‘Thwack!’ Souvik almost visualised the slap, which he was, in all probability, about to receive. Jaishree was seated in the library, her pretty head bent over a law textbook, taking down notes.
Souvik consoled himself that the gods above were on his side. Inside the library, with ‘Silence’ boards put up in every conceivable corner, it was unlikely that Jaishree would break the rule and produce a high decibel slap.
Besides, even if she did, at least there wouldn’t be a very large audience to witness the event. The library always had a very low percentage of humanity. Anything would be better than being snubbed on campus.
Souvik cautiously walked up to the girl whose long plait had managed to lasso his brain and jerk it right out of his skull. What Souvik was about to do was potentially dangerous. It could jeopardise forever a half decade long friendship, or even worse, permanently activate female tear glands. This last was a real possibility considering this was Jaishree. Yet love is blind, and Souvik was out to prove it.
‘Er…hi! How’s life?’ asked Souvik as he came and occupied the chair opposite Jaishree. Even as he said this, Souvik was filled with an alarming sense of deja-vu. People talk of pick up lines, Souvik had a standard opening line.
Jaishree raised her kohl lined eyes and smiled. She actually smiled! Souvik simply couldn’t help breaking into a wide grin. Was it legal to dance in the library?
After that day’s fiasco, Souvik had not actually spoken to Jaishree. Not that Jaishree spoke much in the first place. Yet Souvik for the past two weeks had been nervously uncomfortable around Jaishree as if the two had had a fight.
‘Er…I just wanted to give you this,’ Souvik said and placed a card in a white cover on her book. Then he quickly got up and left. That was the nice thing about libraries, one could simply do away with courtesies just by whispering hoarsely.
Jaishree opened the cover of the card. Inside was a glossy picture of a cherubic baby wearing an oversize cap and smiling gaily into the camera. Within the card was a three stanza poem written in a very neat and highly stylised handwriting. The poem read:
In life if one is fortunate one knows,
Beauty of both body and mind,
And in the little I’ve seen of the world,
That’s the rarest blend one can find.
I’m just one of your many admirers,
And you’ll meet others along the way,
Whose life you’ll touch in a manner,
More than words can say!
So here’s a heartfelt blessing,
That may you attain every dream, however high,
And though I don’t know much of astrology, I predict,
Your husband will be one lucky guy!
Jaishree blushed when she read the last sentence. Souvik always managed to make her creamy complexion turn a beetroot red. Jaishree gently placed the card back in its cover and tried to get back to law. But the Bharatanatyam dancer’s mind had already begun to do ballet.
‘I still haven’t understood this whole graveyard thing. You guys actually met in a graveyard?’ Souvik was asking his friends hanging about the canteen.
Now that his own love life was finally headed in some direction, Souvik had a renewed interest in love stories in general. Yet Vyas was hardly interested. After all, his love story that had begun in a graveyard had quite logically become a horror story.
‘I don’t know…,’ Vyas said sighing loudly and adding more carbon dioxide to the place. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have met Caroline in the first place.’ Now that was a profound statement. Ankur actually stopped munching on his bhelpuri to listen.
‘I wouldn’t have wanted to meet her, if I was in your place,’ Pavan declared thinking he was being very funny. Yet looking at Vyas’s tragic expression, he was forced to hastily amend his sentence by saying, ‘I mean, in a graveyard… why would anyone want to date someone from there?’ This line rather involuntarily sounded funny and Souvik smiled. Yet Ankur had the vague feeling that his roommate’s relationship was about to be buried forever.
‘I mean…we’ve fought before…but never over a third person,’ said Vyas, lifting his spoon in a tragic slow motion. When people are sad, they automatically become a little theatrical.
‘You should meet up and discuss this,’ Souvik reasoned.
‘But what exactly is the problem?’ asked Ankur.
‘It’s her cheesy, cheap cousin! This guy “Vincent” from Dubai, keeps buying her gifts, taking her out and playfully touching her all over…,’ Vyas said as he angrily jabbed his spring roll with a fork. ‘And yes he happens to be a Malayali whom they forgot to ship to the “Gelf”.’
Souvik smiled and turned to look at Pavan who seemed oblivious as he was busy creating bubbles in his cola. ‘See, getting worked up is no solution,’ Ankur consoled, assuming the tone his own mother used each time Ankur would vehemently declare that he was giving up law.
‘That day when “three” of us went out together, people assumed they were a couple and I was her brother!’ Vyas fumed and Pavan involuntarily giggled. Pulling a straight face Pavan justified, ‘In the south, cousins are allowed to marry.’
‘That’s just the point. Caroline’s family loves Vincent, and so does she,’ Vyas said his tone agitated, like he was about to cry. ‘Listen…,’ Souvik spoke gently patting Vyas. ‘This cousin has come down after so long, maybe they’re just hanging out and catching up…’
‘I always thought she wasn’t right for you…maybe you should dump her,’ said Ankur, perhaps for the first time voicing his heartfelt opinion.
‘Listen, let him decide. Give it time Vyas,’ advised Souvik. He was using the word ‘listen’ a lot.
