I'm a Woman & I'm on SALE
PROLOGUE
Maya couldn't contain herself. Her heart was pounding as if thousand bulls were charging from within her heart, raring and roaring to get out. Her breathing was laboured and her eyes were welling up. "It's just the wind," she thought to herself as she took one step forward towards the ledge. She wasn't going to cry today. There was no room for fear now. It was time to let the pain go.
"It'll be over in a few seconds," she muttered to herself under her breath. She was now standing at the edge of the bridge. "Just one step toward salvation," she thought as a faint smile spread across her scarlet lips. She looked radiant - her hair billowed like a black satin ribbon caught in the wind and her eyes sparkled like dazzling jewels. A lone tear found its escape and trickled down her face as she closed her eyes.
She arched her neck and stretched out her arms. Her fingers could feel the brute force of the wind as it roughly caressed and slipped through her fingers. It was all so surreal! She let out a sigh as she leaped into the vast emptiness beneath her. She was free, at last!
CHAPTER 1
Harsh Jalan was a senior partner at his law firm. Though most considered him to be a little too young to be a senior partner, his work would impress even the most cynical of cynics. His boyish charm was often an advantage in the court room. His clear brown eyes held an earnest appeal that was powerful enough to sway and hypnotize anyone who would dare look into his eyes. The only thing that surpassed his earnest appeal and quick tongue was his shrewd mind and sharp wit. He could outwit and outlast the finest of lawyers even on his worst days. Coupled with his immense success, he believed that little could ruffle him. But little did he know; all that was about to change this Friday morning. It started out as a usual morning...and as usual, Harsh was in his office on the dot. Punctuality in his trade had a direct correlation between how serious you were about your job and most importantly, how seriously you were taken. His secretary, Prashant, on the other hand, was allowed a five minute buffer. Unlike most partners at his firm, he had a male secretary. In an age when women were fighting for equality, his choice for a male secretary was often dubbed as discriminatory. While he never bothered to correct his critics or set the record straight, his own reasons in his own head were more altruistic. He wasn't going to subject any woman to the delinquents who often came in seeking representation.
His chamber was on the 5th floor of the office building. His morning ritual was always the same. He'd undo his black blazer and drape it neatly on the back of his plush maroon leather high chair. He'd then walk over to the coffee machine and prepare some strong espresso. A shot of espresso gave him just the right kick to get into his game. Of course, he rarely stopped at one shot of espresso. He then went on to prepare a frothy cup of cappuccino, which he'd carry over to his desk to drink at leisure. While he wasn't particularly finicky about cleanliness, he hated those coffee rings. So, he'd set the large coffee mug on a wooden coaster and start on the day's work, which was when his secretary was expected to bring him the case files he was working on. While he prioritised the cases based on the date of their hearing and would spend most of his time preparing for the cases at hand; he still liked to give a cursory glance to all his pending cases.
His office was his first home. His house was a close second. So, it wasn't surprising when the first thing he did on becoming a senior partner was to assess his office space. While he didn't particularly dislike what the interior decorator had done with his chamber, he had in the end resorted to his own design sensibilities and his own wallet to create the perfect space for his office. Considering the amount of time he spent in his office, it was simply common sense.
The room had a rather masculine décor and had been done using the art deco style - modern and sleek without compromising on comfort. There was a decorative black lacquered panel that served as the room screen and the floor had been done using black and white vinyl tiles that shone in high gloss. There was a circular rug in dove grey that was placed at the right side of the room with a rectangular chrome coffee table in the centre. The rug was surrounded by a plush sofa set that was upholstered in a combination of white leather and black velour. The room was lined with black and white cabinets that not only housed his files, it also contained his 'lawyer' essentials like black suits, black gowns, white bands, fresh white shirts, and a few personal items, which included a pair of black formal shoes and a pair of his favourite sport shoes.
The colours had been sparingly used in the room and relied primarily on black and white theme - two of Harsh's favourite colours, though he was slightly partial to black (maybe it was a good thing that he chose a profession that allowed him to wear lots of black). The room was interspersed with floor lamps, desk lamps and wall scones. The blackened window that overlooked the city was covered in thick and plush white drapes that Harsh rarely opened unless it was raining outside. The final and the most important piece of furniture in Harsh's room was his desk. In fact, Harsh would often tell the youngsters joining the law firm - 'a lawyer's desk says more about him or her than all the public relations in the world.'
For his desk space, Harsh had chosen a red teak wood full desk (with an intricate inlay work done in mother-of-pearl and lapis lazuli) with a front down to the floor. Accompanied with the plush maroon leather high chair, they were probably the only two colourful pieces that went on to perk up and accentuate the black and white décor. Having a desk with the front down was simply good sense, because you could easily kick off your shoes without the clients and colleagues ever getting to know of it. His desk had an inbox tray that contained a few (never empty nor too many) documents related to pending matters. He also had some family photographs resting at the side of the table. This showed off a lawyer's humane side and helped clients relate with and see lawyers as dedicated and loyal 'family-men'. (Albeit, for female attorneys, the equation changes. No pictures will peg her as cold and heartless while pictures will peg her as emotional and weak.)
