"Lies by the pretty little liar—sorry, lawyer."

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•○NANDINI○•

The moment we reached the stairs outside the courtroom, Aariv froze.

He turned slowly, looking up at the aging government building like it was some kind of crumbling temple — a disgrace to power.

His sharp eyes scanned the rusted nameplates, the peeling paint, the loud honks from passing autos, and the utterly average humans milling around in dusty kurtas and cheap polyester suits.

He was visibly... disturbed.

“Ye kya avyaavastha bana rahi hai?” he muttered, frowning at the motorcycles parked like fallen soldiers. Looking around, completely lost.

Now, how I explain to him what a court is? I swear, I feel like dealing with a newborn. Does he know what democracy is? Or is he so lost in his delusion to know anything at all? Chodo, kya hi samjhate baithu mai iss aadmi ko.

"This," I said, gesturing towards the old building. "Ye humare samay ka darbar hai."

He turned to me, incredulous, as if gravely offended by the audacity of it. He looked at the building as if looking down on it. Of course, ab inke samay mein toh sone ke mahal hote honge na. I rolled my eyes.

"Tumhare yaha ke darbar aise hote hai? Yaha baithte hai tumhare Maharaj? Yeh jeern-sheern khandar." He made a judging face, eyeing the building up and down. Ye sarkaari dafti hai babu yaha aisa hi hota hai.

But wait, did he just call it a dilapidated ruin? A khandar?

It's almost laughable.

I shook my head and shrugged. "Loktantra mein aapka swagat hai, Rajaji." I muttered. He frowned. So, he doesn't even know what a democracy is now. Great. He is seriously ill. Poor soul. But for now try and be a little useful to the one fed you tea. I gesturned for us to go ahead.

He scoffed, almost offended. “yeh kaisa darbar hai? Na koi sipahi, na koi pehredar, na koi sabha, na koi sighasan. Hai toh bas yeh.. vichitra pairi, aur ye shor." He looked at everything in distaste.

"Are you here to be a judge or what? Nhi na, toh chalo chup-chap, time nhi hai mere paas." I shut him up. We'll be late because of him. He looked at me, unimpressed, as if he didn’t like my tone. Who cares? Do I look like I give two flying fucks if I offended the royally delusional highness? No. Nope. Na. Nhi.

Aariv didn’t move at first. He stood tall, head slightly raised, like he was trying to inhale authority from the air. But all he got was pollution and the scent of roadside samosas.

I turned back and huffed in frustration. "Dekho, Rajaji, mai yaha tumhe tumhare zamane ki baatein karne nhi layi ho. Just come in, help me win the case, or stand here looking like a fool." I gritted out.

He frowned in confusion at what I said. Uff! "Rajaji, meri madat chahiye na? Toh chaliye." I huffed.

His jaw clenched. A second later, he followed me, nonetheless. Pehle hi kar dete toh kya bigadta?

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The moment we stepped into the air-conditioned, fluorescent-lit courtroom, Aariv stopped again.

Urgh, ye aadmi!

His eyes flicked over the judge’s podium, the wooden railings, the court clerks in their faded coats, and the ceiling fan that squeaked with every rotation.

"Ye log kon hai?" He hissed distastefully. His voice was low, and so-very-judgmental.

"Ye log vakil hai mere jaise."i deadpanned. "Unhe aaj ke darbaari salahkaar samajh lo. Bas farq itna hai ki ye jhooth bolna apna kaam samajhte hain, aur polyester ke kapde pehente hain." I muttered.

His gaze landed on the judge — an elderly man with thick glasses and a pot belly resting comfortably behind the desk. He was looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Aariv narrowed his eyes. Gods, he was judging hard. "Aur ab ye tumhara raja hai?" He looked at him up and down. "Dilchaspi hai." He uttered in distaste.

I didn't even blink. "Inhe yaha judge kehte hai. Jo tum jabse sabko kiye ja rahe ho." I muttered the last part under my breath.

We walked in further.

And that’s when Prem saw us.

A mixture of emotions swirled through his face — anger, relief, frustration, confusion, and worry.

He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled. His jaw dropped in open disbelief, eyes bulging at the sight of the half-armored, intimidating man walking beside me like he owned the floor.

Of course, now, how would you even react seeing a big man, wearing ancient outfit, looking like he just stepped out of the war after killing thousands. He gave me a questioning look.

“Nandini,” he whispered, storming to my side. “What. The. Actual. Hell?” He gritted out. Now, how do I explain him? Why are men so stupid? Didn’t mean to offend any of the lovely men out there. This was just about the men in my life.

