The Paradox
I stood near the breakfast table, skimming through a copy of the post-mortem report. The housekeeper of a famous actor had been murdered and his body was found dumped in a sewer.
“Rigor mortis sets in after two hours of death, provided, the body is left untouched, isn’t it Ronit?”
Anaysha was sitting with her back to me, and I had given her no sign of my occupation. ‘How did you know what I was already here? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.’
‘I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me”, Anaysha said, grinning.
“Stop behaving like Holmes. You aren’t an early riser, Mrs. Anashya Ronit Shelvankar. What is it?”
“I’m the defence lawyer of Yashpal Saxena; the actor who’s housekeeper’s body you’re examining. The accused has been granted bail. He’s coming today at 10.30 a.m.”, Anaysha said with a trembling voice.
“He was shot by a 9mm bullet on his chest and the gun matches with the one Saxena possesses. See if you can help him out.”
The door bell rang. Our visitor was a middle aged man, with a stature of about six feet. He wore a light brown jacket over his sapphire shirt. His face showed no sign of trepidation or jitter. He had curly black hair, a mole on his left cheek and a French cut beard. A superb physique. No. This couldn't be a criminal. He was a gentleman.
Anaysha offered him a seat. The geezer sat down with his shanks crossed.
Our man now began speaking.
"So, Mrs. Anaysha Shelvankar, tell me," Yashpal Saxena purred as he gently traced the edge of the desk, "how many cases have you won?"
Anaysha had dealt with many clients before but this Saxena was the first man to ask her such a query.
The woman fidgeted under his steely gaze, fingers gliding over her keyboard. She began a word document, reminding herself that her client was NOT all that frightening. All that mattered was the housekeeper's corpse was retrieved from the sewers.
Her brown eyes darted to his face, before narrowing.
"Mr. Saxena, I am here to defend your innocence beyond a reasonable doubt." At his raising brow, she continued her professional rant, "Any past cases, "win" or "lose" as you call them, are irrelevant as far as this is concerned. Now please, Mr. Saxena, where were you on December 22, 2014?"
"Are you related to the victim in any way, Miss Shelvankar?" he inquired, gray depths piercing through her dispassionate air, "I mean, I wouldn't be too shocked. You guys reproduce like cats or something."
He strolled over to a chair on her right, seating himself perfectly and attention directed. The lawyer felt her hair rise at his comment, before reminding herself that this punk was going to be out of her life soon enough.
"Your family must be very proud," he resumed, tone tinged with mock, "to see their little Anaysha all dolled up in a clean suit and--"
"Mr. Saxena," Shelvankar interrupted, body bristling at his sudden ramble, "I am here to make sure you don't rot in prison. However, losing this case isn't out of the question, either."
Anaysha’s threat was obvious and focused; Saxena noted as an amused grin graced his chiselled face.
“I was attending my cousin’s wedding”, Saxena said bluntly.
“He has a firm alibi, you see”, I said.
Anaysha stood up. She asked something but I didn’t understand its relevance at first.
“Is your cousin a Muslim or a Christian or a Buddhist?” Anaysha questioned Saxena.
“No. We all are Hindus.”
“Damn! I can’t take this case. You’re lying. Hindus don’t get married at this time of the year”, Anaysha yelled at him.
Damn! Her client was lying.
He caught her delicate hand- firm grip and a blatant intention.
"Such a proud family you must have," the actor prattled in a frigid hiss, before startled black skies collided with his storms, "it would be a tragedy if you both were also found in the sewers, don't you think?"
Oxygen no longer entered my nostrils, the glacier tension suffocating. Ice trickled down my stiff spine; but it burned.
“Rigor mortis sets in after two hours of death, provided, the body is left untouched, isn’t it Ronit?”
Anaysha was sitting with her back to me, and I had given her no sign of my occupation. ‘How did you know what I was already here? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.’
‘I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me”, Anaysha said, grinning.
“Stop behaving like Holmes. You aren’t an early riser, Mrs. Anashya Ronit Shelvankar. What is it?”
“I’m the defence lawyer of Yashpal Saxena; the actor who’s housekeeper’s body you’re examining. The accused has been granted bail. He’s coming today at 10.30 a.m.”, Anaysha said with a trembling voice.
“He was shot by a 9mm bullet on his chest and the gun matches with the one Saxena possesses. See if you can help him out.”
The door bell rang. Our visitor was a middle aged man, with a stature of about six feet. He wore a light brown jacket over his sapphire shirt. His face showed no sign of trepidation or jitter. He had curly black hair, a mole on his left cheek and a French cut beard. A superb physique. No. This couldn't be a criminal. He was a gentleman.
Anaysha offered him a seat. The geezer sat down with his shanks crossed.
Our man now began speaking.
"So, Mrs. Anaysha Shelvankar, tell me," Yashpal Saxena purred as he gently traced the edge of the desk, "how many cases have you won?"
Anaysha had dealt with many clients before but this Saxena was the first man to ask her such a query.
The woman fidgeted under his steely gaze, fingers gliding over her keyboard. She began a word document, reminding herself that her client was NOT all that frightening. All that mattered was the housekeeper's corpse was retrieved from the sewers.
Her brown eyes darted to his face, before narrowing.
"Mr. Saxena, I am here to defend your innocence beyond a reasonable doubt." At his raising brow, she continued her professional rant, "Any past cases, "win" or "lose" as you call them, are irrelevant as far as this is concerned. Now please, Mr. Saxena, where were you on December 22, 2014?"
"Are you related to the victim in any way, Miss Shelvankar?" he inquired, gray depths piercing through her dispassionate air, "I mean, I wouldn't be too shocked. You guys reproduce like cats or something."
He strolled over to a chair on her right, seating himself perfectly and attention directed. The lawyer felt her hair rise at his comment, before reminding herself that this punk was going to be out of her life soon enough.
"Your family must be very proud," he resumed, tone tinged with mock, "to see their little Anaysha all dolled up in a clean suit and--"
"Mr. Saxena," Shelvankar interrupted, body bristling at his sudden ramble, "I am here to make sure you don't rot in prison. However, losing this case isn't out of the question, either."
Anaysha’s threat was obvious and focused; Saxena noted as an amused grin graced his chiselled face.
“I was attending my cousin’s wedding”, Saxena said bluntly.
“He has a firm alibi, you see”, I said.
Anaysha stood up. She asked something but I didn’t understand its relevance at first.
“Is your cousin a Muslim or a Christian or a Buddhist?” Anaysha questioned Saxena.
“No. We all are Hindus.”
“Damn! I can’t take this case. You’re lying. Hindus don’t get married at this time of the year”, Anaysha yelled at him.
Damn! Her client was lying.
He caught her delicate hand- firm grip and a blatant intention.
"Such a proud family you must have," the actor prattled in a frigid hiss, before startled black skies collided with his storms, "it would be a tragedy if you both were also found in the sewers, don't you think?"
Oxygen no longer entered my nostrils, the glacier tension suffocating. Ice trickled down my stiff spine; but it burned.
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