On the desk, placed on the right hand side, was an elaborately engraved pen stand, which held pens in different colours. They come in handy when he was preparing his case notes. He also had a desk calendar next to the pen stand, wherein he'd highlight the hearing dates. He had tried to come up with some sort of colour-coding to mark the calendar dates but had given up once his workload increased. And it turned out to be a smart move, given the sheer number of cases he was now handling.
He had just settled into his comfortable chair and opened his laptop when his secretary, Prashant, popped his head through the wooden door. "I'm sorry Harsh. There's a lady here to see you."
"I thought I had no appointments this morning," barked Harsh, perhaps a little too loudly than he had intended.
"Well, you didn't," clarified Prashant. "But the guard said that she has been waiting in the lobby for over an hour. I thought maybe you could see her. None of the other lawyers are in their offices yet."
"Fine! Fine!" said Harsh, half exasperated and half smiling. "I know you see a woman in distress and suddenly you're all gooey."
"Well, you know me. I'm a softie and a 'gentleman'." Prashant winked as he stressed the word 'gentleman' and turned around before Harsh could respond with an appropriate jibe.
Sarcasm didn't work with Harsh. But then again, Prashant could pretty much get away with anything as far as Harsh was concerned. Prashant was intelligent and hard working; and had now become Harsh's friend and confidant. In fact, Harsh would often discuss interesting cases with Prashant over drinks along with a few laughs. As Harsh wasn't married and was often too busy to enjoy a social life, Prashant had become an integral part of both his personal and professional world. In fact, Prashant rarely took a day off and was regarded as big a workaholic as his boss-cum-friend.
Harsh was busy looking at the weekly cause list to see how many lawyers of his firm had a court hearing that week. His reason for doing so was manifold. For starters, he wanted to know how his firm was doing. After all, the more cases the firm had, the more successful and renowned the firm became. It was only natural that the benefits would trickle down and benefit all the lawyers working in the firm. Plus, it allowed Harsh to see the cases that were due for hearing that week. Whenever an interesting case was on, he often made it a point to sit in. It made good sense to stay updated with what the competition was doing, whether in his organisation or otherwise. Next, he would go through the day's cause list to see what other cases were being taken up. While the weekly cause list was a good place to start, it didn't list all the cases coming up in the court for the day. For example, the cases for which special mentioning had been made, could only be found in the day's cause list.
Harsh flipped another page and was running his index finger rhythmically through the lawyer names when Prashant opened the door again. It was reflex! The finger stopped moving and Harsh closed his eyes momentarily as a whisk of an alluring perfume hit his senses. "My God, she smells nice," he thought to himself as he looked up from the stapled sheets of paper.
There she stood in the doorway; an aura of stillness! She reminded him of a calm sea...albeit senses told Harsh that was just the lull before the storm. There was something compelling about her. All Harsh could do was rise slowly from his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. Harsh had seen many drop-dead gorgeous beauties in his life - but he had seen no one like her. She wasn't gorgeous in the traditional sense of the word and yet there was something about her. To say she was attractive would be an understatement. Calling her 'attractive' would be like calling the Taj Mahal a marble grave.
She was draped in a black saree with a full-sleeved blouse. As a lawyer, Harsh had seen enough women dressed in a black saree but not one affected him the way this woman was doing right at that moment.
"All I need now is some violin music and a breeze," Harsh thought to himself as he half-smiled at his own sense of humour.
"Ahem," Harsh cleared his throat. "Please come in. Take a seat Ms..." Harsh trailed off.
"Maya," she answered as she came forward. Prashant was quick to follow behind her and held out a chair. She thanked him and he smiled as generously as he could.
Harsh watched in amusement as Prashant tumbled out of the cabin. He then sat back in his chair, leaned forward and placed his interlocked fingers on the stack of papers.
"Yes ma'am. What can I do for you?" Harsh enquired in a commading voice, back to his usual business self.
Maya took a deep breath and looked purposefully at Harsh. "I have been illegally terminated and I want to file a case," she responded in a firm voice.
"If only I had a penny for every time I had heard this sentence, I'd have, by now, bought my second farmhouse at Sainik Farms in Delhi, my favourite getaway in the country," Harsh thought to himself but refrained from saying anything out loud. For lawyers, such cases were routine but for the person who was in the midst of it all, it was nothing short of the old proverbial kick to the stomach (quite literally).
"So, why don't you tell me the case details?" Harsh quizzed.
"I know you must be quite busy. So, I've prepared the case draft and have arranged all annexure chronologically. Hopefully, it'll save you some time," answered Maya as she placed a bound file in front of Harsh.
Harsh opened the file and did a quick scan of the pages before him. "I'm impressed! Are you a lawyer?" wondered Harsh.
"No. I'm not; though, there are lawyers in my family. However, none of them practice here so I came to your firm for representation," she answered softly.
"I will take your case and we'll file the writ petition in the High Court, first thing this Monday morning," Harsh replied.
"I'll be really grateful. I have enclosed documents enumerating all government investments in the institute," Maya thanked Harsh as she rose from the chair.
"Thank you. I saw that! It will be the first thing we'll need during the admission stage. The High Court will want to ascertain that a writ jurisdiction exists against them," replied Harsh as he took her extended hand.