I took a deep breath and  offered a sweet, evil smile. “Meet Professor Aariv. Brilliant. Reclusive. Slightly unstable. But an expert in temple scrolls and tribal land grants.” I turned towards Aariv. Who was frowning. The same frown he has when he doesn't understand something. Sorry, Rajaji, ab tumhe gar ek cheez translate karke toh nhi bataungi na.

“He looks like he could behead someone with that stare,” Prem hissed. "And what’s with the dress code? Where did you find him?" He started rambling. Typical Prem. Always worried.

"The dress code was.. traditional. Besides, he's the key to winning the case. Now let me do my thing." I knew that wasn't enough to convinve him. He was just so up tight about stuff like this and—

Aariv turned to him, slow and deliberate, then looked him up and down — once.

Just once.

But it was enough.

Prem fell silent. His mouth opened again, then closed. He swallowed visibly and stepped back, blinking like he'd been doused with ice.

I didn’t even have to say anything. Aariv’s glare did the job. Chalo iske intimidating looks kahi toh kaam aaye bas ye aadmi aage bhi kaam aa jaye.

I held Aariv's wrist and dragged him towards the judge. All the eyes turned to us. Everyone giving us weird looks. But I could feel one particular pair of eyes boring through my head.

I turned around to see Aariv staring at me, intendly. It felt like time stilled for a moment. I cleared my throat and left his wrist.

"Tumhe na bas yaha kisi cheez ki jaach karni hai, thik hai." I said to him, in a hushed voice. Before he could say anything else, I turned towards the judge. "Your honor, I would like to introduce my new testimony."

The opposition raised his hand. "Objection, your honor. Ms. Sanyal didn't mention it to the court before. We can't allow just any other person she brings on the spot to testify." He spat, taken aback, clearly not expecting me to pull out this move. Aside from what he said, what he actually meant was, 'This is wrong, Your honor. Not fair! We didn't get the chance to bribe him.'

Everyone in the court was giving Aariv weird looks. The judge glanced at him, Aariv, taking a good look at him, and then turned towards me. “This witness wasn’t on your initial list, Ms. Sanyal.”

“I understand, Your Honour,” I said smoothly. “But Professor Aariv is a last-minute inclusion. He’s spent years studying tribal land manuscripts — particularly from the 17th century. I went to him and explained him the situation, the helplessness of the tribals. He came across this case and felt compelled to step forward. Humanity is still alive, Your honor.”

Bol bhi kon rahi hai. My conscience scoffed, mocking me. I am. Any issues? I countered.

Anyway,

I turned towards the Judge, and tried to convince him. "I request the court to just once let him testify." The judge thought for a while and then nodded, dismissing the oppositions attempts to protest.

I led Aariv towards the witness box. He walked like he owned the place. His whole demeanor screaming power. His presence was commanding, demanding, and overshadowing. And It won't be wrong to say he was the tallest and the most strongest man in the whole court if I judge him by his appearance.

He stood tall, the only man in the room not shrinking under scrutiny. His posture was regal, composed — like he was addressing a court of his own. The judge glanced at him, a little startled.

The judge gave him another look. “You’ve studied ancient tribal scrolls, Professor?” he asked Aariv. Every eye in the court was stuck on him. And he, he just stood there quietly. Not the scared quiet, but the calculating, measuring, observing, contemplating quiet.

Seeing the judge looking at him, maybe he understood that the judge was talking to him. He turned towards me with the same frown. "Woh puch rahe hai kya tumhe satravi sadi ke advasi suchipatro ki jankari hai." I translated for him.

He turned towards the judge, eyes cold. "Ji," he said. One word. But the one word held so much command, hell, he could ask the judge to kneel.

There was silence. It's not dramatic. It's just thick. I cleared my throat. "Your honor, I would like—" I was about to speak, but was brutally cut off by the opposition.

"Your honor, how can we trust that this man really is a professor and not someone set up by Ms. Sanyal." His shrill voice rang through the court. I knew this was coming.

"You have to when the said man is a respectable Professor known for his work in history. The opposition might not have heard his name because he doesn't live in India anymore, your honor." My voice was steady, unwavering, and firm. And I also made sure, Mr. Goyal, the said opposition got the little taunt in my tone.

"Your honor, words held no meaning in the court, the court needs proof. How can we just simply trust Ms. Sanyal's words?" He middled again. Murmurs started filling the air soon enough.

"Your honor, I could submit the proof of his identity to you, but unfortunately, we couldn't bring anything us with here in the court." I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the judge. Head held high, voice steady, and ground firm.

"So, your honor, not only did Ms. Sanyal brought an unnotified testimony in the court, but she also didn't bring his identity proof? How unprofessional is that?"

"It was a short break, your honor, I didn't have the time to take him back to his hotel room to get his identity proof."

