Curious Case of Serial Heartbreak

“Order! Order!

Mr. Prosecutor, you may proceed.”

“Me Lord! Looking at the innocent features of this man in the witness box, who could ever say that he is a cold-blooded murderer, Me Lord, who on the dark night of 19^th March killed my client’s husband, Your Honor! ”

“No Sir! This is not true. I didn’t kill anyone, Huzoor. Apne chhote chhote bachchon ki kasam maii-baap.”

That is how we know of the Indian law courts. Thanks to the Indian cinema which has always made our belief even stronger.

Who did not ever get captivated by the pride and majesty of the court? That elevated bench of the judge, emblem behind, those santris in the traditional outfit, the decorum, those so immaculate lawyers, and the witness box; and the judge banging his mallet and saying “ Order! Order! ”

Supreme Court of India

As a child I always used to feel proud about the courts as they were depicted in the movies. For they were the only source of knowledge to my peanut-sized brain then (though the brain could be still peanut sized; I never checked so you never know). For the courts were never depicted in the 9’o clock news. All they would ever show would be the domes of Supreme Court and High Court, that too from a distance. And newspapers, I restricted myself to the comic strip always (by the way I still do). So, don’t know of that source either, whether they ever had some picture of the inside or not. And yes at that time there existed only two courts in the country – the Supreme Court and the High Court. The session courts and other lower ones down the cascade didn’t come into the picture, till I had to go through the class seventh civics textbook (obviously, didn’t go through that on my own; was rather forced to). Whatever!!

Lady Justice

Somehow, I always restored my very staunch faith in the Indian Judiciary System. Until I myself didn’t have to go through the same procedure (that surely doesn’t mean that I showed some soul the gates to heaven/hell). For me the courts had always been (I thought of them being) the holy shrines of justice. Where the blindfolded lady of justice or law or whatever, would always take the right decision – punish the guilty and acquit the innocent. But then guilty too, get exonerated and innocent get punished.

“So what? Cannot that lady go wrong anywhere? After all she’s not God. She’s just an embodiment. And over that too she is blind-folded. Poor she.  That’s sheer brutality to blame her. I am sure she might have been misled. Oh God! Why did you do such an injustice to her? Why did you take away her eyes? If she ever would have had her eyes, she wouldn’t ever be bamboozled.”

Coming back to the epicenter of the story (which of yet is not disclosed) – my case. Well seemingly simple, “I was hit by a bus, friends rescued me, admitted me to a hospital, an F.I.R. was lodged, I was diagnosed with Diffuse Axonal Injury at the hospital (I was so dead, man!!) Not bringing that into the picture and moving ahead directly to the court.

Uttar Pradesh

The scheduled date for the case hearing was approaching. The owner of the bus (who turns out to be a big fish in the swarm, having a fleet of scores of buses) tries it all – bribes the case in-charge, threatened witnesses and of course the applicant – my dad, a sweet man but a determined father. He too, brings in political support (who, otherwise has got nothing to do with politics and politicians though) from the government of the state wherein the incident took place, UP (or better as Uttar Pradesh as many know it as , but I have known it as ‘Ulta’ Pradesh – harboring all sorts of “Ulta” activities in its very household).

Just one phone call at the police station did it all. And the in-charge comes running to my father, “Sharma Ji, I have arrested the driver, and taken the bus too, in custody. I never knew Mantri Mahodaya aapke saale sahib hain”. (As if my father should have pasted that on his head). Whatever!!

The case went to the court.

And henceforth started the whole lot of eye opening, glass shattering miseries. I was out of the whole scene as yet, although the whole hullaballoo was about me. I didn’t come into the picture till the previous one.

