When a Lawyer Falls in Love (21 page)

Souvik remained silent. He would rather not comment on the guy who nearly stole his girl.

‘Imagine, he still thinks I’m single and breathlessly waiting for his approval!’ Jaishree said gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Souvik still remained silent. Except that now his silence grew ominous. Jaishree also realised this. ‘So what else…what else have you thought about for our future?’ the young bride asked purposely emphasising on the word ‘our’.

Souvik brightened again and like a happy child he continued. ‘We’ll have a big house…two kids and one dog… we can even adopt…,’ Souvik spoke as if in a trance.

‘I’ve already adopted you,’ Jaishree said and broke into a giggle. Souvik pretended to take offence.

‘I want a little girl…who will be my tiny princess. Daughters always resemble their dads…so I guess she’ll be beautiful,’ Souvik said flicking his thin straight hair in a gesture of self importance. Jaishree rolled her eyes, amused.

‘Boys of course are always playing and breaking things…,’ Souvik added as if justifying himself.

‘Really?’ Jaishree playfully enquired. ‘I know of a boy who always likes to play…’

It was Souvik’s turn to blush but then he quickly added, ‘But if you remember, I’ve yet to succeed fully in breaking something,’ Souvik said with an evil glint coming into his eyes.

‘No!’ Jaishree shrieked and then giggled her way out of his reach.

‘WHAAT?’ Mr Subramaniam’s anger was understandable. Ankur was just glad that he wasn’t around to witness it ‘live’. Yet the broadcast he was forced to watch at Souvik’s paying guest accommodation made him want to dig a trench and bury himself at the earliest.

Threats in vernacular languages, as Ankur was slowly realising, somehow seemed more menacing. Ankur had always at a certain level wanted to be just like Souvik. Except for now. Having clandestinely married a South Indian, Souvik might as well prepare himself to resemble freshly ground idli batter.

The traditional Bengali tongue meanwhile, it is said, has trouble pronouncing the syllable ‘s’. Instead out rolls a happy ‘sh’. In that case with Jaishree’s relatives threatening to lodge a ‘Po-lees’ complaint, Ankur had only one wish for Souvik. May God ‘sh-ave’ him!

Yet, the deed was done. The couple was married. Nothing could change that. Besides the bridal pair themselves were lawyers. It was left to the young advocates to win their lives’ most important case.

Forty-Seven

‘As a child I had once collided with a buffalo…thus began my love affair with the bovine family,’ Ankur was saying onstage to an audience in splits. It was their farewell day. There was a collective laugh. Some were still walking into the auditorium in little herds. It was the last day of college and everybody suddenly wanted to be part of a group.

‘So have you finally found someone from the same species?’ Acheeky voice from the audience called. Awave of laughter rippled through the crowd. Ankur thought of Sonali and the dairy farm her family owned back in Gujarat.

‘Not quite!’ Ankur said. ‘I plan to open a marriage bureau to cater to this special need…you can be my first client!’ Ankur quipped. His eyes scanned the crowd. Sonali and the rest of the gang were sitting in one of the middle rows. Ankur was taking part in the ‘Mr AIU College’ contest and that was the reason behind his imbecilic monologue.

Sonali and Jaishree could have taken part in the ‘Ms AIU College’ contest, but Sonali was not interested and Jaishree was too happy to care, dressed in a pink sari sitting next to Souvik. ‘Will Jaishree start coming to college dressed only in saris?’ Pavan had wanted to know after the wedding. ‘Of course!’ answered Sonali. ‘As long as Souvik arrives in college wearing only dhotis.’ With less than one month left for college to close, it didn’t matter much what Jaishree wore. Yet that didn’t stop her from buying every conceivable shade of pink, maroon and red salwar kameezes. These were after all the indulgences of a new bride.

Sonali meanwhile had different plans up her pretty sleeve. Having known her for over half a decade, Ankur should have known.

‘John Donne, the poet,’ Ankur had stated, ‘said that a woman’s love should never be trusted, since it has no empirical evidence to support it.’

‘Wow!’ Sonali had retorted, ‘You ought to find yourself a guy then…I’ve always wondered what a gay wedding would be like!’ It was Ankur’s turn to be slightly ruffled and amused. He laughed in response. Yet he somehow felt that there ought to be some wisdom in Donne’s words. Especially since speaking of his marriage, the poet wrote, ‘John Donne, Anne Donne, Undone.’

And Souvik already seemed a little undone.

Ankur had never seen anyone multitask so much in hislife.

Souvik had arranged to move into a one bedroom flat along with Jaishree, just as he sat for his final year law exam, attended campus recruitments and posted his resume on every conceivable job site. Interviewers, Souvik was learning could be quite rude. ‘Why do you want to join our firm?’ one of them had asked.

‘Because I like the job,’ Souvik had answered confidently.

‘Do you like ice cream?’ was the next question and Souvik had smiled saying, ‘Yes, of course!’ ‘Why don’t you join an ice cream parlour, then?’ That had caught him unprepared!

Besides, just the previous, day Souvik and Jaishree had celebrated their first month anniversary. He had gifted her a gold ring encrusted with tiny diamonds. It was a wedding ring a month too late. With his myopic eyes Ankur couldn’t distinguish the size of the dot size diamonds but he could distinguish something else—the size of Souvik’s heart.

