When a Lawyer Falls in Love (12 page)

‘But Ankur, at no point was I actually seeing Rohit,’ Sonali justified, in an almost pleading voice.

‘Really?’ asked Ankur, sarcasm dripping from his tone. ‘Making long disappearances from class was obviously just for xeroxing notes, wasn’t it?’ Ankur retorted, remembering that incident.

‘Ankur, I would actually be visiting Rohit in rehab.’ It was Ankur’s turn to be silent. So Rohit had admitted himself in a clinic. He should try an asylum next time, he thought, seething.

‘But where was the need, especially if you weren’t his girlfriend?’ asked Ankur, stressing on the word ‘girlfriend’.

‘You know Anks…when I was harassed by that lawyer, Rohit was the only one who stood up for me. This was the least I could do for him,’ Sonali said, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Yeah but…,’ Ankur softened his stand. ‘You could have told one of us, we would have accompanied you while visiting Rohit…,’ Ankur suggested gently.

‘But Rohit swore me to secrecy. He didn’t want anybody to know about his drug problem,’ Sonali said again, in a low tone.

‘But this is ridiculous!’ declared Ankur, his sense of reasoning and agitation returning. ‘It’s not as if Rohit is such a great guy that you needed to take an oath for him. It was decent on his part to help you that time but…,’

Ankur trailed off emphatically. ‘Besides what about your awe inspiring astrology? How come you didn’t predict the disaster called Rohit?’ he demanded, simmering on slow flame. Everything that irked him about Sonali burst forth like an angry bubble.

‘Karmic debts. We all have our karmic debts to repay. Besides, Rohit taught me a lot.’ Sonali replied calmly, looking away from Ankur and into the horizon hidden behind sky rise apartments.

‘Yeah, like what…? The best places to get cocaine?’ asked Ankur, sneering.

Sonali didn’t answer, though her hurt was evident.

‘You know Ankur, I come from a normal middle class family. The reason I’m doing law is so that I can hope to earn and make money. But in conservative Gujarati homes, girls are not encouraged to work. For a long time I had taken this unwritten patriarchal rule as one of the laws of society. Being the eldest in the family I was getting ready for an early marriage and had decided that I would work only if my husband and his extended family would give me the “permission”.’

Ankur listened intently. It was rare for Sonali to be talking like that.

‘Yet that day when I saw Rohit stand up for me and in no uncertain terms declare that there was no reason why I ought to meekly assist in that lawyer’s office at night, something simply clicked. Rohit somehow made it clear that I needn’t compromise my own values and ideas just to please someone else,’ Sonali said, her voice now infused with new vigour and spirit.

Ankur was still a little confused. He didn’t quite know how to react. So in the final analysis, was Rohit the villain or the hero of the piece?

‘And do you know how I lost my glasses?’ asked Sonali smiling and turning to focus her eyes on Ankur.

‘Rohit stomped on them for you,’ Ankur helpfully offered.

Sonali laughed. ‘They say hypermetropia or far-sightedness is caused when one is uncertain about one’s future. It is an ailment that normally only middle aged or old people suffer from since as one nears retirement, life itself becomes a little hazy. Yet imagine me, an ambitious Gujarati girl got these specs while I was still in my teens. Somehow after that internship, however unpleasant it may have been, I learnt that regardless of society, I could choose to “see” my future, exactly as I wanted to! This message was obviously carried to my eyeballs. After all, one’s optic nerves are said to be one of the most sensitive in the body,’ Sonali finished, with a laugh.

Ankur wanted to laugh too. At himself. Just what was he supposed to do right now? Sympathetically click his tongue and ask Sonali to get back to Rohit or promise to be that sincere friend who will dutifully visit a battered women’s home and drug rehab clinic, whichever one Sonali chose to admit herself into. Yet the next sentence suddenly eased Ankur of all his doubts.

‘Rohit is leaving college,’ Sonali announced simply. Yes! Ankur thought, wanting to punch the air. The guy who had stolen Sonali from him was no longer going to plague him. If he could, Ankur would have bungee jumped from the terrace out of sheer happiness!

‘He’s going to be leaving the city,’ Sonali said, in a voice that displayed no emotion. Even better, thought Ankur. Somehow this news was even better than if Ankur were told that Rohit had left the planet. ‘I think we should be going down now,’ said Ankur, even as he watched the orange sun set . That was the nice thing about the terrace. Five floors up, it seemed Ankur and Sonali were far removed from everything.

The setting sun had left a trail of deep pink that merged with the horizon. It seemed that someone had carelessly spilled a delightful hue that painted the canvas of thesky. Ankur could have spent a lifetime admiring the vast sky above. Even if it was with a craned neck. As Ankur and Sonali stood together on the terrace, they felt the evening go past and dusk descend on them.

‘Okay hurry up, I don’t want Naveen calling for me through the common ducts,’ said Sonali as she trotted down the narrow staircase, her slippers noisily slapping each stair. Ankur didn’t particularly want to encounter Sonali’s tiny police man of a brother either and more so, a certain old woman whose expression was sure to turn sour. After all, a guy and girl alone on a terrace at dusk, is never a good sign!

Twenty-Three

Souvik was sure that he wanted to go abroad. Nothing like a foreign degree to complete his training as a lawyer. Besides it would give him the confidence to impress Jaishree’s family. And most importantly, convince his own.

Souvik was immensely attached to his mother. Being the youngest of three children, he had without a doubt, been her pet. Souvik was
mama
, the maternal uncle to Suchetana and Shantanu, the noisy children of his eldest sister Satrupa. Yet for his mother, Souvik was still her
shona raja
. The Bengali endearment that meant ‘little prince’ or more specifically ‘golden king’ would embarrass Souvik to death. But then again, he knew that nobody in the Universe would ever call him that, except his mom.