For the first couple of hearings, only my father and ‘our lawyer’ used to go to the court. Our lawyer – I was so anxious to meet him, to see him and get swayed by his persona. Our ‘Sunny Deol’. I always “used to” categorize lawyers distinctly into two classes –

                    Class One: good ones, “Sunny Deols”

                    Class Two: bad ones, “Amrish Puris”

And no mediocre class ever existed. But then I always used to wonder that why do then cases remain pending in the courts when there could be lawyers like the one Sunny Deol depicted in Damini. Then I used to make myself understand that there might be more number of Amrish Puris than there would be Sunny Deols. Whatever!!

I was sort of desperate to meet him. And finally, I was told that the judge wants to see the victim (Me! Me! Me!).

Yayy! I am going to the real court.  WooHoo!

I perhaps didn’t go sleep the night when I got this news from my obvious source – my father. I kept counting days.

One more gone. 47 days to go now.

I kind of committed to prepare myself on how I am going to react to the various statements and how I am going to reply to various questions asked and counter the allegations of the opposition. Yes. I, in fact, started preparing a short speech too, that I would be going to deliver before the court.

Heartbreak I

‘How are we going to reach the court?’, I asked my father.

‘We’ll take metro. That’ll be the most convenient.’

Today I am going to make my mark in the history of the Indian Legislature. People will remember me in the times to come.

We reached ‘Tis Hazari Court’. Thirty thousand Sikhs led by Guru Gobind Singh Ji sacrificed their lives here. It was for some “Guru Gobind Singh vs. State (Aurangzeb)” case.

So was that case also heard here? Don’t know. But Guru Gobind Singh was surely the right one there. But at that time, I guess, the lady justice never happened to be in the court for Aurangzeb was not a bit liberal about letting women be at public places.

Tis Hazari Court

As I moved out of the station and towards the court, I sensed something was weird about it.

“Holy Cow! Where’s the dome?”

I asked my father what happened with the dome of the court. And to my utmost horrors he replied that it never had.

“This is no real court. A court has to have that dome. The in-charge has made a big fool of us by not taking the case to the real one.”

(As if a stone, a big one just hit the glass walls of my heart)

Heartbreak II

Anyhow. No one cared to give any justifications which obviously they wouldn’t be having because even they must be knowing that it wasn’t some real time court. But why everyone was so quiet? I somehow made myself understand,

“This is a strange world run by foolish people.”

We moved inside. Went up a floor.  I asked my father,

‘Where’s the court room?’

‘What are these rooms for? These are all court rooms’, he said.

This I rather gulped. Fine. Perhaps that’s why judges come, and go after the hearing. The judge must have to go other rooms too to head the proceedings. Hardworking poor guy.

‘These all courtrooms have their own judges. Many a cases go on simultaneously.’

This was a major blow to my belief. A massive one.

“I came here thinking it to be one judge, but here it is a whole Greek clan.”

Heartbreak III

We came outside the room where ‘my case’ was to be heard. I couldn’t peep inside. The view through the door was blocked by the clerks (perhaps) and the ‘too plump for their shirts’ policemen standing at the door. I seated myself on one of the many benches lined up against the grey wall outside the court room which perhaps was supposed to be white but it didn’t seem like. My father bent over to check something over the lifeless wall behind me. I curiously turned around and inquisitively (which is innate to me) asked,

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s the list of cases to be heard today in this court. I too, now bent over it, checking.

‘Heck no! 24 cases in one court; and when is our turn? It’s the last one.’

(All my dreams collapsed with a lout ‘thud’)

Heartbreak IV

‘The lawyer might be inside. You wait here. Let me give him a ring over his phone’, my father said as he moved away from where I was, taking his cellular phone out of his pocket and adjusting his eye glasses. And in no time ‘the slaughterer of my expectations’ appeared.

Shree Ram Lagoo

This man? He is the lawyer? He nowhere seems to be like ‘Sunny Deol’. Rather looks like ‘Shree Ram Lagoo’.

 And look at the irony his name was ‘Advocate Ram Kumar, M. A. LL. B.’

What happened to ‘dhai kilo ka haath’? He cannot be the one.