‘This too shall pass…,’ announced Pavan, Zen like. The Samurai movies he had spent the summer watching had definitely had their side effects.
Ankur was impressed. The good-natured Malayali had, for once, said something very sensible to brighten the ‘admos-fear’ that had hung over the ‘bo-eez’.
Seventeen
The lawyers were unusually excited one evening. It wasn’t over a case being fought in the Supreme Court, but over a VJ hunt being held by a music channel.
Ankur never considered himself a singer. In fact he was convinced that forget courtship, if he ever sang to his girl during their honeymoon, she’d make the lawyer himself draft divorce papers.
Souvik felt differently. He arrived at the venue of the VJ hunt and kept strumming his guitar till he was asked to stop. It was a VJ hunt, he was politely reminded, and singing was not exactly a requisite. The lawyer then tried to use his debating skills with the organisers and yielded only when told he would have to face the music instead. Ever since penning that near love letter to Jaishree, Souvik was convinced that he was destined to do great things in his life.
They say if a certain raga is sung at a certain pitch, it produces rain. Vyas could do that with any song. Not that it would invite the rain gods, but would certainly have people running helter-skelter for cover. Strangely enough, Vyas had managed to charm the judges, though his dress sense, he was told, was a decade behind time.
But one tricky question towards the end had him in knots. He was asked to name the sexiest object he knew. The bald judge with a French beard specified with a naughty grin that it didn’t have to be a sex toy. Vyas smiled, embarrassed. He had never seen a sex toy, leave alone attempting to name one before a hall full of noisy teenage participants.
‘The sexiest object for me is…,’ he said taking the microphone, ‘…umm… an ice cream.’ Vyas suddenly had trouble framing a complete sentence. An amused titter ran through the audience. Vyas was standing on a makeshift stage with bright orange light bouncing off the bridge of his oily nose. It was afternoon time and he was in the banquet hall of a plush hotel in front of a panel of celebrity judges. Vyas simply couldn’t have chosen a more elite venue or audience to embarrass himself.
‘Why an ice cream?’ asked the female judge with golden brown hair.
‘An
ice cream…since…err…it’s sexy…it has multipurpose uses, you know,’ Vyas replied smiling with a naughty glint in his eyes. Caroline’s constant company had some practical uses. Vyas could actually crack a perverted joke with ease.
‘That is wicked!’ the female judge with long red nails declared, cackling into the mike. The bald ear stud wearing judge who sat next to her wasn’t as amused. Probably he was her boyfriend or he was just plain jealous of her peroxide mane. Or wig. Or whatever. He took the mike and jocularly declared, ‘You are a very bad guy…and bad guys never win!’
Ankur had always liked his teeth. They were all square and glinted uniformly each time he scrubbed them with pungent tooth powder. If there was one thing in his anatomy that he took good care of, it was his teeth. As a kid, Ankur would hold a solemn burial ceremony each time he lost one of his milk teeth. A welcome party would follow, with the first traces of his new tooth. That’s probably why his teeth served him well, accentuating the smile on his chubby face.
Even if he got tongue-tied and brain dead around a certain Sonali Shah, on stage, Ankur Palekar was a different person. He had learnt early, the art of public speaking, punctuating his speeches with smiles. Ankur knew that even if he was not sure of what he was saying, if only he could smile at the appropriate moments, he could get by. After all some people had made a career out ofit.
Besides, if someone can get on stage and smile while talking high sounding nonsense, if nothing else, after a point the audience is embarrassed on behalf of the speaker and smiles back in return.
This was also more or less the job of a VJ and having trained as a lawyer for so long, Ankur had perfected the art of sounding intelligent while speaking nonsense.
‘If you are invited for a pool party and you arrive wearing your swimming trunks only to realise it is a billiards game in progress, how would you react and why?’ The only other female judge asked, her silver nose ring quivering with the emphasis on ‘why’.
‘I’d pretend it is my normal outfit. After all, presence of mind is what counts the most in life,’ Ankur answered even as a group in the audience erupted in cheers. The marathon question, Ankur had covered in a single leap.
The judges also seemed impressed—but the next round wasn’t going to be as interesting. Ankur had to identify music and name the musician, something he was as proficient in as a zoo instructor being made to synchronise a symphony.
A very unclear rendering of some music on a poor quality tape sailed through the speakers and Ankur had to identify it.
Giving a very intelligent tilt to his head, Ankur enquired, ‘Is it Ben E. King?’ Never mind if he had heard precisely one song by this artist. The female judge at the mike actually giggled, her bleached hair also joining in the mirth.
With a poker face the bald judge with a French beard informed him, ‘That was Usha Uthup.’ For once, Ankur was confused whether to continue smiling or to dart behind one of the banquet curtains. He did neither. Instead he just stood there grinning and sure enough, after a point, the embarrassed audience also grinned back.
As the boys drove back that evening, Ankur thought of the idle Sunday spent well. That was the nice thing about rickety Ambassadors, their slow motion always facilitated thought.