Mr. Goyal, the opposition lawyer clapped at my words. "What lies are you feeding us, Ms. Sanyal? Where did the hotel angle come from?"

"I just told you he's doesn't live in India anymore. Isn't it obvious, Mr. Goyal, he'll have to book a hotel room?" I countered.

"You're honor, how can we trust Ms. Sanyal, solely based on her words when she brings a strange man wearing that in court, claiming that he's some reowned professor from Germany?" His voice raised a little at the end.

"Since when do we judge people based on their looks and clothes in this court, your honor?" I matched his pitch, raising my voice as well.

"Since lawyers started taking law lightly, Ms. Sanyal." He turned towards me with a sharp look.

"Why does it suddenly feel more like a personal attack, Mr. Goyal?" I turned towards him, meeting him eye-to-eye.

"We're professionals here, Ms. Sanyal." He glared.

"Yet I don't see you acting like one." I glared back.

"Stay in your limits, Ms. Sanyal. Aap apni had bhul rahi hai!"

"You already crossed yours, Mr. Goyal. Aap apni had kabki bhul chuke."

The judge hit his gavel a few times, gaining everyone's attention. "Order! Order! I'd like if both of you maintained the dignity of the court. And Ms. Sanyal, Mr. Goyal is right. But you're one commendable lawyer. Start from the beginning, what is all this about?" He asked.

I turned towards the judge. "Of course, Your honor, I was just about to get there but Mr. Goyal wanted a battlefield instead of a conference." I eyed Mr. Goyal at last.

"Anyway, I got to know about Professor Aariv when I was looking for historians who had remarkable knowledge about history. And he just happened to be the best." I glanced at Aariv, giving a pause to let my words sink in.

Lies.

"Later, I contacted him, telling him the situation. But he refused, saying he barely visits India anymore and that he didn't want to get involved in a court case that too in India." Another brief pause.

Lies.

"I had lost my hope of getting any help from him. But then I got to know that he was visiting India for a family wedding today only. I wanted the best to prove my clients' innocence."

Lies.

"So, I used the opportunity during the break and went to visit him to try to convince him one last time. And it seemed that it worked in my favor."

Lies.

"I had went to meet him at the wedding venue, Your wedding. We came here straight from there, that's the reason why we couldn't bring his Id because we could've been late for the hearing and Mr. Goyal,"

Lies.

I turned towards Mr. Goyal, "The theme of the wedding was ancient traditionals, hence, the outfit." I gave him tight-lipped smile, daring him to say anything else.

And that's the specialty of lies when served with just the right amount of spices.

I turned towards the judge, neutralling my expressions. "Your honor, I would like to request the court to let Professor Aariv verify the documents whether they are fake or not."

The judge thought for a while but then gave me permission. I went towards my table to get a sip of water, and it discretely looked around. It seemed that everyone had bought my story.

I took the scrolls and went towards Aariv, but not before  turning my sharp gaze towards the Mr. Goyal. "Careful, before you accuse me of such treachery next time, Mr. Goyal. I'm a known lawyer, and I could sue you for defaming my name like that." I warned.

He gritted his teeth but didn't say anything else. Good for him. Because if he truly believed I didn’t catch the personal jabs, then he’s a bigger fool than I thought. What he didn’t realize… is that I also saw the fear in his eyes — the fear of being outmatched by a woman.

I turned towards Aariv. It's all on him now. A single misstep on his part, and everything would unravel into nothing. "Professor Aariv, mai chahti hu ki aap inn suchnapratra ko parkhe aur court ko bataiye ki ye asli hai ya nakli." He looked at me. There were questions and doubts in his eyes.

I blinked my eyes as if to reassure him. He took the scrolls from my hands, looking at them intently. He traced the lining of the syllables. As if reminiscing a moment in his mind.

After a moment passed, I cleared my throat. "Kya aap hume bata sakte hai, isme kya likha hai?" He looked at me and then spoke, in his commanding voice. "Isme sthalo ki svamitva ki mahiti di gayi hai." He said. The murmurs began again. Can't he speak in normal hindi for once?

Aariv didn’t stammer. Didn’t blink. He stood there like he belonged in that box — not as a witness but as the law itself.

“And you believe the land in question belongs to the tribal communities?” the judge asked, frowning. It seemed he didn't get his words as well. Thankfully, no one pointed out his way of speaking even after living in "Germany."

Aariv turned towards me as if waiting for me to translate what the judge had said. Mr. Goyal though, always the over enthusiastic one, had to chime in. "Your honor, the way Mr. Aariv is constantly looking at Ms. Sanyal before answering anything. Don't you think that's suspicious?" Kyu kuch logo ko zyada hushari dekhani hoti hai.

