through the documents, examined the sequence of events, anticipated the defence, the picture is clear. From there, it’s about perseverance, about staying the course before the court,” he says.
How the journey began
Vineet, son of a retired government servant and a homemaker mother, hails from Nahri village of Sonipat and completed his legal studies in 2007.
Younger among two brothers and always aspiring to join the judiciary, he prepared for the state judicial services exam for the next three years till 2010.
He started working as an assistant public prosecutor in Tis Hazari in 2011 after his selection through the Union Public Service Commission.
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Recalling a memorable case he got in 2012, he details the allegations- a sub-inspector who was promoted shot a businessman, was caught and subsequently convicted. This one, he says, was one of his first cases through which he got a lot of recognition.
“It was one of the finest cases in my life when I had seen real appreciation for me and feelings of justice being served in the eyes of son of the deceased. That moment had made me feel that I am in the best job where I can help people a lot,” he says.
Incidentally, both of their parents wanted them to take up a teaching job. With a willingness to walk a different path, however, they chose to take up the mantle of assisting the law to take its course in a just manner.
The couple met in 2012 and became friends. “I think it was love at first sight, but we realised it later,” Yogita quips.
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Born and brought up in Sultanpur Majra of Delhi, she was a bright kid in school. Her transporter father and homemaker mother ensured the best for all their three children, a son (who died in 2024 at 32 years old) and two daughters, she says.
She recalls how personal and professional roadblocks made it difficult for them to convince the families.
“Belonging to different caste groups, initially our families were against the union. It took a lot of effort and convincing, coupled with working towards advancing our careers. Finally, in 2017, we got married with our families’ agreement,” she chuckles.
The couple decided to not to move to Delhi but to commute from their native village in Sonipat.
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“We have been with our parents for our whole lives and didn’t want to move away from them. It has never been difficult to travel to Delhi for work,” says Vineet.
About the new home they moved in 2025, he reveals how it was all planned. Talking about her transition from the hustle and bustle of the national capital to a quiet, serene rural matrimonial home, beaming with a smile, Yogita said there was no problem in settling in Haryana.
“By God’s grace, since 2017 to till today, everything is going well. My parents-in-law are exceptions. They always stand for us and ready to make our life easy,” she says.
Revealing that she grew up in a joint family and knows how important family is, she hints how marital relations should be dealt with.
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She believes that a marriage does not happen in isolation, and the whole family is involved. While working in ‘mahila courts’ (court for cases related to women) and being part of the joint family, she understood the intricacies of relations turned sour.
“Further, at the start of a marriage, every couple desires privacy, so the family must ensure it,” she says.
Vineet says they both never wanted to move away from their roots. “We feel blessed that we have circumstances favouring us. We decided to move in the new home, but at the same time, we have not abandoned our native village. Yogita feels happier than me and close to nature there,” he says.
Yogita, who finished her law course in 2009 from Sonipat after she graduated from Delhi University in political science tried hard to make to the judicial services.
“I qualified a prelims once,” she says.
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Her journey in the courtroom was marked by her debut as a defence lawyer. A son of a construction worker accused of an attempt to murder, the case came to her through a relative who requested legal help as the accused was from an underprivileged background and couldn’t afford a private counsel of his own.
“I represented him for a while but then reality dawned. I was also broke, no income, my father’s business was not doing well, and I had to scour a lot for cases. It is not easy to sustain when you are new and have no experience,” says Yogita.
Later in 2011, she joined a law firm and since 2014, after clearing the UPSC exams for prosecutors, a topper in that batch, she has never looked back.
“All my friends used to talk and plan about going to Oxford, Cambridge but I never aspired to leave the country. It’s a dream come true to be able to give back to society through our daily work,” she says.
The road to court
Clad in a grey blazer, matching trousers, his specs, armed with his smartphone, Vineet takes the driving seat while Yogita in her grey-black printed salwar suit becomes more of a co-driver than a passive passenger, figuratively and literally.
Earlier this year, the couple moved into what they call their “dream home” in Sonipat, close to their native village. Delhi, they say, never felt essential. Each morning, they leave around 8.20 am, reaching Rohini Courts in roughly 45 to 50 minutes.