Her hand was soft and small, and almost baby-like. For a moment, his eyes rested on her shapely fingers. Her hand was beautiful! A pretty face was a common occurrence but a pretty hand was as uncommon as a four-leaved clover.
Recovering from his reverie, Harsh relaxed his gentle pressure from Maya's hands and withdrew his hands clumsily. "This woman will be difficult to work with," he thought as he let out an inaudible sigh.
"I'll need you on Monday to sign the Vakalatnama. It's an authority in writing given by the litigant to their lawyer, which will then give me the authority to plead your case on your behalf. Then again, you already have lawyers in your family. I bet, you already know what it means," described Harsh, before adding, "You'll also have to make a personal appearance before the Oath Commissioner to take an oath that every detail provided in the affidavit is accurate and factual to the best of your knowledge."
Maya nodded her head and pulled out a cheque-book. "I'm sorry I didn't know how much I'd need you to pay so I didn't bring cash. If you can tell me the amount, I'll write you a cheque instead," Maya said as she opened a blank leaf.
"Well, the payment will be in two instalments. But I don't want you to worry about it. I'll ask Prashant to draw up the details and you may pay when we meet on Monday. It'll be under 10K, just to give you a ballpark figure," Harsh offered.
Maya bowed her head as she smiled in amusement.
"I'm sorry. Is something the matter?" asked Harsh, intrigued at her response.
"Umm...I'm sorry. I didn't think your charges will be so low," she answered, after searching for the right words.
"Yes, I know," smirked Harsh. "Movies kinda make it sound as if you'll have to sell your soul to fight a court case. Though, they couldn't be farther away from the truth. But then again, of course there are lawyers who won't stop bargaining unless you give them your soul. We like to call them the devil's advocate," said Harsh, as he broke into peals of laughter.
Maya smiled as she put away the cheque-book and closed the clasp of her clutch. As she turned to leave, Harsh couldn't contain himself. "If you don't mind my asking - why were you terminated?"
Maya looked away for the briefest moment. A faint smile appeared on her lips. But it wasn't a happy smile. She then looked up and locked eyes with Harsh. Her eyes had a piercing intensity that would have put a master hypnotist to shame.
"Because I am a 'woman'," was all she said before walking out of his room.
His office was his first home. His house was a close second. So, it wasn't surprising when the first thing he did on becoming a senior partner was to assess his office space. While he didn't particularly dislike what the interior decorator had done with his chamber, he had in the end resorted to his own design sensibilities and his own wallet to create the perfect space for his office. Considering the amount of time he spent in his office, it was simply common sense.
The room had a rather masculine décor and had been done using the art deco style - modern and sleek without compromising on comfort. There was a decorative black lacquered panel that served as the room screen and the floor had been done using black and white vinyl tiles that shone in high gloss. There was a circular rug in dove grey that was placed at the right side of the room with a rectangular chrome coffee table in the centre. The rug was surrounded by a plush sofa set that was upholstered in a combination of white leather and black velour. The room was lined with black and white cabinets that not only housed his files, it also contained his 'lawyer' essentials like black suits, black gowns, white bands, fresh white shirts, and a few personal items, which included a pair of black formal shoes and a pair of his favourite sport shoes.
The colours had been sparingly used in the room and relied primarily on black and white theme - two of Harsh's favourite colours, though he was slightly partial to black (maybe it was a good thing that he chose a profession that allowed him to wear lots of black). The room was interspersed with floor lamps, desk lamps and wall scones. The blackened window that overlooked the city was covered in thick and plush white drapes that Harsh rarely opened unless it was raining outside. The final and the most important piece of furniture in Harsh's room was his desk. In fact, Harsh would often tell the youngsters joining the law firm - 'a lawyer's desk says more about him or her than all the public relations in the world.'
For his desk space, Harsh had chosen a red teak wood full desk (with an intricate inlay work done in mother-of-pearl and lapis lazuli) with a front down to the floor. Accompanied with the plush maroon leather high chair, they were probably the only two colourful pieces that went on to perk up and accentuate the black and white décor. Having a desk with the front down was simply good sense, because you could easily kick off your shoes without the clients and colleagues ever getting to know of it. His desk had an inbox tray that contained a few (never empty nor too many) documents related to pending matters. He also had some family photographs resting at the side of the table. This showed off a lawyer's humane side and helped clients relate with and see lawyers as dedicated and loyal 'family-men'. (Albeit, for female attorneys, the equation changes. No pictures will peg her as cold and heartless while pictures will peg her as emotional and weak.)
On the desk, placed on the right hand side, was an elaborately engraved pen stand, which held pens in different colours. They come in handy when he was preparing his case notes. He also had a desk calendar next to the pen stand, wherein he'd highlight the hearing dates. He had tried to come up with some sort of colour-coding to mark the calendar dates but had given up once his workload increased. And it turned out to be a smart move, given the sheer number of cases he was now handling.
He had just settled into his comfortable chair and opened his laptop when his secretary, Prashant, popped his head through the wooden door. "I'm sorry Harsh. There's a lady here to see you."
"I thought I had no appointments this morning," barked Harsh, perhaps a little too loudly than he had intended.
