Chapter 9
Aditi climbed the spiral staircase of the Bombay High Court, her feet dragging today.
It was a rare occasion when that happened.
She was usually bounding up to hearings, always pumped up, ready to argue it out or take a date and move on.
She had cranked up her drive in the Bombay High Court.
After a year of Aara’s birth, when she had returned to work and the court, Aditi had walked with a boosted confidence and a kind of belief that she didn’t have before becoming a mother.
In a man’s world, in a cut-throat field, she had suddenly realised that she did not need to prove herself anymore.
She was a woman, one who had made Zubin Daruwala weep in the labour room.
If she could give brith to Aara, raise her to the age of one, then she could absolutely slay at the work she did without needing to compete with the next man for promotion.
And suddenly, the work she did didn’t feel as high stakes to her anymore.
That thought, that nonchalance, that feeling of not being affected or defined by it, had made her a better professional, a better counsel, and a better lawyer.
That feeling was a luxury now that she had a house and a car to her name.
And that luxury had afforded her this confidence.
Today, though… it wasn’t about confidence, but a lack of will.
She was ready to face Advocate Daruwala, just not Zubin.
This morning, he had woken up later than usual, skipped his gym, and been the one on Aara duty.
She usually got a call from him around lunch, or called him if he missed to.
Today, neither of them had. Aditi’s footsteps slowed as she stepped on the first floor.
The sky looked bright enough to fry brains, and now suddenly… Aditi stalled in the alley, eyes on the clouds covering the sun. The humid air turned even more humid.
“Hey.”
She turned, finding Zubin striding past her, his gown fluttering, Shashank behind him. Aditi blinked — “Hey.”
“Everything ok?” He slowed, retreating one step, concern clouding his usual game face.
“Yeah. I’m waiting for my associate.”
He nodded, putting that retreated step back ahead and striding on.
Aditi observed his back, wide and rigid.
He was usually the funnest person in the room, even when he had risen to this position.
He made everybody — senior or junior, laugh, loosen up, become easy enough to give their best. Most of all her.
Last night, too, he had tried to be fun, as fun as one could get in that situation. Now he was… quiet. Not fun. She hated this version of him. She hadn’t met this version of him in a long time. And she hated that she had a hand in it today.
“Aditi ma’am?” She startled at the urgent voice. Zain, her associate, stood there, waiting with the case files.
“Yes, tell me.”
“The hearing will start in a minute. Is there something you need?”
She shook her head, turned and walked towards the courtroom.
With every step, she braced herself, gathering momentum.
The doors were open, she stepped in. And her eyes met Zubin’s.
Sitting in front of both their clients. He did not smile or nod, but a small, almost inconspicuous self-deprecating snort left his nose. And Aditi broke into a stride.
This was Advocate Daruwala now. She would handle him.
She rounded her table and was about to sit down when the judge entered.
“All rise.”
They stood to attention in front of Justice Deshmukh.
His drawn brows first took in the parties sitting behind them, then came to them, one by one.
Aditi smiled, and the returning softness in his eyes was immediate.
Aditi wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was now biased towards her, even though she had given him Aara, but the last few years had opened up a new set of conversations on life and law between them, outside the courtroom.
Zubin, she knew, was still his favourite menace.
Justice Deshmukh sat down, and they all followed suit.
“Yes, Ms. Doshi, can we begin with the list of movable assets?”
Aditi stood up and hesitantly opened her case file. She went on to the page with the list of demands.
“My Lord, the Respondent has sought custody of all the jewellery that the couple owns. While here she demands both stree-dhan that she brought when she married as well as the jewellery that actually belonged to my client’s mother, my client has conceded his claim in order to facilitate a smooth divorce… ”
Surprisingly, Zubin was sitting quietly. And then, Chandni Jethmalani got up. “What jwoolry?? All this belongs to me, his mother owned nothing. She gave two slim gold chains when we married, and one out of them was so fake that I had to pay the jooler extra for testing it!”
“My Lord…”
“Mr. Daruwala.” The judge gave Zubin a look.