Of late, Souvik had grown even closer to his mother, ever since she had recently been diagnosed with kidney stones. A relatively minor problem initially, it later turned complicated with an infection setting in, and Souvik’s mother had to undergo regular kidney dialysis.

The old lady now had her movements restricted and Souvik would do anything to ease her pain. Not telling her about his love life was one of them. Not that Souvik’s bed-ridden mother would have any serious objections to a docile vegetarian daughter-in-law. But the extended family just might. Bengalis could be very clannish.

There was a very strange thing Souvik had noticed about his community. In fact about any community. As long as he was a single eligible bachelor liable to get a very well paying job, all the collective old aunties he knew or was likely to know, were acutely interested in the events of his life. Particularly those related to finding him a life partner.

These ‘aunties’ had earlier made an appearance in his life during his naming ceremony. And suddenly, they were beginning to materialise again, a quarter of a century later, to lead him into the nearest wedding hall. That was exactly what had happened to his elder brother. Souvik dreaded such a fate for himself. On his brother’s wedding day as he sat savouring a slab of strawberry ice cream after the guests had left, Souvik had made a resolution. He would choose his own life mate. Come what may!

Ice cream always had that effect on him. It cooled his brain. And of late, there was something else about ice cream. And the rain. The mere thought of the two had Souvik’s mind turn into one of the puddles that Jaishree was gaily skipping into that rainy July evening.

Souvik jerked himself back to reality. After all, right at that moment he was on his bike returning home after picking up medicines for his mother. He was on the road, Souvik reminded himself. The road of life. Romance would have to wait.

Ankur hated the phone but loads of phone calls had to be made. Ankur had not yet decided to run for elections yet, but it was a Holi party that he was organising at home. A Holi party never has anything holy about it. Bhang laced pani puri, garish bright colours with alarming amounts of chemicals in them and of course merciless water sprinklers and eggs. And for the more devious, Holi was an occasion to drown in booze.

Ankur was a teetotaller. That was one more reason perhaps why Rohit had never sought his company. But just because Ankur never touched hard liquor didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy some hard core fun!

The guest list comprised the regular gang, minus Rohit. Ankur was actually grateful that Rohit had admitted himself in a drug rehab. It saved a social obligation. For both parties. Vacation time was genuinely a time to relax. And right now Ankur was feeling lazy to even call up caterers and the tent man. The rich Palekar household believed in celebrating Holi in style. The shrewd Senior Palekar used this occasion to strengthen ties and probably even drive deals with his hiccupping business clients.

Chilled
jal jeera
stirred with bhang was generally served at the beginning itself so that by the end of the morning there would be a houseful of swaying beings all over the place. The manicured lawns over which a tent was set up would be the scene of the battlefield with water-filled drums placed in discreet corners.

With
picchkari
s
,
every hapless soul in sight would get sprayed with coloured water. Ankur really loved Holi. In fact in school essays, Ankur listed Holi as his favourite festival, simply because he could begin with the line, ‘On this day, we get up late in the morning and wear our old clothes.’

‘If you haven’t recognised me, I’m Jaishree!’ grinned a bright green-coloured Pavan, coming towards Souvik.

Souvik returned the grin as he proceeded to smear Pavan’s evading face with dark pink colour.

Jaishree and Sonali stood together in a corner. Jaishree was again in one of her rare moods and was giggling. Except that she went on and on and on. She had apparently had too much
jal jeera
with bhang in it and responded to any question with a silly giggle.

Souvik liked seeing her that way. The normally graceful Jaishree who usually had her hair in a neat plait, had left her waist length hair loose. The band with which she had tied her hair had broken free, leaving each strand on her head celebrating Holi the way it liked.

Vyas meanwhile, swayed incessantly as if he were listening to trance music. Except that there was no music.

Ankur had hardly finished chasing Pavan with eggs when his attention turned to the vegetarian Sonali. She stood quietly in a corner. Probably even she was stoned. He walked towards her and asked her for a dance.

‘Come we’ll play ring-a-ring-a-roses,’ Ankur suggested.

Jaishree giggled. Sonali smiled. ‘No you play,’ she said smiling indulgently.

‘No we will all play!’ Ankur declared, stamping his foot like a child.

So Jaishree, still giggling, held hands with the self-conscious Souvik as Vyas swayed into the centre of a rather large newly formed circle, clapping his hands like a eunuch. And sure enough, if there was one college memory Ankur would remember years later, it was this wet, colourful Holi.

Twenty-Four

‘Vyjanthi
amma
Vyjanthi!’ an elderly male voice was calling in a heavy Tamil accent.

‘
Appa
, I’m just coming!’ said a pleasant female voice whose owner was a
mangalsutra
wearing, rotund version of Jaishree.

An assembly of guests occupied everything that remotely resembled a chair. Jaishree herself sat nervously next to a guy whose most marked feature were his thick spectacle frames.

‘The sisters are very close…
paati
and me sometimes feel left out,’ the old gentleman explained in Tamil and everyone smiled approvingly.

Paati
, grandmother in Tamil, smiled as she sat in a crowd of similar looking faces. With two flower shaped diamond nose pins decorating either side of her nostrils,
paati
seemed a very mild person. It was she who had taken the girls under her wing ever since her son had lost his wife six
years ago. Jaishree had been fifteen then. Now at twenty-one she still sorely missed her mother. Especially during times like these.