by Vish Dhamija
Later, I sat wondering what was true? Did I love Manavi or did I not love her? I didn’t even know that anymore. It was like I was watching me from a distance, observing me. That this malaise would be my shadow for the rest of my life depressed me.
I bet the Gods were fucking laughing.
I didn’t have dinner. I couldn’t. I asked Bahadur and Bhīma to dine and pack it up. I beheld the amber liquid in the half-filled Jack Daniel’s bottle for a few seconds, and then took the bottle of what I considered ambrosia for more than half my life to the sink and drained it. The disease had to end. The best way to avoid temptation was to kill it. There can be no flute without the bamboo. The jaded mind still warred firmly to not accept the reality. I was in some way thankful that the hours that had vanished from my memory were crawling back now. The black hole was filling up drop by drop. I can’t say I remembered everything but I knew enough that I could put the pieces together. Jay Singh — the best defence advocate in the country — was also his own father’s killer. As predictable, sleep gave me a wide birth; I slipped into it briefly — was it sleep or pure exhaustion? — but drifted out of it most of the night. Sheeba stayed in my room, and watching me toss and turn in bed a few thousand times, she jumped into it to join me.
THIRTY-TWO
Sunday was a bizarre day for me as I was trying to come to terms with myself. I guess melancholy was expected after being hit by the harsh reality. Emotions fluctuated like the voltage in a small town. I was angry one moment and scared the next. Anxiety, bitterness, loss and annoyance were in a confluence and battling simultaneously.
And then that miserable feeling of inevitable professional defeat took over everything else: losing Kumar’s case was a defeat for the advocate, winning and setting him free to kill someone else or even abuse his wife was a defeat for the human in me. Oh, I so badly needed Cooper for advice. One thing led to another and the memories of Cooper’s numerous visits over the years trickled in. How had I missed all the signs for years? Decades, actually. No wonder Cooper knew everything almost the same time it happened? Why did that never make me suspicious? Why hadn’t I made the connection? Leaving Cooper behind would be like leaving a piece of me behind. Whether he was the cause or the consequence of my problems didn’t matter; we had to part. It had to be done; the conflict of the soul had to be laid to rest.
She didn’t call, but I got a text from Manavi asking me if I was fine and if I wanted her to come over. It was an indication that she knew — if not fully, at least in some part — what Anita had analysed; she had provided some feedback too, hadn’t she? Last night she had only come over to ensure I made it to Anita for the session. No, I didn’t think there was any contrivance there; she wanted to do what was best for me. I knew she loved me and I loved her too. However, tonight I made a polite excuse that I was preparing for the trial. She texted me back wishing me luck.
For the first time in years, I internalised without alcohol for a long, long time. I thought of my mother and father. Of happier times and how the political climate of the country had changed everything for us. I remembered the few holidays together as a family. The trip to Kathmandu, to Mussoorie. And the one time we went to Mumbai, I clearly remember walking by the sea between mum and dad holding their hands on each side before the sudden downpour started and my dad picked me up and we ran for shelter in some arcade. I had been too small then to remember what part of Mumbai it was, but that didn’t matter. Unfortunately, when the money dried up it was as if the happiness dried up too. What if... I repressed the train of what-ifs straightaway. Such ruminating thoughts were of no value other than for self-pity. Nothing ever changed and nothing could change now.
I thought of leaving my legal practice, getting married to Manavi and moving someplace else. Goa? Abroad? But it sounded too much like a Bollywood flick.