"Well, you didn't," clarified Prashant. "But the guard said that she has been waiting in the lobby for over an hour. I thought maybe you could see her. None of the other lawyers are in their offices yet."
"Fine! Fine!" said Harsh, half exasperated and half smiling. "I know you see a woman in distress and suddenly you're all gooey."
"Well, you know me. I'm a softie and a 'gentleman'." Prashant winked as he stressed the word 'gentleman' and turned around before Harsh could respond with an appropriate jibe.
Sarcasm didn't work with Harsh. But then again, Prashant could pretty much get away with anything as far as Harsh was concerned. Prashant was intelligent and hard working; and had now become Harsh's friend and confidant. In fact, Harsh would often discuss interesting cases with Prashant over drinks along with a few laughs. As Harsh wasn't married and was often too busy to enjoy a social life, Prashant had become an integral part of both his personal and professional world. In fact, Prashant rarely took a day off and was regarded as big a workaholic as his boss-cum-friend.
Harsh was busy looking at the weekly cause list to see how many lawyers of his firm had a court hearing that week. His reason for doing so was manifold. For starters, he wanted to know how his firm was doing. After all, the more cases the firm had, the more successful and renowned the firm became. It was only natural that the benefits would trickle down and benefit all the lawyers working in the firm. Plus, it allowed Harsh to see the cases that were due for hearing that week. Whenever an interesting case was on, he often made it a point to sit in. It made good sense to stay updated with what the competition was doing, whether in his organisation or otherwise. Next, he would go through the day's cause list to see what other cases were being taken up. While the weekly cause list was a good place to start, it didn't list all the cases coming up in the court for the day. For example, the cases for which special mentioning had been made, could only be found in the day's cause list.
Harsh flipped another page and was running his index finger rhythmically through the lawyer names when Prashant opened the door again. It was reflex! The finger stopped moving and Harsh closed his eyes momentarily as a whisk of an alluring perfume hit his senses. "My God, she smells nice," he thought to himself as he looked up from the stapled sheets of paper.
There she stood in the doorway; an aura of stillness! She reminded him of a calm sea...albeit senses told Harsh that was just the lull before the storm. There was something compelling about her. All Harsh could do was rise slowly from his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. Harsh had seen many drop-dead gorgeous beauties in his life - but he had seen no one like her. She wasn't gorgeous in the traditional sense of the word and yet there was something about her. To say she was attractive would be an understatement. Calling her 'attractive' would be like calling the Taj Mahal a marble grave.
She was draped in a black saree with a full-sleeved blouse. As a lawyer, Harsh had seen enough women dressed in a black saree but not one affected him the way this woman was doing right at that moment.
"All I need now is some violin music and a breeze," Harsh thought to himself as he half-smiled at his own sense of humour.
"Ahem," Harsh cleared his throat. "Please come in. Take a seat Ms..." Harsh trailed off.
"Maya," she answered as she came forward. Prashant was quick to follow behind her and held out a chair. She thanked him and he smiled as generously as he could.
Harsh watched in amusement as Prashant tumbled out of the cabin. He then sat back in his chair, leaned forward and placed his interlocked fingers on the stack of papers.
"Yes ma'am. What can I do for you?" Harsh enquired in a commading voice, back to his usual business self.
Maya took a deep breath and looked purposefully at Harsh. "I have been illegally terminated and I want to file a case," she responded in a firm voice.
"If only I had a penny for every time I had heard this sentence, I'd have, by now, bought my second farmhouse at Sainik Farms in Delhi, my favourite getaway in the country," Harsh thought to himself but refrained from saying anything out loud. For lawyers, such cases were routine but for the person who was in the midst of it all, it was nothing short of the old proverbial kick to the stomach (quite literally).
"So, why don't you tell me the case details?" Harsh quizzed.
"I know you must be quite busy. So, I've prepared the case draft and have arranged all annexure chronologically. Hopefully, it'll save you some time," answered Maya as she placed a bound file in front of Harsh.
Harsh opened the file and did a quick scan of the pages before him. "I'm impressed! Are you a lawyer?" wondered Harsh.
"No. I'm not; though, there are lawyers in my family. However, none of them practice here so I came to your firm for representation," she answered softly.
"I will take your case and we'll file the writ petition in the High Court, first thing this Monday morning," Harsh replied.
"I'll be really grateful. I have enclosed documents enumerating all government investments in the institute," Maya thanked Harsh as she rose from the chair.
"Thank you. I saw that! It will be the first thing we'll need during the admission stage. The High Court will want to ascertain that a writ jurisdiction exists against them," replied Harsh as he took her extended hand.
Her hand was soft and small, and almost baby-like. For a moment, his eyes rested on her shapely fingers. Her hand was beautiful! A pretty face was a common occurrence but a pretty hand was as uncommon as a four-leaved clover.
Recovering from his reverie, Harsh relaxed his gentle pressure from Maya's hands and withdrew his hands clumsily. "This woman will be difficult to work with," he thought as he let out an inaudible sigh.
