Khambete didn’t respond. I said,
‘Tell me frankly. Don’t let your mind be corrupted by crooked thoughts.’
‘You really want to help me?’
‘Of course!’
‘Then get me clients. Make rounds of the municipality’s legal department every day. A lot of people come there with their problems. You’ll find that a lot of them need legal advice. Try and send them to me.’ As usual, Khambete was suggesting something out of the ordinary.
‘I’ll try,’ I said.
‘You can do it easily,’ he said matter-of-factly.
‘Typing is my forte. I’ve spent my life doing it. Why don’t you ask me to do something I know?’
Khambete laughed scornfully.
‘Whenever I need your help with something, you offer me something completely different.’
‘Why don’t you listen to my difficulties?’
‘You always have difficulties.’
I didn’t intend to argue and took his leave. I should have left him alone, but I persisted. Sushma vahini, Rajesh and Mukesh were family now. But Khambete not wanting anything to do with us was really awkward. It was a stress and a burden I had to carry all the time. I took a practical approach and tried various ways to resolve the issue, but all my efforts were in vain. He had decided not to change his stance, come what may.
He found a lot of success in the next four or five years. He bought a car. It was as if success, fame and money had been waiting for Khambete to become a lawyer. He threw a huge party after a satyanarayana pooja to celebrate his success. I decided to attend the party with an open mind. When he was serving prasad to the people present, he served me too without realizing it. I stood holding the prasad in my hand. He stared at me. Grabbing the moment, I held his forearm and said, ‘Khambete, you’re holding the pooja tray in your hand. Let’s forget our enmity now and become friends again. Promise me that you won’t stay angry and I will happily accept your prasad.’
He wriggled out of my grip. I couldn’t discard the prasad, but I declined the snacks that were served later. I came back home dejected.
One day, when she came to us, Sushma vahini announced,
‘He has a new illness now.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Insomnia.’
‘At this age?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why?’
‘Because of his attitude, Bhauji,’ Vahini said.
‘He must be stressed at work,’ Sumati said.
‘Massage his head every evening,’ I suggested.
Vahini said,
‘He has no time for that either. He takes each case seriously. He is short-tempered by nature. Can’t tolerate any objections. And there are bound to be objections in court. He makes life hell for himself.’
‘But Vahini, it is this doggedness that’s brought him all his success.’
‘Bhauji, are there no other successful lawyers? Look at his partner. He is so calm and composed.’
‘Vahini…’
‘Bhauji, you should come see him in court just once. Then you’ll believe me.’
So I took leave to visit the court and see him in action. Khambete was the defence counsel.
I was amazed to see his body language, his gestures and intensity. It was enough to make others lose their sleep! I was shaken to the core.
I wrote him a letter that night, urging him to not allow his emotions to take charge of him.
He didn’t reply.
Rajesh and Mukesh had their sacred thread ceremony.
We went for the reception that evening.
When they came to our house in their car, to take our blessings, Khambete refused to get down. Vahini was forced to come home alone.
Sumati didn’t want me to attend the reception but I insisted.
I was treated the way I’d expected, but by then I was far beyond letting it affect me. In Khambete’s own words, ‘Each man is a pattern.’
He, too, was a pattern.
A murder case made him famous. His name was being splashed across newspapers every day. He was defending the accused. The daily newspapers would carry details of the case. I would eagerly read his comments every morning. Vahini was worried because he had literally stopped sleeping ever since he’d taken the case on. He forgot to eat his meals. All he could think about was fighting the case. He’d lost fifteen pounds. Finally, what everyone feared came to pass – he crashed to the floor while questioning an eyewitness. It was a heart attack.
The newspapers printed every detail, including the name of the hospital, doctors, etc.
I rushed to the hospital along with Sumati.
But I avoided meeting him. I met Vahini. Sumati took Rajesh and Mukesh home. I sat in the waiting hall of the nursing home that entire day and night.
I did whatever was possible, except meet him. I left only when the doctor announced, ‘You can rest now. He’s out of danger.’
I rested for less than an hour and went to work. But my mind was elsewhere. The phone was ringing constantly – after all, the PRO department is a very busy one. But each ring would make my heart skip a beat.
The phone rang again at four that afternoon. I was jolted out of my reverie when someone shouted, ‘Tambe, your phone.’
It was Sumati.
‘Bhauji’s condition is deteriorating.’
‘I’ll be there right away.’
‘There’s no point. But come if you want to.’
I wound up my files and was planning to leave when the phone rang again. Hardly fifteen minutes had passed.
Sumati again.
‘I’m just about to leave.’
‘You needn’t hurry.’
‘How is Khambete?’
‘Bhauji is no more.’
‘What!’
‘Right after I spoke to you… Suddenly…’
I didn’t wait for her to finish.
There was no need to hurry, but I left immediately. ‘Enemies until death’ is a common phrase. But I had never considered him my enemy. I hadn’t taken his behaviour to heart. Seeing him behave rudely only made me feel pity. I ran into my boss in the elevator. He said, ‘Can you spare a couple of minutes?’ I couldn’t refuse.
‘Tambe, I’m sorry to hear the sad news. You need to go, but…’
‘No. It’s fine. Tell me…’
He wanted me to stay back for an important phone call which was expected any minute now. The phone rang after forty-five minutes, and it was undoubtedly important. Once that was done, my boss muttered his condolences again