Eventually, I brought myself to dwell upon my strategy for the impending trial tomorrow, only to quickly grasp that there was no way out of this case. I couldn’t just walk away and not turn up in the courthouse tomorrow. Justice Nair would fry my ass; make that deep-fry. And if I showed up how could I lose a trial as big as this on which the media had had its spotlight on from the word go. Losing it meant career dampening at best, a career suicide at worst. Defence cases would start moving elsewhere. No one would want a defence advocate who deliberately lost a trial in the limelight — it would be tantamount to going off to sleep when on stage. No one could be best forever, not on one time reputation alone. One defeat and the world would start forgetting the successes. If they overlooked, the media would rub it into them. The lordly, all-conquering Jay Singh losing a trial of this magnitude meant losing the stripes it had taken me a lifetime to earn. Besides, even if I decided to lose how could I? It was a moot point to debate and to fret, so I jilted the whole argument. It was a waste of time. What was the point of considering a move I couldn’t make? There were far bigger problems than to think about Vinay Kumar. The mind was still not at rest. I pondered this and I pondered that: all hopeless, pointless things. Then I quelled the futile thoughts, switched off the lights and went to sleep.
THIRTY-THREE
Sleeping late has a logical corollary: waking up late. In Jay’s case it wasn’t something he had consciously strived for, his mental disposition had disallowed his mind to rest. He was still in bed at noon, struggling to get his thoughts together. A lot had transpired yesterday; more than any human could handle. The reality had begun to penetrate his brain. There might have been a few loose ends but he knew it would all iron out at its own pace. He wasn’t going to fret about the little things that weren’t even palpable at present. His mind segued to figure how had Anita come up with this absurd hypothesis to begin with? What gave? But then, most hypotheses started as being absurd; isn’t that the reason why someone dug further to ascertain or invalidate them? It didn’t matter anymore; he didn’t give a flying fuck. He knew the truth and that was all that mattered. It was a satirical serendipity of kismet: he had spent twenty-seven years yearning to find the killer who he had prevented himself from knowing.
Absorbed in his own despair he couldn’t care less about Vinay Kumar or the case. He didn’t even bother to make calls or prepare for it anymore; he couldn’t inconvenience himself for anything. His mind was too weary. For years Jay Singh’s sole focus was his career. Nothing ever came between him and his cases. The focus was split or shifting and he didn’t know how to pull it together nor did he even desire to. Sunday passed with him lying in bed, he didn’t even get up to wash, didn’t leave the room at all. Bahadur brought in the meals and Bhīma checked on him a few times. He watched a bit of television. The news on Vinay Kumar’s case told the viewers that the Glock — the murder weapon — had been found. So, the police had released the information to the media. However, they hadn’t revealed where it was found and who had turned it in. Jay could see the tweets from viewers scrolling on the bottom of the television screen conveying what was on their minds. All useless guesswork, he knew, even when he was out of sorts. No one knew the truth.
Bhīma called on him in the evening to confirm that the private ballistic expert had confirmed the Glock found in Vinay Kumar’s home had been matched to the bullet mentioned in the police report. There was no reason to second-guess anymore.
‘Ask your boys to stop all searches Bhīma, and you can disconnect the wiretaps too.’
The truth was out; there seemed little point in listening to Kumar anymore.
‘Jee, hukum.’
Before Bhīma left, Jay also asked him to stop his adjutant from approaching Justice Nair on Monday morning to file a plea for a new witness as they had discussed earlier.
Bhīma, of course, must have wondered why, but didn’t question him.
Rita Kumar had been honest when she had confided in Jay that on the night of the murder Vinay Kumar had beaten her and taken away her handgun. The more he thought, the more it hurt Jay’s head. The conniving bastard had snookered him, after all. Under the circumstances ther
e weren’t many choices that he had, he being the defence advocate for the devil. It was all part of Kumar’s plan from the beginning: to hire Jay — the real motive Kumar had hired him wasn’t because Jay Singh was the best defence advocate in town, it was because he was also known as the one with few morals. It was precisely for this day that if, and when, the advocate ever figured out the truth, he shouldn’t become hostile. Kumar had been sharp, he knew the rules and he knew how to twist them.
By the time he left his house for court on Monday morning, Jay Singh had decided what he wanted to do. And he had resolved how he would do it. He knew that there was the letter of the law, but there was also its spirit, which he had ignored for years now.
