The Lawyer's Showroom

The courtroom hall was packed. Apart from the lawyers, their clerks, clients, and other visitors were present. In one corner, a young lawyer sat alone. He wore white pants and a shirt with a black jacket on top. His physique was as handsome as a film actor’s—large eyes, a clean-shaven, glowing face. He sat there silently. Neither did he have a clerk with him, nor did any client approach him. He simply sat with a smile on his lips, attentively observing every person passing by. Just then, a Sikh man, rolling in like a ball, arrived at the scene. He appeared to be in his early forties. His turban was loosely tied, and his large belly protruded significantly. His beard and mustache were unkempt, making him look like a wandering fakir. "Oye! Sat Sri Akal, new lawyer!" He dropped himself onto the chair next to the young man and said, "Tell me, how are you?" "And who might you be?" the young man asked. Hearing this, the Sikh man reacted as if he had been stung by a wasp. He widened his eyes and stared at the young lawyer. "Oye!" he exclaimed. "You don’t know Sardar Tuchcha Singh? This is an insult! My reputation is ruined!" "Oh! So your name is Tuchcha Singh. Well, what do you do?" "Do? Oye, do people come to this courthouse to sell potatoes and onions? To set up a stall for chole-bhature? To sell golgappas and dahi-bhallas?" "So, do you do any of these things?" "Such work has never been done by anyone in my last seven generations, new lawyer! My entire family holds high government positions. I am ahead of them all—I am a lawyer! A big lawyer! I handle cases of Section 302, 307, 304B, 198A, 376—all major cases! I have powerful clients!" "Oh really?" "What do you mean, 'Oh really'?" Sardar glared at him. "Sardar Tuchcha Singh is highly respected here! All the lawyers, even the judges and magistrates, have great regard for me!" "It’s a pleasure meeting you." "Alright, alright." Sardar made a displeased face and asked, "How long have you been here?" "Around thirteen or fourteen days." "Got any cases?" "Not yet." "How will you get any cases? You don’t even know Sardar Tuchcha Singh! Where will the cases come from?" "Well, now we know each other." "Yes, now we do! So, no need to worry. Big cases come to me. I don’t always have the time to handle them all. I’ll send some your way." "That would be very kind of you." "Kindness? No, no, this is business, my friend. It’s all about give and take." "What do you mean?" "I mean fifty-fifty. Half for you, half for me. I’ll send you the clients, and you’ll handle them. Whatever profit comes, we split it equally." "Oh, so that’s the deal?" The young lawyer’s smile deepened. "What’s wrong with that, new lawyer? The world runs on agreements. To gain something, you must lose something." "But I have never compromised in any case," the young man said, locking eyes with Sardar. "I have always played my game on my own. Whatever I have achieved, I have done it by myself." "Many big talkers have come here before," Sardar scoffed. "But within two days, their arrogance vanished. They had to bow down and rub their noses at my feet just to get a few cases." "They must have been incompetent." "And you think you are competent?" "Everyone will find out soon enough," the young lawyer continued smiling. "You need not worry about me." "Oye, why should I worry?" Sardar said. "You’re still a kid. You don’t understand how things work here. No problem. If you ever feel lost, come to me without hesitation. Tuchcha Singh’s doors are always open." "My record so far says that I have never gone to anyone’s door. People have always come to mine." Sardar made a sour face and stood up. Then he said, "I’m leaving, new lawyer. No one has ever insulted me like this before. Every time I visit someone, I at least get tea or lassi. You’re the first person who didn’t even offer me water." "I’m not here to serve refreshments to anyone." Sardar didn’t wait to hear anything else. He turned quickly and rolled away like a ball. After he left, the young lawyer took out his mobile, dialed a number, and placed it against his ear. "Barrister Vinod speaking," he said as soon as the call connected. "Has any arrangement been made for a chamber for me?" "Sorry, sir," came the reply from the other end. "All chambers in the court complex are full. I’ve spoken to several lawyers, but no one is willing to rent out their chamber, no matter the price." "No problem. Do this—find me a building on Court Road. Don’t worry about the cost." "Sir, all the landlords live on that road. No one will rent out a building or even a part of it." "I’m not looking to rent a building," the young man replied. "Talk to them about selling it. A rented office won’t be sufficient for me." "But sir..." "Listen, Mr. Sharma, I’ve already told you—don’t worry about money. Whatever the market price of a building is, I’m willing to pay double or triple. Just get me one." "But sir, I don’t understand why you’re trying to buy an entire building instead of just taking a small office. You know very well that with so many veteran lawyers in this city, you won’t be able to establish yourself." "I completely disagree with you, Mr. Sharma. I consider myself the father of all the veteran lawyers in this city!"