“You’re writing too, aren’t you! If I do the work you’re supposed to do, what’s the point of more thinking? Please, stop these pointless thoughts and hurry up. Are you still drowsy, or have you finally come to your senses? Our people are waiting for your arrival. Get up now. Even now, aren’t you men ashamed?” she said, laughing, and pinched my cheek, gave my neck a playful twist, and as I was about to get up, she scampered away as if frightened and startled. I truly woke up with a jolt and sat up. I quickly got off the bed and looked around all four corners. Where was my beloved? Only then did I realize it was just a dream. I flopped back onto the bed, chuckled to myself, and thought, “This is a warning to hurry up and get going.” So I got up and began preparing for my journey.

My mother noticed my haste and asked, “Are you leaving already, son?”

“Yes,” I replied.

She left without another word. As I was getting dressed, she quickly brought me some snacks and milk. By then, my father had already woken up and gone to the fields. I told my mother I was leaving and set out. She blessed me, and if anyone there tried to ask about my business, she would say, “Don’t say anything now or later—just keep quiet,” and, laughing at my reply, she slipped inside.

“If you’re so eager to bring your daughter-in-law home, you go ahead and bring her. I have no objection. I’ll take care of myself,” I said, stepping out into the street and setting off for Bhimavaram.

By the time I reached Bhimavaram, it was nearly two in the afternoon. My uncle had already eaten and gone to court. As the cart stopped at the gate, my Manohari was standing at the end of the street, looking out for my arrival. As soon as my cart stopped at the gate and I got down—

Barrister Parvateesam

She beamed at me like a blossoming lotus and settled down contentedly.

After the usual formalities and inquiries about each other's well-being, I finished my bath and meal, and then went to my room. There, I sat down, and until three in the afternoon, the room was filled with a ceaseless clamor. I can't recall whether she alone did all the talking, or if I too contributed, or even what exactly was said. At some point, as if someone had called her, my wife hurried inside, brought out some refreshments, and set them down before me. After finishing that, I changed my clothes and went to see my friend Raju.

The two of us wandered here and there, and by the time darkness had truly fallen and I returned home, my father-in-law was already searching for me. Both of us had dinner, and then spent a long time exchanging stories—this and that—whiling away the hours until late into the night, before finally retiring to our respective beds.

I was utterly charmed by my father-in-law's wide-ranging knowledge, his mastery of language, his worldly wisdom, and above all, his gentle demeanor. Thinking about all this, sleep eluded me for a long time. Only much later, without my realizing it, did the goddess of sleep finally take pity on me, and I slipped into deep slumber.

I woke up a little later than usual, performed my morning ablutions, and went to sit with my father-in-law, determined to observe his way of handling affairs, his understanding of the world, and to heed his advice. As I stepped into the veranda, my father-in-law, just about to sit in his chair, looked at me and said,

"Come, Parvateesam, sit down like that. In another two or three moments, our clerk will arrive, and trailing behind him, a flock of birds—some feathered, some not—will descend. Watch and listen to their conversation, their skill with words, their sharp wit. This is your first lesson. It will be both enlightening and entertaining. At some point, you may feel an urge to jump in with a clever reply, but restrain yourself. With people like these, self-control is essential," he said.

Even as he was speaking, the clerk entered, respectfully saluted his master, threw a mild smile in my direction, picked up a bundle of papers, and went into his room.

As they were about to leave, a group of three men arrived, followed by another set of four or five, each entering in their own little gang. They greeted us with folded hands, some lingering hesitantly, while the bolder ones made themselves comfortable on the chairs. Among them, one or two looked like big landlords, but the rest appeared to be ordinary farmers or agricultural laborers. Though there was a certain humility and apprehension visible in all of them, I could also clearly see another emotion flickering across their faces: “We are the ones paying this pleader, feeding him with our money, so why does he act so high and mighty before us?” That sentiment was written plainly on every face.

I supposed this must be a typical trait of the newly prosperous. In English, they call it “the new rich.” Just as my uncle had described, for nearly three hours, people kept coming and going—some seeking the pleader’s advice, some offering him their own, some arguing haphazardly, and some even quarreling among themselves. A few tried to speak with great arrogance, only to be utterly deflated by the pleader’s sharp words, their faces crumbling in defeat. Whenever the pleader revealed some subtle secret of the case, or when he unraveled in a single sentence a knotty problem that had left them banging their heads in confusion, all of them would gasp in amazement: “Oh my goodness! Look at that! This fellow untangled such a complicated matter in just one word. Did you see that? That’s why he’s a pleader. We’ve been breaking our heads over this for six months now—what fools we are! What