"I'll need you on Monday to sign the Vakalatnama. It's an authority in writing given by the litigant to their lawyer, which will then give me the authority to plead your case on your behalf. Then again, you already have lawyers in your family. I bet, you already know what it means," described Harsh, before adding, "You'll also have to make a personal appearance before the Oath Commissioner to take an oath that every detail provided in the affidavit is accurate and factual to the best of your knowledge."
Maya nodded her head and pulled out a cheque-book. "I'm sorry I didn't know how much I'd need you to pay so I didn't bring cash. If you can tell me the amount, I'll write you a cheque instead," Maya said as she opened a blank leaf.
"Well, the payment will be in two instalments. But I don't want you to worry about it. I'll ask Prashant to draw up the details and you may pay when we meet on Monday. It'll be under 10K, just to give you a ballpark figure," Harsh offered.
Maya bowed her head as she smiled in amusement.
"I'm sorry. Is something the matter?" asked Harsh, intrigued at her response.
"Umm...I'm sorry. I didn't think your charges will be so low," she answered, after searching for the right words.
"Yes, I know," smirked Harsh. "Movies kinda make it sound as if you'll have to sell your soul to fight a court case. Though, they couldn't be farther away from the truth. But then again, of course there are lawyers who won't stop bargaining unless you give them your soul. We like to call them the devil's advocate," said Harsh, as he broke into peals of laughter.
Maya smiled as she put away the cheque-book and closed the clasp of her clutch. As she turned to leave, Harsh couldn't contain himself. "If you don't mind my asking - why were you terminated?"
Maya looked away for the briefest moment. A faint smile appeared on her lips. But it wasn't a happy smile. She then looked up and locked eyes with Harsh. Her eyes had a piercing intensity that would have put a master hypnotist to shame.
"Because I am a 'woman'," was all she said before walking out of his room.
CHAPTER 2
Harsh couldn't sleep that night. The more he thought about Maya, the more restless he became. He finally got up from his bed and went into his tidy kitchen. People often remarked that he was quite neat for a bachelor but few realised that he wasn't home long enough to mess it up like normal bachelors.
He opened the refrigerator and retrieved a juice carton from the top shelf. He poured himself a glass and went out onto the adjoining deck that overlooked the marina. Living so close to the sea had its benefits. The first was the cool sea breeze that offered respite from the heat and humidity. The second was the calm that descended when you stood mesmerised by the white surf of the sea. The sights and sounds of the ocean, especially when she was raging on a full moon night was a miracle that few appreciated. The hustle and bustle of city life left little to connect and become one with Mother Nature. Today, however, a sleepless night had changed all that. Harsh wondered how many more sleepless nights he'd have to endure. By the looks of it, he might as well make a recurring appointment with the sea.
If Harsh thought the waves will provide him clarity, he was wrong! With every wave that broke upon the sea shore, Harsh felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into his thoughts. But the more he delved deeper, the more anxious he became. This was going to be the longest weekend of his life.
Maya too couldn't sleep tonight! She had put up with so much, these past few months that sleep was still elusive. Then again, her whole life had had her up most nights. Even tonight, whenever her head touched the pillow, the events of the past few months came back to haunt her like a movie that had been kept on a replay loop. Every now and then, she'd shut her eyes tightly in the vain hope that she'd banish the images from her mind. But sleep may as well have been on another planet.
She finally gave up and gave in to her tears. She was wailing and even with her face buried in the pillow, her gut-wrenching sobs pierced through the silence in her apartment. She lay curled up in a foetal position with her legs pressing tightly against her abdomen and her arms wrapped tightly around her bowed head. When she finally lay spent, her breath was laboured as she gasped for air.
Her throat felt discomfortingly dry so she reached across her night stand and uncapped the bottle and thirstily put the bottle to her parched lips. After several gulps of water, she lay back in her bed as she heard her breathing return to normal. She placed the cap back on the bottle before hurling it across the room. The bottle crashed with a loud noise across the granite floor and for the briefest moment, she felt at peace. She lay ensconced in her comforter and just stared ahead. She was in a daze and her mind was drawing an absolute blank. The darkness was comforting and she felt as if she was in a trance, not even aware of how long she had been staring straight ahead into the darkness.
Suddenly she bolted upright with a start. She wasn't going to feel sorry for herself. She would make the others sorry, even if that was the last thing she did.
On a usual day, Harsh preferred working in the office but today, he had brought Maya's case files home with him. Ever since she had left his office, her closing phrase has touched a nerve somewhere. While on the one hand, he was trying to dissect and grasp the meaning behind her choice of words; on the other hand, his curiosity about the case was aroused to unprecedented levels. He was sure the case would be as interesting as the woman who came to see him. In fact, truth be told, he wanted to rip the file open the moment the door had closed behind her, but he had refrained from doing so. He wanted to take his time and read the case in the privacy of his home where he was least likely to be disturbed.
His deck was decorated only with a few select pieces of patio furniture, which he primarily used only when he was having a drink or two or when he was entertaining his guests. His favourite piece was his beige lounger. He found the switch for the movable wall lamp and flicked it on. He directed the light directly over his chest and untied the thread and pulled out the stack of papers. He started reading the drafted version, which he had to admit, was pretty good - chronologically narrated events with sequentially arranged annexure. Harsh couldn't help but shake his head in amazement - this woman was meticulous with her writing and in preserving her correspondences; almost everything she had claimed in her draft complaint was backed with one or more documents and evidentiary support.
