‘Depends,’ I said.
‘On what?’
‘Did you feel bad when they didn’t make you GM?’ I said.
Uncle looked at me for a few seconds. He leaned forward from the sofa to come near me. ‘Let me tell you one thing. What is your name?’ he said.
Obviously, I was not anywhere close to getting close to him. ‘Krish,’ I said.
‘Of course, sorry, this whisky . . . Anyway, Krish, I had offers. Ten years back I had offers from multinational banks. But I stayed loyal to my bank. And I was patient to get my turn to be GM. Now, I have five years to retire and they send this rascal North Indian.’
‘You did feel bad,’ I said.
‘I still feel horrible. I haven’t even told this to my wife. I am drinking too much,’ he said.
‘It’s OK. The point is, if you feel horrible then you need to do what it takes to get to be number one. And. . . .’ I stopped myself.
‘What? Say it,’ he said.
‘And if you don’t have marketing skills, then better admit that than take a moral high ground about knowledge. You’ve done good work, let the world know. What the hell is cheap or shameless about that?’
Uncle didn’t respond.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, composing myself.
‘No, you are right. I am useless,’ he said, his voice quivering. I became worried he’d cry.
‘I didn’t say that. We made this, right?’ I pointed to my laptop.
‘You think I should present? Will I be able to?’ he asked.
‘You will kick ass,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, I said you need ice?’
He shook his head.
‘You’ll be fine. Tell Verma you will present this. Don’t give him a copy.’
‘I’ll fight with him?’
‘Yes, if you call it that,’ I said. ‘And make sure from now on, people know about the work you do. Look at Bala, my boss. He copies the country manager on everything. Bala briefed the country manager about the food menu for this stupid local concert we are having next month. You definitely have to get noticed, you don’t have to do the work. That’s how corporates work, everyone knows it.’
Uncle nodded and fell deep in thought. I checked the time: 2 a.m. I couldn’t control a yawn.
‘OK, we should go to bed,’ uncle said and stood up. ‘Wait.’ He came back with a lungi and vest. ‘Here, will this do?’
You got to be kidding me, I wanted to say, but said, ‘Perfect.’
Uncle showed me the guestroom. I sat down on the bed with the nightclothes in my lap.
‘What do you want to be? MD at Citibank?’ uncle asked me as he reached the door to leave my room.
‘A writer,’ I said.
‘Excuse me,’ he said and his tired body became alert again.
‘MD, country manager, I don’t care, It’s not me,’ I said.
‘Will you leave the bank?’
‘Not immediately. I’ll save for a couple of years first.’
‘And after that? What about your parents? Are they OK with this?’
‘We’ll see. You should sleep, uncle. You have a presentation to make tomorrow,’ I said.
Uncle switched off the main light and left. I went to the bathroom and struggled with my lungi. Finally, I used a belt to tie it around my waist and lay down in bed. My back was resting after eighteen hours; I let out a sigh of relief.
Uncle knocked on my door. He came inside and switched on the light again.
I sat up on the bed in one jerk.
‘What?’ ‘Water,’ uncle said as he left a bottle next to my bed. ‘Drink up, or you will have a headache in office tomorrow.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘You OK with that lungi? You need help?’
‘No, I am fine,’ I said and clutched my belt and modesty close to myself.
‘Good night,’ uncle said as he switched off the light again.
‘Good night, sir,’ I said and cursed myself for the next ten minutes for calling him sir.
29
‘Three lakh!’ Bala flipped during the concert steering committee meeting. Yes, one of the great value additions from Bala is to make everything sound important. He created the CSC, or the Concert Steering Committee. It sounded so important, I could almost put it in my resume.
But right now, we had a problem. Everyone kept silent as the person in charge of the singers gave her report. ‘You want three celebrity singers, sir,’ said Madhavi, a fat agent with spectacles who looked like a cross between a school prefect and an ICU nurse.
‘But how can they get paid so much?’ Bala said. Somehow, Bala felt only he deserved a job that paid far in excess of the work involved.
‘They come with a band, sir, and back-up singers,’ Madhavi said.
Everyone in the room nodded.
Bala shook his head. ‘Why do we need back-up singers? The main ones will crash or something?’