Vineet takes the driving seat while Yogita in her grey-black printed salwar suit, becomes more of a co-driver than a passive passenger, figuratively and literally
“That’s not much in Delhi-NCR,” Vineet remarks with a faint smile, revealing the disciplinarian beneath his calm exterior.
As their car traverses through National Highway- 1, evergreen Kishore Kumar takes over the mood with his ‘assman ke niche hum aaj apne piche pyar ja jahan basa ke chale’ inside the vehicle, and both of them stop talking to immerse in the timeless melody.
As the song stops, a case discussion comes up between the couple for the rest of the way to work.
By 9.15 am, both are in their offices on the first floor of the lawyers’ chambers building. Greetings with colleagues are brief, almost ritualistic. Soon, they are back inside their files, mentally rehearsing arguments, anticipating questions from the bench, revisiting evidence they know by heart.
On a cold December morning, Vineet heads into a fast-track court to examine a witness in a rape case, the first of several matters listed that day. Minutes after he enters, the court staff informs him that four women who had alleged rape have turned hostile.
For a moment, disappointment flickers across his face. It quickly gives way to concern. “Where are they from? Were they threatened?” he asks, requesting to speak to them. One of the women explains that she could not testify because her child was unwell.
There is no time to linger. Vineet moves briskly to another courtroom, where he opposes a bail plea filed by a rape accused. The judge accepts his submissions and denies bail. It is a small order on paper, but one that carries enormous significance for the survivor.
By 1.30pm, Vineet steps out for lunch, tired, but still alert. In prosecution, the day is never truly over until the court rises.
Both meet in Vineet’s office for lunch. Discussions related to the hearings of both their cases take over for a brief moment, only to be taken over by the upcoming one in the second half of the day.
Post-lunch at around 2.25 pm, Yogita is ready for her court to make submissions in a sexual assault case.
The moment she walked in and reached her seat, the court staff briefs her and hands over the additional documents. She dives and take short notes while the judge hears another case.
As her turn comes up, she opposes the arguments of the defence lawyer who asserts it was a consensual relationship. After over 45 minutes of arguments, the court set the next date.
Lunchroom philosophy
Lunch is shared in Yogita’s office, and the conversation drifts beyond files and court schedules. Yogita believes crime does not begin with action but with thought.
“Crime is collective in origin,” she says.
“It grows out of socio-economic conditions—poverty, broken families, addiction, inequality. But punishment is individualistic. If we truly want to reduce crime, especially against women and children, we must address the root causes,” she further adds.
Her words are shaped by personal loss. Yogita still grieves her brother, who died as a teenager after slipping into drug abuse. “The same parents raised all three of us without discrimination.I still wonder how he got trapped,” she says softly.
“Prosecutors rarely get their due. We are often seen as villains, especially in popular culture. We are not as glamorous as defence lawyers, but without us, the system collapses,” says Vineet.
Vineet agrees that while laws like POCSO are powerful deterrents, patterns recur with disturbing regularity, perpetrators known to the child, fractured family environments, lack of education, poverty, and substance abuse.
“We feel the most helpless when family members are accused. These crimes permanently scar children. They rupture families and communities. The damage is irreversible, and it often breeds more crime,” he adds.
The couple is quick to credit judges who go the extra mile to deliver justice.
Vineet recalls a rape case involving a minor where the judge ordered DNA sampling of ten relatives and family members. “That was a judge going beyond the ordinary, but strictly within the law. It showed how the system can work when everyone is committed,” he says.
Asked about the challenges prosecutors face, Vineet speaks candidly. “Prosecutors rarely get their due. We are often seen as villains, especially in popular culture. We are not as glamorous as defence lawyers, but without us, the system collapses,” says an ardent believer in the Constitution of India.
A shared life, a shared burden
For Yogita and Vineet, both first-generation lawyers, the line between personal and professional life barely exists. Their partnership, they say, is symbiotic.
“Vineet is calm, composed, and handles pressure far better than I,” Yogita says, recalling how their friendship began in late 2012. “I have relied on him from the very beginning,” she adds.
Recalling their evening tea conversations, when they discuss ongoing cases with near-ritualistic resolve. “Isko toh nahi jaane denge (we won’t let this one walk free),” they vow whenever they come across a case that shakes their soul.