The case was so strong that Harsh was surprised that the management even dared terminate her. Then again, he was even more surprised to think that they ler her go in the first place. If he had had an employee who wsa even close to one-fourth her competence, he would fight tooth and nail to keep the person in his employment. After all, for a girl who was not a lawyer, she had done one hell of a job in drafting the complaint. "She made my job so much simpler. If only she could somehow make my life simple again," he thought to himself.
Maya was lost in her thoughts when the mobile started playing her favourite song, albeit directly into her left ear. She was startled as she was jolted out of her reverie.
"Who could be calling at this hour?" she thought to herself. She reached for her mobile phone that was lying next to her pillow. She flicked open her flip phone and studied the number. It wasn't from her contact list.
She pressed the call button and promptly said, "Hello."
"We will get you," said the hoarse voice on the other end before hanging up.
"Hello...Hello...Hello...," Maya trailed off, still clutching the phone in her hand. She raked her brain to see if she knew the voice. But it was of no use - all she could say with any certainty was that it sounded a lot like a woman. She checked her call history again. The number was a landline number from the same city. She quickly redialled the number.
It was three rings before a man's voice answered, "Hello."
"Hello. I'm sorry, I just got a call from this number. May I please ask whose number it is?"
"Madam, this is a PCO," said the man before adding, "A woman was here right now who made a call. I guess it was she who called you. She said it was a wrong number after I asked her why she disconnected the call within a few seconds."
"Is she still there?" asked Maya anxiously.
"No madam. She left in her car after making the call."
"Oh...umm..." trailed Maya before finally replying, "Ok. Thank you."
"We will get you," said the hoarse voice on the other end before hanging up.
"Hello...Hello...Hello...," Maya trailed off, still clutching the phone in her hand. She raked her brain to see if she knew the voice. But it was of no use - all she could say with any certainty was that it sounded a lot like a woman. She checked her call history again. The number was a landline number from the same city. She quickly redialled the number.
It was three rings before a man's voice answered, "Hello."
"Hello. I'm sorry, I just got a call from this number. May I please ask whose number it is?"
"Madam, this is a PCO," said the man before adding, "A woman was here right now who made a call. I guess it was she who called you. She said it was a wrong number after I asked her why she disconnected the call within a few seconds."
"Is she still there?" asked Maya anxiously.
"No madam. She left in her car after making the call."
"Oh...umm..." trailed Maya before finally replying, "Ok. Thank you."
“Oh…umm…”
trailed Maya before finally replying, “Ok. Thank you.”
Maya
closed the flap of the phone but continued to hold it tightly in her hand. Her
heart was pounding and she was lost in confusion. She played the message over
and over in her head to see if she could come up with an alternate meaning.
“Was it really a threat,” she thought to herself. But then she moved to the
voice. “There was something familiar about that voice,” she mused.
Before
she knew it, it was the voice and not the message, which had her going crazy.
She had a strong feeling that she knew the voice from somewhere but she just
wasn’t able to place it.
“Who
was she?” she wondered out loud.
As
Harsh finished reading the last paragraph of the complaint, he turned his
attention to the compiled annexure. The first was a web printout that contained
the names and designations of the institute’s Board of Directors—the opposing
parties in this case. And the list contained the who’s who of the country—top names from
the industry, government and bureaucracy.
“Boy!
It’ll be one hell of a case,” smiled Harsh as he put away the page and
continued perusing the annexure.
He
next turned to an email that Maya had sent to the Director about a year and a
half ago thanking him for his job offer but that she wasn’t interested in the
job. She further went on to explain that she had been offered another job and
she was going to accept their offer. She had even cited reasons for her
decision—‘As the sole earning member
of my family, money often takes predominance over my own aspirations and goals.
However, as soon as my financial woes are over, I would love to come and work
with you.’
He
turned the page over and came upon several stapled sheets of paper, which
looked like a detailed offer letter from a firm. This was the job offer she had
talked about in her email to the Director. Harsh gave it a quick scan—stopping
to see the designation, job location and the salary offered. She had been right—the
salary was appealing. Plus, the profile sounded great too! Not to mention, the
company was one of the biggest and the most successful business houses in
India.
“If
only she had taken that job…she wouldn’t be in the present situation,” thought
Harsh. But a minute later, it struck him that had she taken the other job, he
wouldn’t have met her. Yet, as swiftly as the thought had crossed his mind, he
banished it out of his mind. He couldn’t celebrate her problems just because
they had led her to him.
“What’s
wrong with me?” he said, mortified at his train of thoughts.
Maya
had spent well over an hour replaying the voice and the message, over and over
again in her head. She was now certain of two things—one, it was a threat; and
two, she knew the voice.
She
had been sitting in her rocking chair ever since the call and was rhythmically
rocking the chair. However, it did little to help put her thoughts in sync for
the rhythmic motion was in complete contrast to the chaotic commotion in her
head.
Her
heart was still racing, probably to keep pace with the thoughts in her head. In
the dead silence of the night, she could distinctly hear her heart pounding.