“I apologise, Your Lordship,” Zubin go to his feet, placating his client and seating her back down. “Jewellery is a sensitive topic for an Indian woman.”
“Mr. Daruwala, I don’t see any reason for arguments here because Ms. Doshi’s statement makes the matter infructuous. The Appellant has given in to the Respondent when it comes to jewellery, the reason is not of importance. Ms. Doshi, what is the next asset?”
“My Lord, I didn’t even get to come to the parts where they have made it impossible to concede.”
“Go on.”
“My Lord, the respondent is asking for all the cars owned in their shared names as well as in my client’s name. My client would prefer the car he currently drives — a Mercedes C-Class, to remain his. He is ready to let the rest go…”
“NO!” Chandni Jethmalani began to rise again.
“Sit down, Madam. This is the last time you interrupt my courtroom!” Justice Deshmukh shot back.
“Mr. Daruwala, I have let your indiscretions pass unpunished until now but if your client breaks the decorum of my courtroom again, I will take the strictest measures and you will not like it, your client certainly won’t. ”
“I apologise again, Your Lordship. Pardon my client.” Zubin was solemn again as he turned and looked coldly at Chandni Jethmalani. She diffused instantly.
“Your Lordship,” he turned back to Justice Deshmukh. “It’s an emotional matter, the splitting of things that a couple has shared through the course of their life.”
“And yet your client wants to make a mockery out of the distribution.”
“I assure you she does not.”
“Then why is she disputing one out of…” The judge looked down at the list on his desk. “Five cars they own?”
Zubin began to open his mouth but Aditi beat him to it — “The written reason we have received, My Lord, is that it is in the name of the Respondent.”
“Yes, Lordship…”
“And my client is ready to let it go.” Aditi cut him off, sensing his head turn towards her. He had not expected it. Aditi rattled on — “My client is happy to keep the cheapest of the three cars that are in his name. A Maruti Ciaz.”
This time Aditi turned her head and looked straight at Zubin. And in spite of everything, she was delighted to see him taken aback by the turning of the tables.
“In that case, come to the next part of movable,” Justice Deshmukh read from the list. “Art, antiques and collectibles.”
Aditi was still looking into Zubin’s eyes, and suddenly saw a spark light to life.
“Yes, Your Lordship,” Zubin said joyfully, eyes still on her.
He was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet as he turned his gaze to the judge.
“My client has always been very attached to the house… let me rephrase, the marital home, that she has lived in for so many years. She has taken immense effort to design her home. It is like a temple to her.”
Aditi rolled her eyes and saw him continue, charged up by her reaction — “She has decorated each and every corner of the house with utmost care, while her husband was busy in boardrooms and glass capillary factories. This home of hers constitutes various facets of her personality. This includes artwork, antiques and other works of talent that she has put tremendous effort to curate.”
“Curate by swiping my client’s credit card,” Aditi scoffed.
“So shallow,” Zubin remarked, trying to instigate her. “But since the Appellant clearly views these artworks as some waste of his credit card swiping, these artworks that very much form a part of the marital home should…”
Aditi realised then what he had done. Fuck him, she had walked straight into his trap.
She heard him justify how the artwork was nothing but wasted money for Mr. Jethmalani and a ‘source of great comfort and a warm hug of her home’ in a time of distress for Mrs. Jethmalani, and wanted to pounce on him with all her black cat claws out.
But she had to give credit where it was due.
Her husband was percipient jackal, and so sly, you couldn’t predict his next move even from an inch away.
He kept rattling on, painting a very skewed picture of the Jethmalanis’ artwork love and Aditi interjected in haste — “ My Lord, this is pure fiction!”
“What part, the swiping of credit cards or that your client doesn’t value artwork?”
She snarled inside. How the hell had he predicted her argument so perfectly when she herself had operated on pure instinct?
! His trap was worse than she had thought.
She knew he was exceptional at arguments and cross examinations, the best litigator at his firm, the youngest partner for a reason; but this was the first instance when Aditi realised why.
In their last case, she hadn’t seen this quiet brilliance, maybe because she was too busy arguing for the judge’s recusal.
“Ms. Doshi?” The judge called to her. “You seem distracted?”