***
In all respects, Talwar was a match. If Jay had any misgivings about that, it was his culpability. Talwar had anticipated how Jay Singh would play his innings in the court. Vinay Kumar’s driver would be first. He had, obviously, heard that the Glock had been found and deposited with the Saket Police Station. His own sources had also figured out that Jay Singh himself had sent the weapon to the police, though he had no evidence and hence he couldn’t broach the subject in the court, he knew. He had expected a call from Nair or, at least, from Jay’s office that a new witness might be introduced — he was prepared to fight that firmly and ask for an adjournment till his team mined the details, gaining time, which, he knew, was crucial for Vinay Kumar given the upcoming elections — but he heard nothing from either.
As usual, Talwar arrived at the courthouse first. He hadn’t come early for the trial though; his chamber was in the same building.
***
The mighty Jay Singh arrived thirty minutes before the trial was to begin. The court and its surroundings looked no different today. It was crowded with people who had come to witness the media-labelled trial of the year or decade. Some waited for their own trials or trials of their close ones. Some wished their kin got pardoned; others prayed that the guilty pleaded guilty for their agony to be over. No one looked happy. Anyone who has ever run around to get anything done at any courthouse knows that despair and fear and anxiety are permanent residents in the area. No one could look happy here, except the advocates. But then, they aren’t the ones who have to speak the truth or face the consequences.
“Who’s your first witness, Mr Singh?”
“Do you know that the murder weapon has been found, Mr Singh?” Jay disregarded the comments from the media and walked up the stairs alone. Julie wasn’t at his side today. For a moment, as Jay entered the courtroom, he thought he saw Cooper sitting at his desk, head buried in a file. He stopped, and consciously turned towards Talwar.
‘Good morning, Mr Talwar.’
‘Good morning Mr Singh. Is everything okay?’
‘Oh yes, just thought I should say hello.’
Jay figured his countenance might be giving away his mental temperament. When he rotated one-eighty again Cooper had left and Vinay Kumar sat there. Jay quickly kept his bag at his desk and rushed to the Men’s. There were still twenty minutes for Justice Nair to arrive and he decided a face wash couldn’t hurt anyway.
The courtroom was once again brought to order at the arrival of Justice Nair.
‘The prosecution rested when we recessed last, so unless Mr Talwar has to say anything new, we can begin the proceedings with the defence.’ Nair looked at Jay.
‘No more witnesses at this moment, Janaab, but as you might know the police has recovered the murder weapon. In light of this discovery, my team would like to do some searches, so I’d like to request the court to retrieve my earlier statement.’
‘So you want time now or would you want to reserve it for after the defence, Mr Talwar?’
‘Ideally, we should adjourn this trial till I complete by search, Janaab, unless my defence colleague has any lawful objections.’
Justice Nair anxiously looked at Jay.
On any other day Jay would have been expected to pounce and spit out an objection. But he didn’t. He was preoccupied. His eyes couldn’t focus; his mind was miles away collecting his thoughts. Something was wrong. For a moment even he thought about letting the case adjourn -- it would better than losing it.
‘Mr Singh?’ Nair called out break Jay’s reverie.
‘Your Honour,’ Jay stood up as if on cue. ‘The prosecution’s task is relatively easier as they have the support of the entire State’s machinery that have documented the charges in the first place, so I would request that we progress the case, at least for today and see if the new evidence is of any consequence at all.’
‘Objection, Janaab. How can the murder weapon be insignificant in a murder trial?’ Talwar stood up. He was clearly annoyed. If not for Nair in the room, he would have surely showered some expletives on Jay.
‘Overruled, Mr Talwar. Let’s progress. Mr Singh, please note that if I find any evidence that’s detrimental to the State’s case on account of this new discovery, I’ll be forced to adjourn the trial or maybe even ask for a retrial. Is that okay with you?’