She was fighting it and didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling but panic was
slowly setting in. She wanted to call somebody and talk.
“But
who can I possibly call?” she reasoned with herself. “If I call mom and dad,
they’ll be alarmed. They are old and unwell—this would kill them.”
As
she thought more and more about calling someone, another emotion took
over—despair. She couldn’t believe she didn’t even have one person she could
call - to talk.
“No
one cares,” she thought as her eyes filled up again. She buried her face in her
hands and wept inconsolably—her soul in torment.
CHAPTER 3
Maya stirred in her sleep.
She could hear something ringing. “It’s a dream,” she thought as she curled up
under the blanket—trying to block out the sound. But the ringing was persistent
and she couldn’t drown out the sound. She turned her face and listened intently
to the sound—it was the doorbell.
She
bolted out of bed and hurried towards the big wooden door. She unlocked the
door to see who was outside—nobody. She remained motionless for a couple of
minutes, lost in thought again. “Who was it?”
She
shook her head in denial, bent down to retrieve the newspapers and locked the
door again. “Maybe I WAS dreaming,” she added emphatically. She turned in the
direction of the kitchen when she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around
and stared intently at the door. It was the first time it dawned on her—the door didn’t have a peep hole or a security chain. The balcony too was on the other side of the house—so she had no
way of knowing who was outside the door—without opening the door. She was
scared!
“You’re
being paranoid,” she remarked, her voice held an evidence of contempt. “One
call in the night and you flinch at the slightest sound. Ridiculous!”
She
turned back and walked purposefully into the kitchen. “This morning calls for a
strong cup of tea,” she said to herself in an exaggerated sing-song voice as
she set the pan on the stove—her mood was obviously up after last night’s
crying spree.
She
poured the piping hot tea in a large glass tumbler usually used for serving
beer—technically known as a krug or a dimpled mug used to serve English,
American or German lager. She always thought it was quite funny to drink tea
from a beer pitcher. And even though she drank from dainty cups all day long,
the morning tea was a tea-time extravaganza.
She
went into the drawing room with the tea mug in hand and newspapers loosely
tucked under the arm. She placed the mug onto the glass table and the
newspapers on the sofa chair. She walked over to the big window next to the
sofa and drew back the bronze silk curtains to one side and secured it with the
tassel.
She
removed her flip-flops and plopped onto the brown and gold micro-suede sofa and
scanned the day’s headlines. Of course, none of it was new. When you followed
the news on TV, you had real-time news and already knew the stories that would
be making the rounds in print the next day. Though TV was quicker in disseminating
news, it still hadn’t dampened the pleasure of reading a newspaper—which, alongside
the cup of tea, was still a morning ritual for millions of people. Only the
premise had changed—now you ‘knew’ what you wanted to read. So instead of
wasting time browsing the whole newspaper, you went straight for the particular
news.
However,
while the white newspaper kept her busy for a while; it was the pink newspaper
that took most part of the morning ritual. Segregation on the basis of colour
was not just reserved for the human race—it spanned even newspapers.
The
white newspaper, in colloquial language, referred to the ‘normal’ daily
newspaper—which is a collection of snapshots of different news—ranging from
politics to entertainment and spanning regional to international news. On the
other hand, a pink newspaper referred to a financial newspaper—which stemmed
from the colour of the paper on which the newspaper was printed. There were
four major financial newspapers in India—The
Economic Times, Business Standard, Financial Express and The Hindu Business Line. The majority of the newspapers—three
out of four in this case—were printed on papers with colours ranging from
salmon to pink salmon—hence the name. The only exception to the colour coding
rule was The Hindu Business Line, which was printed on white paper and was alluded to as ‘the white
paper on business news.’
Maya
was still busy reading about the latest scam when her phone rang again. Though
she had been calm since morning, now she was once again filled with dread. She
nervously walked back into her bedroom where she had left the phone on charging
and was relieved to see it was her mother calling. “Silly,” she reprimanded
herself as a big smile spread across her face.
The
phone calls from her mother were as much a part of her daily ritual as the
morning newspaper, even though the time of the call varied each day. She spent
a good part of an hour talking about inane things, as she worked desperately to
convince her mother that she was well and happy.
“There’s
no point in her getting riled up as well,” she thought to herself as she
listened to her mother complain about her father, for the umpteenth time. While
she had always been close to her mother, her relationship with her father had
developed only after she had enrolled for her post-graduation in another city
when he had spent a lot of time helping her set up her house. And since then,
they had both become really close—though it had its implication and its
fallout. Now, she had to listen to both her mom and dad complain about the
other; and often felt like their personal United Nations—forever working to
maintain harmony in her ancestral house—one of her personal ‘peace-keeping
missions’; while she was and had to be the epitome of neutrality (in fact, she
just might change her name to Sweden or Switzerland).
With
her mother, it was a simple strategy. She patiently heard her out and allowed
her to let off steam. That got her calm again and the conversation would go
back to the dogs and their antics.
The
first and the foremost love of Maya’s life were her two cherished pet dogs—Mani
and Frenzy. Though she loved all animals and was astonishingly kind to them,
her pets reigned supreme as far as she was concerned. Once her mother had brought
her up to date with their doings for the day, she told her mother that she
would call back in the evening and hung up.