Nobody laughed.
‘Back-up means chorus, sir,’ Madhavi said.
Bala remained unimpressed.
‘Chorus are those people who say aa aa aa in love songs, sir,’ said Renuka, another agent.
‘I know what chorus is,’ Bala said as he banged his fist on the table. ‘But this is too much.’
‘We can cut the food,’ said one agent. He got more dirty looks than an eve-teaser in a bus. He retracted his suggestion.
‘Why don’t we get some lesser known singers?’ I asked.
‘But this is a Citibank event. If we get B-grade singers and tomorrow HSBC does an event with A-grade singers, we are screwed,’ Bala said.
‘Sir, the venue. . . .’ one agent who had never spoken in a meeting in his entire career was shot down mid-sentence.
‘Has to be five-star,’ Bala said.
‘Who is the top singer of the three?’ I said.
‘Hariharan,’ said one agent.
‘No, it is S.P. Balasubramanium,’ said another.
War broke out between the normally peaceful Tamilians. When it came to music, they could kill.
‘No match, Hari is no match for SP,’ Madhavi shouted emotionally.
‘Suchitra? You forgot Suchitra?’ another agent said.
Bala stood up. Like all corporate meetings worldwide, even this one had ended without a conclusion. ‘All I am saying is, we can’t afford to pay this much. The venue, food and advertising are already costing four lakh,’ Bala said.
‘Advertising?’ I asked.
‘We are giving a half-page ad in The Hindu,’ Bala said.
The agents closed their files to leave.
‘Isn’t it an invitation-only event?’ I said.
‘Exactly, the ad will say so. Only our customers will have the invites. However, the ad will ensure their friends and relatives feel jealous.’
‘That’s the Citi advantage,’ I said.
‘Exactly.’ Bala patted my back.
‘So, dad’s happy, huh?’ I quizzed Ananya inside the auto.
‘You bet. Dad only talks about the presentation at dinner every day. And now he’s in Delhi, to make the same presentation in head office. Can you believe it?’ Ananya said.
‘Wow!’ I said as we reached our destination.
We had come to Ratna Stores in T. Nagar to buy steel plates for my chummery. I needed four, this place had four million of them. Seriously, every wall, roof, corner, shelf and rack over two floors was covered with shiny steel utensils. If direct sunlight fell in the store, you could burn like an ant under a magnifying glass. I wondered how the store kept track of its inventory.
‘How do you ever choose?’ I said to Ananya as we neared the plates section.
Ananya demonstrated the desired width with her hands to one of the attendants.
‘Seriously, thanks for helping dad. I think he likes you now,’ she said.
‘Not as much as he likes Harish. I drank his whisky though.’
‘What?’ Ananya said. I told Ananya about our drinks session.
‘You wore his what to bed?’ she said, shocked at the end of my story.
‘Lungi,’ I said as I paid at the cashier’s counter. ‘What’s so surprising? It is quite comfortable.’
Ananya raised her eyebrows.
‘I did it for you.’ I looked into her eyes.
She moved forward and even though one could see our reflection in five hundred frying pans around us, she kissed me. All the Tamilian housewives in the store turned to us in shock.
‘Ananya,’ a lady’s voice came from behind us.
Ananya turned around. ‘Fuck, Chitra aunty,’ Ananya said, lifting a large steel tray to hide her face. It was too late as the woman had started to come towards us.
‘Chitra who?’ I said.
‘Chitra aunty lives in my lane. She sings Carnatic music with my mother,’ Ananya said from behind the tray.
‘I bought Carnatic music CDs, too,’ I said.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Never mind, hello aunty,’ I said as Chitra aunty came next to us.
‘Krish,’ Ananya said. ‘Colleague.’
‘Really, what kind of colleague?’ Chitra aunty asked bossily.
‘I have to go,’ I said and lifted my plates. ‘We need these before dinner.’
Ananya called me late at night, after I had eaten in the new steel plates.
‘All OK?’ I said.
‘Sort of,’ Ananya said. ‘She is going to tell my mother. They have this rivalry anyway. Guruji accepted her but not my mother.’
‘And then?’
‘Nothing, I’ll tell my mother she is exaggerating. Am I mad enough to smooch someone in Ratna Stores?’ she said.