But this time, I won't lie. "Your honor, Mr. Aariv doesn't have that much expertise about the English language." I'll just tell the truth in a twisted way.

Mr. Goyal scoffed. "How can someone not know the second basic language of India? And you said he lives in a foreign country."

"Mr. Goyal, it's not necessary for everyone to excel in a language just because it's basic. And look at him, being an indian, he's more capable in speaking Hindi than any of us present here. And he lives in foreign, if I may add." I countered, crossing my arms.

"That's not the point here—"

"That's exactly the point here." I cut him off sternly. "Your honor, Mr. Goyal is constantly judging and making my witness uncomfortable by commenting on sometimes his clothes, his appearance, and now his preferable language."

I turned towards that man. "Mr. Goyal, my client is affluent in German, which is sufficient for him. And you have no right to comment on a person's personal preferences. Let's keep it professional while we're at it." I stated firmly.

Mr. Goyal looked like he was about to argue more but a warning from the judge, and he was back on his seat, gritting his teeth.

"Your honor, my witness would prefer the use of hindi in the further conversations that involve him." The judge agreed. I nodded in acknowledgment at him, and towards Aariv.

"Judge sahab janana chahte hai ki yaha iss patra mein ye jis zamin ka mention hai, mera matlab.. uh.. "

I turned towards the judge sheepishly. "Your honor, can I use google for a second?" He looked a little taken aback by my request, looking at me in amused. But he agreed, nonetheless.

I took out my phone and Googled. "Ha, toh, in patro mein jis zamin ka varnan kiya gya hai kya woh purab ke advasi samaj ki hai." I asked him.

Aariv gave a single nod. "Yeh bhoomi poorvi pahaadon ke vanvaasi jano ko ek raaja ka farmaan tha — Yaduveya Samraajya ke samay mein raaj mohar ke saath pramanit." He spoke. I mentally sighed. Thank god, kuch ulta sidha nhi bola.

The opposition stood. “Your Honour, there’s no documentation of such a decree—”

Aariv turned to the man, gaze calm but deathly sharp, as if he sensed Mr. Goyal was dismissing his words. He raised an eyebrow at him. And Goyal.. he zipped that mouth up real soon.

"Your honor, I'd like for Mr. Goyal to calm down for a while and let others speak for once." I said in frustration. Because it was getting too much now.

"Inhone kya kaha iska anuwad karke hume bataiye." He said to me in a cold, calm tone. I gave him the translation. He turned towards the Mr. Goyal,

Aariv's cold gaze boring in his skull. His gaze calm but deathly sharp. "Aap itne vishwas ke saath ye kaise keh sakte hai ki yeh patra asatya hai?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" Goyal blinked. "Tum hote kon ho ye puchne wale?" Seriously? I gave him a side eye.

Aariv gave him a look and spoke, "Jo aap hote iss patra ko asatya ghoshit karne wale." Damn.

"Is patra ko farzi maine nhi science ne declare kiya hai." Goyal crossed his arms, glaring at Aariv. His glare looked like a puppy barking in front of Aariv. Whose glare looked like a lion ready to pounce.

"Ji, kisne kya kiya hai?" He asked genuinely. But the court burst into chuckles. The chuckles were not deflected towards him it were on Goyal. Whose face turned as red as a rotten tomato.

Goyal didn't say anything. He stormed towards his table and took out some documents aggressively. He came forward and showed the documents to Aariv and the judge. "Ye woh asli wale kagzad hai jo kehte hai ki tumhare wale kagzad nakli hai." When he tried to present a forged document proving the construction’s legality,

Aariv cut them off mid-sentence. “Woh mohar,” he said, stepping forward, his expressions and voice neutral.“nakli hai.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Ye aap kis buniyat par keh sakte hai?” he asked.

“Is par galat nishaan bana hai. Yaduveya ke raaj chinh mein do talwarein hoti thi, suraj ke neeche aapas mein takraati hui. Aur yeh—” he gestured towards the document — “Is par keval ek talwar hai. Aur yeh... yeh bhool humari kabhi nahi thi.”

“Aapko kaise pata unki muhar ke bare mein? Professor Aariv aap itne yakin se kaise keh sakte hai?” the judge asked. I took a sharp intake. All eyes were on Aariv. Please, don't say anything rubbish. I mentally prayed. And already cursed him for any possible future mishap.

Aariv’s gaze didn’t waver. "Kyuki ye zameen humare pitaji ne Adivasi Samrath Tribunan ko shanti sandhi ke roop mein beth di thi." He spoke, steady, firm, so convincing. Yet sounding so stupid.

Urgh.

Fuck me sideways.

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Adios, Mariposas🦋