Forty-Eight

Sonali was in a mood to keep herself entertained. She had actually managed to get Ankur Palekar to propose to her. Rather involuntarily, that is. Ankur was sitting by himself one afternoon, a week after the wedding, when Sonali walked up to him with a greeting card. ‘No! Not one of your poems!’ Ankur said, playfully rolling his eyes. Sonali simply smiled and gave him the card and left.

Ankur opened the card expecting the usual predictable four lines when he got the shock of his life. The title of the poem read
At My Wedding
! For a second the world seemed to stand still. Sonali was twenty-two. And a Gujarati. It was expected that she would be getting married early. Yet she chose to inform him of this latest development through a poem of all things. Talk about creativity during crises. Ankur couldn’t read the poem fast enough. It read:

At My Wedding!

The wedding hall is decorated,
The chairs all arranged,
Harried relatives all scurrying about,
Both normal and deranged!

Cards will be distributed
Shrill Hindi music there shall be,
As a bunch of left-footed dancers will manage to congregate,
At what will be called a wedding party!

Yet it will be a sweet affair,
With friends in a congratulatory mood,
Who of course will dematerialise,
If there isn’t any lip smacking food!

There will be sweets and dance and music,
And flowers that will fill a room
But something is still missing,
Ah Yes! The Groom!!

Ankur smiled when he read the last line. Then he laughed. It was a laugh out of sheer relief. Sonali had actually given him a scare. He suddenly felt very sheepish. It was a good wake up call. All of a sudden, Ankur Palekar knew exactly what he had to do.

He bent on all fours like a playful puppy, tottered up to her, pretended to sniff her about, and said, ‘Your pet is here, woof woof, where’s my doggy collar?’

It took the speechless Sonali a moment to recover from this sudden play act by her friend.

But she quickly caught on the act and said, ‘No, not a puppy. Her Highness, the Lioness fancies a different pet.’

Immediately, Ankur sprang up to his feet, slipped his arm through her’s, and looking into her eyes said, ‘Your Arien, the Ram, promises to be a little lamb and follow you forever and ever…and ever. Will you make me the missing groom?!’

Ankur’s immediate juniors were clueless about what they were supposed to do on stage. It was the duty of the juniors to hold the formal farewell send off for the seniors. At the end of the ‘Prayer Song’ one thing was clear. Only prayers could have helped the song! After the hideously off key braying, there was a rather uncoordinated dance with loud blaring music and of course, the Dean’s ‘just a few words’ speech.

Realising that this was probably the last time he had the legal right to lecture to the outgoing batch of lawyers, the Dean decided to make full use of it. Even the loud drone of everybody speaking among themselves in the hall didn’t deter him. He simply went on and on, much to the irritation of the juniors who had timed the programme. It was probably the only thing they had attempted to do neatly. The stage decorations it seemed, had begun, that morning itself. Since a festoon right above the Dean’s head had broken free and fluttered teasingly. But the huge male audience had better things to watch—girls dressed in elegant and colourful saris.

For the first time in her life, Jaishree Subramaniam decided to openly assert herself in college. She came for the farewell wearing sindoor and a
mangalsutra
. The auditorium was abuzz as many male and female jaws collectively dropped. Even some of the lecturers were shocked. It was the final send off and Jaishree didn’t want to do any more hiding. Souvik, meanwhile, was on everyone’s hot list. And hit list. The newly-wed ought to be given a wedding shower, the guys decided. Celebrations of a slightly different kind. After all, he had stolen from right under the black robes of the other male lawyers, the prettiest girl in class!

A whole class giving a hapless lawyer birthday bumps laced with indulgent kicks was common. And here was a guy who had actually gone and got married. The whole college ought to be after him!

And the word ‘treat!!’ buzzed in Souvik’s ears even weeks after the event.

Vyas looked dapper in a black suit and his female juniors with their waxed legs were taking a renewed interest in him. Pavan meanwhile was accomplishing his mission of world peace. He was keeping up his correspondence with his pretty Nepali female friends in keeping with his ‘love thy neighbour’ philosophy.

During the convocation ceremony that year, Ankur walked away with the ‘Best All Rounder’ shield just as Souvik had his place in the sun by being the class topper. Ankur would often wonder how the guy managed to do it, but he did. Only a Libran could carry off the ultimate balancing act! Sonali missed being a medallist by three marks and Pavan’s marks almost made him miss the convocation. But he got a special prize for being a student with the ‘Sunniest Disposition’. And strangely, the lecturer who suggested his name was none other than a certain lady he met at a water cooler!

Yet perhapsAnkur’s most poignant memory of the farewell party was when Souvik got on stage. Souvik seemed unusually sentimental as he almost choked while talking of ‘The best days of his life’. Ahush fell over the hall as Souvik completed his speech with a four line poem that went:

To say good bye, to the college I’ve known,
As the time gradually nears,
I’m left with nothing but memories,

Of my life’s finest years!

As the hall erupted in applause, a knot formed in Ankur’s throat. The lawyers were finally ready to step into the world.