Though none of the guys made it through the VJ hunt, they were richer for the experience. If the people in the hostel were to know that the future lawyers had already begun practising making a fool of themselves, there would have been loads of sniggers. At one level Ankur was glad he didn’t make it. He could well imagine himself being transformed into one of the ear stud wearing judges with flashy glasses. Ankur valued streaks of intelligence over streaked hair.
Yet, like one’s first swig of beer, and long bike rides with the wind in one’s hair, taking part in inane VJ hunt contests was also part of the thrill of being in college. And Ankur was glad he was still in college.
Eighteen
‘Souvik,’ a soft voice called. Souvik stopped in his tracks. They had just finished their classes for the day and were returning to their hostels, when Souvik’s ear drums had registered the mellifluous sound. It was Jaishree.
A week had gone past since he had given her the card, and with no response coming, Souvik was half prepared to give himself up to the local mortuary. He turned to look at her. Jaishree stood there, as beautiful as ever, holding the card. All kinds of thoughts darted through Souvik’s head. This was the first time in four years that Jaishree had actually wanted to talk to him. Was she going to use the card as a frisbee or was she actually pleased to receive it?
‘Souvik, thanks for this card…I’ll always keep it,’ Jaishree said smiling shyly.
Souvik’s dimples suddenly forgot to flash. Instead, his otherwise dark face turned a strange maroon. ‘I am so glad,’ He found himself blurting. ‘I thought you’d be angry…’
‘Angry?’ asked Jaishree almost amused. ‘I was thrilled.’ Thrilled was a rather long word for Jaishree’s normally monosyllabic speech and probably even she realised it. It was Jaishree’s turn to blush.
‘I mean, it was so well written…I was touched,’ Jaishree spoke, entangling herself further.
The twelve-line poem, had worked its magic. Jaishree was actually fumbling for words, just like Souvik had been doing for the past four years.
‘Thank you so much…but I really meant all that I wrote,’ Souvik modestly shrugged though his heart was brimming with immodest pride. Just why hadn’t he thought of writing a poem for her in the first year itself?
‘Jaishree, I was just wondering…,’ Souvik asked wondering if he could try his luck further. But Jaishree was not wondering. She apparently knew what was coming. She decided to make things easier and complete Souvik’s meandering sentence.
‘We can have pani puri tomorrow…but not in the canteen.’ Jaishree said. Souvik didn’t know which part of his anatomy would deceive him, but he felt his head vigorously nodding.
‘Tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll come to pick you up in the morning,’ Souvik said, all in one breath.
‘No,’ Jaishree mildly protested, ‘In the morning I’ll be in the library, let’s go around four in the evening.’
‘Absolutely! Whatever is convenient!’ Souvik eagerly replied. The sun had begun to shine brightly on Souvik’s love life, and he was willing to brave even prickly heat and tanned skin as long as he could go on a date with Jaishree.
‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Jaishree said softly and took leave. And with her, Souvik’s whole night’s sleep took leave of him.
Souvik Bose was technically not very good-looking. In fact his colour was that of a chocolate brown cookie that had been forgotten in the oven. Yet he was a true son of the soil, as the only reason he had taken up law was to be able to serve his country. Souvik ought to have been a barrister during the time of Gandhiji and Nehru, except that his romantic soul would have been so taken in with the freedom struggle that he would have run the risk of breaking into a jingoistic song in the middle of the courtroom.
Then, of course, there were his dimples. There was something very endearing about the way Souvik smiled— something that made people trust him instantly. He exuded a certain air of reassurance that even Vyas’s lanky frame or Ankur’s podgy presence couldn’t match. So when Souvik and Jaishree stood together next to Radhe Shyam Chat Bhandar, they looked like a cute couple.
‘This is spicy!’ said Jaishree making happy sounds, when she was served another round of pani puris.
Jaishree was looking unusually beautiful that evening. Her slim female form could only be measured in superlatives. She had just washed her hair and it was carelessly tied with a hanky.
Her rather small mouth with baby pink lips were concentrating on taking an entire pani puri in, her flawless skin marred only by a splash of jal jeera on one smooth cheek. Souvik could have stood by the roadside, admiring her forever. His masculine mouth had given him the advantage of finishing a pani puri at a much faster rate than her, leaving him with ample time to watch the
class beauty struggle with a spicy puri.
‘That was really amazing,’ Souvik said after a marathon session of gulping pani puris. ‘I need water,’ Jaishree gasped, her lips pursed. A dainty hand with light pink nail polish was fanning the air in front of her mouth. Involuntarily, Jaishree was fanning Souvik’s emotions. Souvik was actually embarrassed.
‘We can go to that ice cream parlour there,’ he suggested pointing across the road. The two classmates had strolled out of the campus to the chat bhandar just outside. Now Fate was devising ways of extending their date.
‘Water…one watermelon cream ice cream and one…’
‘I like strawberry,’ Jaishree joined in as they were placing their orders at the ice cream parlour. ‘Okay make that a strawberry, for me too,’ suggested Souvik hastily to the man behind the counter. Aminute later, he walked towards the table holding the ice creams where Jaishree sat sipping water. She seemed a little uneasy.
When a Lawyer Falls in Love Page 6