...we set off.

We stayed in Bhimavaram for another two days. My mother-in-law, with all her affection, packed us off with gifts, delicacies, pickles, and all sorts of household utensils and supplies that might be needed. She even sent along, to assist not just me but also Saraswati, a trustworthy relative from her side—a woman who was alone and struggling financially. (A great soul, as the saying goes, “Like Panuganti’s kumkum box, filled with sacred ash!”)

My father-in-law, in his wisdom, suggested in many ways that it would be better for me to postpone my Madras practice for a while, to stay here and gain some experience first, and only then set up practice in Madras. He said this would be much more convenient and advantageous. But I did not like that idea. From the very beginning, I had heard from many that if one starts in the High Court itself, one develops a broad outlook, keen analytical skills, and the ability to impress even the most eminent judges with one’s arguments and expertise. Not only had I heard this, but even in my brief months of experience, I felt the same. I managed to convince my father-in-law of this and set off for Madras.

For a week or ten days after arriving in Madras, I had to make do in the small house I had previously rented. Though it was cramped and inconvenient, I managed to pass the time there until I was able to secure a slightly larger house.

Every day, I went to court punctually and also visited our seniors’ offices, diligently attending to all the work assigned to me. Our Narayana Murthy garu was very pleased to see my enthusiasm and dedication.

“Babu, I am curious to see how you will handle a case independently. Why don’t you take up a case on your own now?” he said one day, handing me an appeal.

“This will come up for hearing the day after tomorrow. Read it carefully and understand it thoroughly...”

“Go ahead. There’s a subtle point in this case. If you can grasp it, you’ll win. If not, the case is lost. Don’t ask me anything about it. I’ll be right beside you, listening to your argument. If you fail to bring up the point I have in mind, then and only then will I write it down on a slip of paper and hand it to you. After all, we mustn’t let our client lose the case, right?” he said with a smile.

He continued, “I’m confident you’ll understand this case properly and surely mention the point I have in mind. What do you say?”

“What’s there to say no? I’ll certainly try. I’ve already picked up some of your ways of thinking, haven’t I? So I hope everything will go smoothly,” I replied, took my leave, and went back to my lodgings.

The next day, instead of going to his house, I met him directly at the court. The same happened on the third day. The hearing was scheduled for the sixth day.

For the first time in my life, I stood in a court—no less than the High Court—arguing before learned judges of great intellect. As I rose, adjusted my gown properly over my shoulders, and lifted my head to look at the judge, he fixed me with a sharp gaze, as if to ask, “Who is this young man?” I bowed my head in greeting, and as I turned towards the pleader’s bench, I noticed quite a few young men in the audience, seemingly there just to see me and hear my argument. I smiled, half visibly, half hidden, bowed my head slightly in their direction, and began my argument.

The entire courtroom fell silent. I spoke in English, fluently and without hesitation, without any awkward sentences, as if I had years of experience. Everyone sat watching me, listening intently. After about six hours, we reached the most complicated stage of the argument. Just as I had practiced, with some effort and a bit of nervousness, I presented the two key points, concluded my argument, turned to the judges, bowed respectfully again, and sat down.

Narayana Murthy was overjoyed. The other lawyers’ faces all bore expressions of “Well done!” The opposing counsel spent about ten minutes countering my argument, but even I could tell there was nothing interesting in his reply.

As I was coming out, Narayanamurthy garu placed his hand on my shoulder and walked a couple of steps with me, saying, “You spoke very well, my boy. You expressed everything I had in mind, and even better than I could have. I am very pleased. You will go far in life.” He patted my back and went on his way. I felt like bowing at his feet right there, but in the midst of that crowd, I couldn’t do it.

Two days later, the court delivered a clear and unequivocal verdict in favor of our client in the case I had argued. The judgment even included words of appreciation for me.

Thus, for a while, every now and then, Narayanamurthy garu not only encouraged me by entrusting me with cases, but also began to send me some appeals—cases from our side—directly to me. At first, I wondered who was spreading my fame and sending me these cases. Later, I learned that my father-in-law had made inquiries about me here, learned of my usefulness, and, with trust and affection, was quietly sending appeals from his circle and his friends’ circles my way.

So, whether at home or in court, I became increasingly absorbed in legal matters and law books, spending most of my time with clients. For our Saraswati, this was no entertainment at all; she began to show a bit of sulking and mild annoyance. Therefore, as a matter of duty, I started making it a point to finish work in the evening and take her for a carriage ride to the beach.

The first day, she seemed to