She
felt happier now that she had done in the last few hours. She turned to the
mounted photo collage on her wall and stared at her two dogs—both German Spitz
(Mani was male, white, and 10; while Frenzy was female, black, and 3). A smile
spread across her face.
She
went back to her bed and straightened the covers—another part of the daily
morning ritual—when she suddenly stopped.
“What
am I doing? I don’t have to go to work today,” she observed, as she sat down on
the bed, with her back propped up on the pillows and pulled the comforter over
her legs.
Harsh
woke up groggy! He had slept out on his deck. Even though the lounger was quite
comfortable, sleeping out on the sun deck when the sun came out was never a
smart idea. He was hot and now that he was up, he could feel beads of sweat
running down his spine.
“Damn,”
he cursed as he got up from the lounger. He picked up the file that he had
placed atop the cane table last night and came back into the living room. He
placed the file on the counter and walked back into the master bedroom.
He
pulled out a fresh white towel and went in to take a bath. As he stepped under
the shower, he allowed the cold water to hit his face. In a moment, the
grogginess disappeared and he was his usual self. The night phase had passed—he
was his business self again. He couldn’t let his personal feelings mar his
professionalism.
He
turned off the shower and dried himself off. After wrapping the towel around
his torso, he came back into the bedroom, he opened the wardrobe and selected a
beige corduroy trousers and a black full-sleeve T-shirt. Pretty much like his
office, his wardrobe here too was overpowered with shades of black, white and
grey.
After
he got dressed, he removed the file from the living room and retired into his
study to study the case at length. He pushed himself to read through the entire
case file without thinking of Maya or how he felt about the case. And, this
time he succeeded. While he knew she had been wronged and had a strong case, he
didn’t stop to pity her or sympathise with her situation. The last thing he
wanted was his judgement clouded with emotions. In his years as an attorney, he
knew how important it was to base your case on facts and not on your feelings.
As
Tom Cruise put it in A Few Good Men—“You and Dawson, you both live in the same dream-world. It
doesn’t matter what I believe. It only matters what I can prove. So please,
don’t tell me what I know, or don’t know. I know the LAW.”
A Few Good Men was Harsh’s all-time
favourite movie and though he didn’t get much time to watch all new releases,
his idea of relaxing—whenever he had time—was a good movie and a chilled beer.
Of course, it appeared that this case would keep him on his toes and away from
movies for a while. He was going to take on the Who’s Who of India, so
complacency was not an option. It was quite likely that the opposing parties
will parade a company of lawyers in court. There was a simple thumb-rule to this:
the lower the merit of the case—the larger the number of lawyers.
Harsh
opened his laptop and began drafting the plaint. Though Maya had provided lots
of annexure and documents, he only chose four to annex with the plaint. His
teacher, Moti babu as he was fondly called, was regarded as one of the most
successful lawyers of all times, used to say—“Kam
bolo. Aur usse bhi kam likho.” (Loosely translated, it
meant—“Talk less. Write lesser.”)
His
logic was sound too. Moti babu would often tell Harsh, “You’ll have ample
opportunities to build on the case in court, my child. A smart lawyer keeps his
cards close to his chest. Only reveal what is absolutely necessary. Take the
Mahabharata for instance; you don’t use all your weapons on the same day, nor
do you use the same weapon against every enemy. Your choice of weapon and your
tactic will change depending on your day in the court. So, if you have
preserved your weapons, you will have something in your arsenal to stump your
nemesis. Besides, you don’t use a cannon to kill a mosquito.”
People
often commented that Moti babu had turned senile after having lost his nerve in
the courtroom one day, which was why he had retired to a life of seclusion. But
Harsh had a feeling that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was true that
he was eccentric but he still was a legal genius.
Once,
Harsh had asked him why he retired, to which he had nonchalantly remarked,
“There’s a time for everything,” while he continued watering the plants in his
garden.
As
Harsh stood there not speaking, Moti babu had continued, “Have you read the Manu Smriti, Harsh?”
“No,
sir.”
“You
should,” suggested Moti babu, before turning to his bookshelves and retrieving
a hardbound book from the shelves.
He
handed Harsh an old book, apparently a translation by Sir William Jones. Moti
babu was also a rare book connoisseur and was proud of his collection of rare
books.
Harsh
looked at the book in interest when Moti babu continued, “According to the
Vedic life system, at the age of 50, a man should gradually withdraw from
worldly goals and enter the vanaprastha ashram. Unfortunately for me, I was still in captivity—held hostage by
my own ego and pride—and could not free myself. But on my 60th birthday, I knew
it was time.”
Harsh
didn’t know how to react and was at a loss of words. A little uncommon for a
lawyer, especially for someone like Harsh Jalan but Moti babu was famous for
getting people to shut up, even if it was his own protégé.
Harsh
gave a sly smile. If only his mentor knew how Maya’s proximity affected him,
he’d be off the case in the blink of an eye.
“Concentrate
ONLY on the case,” said Harsh reprovingly.
CHAPTER 4
IT WAS MONDAY!!!