‘Your Honour, I promise you will not need to do that today.’
‘Objection, Janaab—’
‘I already overruled, Mr Talwar. I am the judge here and I have decided to progress the case for now. Please sit down. Mr Singh, let’s proceed. You may call your first witness.’
‘Thank you, Your Honour. The defence calls the defendant, Mr Vinay Kumar, as its first witness.’
There was a soft murmur in the courtroom. Even if you did not hear them talking, all lips were moving in amazement. Defence advocates weren’t known to call their own client — the defendant— as a witness; it was a high-risk strategy because the prosecution would not spare a sitting duck. Jay had gone against the odds by getting Vinay Kumar into the box. Maybe he was sure Talwar wasn’t prepared for it and might be thrown off track. Talwar certainly looked shocked. He whispered something to his assistants. Scribes scribbled the unconventional move. Whatever the outcome of this strategy, it would definitively be picked up by the media. This was masala!
Vinay Kumar sat stunned like someone had slapped him without a warning. Jay had not given any inkling about this radical move, not prepared him for the questioning or for defending himself against Talwar. However, he got up, gave Jay a blazing glare and walked to the witness box to take the oath.
‘Mr Vinay Kumar, what do you do?’
Kumar knew the routine. He didn’t need any preparation to sing his own praises, he did that dazzlingly and then moved on to impress how his dad had served the electorate, and how he intended to do so if he won the forthcoming elections. A right messiah of public. ‘I know this is a conspiracy—’
‘We’ll come to that, Mr Kumar. I promise to give you the chance to explain yourself—’ Jay cut him off only to be interjected by Talwar.
‘Objection, Janaab.’
‘What is it this time, Mr Talwar?’ Nair asked shaking his head; he didn’t look happy and he didn’t sound pleased.
‘Janaab, the defence advocate should ask questions to the defendant that are pertinent to this case and not use court’s time to allow Mr Kumar to run an election campaign here.’
‘Sustained. Mr Singh, please ensure all your questions to the defendant are germane to the case.’
‘Absolutely, Your Honour.’
Talwar appeared contented. With Nair permitting Jay to proceed despite his plea of adjournment and then stumped by Jay throwing in a curved ball by bringing Kumar into the witness box, Jay knew he would run an “objection-campaign” throughout the de-fence testimony. What other options did he have? He would pounce at every remote chance before Jay Singh took the case away from him. If there was a panic button at his desk, Talwar’s finger would be on it.
‘Mr Kumar, could you tell the court where you were on the said night?’
‘I was with Gina.’
‘By Gina you mean Miss Gina Pinto the deceased, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘By your own admission you had dinner with
Miss Pinto that night, like all other nights, then had an amorous evening before you left her apartment. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Unfortunately, the time you were at her apartment overlaps with the time window that the autopsy report mentioned as the time of Miss Pinto’s death. The State’s entire case, therefore, rests on inferences drawn due to circumstances… circumstances that you and Miss Gina Pinto had a relationship that some society members might disapprove of, that she was expecting your child, the best gift of love—’
‘Objection—’ Talwar barked.
‘Sustained. Where is this headed, Mr Singh? I reminded you that do not let this be an opportunity to run recommendations for your client.’
‘Apologies, Your Honour.’
As Jay turned towards Nair to apologise, the larger than life picture of the Mahatma Gandhi hanging behind the Judge looked straight into his eyes and it was, at that moment, he knew that his allegiance to the Devil had to end. The guilty conscience was looking for redemption. His mother wanted an answer. All women like his mother needed an answer; Rita Kumar demanded an answer; Gina Pinto demanded an answer. He shook his head pejoratively. The marks on Rita’s face he had seen in the hospital were a chilling reminder of what he had seen on his own mother’s face. Correction: on his stepmom’s face who had given her life away for him, her stepson, for what: to defend brutes and fiends?
‘Are you okay, Mr Singh?’
He heard Nair’s voice in the background.