Years in prosecution have not dulled their emotional investment. “We try to stay detached yet passionate,” Yogita admits.
“But sometimes the mind and soul are affected. We get angry. Then we console each other, promising ourselves we’ll get a conviction. And when it happens, we celebrate those wins together,” she says.
For Yogita and Vineet, the line between personal and professional life barely exists.
By early afternoon, Yogita heads to court for her own submissions. Free by 3.45pm, she returns to her office determined to clear her desk, studying files, dictating drafts, guiding her staff.
A follower of Swami Vivekananda’s Vedanta philosophy, Yogita believes punishment must coexist with reformation. She recalls a troubling case where a 15-year-old girl accused her father of rape, only for it to later emerge that the allegation was false, driven by marital discord.
“These are deeply social problems and just legal solutions alone are not enough. They must operate at both individual and societal levels,” she believes.
Integrity under pressure
Vineet speaks openly about the pressures prosecutors face.
“There are offers, sometimes bordering on threats,” he says.
“In my early years, I didn’t always understand what was happening. Now, if someone approaches me saying ‘baat karni hai,’ I refuse outright. Usually, it’s about money. I don’t entertain it,” he says.
He once appeared for a state judicial services mains examination before choosing prosecution instead, a choice he says he has never regretted.
Yogita’s personal demons
In 2009, Yogita, then a graduate in political science and law, could not afford Rs 27,000 for judicial services coaching. Financial constraints forced her to abandon the plan. She began practising law instead and quickly realised how difficult survival was for a young lawyer.
With help from her maternal uncle, she joined a law firm and made her first appearance in the Delhi High Court in 2011, without a gown. Justice Gita Mittal noticed and asked her why. Yogita replied simply that she had never needed one.
Soon after, she was appointed a local commissioner in the same case. Asked to collect a cheque of Rs 6,500, she instead received Rs 65,000. “I earned barely Rs 7,000 a month then. I was on cloud nine,” she recalls.
She paid for coaching, supported her family, and took on a wide range of work, bail matters, marriages under the Special Marriage Act, and divorce cases.
Her turning point came in 2014 when she cleared the preliminary examination for public prosecutor recruitment conducted by the UPSC. The mains exam had just been removed. After a long interview, heavy on legal reasoning and ethical dilemmas, she was selected.
“I cried uncontrollably,” she says. Vineet took her out for pani puri, her favourite, to celebrate.
Relatives who once questioned her decision to pursue law instead of teaching now congratulate her.
Homeward, and forward again
The journey back home begins around 5.30 pm, often punctuated by quick stops for groceries, essentials, or medical consultations. This evening, they stopped at a well-known local pastry shop.
“Don’t miss this one,” Vineet insisted.
“This is our time away from work and home. We cherish these few minutes,” he said.
Reaching home at around 6.15-6.30 pm, the couple meets and greets the family members awaiting their arrival in their aesthetically decorated 20 x 20 living room with a teal-coloured sofa set and a matching carpet gave vibes of the Victorian era with soft lights.
For Yogita and Vineet, the line between personal and professional life barely exists.
What follows includes evening teas, family conversation, case discussion and almost every other thing under the sun. The room of their new home has become a fertile ground of their manifestations turning into a reality- on personal as well as personal front.
Evening tea follows around 7 to 7.30 pm, conversations drifting from a new film release to developments in the legal landscape of another country. Family time comes next, dinner around 9 pm, and quiet preparation for the next day.
As the house settles and files are finally closed, the couple prepares to begin again before dawn, two lives bound by law, discipline, and a shared, almost spiritual belief that justice, pursued honestly and relentlessly, can still make a difference.
Lawyer couple Yogita and Vineet share the same study to prepare for the day’s cases.
Vineet takes the driving seat while Yogita in her grey-black printed salwar suit, becomes more of a co-driver than a passive passenger, figuratively and literally
“Prosecutors rarely get their due. We are often seen as villains, especially in popular culture. We are not as glamorous as defence lawyers, but without us, the system collapses,” says Vineet.
For Yogita and Vineet, the line between personal and professional life barely exists.
For Yogita and Vineet, the line between personal and professional life barely exists.