My expectations of the lawyer died and were cremated thereof with not even the delay of a blink. I could hear the bells of the church or temple or whatever; I was not in a state to decipher.

‘Wo zalim mere dil ko chhalni kr ke aisa muskuraya

 Jaise lakadbagghe ke muhn me gosht ka niwala aa gya ho’

Heartbreak V

Mr. Ram Kumar (I just don’t stand calling him advocate Ram Kumar) told my father that our turn would come by 2:30 pm., till then my father could take me to the canteen and get me to eat something. But I said I was fine. I obviously was not. I felt as if I had been robbed. This petite man has looted me, of my emotions, my expectations. I wanted to see no further. This had already been the most disappointing day of my life so far. The only hope, if at all, remaining was in the court room. I refrained myself (well, obviously I tried to) from the events that had occurred in the day so far.
I deliberately kept myself engaged in clicking the photographs of the people in the waiting room, and the policemen.

Just then a short, lean clerk (perhaps he was the clerk) called out
              “Anil Sharma vs. Aslam Khan”

Mr. Anil Sharma, my father, who had almost fallen asleep sitting on the bench was alarmed at the call and said,

‘Let’s move in.’
I myself was quite boosted up the very moment. My morale instantly blew to the top. A serum of confidence as if injected into my veins. I was brimming with joy and excitement. And all of a sudden all those smart lines I had prepared, started moving in my mind as if being cued. I leapt and galloped to enter the court room.

Just as I crossed the doorway to enter the mystical room, the “Sheesh Mahal” of my dreams collapsed as if blown up with dynamite. It went smashed down into pieces in front of my eyes. Some pieces of the broken glass flung straight into my heart. But no one cared to see, not even my father whose directions moved me further through. There was no emblem, no Santri, no stenographer to note the proceedings (there were two clerks with the computer though, but I hadn’t expected this). Though the judge was seated on a raised bench, which was nowhere as I presumed it to be. The judge himself was not past his late forties, perhaps. Then there was a whole array of (perhaps second-hand) cupboards lined up against the wall by the “alley”. No civilians, no journalists, only crows. Crows, crows perched all around. Behind them a few clerks, me and my father.
Many a Salma Aghas rose from the clerks blaring their cacophonies. The very next moment rose many a betrayed by husband, Geeta Dutts to cry their heart out from the crows. They were actually a flinty figment of my disappointment rising to mock at me. I felt deceited and all ravished. There was a complete wash out.

                          Who am I?

                         Where am I?






There were only crows, not even a single Amrish Puri even. And that crow on the top was making more noise than any of those seated below. And where was his mallet? Why was he not repeating those sonorous words of “Order! Order”

MPs approaching Speaker's Chair

In fact where was the order? It was like I just entered a vegetable market. The vendors with the white gamchha round their neck as if calling out,

        “10 ka 3 kilo aaloo, 10 ka 3 kilo”

And the women bargaining at their best,

        “bhaiya thoda dhaniya mirchi bhi daal dena”

Where in the name of God, was the much coveted decorum? And what to talk of witness box. It was as if hit by tsunami that came in Japan previous month. On one side it was attached with the bench of the judge and that’s it. It was just a one two side’s witness box (one of which was the bench though). Actually two of them (the witness bars, bars would be a better word). But then no one was standing there. All just as before the bench as the opposition comes near to the speaker’s seat during walk out in Lok Sabha.

Many of my expectations became widowed the very moment. I could hear them out crying and smashing their bangles against the walls of that very court room.

I too wanted to live no more. My conscious, sub-conscious, super-conscious, meta-conscious and all others went unconscious that very moment. It took me days to recollect myself. What happened to me in all this mean time, I have no account of. What happened next in the court is all heard story. The pages as if again went blank from my life.

But, I cannot withstand anymore emotionless deaths of my emotions. The case is still under process of hearing. But, I have vowed not to go to the court ever again. If the judge wants to meet me, no issue. We can meet at some restaurant or some eatery, but no more of court.