Chapter 56 – The Law Must Speak
The fragrance of freshly brewed chai and roasted fennel seeds wafted through the Singh household, mingling with the soft murmurs of distant monsoon thunder. On the long teak table in the family study, steam curled from cups while papers rustled in the warm evening air, stirred gently by ceiling fans creaking rhythmically above.
Ajay Singh sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed, eyes sharp yet calm. Around him, familiar faces from the recent meetings now returned with new ideas—but with heavier hearts. The family had acted swiftly to establish a security and detective division. And yet, as Ajay softly tapped his pen against his file, the realization sank in:
"We can now catch them. But can we stop them permanently?"
Bharat, seated cross-legged on a low divan beside the bookshelf, looked up from a worn leather-bound copy of the Indian Constitution. "Pitaji, evidence is powerful," he said quietly. "But even the truth dies in silence if no one shouts it in court."
Ajay's gaze lingered on his son. Bharat, though only nine, now spoke like a seasoned mind who'd seen the cycle of justice and injustice more times than he should.
"You mean the law must speak," Ajay said.
"Yes," Bharat replied, "with teeth."
The Idea Takes Form
Later that night, in a converted study room where old maps of district plans still hung, a large whiteboard now read:
"Adarsh Nyay Sansthan – Truth Through Law"
Retired Judge Devdutt Tiwari adjusted his shawl and smiled faintly. His voice carried the weight of decades:
"What you are trying to build, Ajay ji, is more than a department. You are breathing life into a sleeping part of this nation."
Ajay turned to him with gratitude. "We need your wisdom. But we also need energy. Students, young lawyers, those still with fire in their hearts."
"And you shall have them," Judge Tiwari said. "This country still has many who burn with honesty."
The recruitment drive began with quiet notices in university departments. Calls were made to known government prosecutors, human rights advocates, and retired judges. The word spread fast through Lucknow's academic and legal circles.
Within days, the courtyard of the Singh Foundation had transformed. Law students waited in small clusters under the neem tree. Young men and women, files clutched nervously in hand, whispered to each other.
"Did you hear? They're offering real cases."
"Yes, internships with courtroom simulations. And access to real forensic tools."
"It's like... not just a job. It feels like a mission."
Inside, a small room filled with the scent of camphor and chalk dust welcomed them one by one. Bharat watched quietly from a corner, listening.
One student, Swati Mishra, stepped forward, her voice steady despite her nerves.
"Ma'am, I've seen injustice in my own neighborhood. A widow denied pension. A child beaten for stealing medicine. If this firm is what you say it is, then I don't want to work here... I need to."
Retired government lawyer Yashwant Rao, who was overseeing interviews, smiled. "And what if the law fails you?"
"Then we fix the law. Not quit it."
He leaned back, nodding.
"You're hired."
Staff, Structure, and Spirit
By mid-August, the firm was taking shape. The office was set in an old colonial-era haveli near Hazratganj, with high ceilings, white limewashed walls, and wide verandahs that echoed with new purpose.
There were:
Two senior lawyers (retired judges and prosecutors)
Seven junior advocates
Twelve student interns
One retired RAW official for evidence handling
One forensic technician
Every morning, a new ritual began. Chai was served with murmurs of strategy:
"We need to file the PIL by Friday."
"Was the ink test on the bribe ledger conclusive?"
"Geeta, you handle cross-examination simulations today. Irfan, check the penal codes again."
Even the building had changed. One room was turned into a courtroom simulator with wooden benches and a judge's platform. Another was made into a forensic lab where ink, fingerprints, and handwriting were examined under magnifying lamps.
Colonel Rajvir visited one afternoon, his voice crisp as ever.
"So this is your new battleground," he said.
Ajay smiled. "Yes. And you're looking at our foot soldiers."
Rajvir turned to a student. "What will you do if your witness is threatened?"
The boy hesitated. Then said, "Document everything. Report it. Stand my ground."
Rajvir nodded. "Good answer. The courtroom is no less dangerous than the battlefield."
Devices and Evidence
Ajay had already invested in developing security tech for the army. Now, those same tools were repurposed:
Hidden audio pens
Wristwatch voice recorders
Analog cameras modified for discretion
Sound amplifiers that could record whispers from under doors
Retired RAW agent Deshmukh trained them.
"Always store two backups. Time-stamp everything. And remember, the court doesn't care about drama. It cares about chain of custody."
Bharat listened carefully and made notes. He had also started sketching an idea for a portable forensic kit: vials, paper strips, magnifiers, all in a foldable pouch.
"Pitaji," he said one evening, "Can we ask the chemistry department at Lucknow University to help us with this?"
Ajay nodded. "Yes. We can offer it as a joint development project."
The Emotional Weight
Evenings were quieter. After a long day of intense work, Ajay often sat under the guava tree near the courtyard. Bharat joined him with his notebook, feet dangling.
"You seem tired, Pitaji," Bharat said one night.
Ajay exhaled slowly. "Not tired. Just humbled."
"Why?"
"Because every student who joins us... reminds me that people still believe in justice. And that's a heavier responsibility than any machine I've built."
Just then, Vandana came out with warm halwa in two steel bowls.
"No revolution is complete without dessert," she said, smiling. "Now eat before it cools."
Looking Ahead
The firm had received its first three official cases:
1. A school teacher falsely accused of theft by local politicians.
2. A land-grabbing case in Barabanki, with forged documents.
3. A PIL against illegal chemical dumping in the Gomti river.
Each case was divided among junior advocates and interns. Evidence flowed in from the detective agency. Coordination with security ensured safe handling.
Ajay looked out of the firm office one morning, as the interns gathered for briefing.
"We are not heroes," he said to Judge Tiwari. "We are reminders. Reminders that law is not lost. Just waiting."
Tiwari nodded. "And your son... he will remind the next generation."
Bharat, watching from the hallway, smiled softly.
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