‘You are,’ I laughed.
‘Yes, but only you know that.’
‘I don’t want to ruin what I’ve built with your dad,’ I said.
‘It’s mom you have to worry about now. Manju and Dad are OK.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. I told her you are coming over for dinner tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
‘The stated reason is to thank you for helping dad. We can tell her about our visit to Ratna Stores before Chitra aunty. Of course, we’ll skip a few bits.’
‘You shouldn’t have kissed me there. Why did you do it?’
‘Because I couldn’t help it, you are irresistible sometimes,’ Ananya said.
My heart stopped for a second at Ananya’s response. Alright Mrs Swaminathan, if your daughter can’t resist me, there is no way you can either.
30
‘Excellent presentation, that is what the board told Dad in Delhi. Now they’ve asked all zonal offices to make similar ones,’ Ananya said in an excited voice.
We sat on the floor for dinner. Ananya’s mom kept quiet as she stirred a bowl of rasam. She offered it to me without a word.
‘You OK, mom?’ Ananya said.
‘Did you go to Ratna Stores with him?’ Ananya’s mother said, pointing to me.
‘Oh shit, Chitra aunty had to tell you the next morning,’ Ananya said, her hand busy mixing the rice and daal.
‘Akka, don’t use bad words at the dinner table,’ Manju said.
‘Manju, you eat. I am talking to mom here,’ Ananya said.
‘He’s right. We don’t talk like that in this house. We don’t do the things you do either,’ Ananya’s mother said as she vented some of the anger on the rice in her leaf. She mashed and smashed it with all the vegetables extra hard.
‘What have I done, mom? Krish wanted steel plates. How would he know where to go? I took him to Ratna Stores.’
‘And you do cheap things in the store?’ Ananya’s mother said.
‘What cheap things, mom?’ Manju said.
‘Manju, can you leave the room? Go read your physics book,’ Ananya bade.
‘But I’ve already revised physics today,’ Manju said.
‘Then study maths or chemistry, for God’s sake. Go.’ Ananya’s stern glance did the trick. Manju picked up his banana leaf and took it to his room.
‘Something something cheap something. . . .’ Ananya’s mother said as Ananya interrupted her.
‘Mom, Krish doesn’t understand Tamil. Please, speak in English,’ Ananya said.
Ananya’s mother gathered herself and spoke again. ‘Why are you sending your brother away, when you are ready to be cheap in public?’
‘I didn’t do anything cheap.’
‘Chitra is lying?’
‘I gave him a little kiss.’
‘Kissing!’ Ananya’s mother said as if Ananya had mentioned us snorting drugs.
‘Mom, stop hyperventilating. He is my boyfriend. You understand?’
‘You are my daughter, do you understand? You are spoiling our name in the community, do you understand? I brought you up, educated you, made sacrifices for you, do you understand?’
I don’t know if mother and daughter understood anything, but I understood it was time for me to go. I stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ Ananya demanded of me.
‘To wash my hands,’ I said, showing her my curd-filled hands as proof.
‘Even my hands are messy. Stay with me,’ Ananya ordered.
‘You don’t know what I have to bear because of you,’ Ananya’s mother said. In one movement she stood up, gathered her leaf and composure and left the room.
Ananya let out a huge sigh.
‘I liked the rasam, nice and tangy,’ I said.
‘You said you owe me big time,’ I said. I sat in Bala’s office. He kept both his elbows on the desk and ran all ten fingers through his oily hair.
‘But how can I?’ Bala said.
‘You said you were over budget. I have a singer for you, free.’
I played with the paperweight in his office. Alone with him, I behaved his equal.
‘Who?’ he said.
‘Radha Swaminathan, upcoming singer.’
‘Really? Never heard her,’ Bala said.
‘She is still in the underground scene. She has trained in Carnatic music.’
‘But this is a popular music concert. We’ll have dancers to complement the singers.’
‘Bala, popular music is cakewalk for Carnatic singers. You know that.’
‘Is she good? Have you heard her sing?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Sort of?’
‘Yes, I have. It’ll be fine. Plus you have Hariharan and S.P., can’t go too wrong.’
Bala stood up and walked towards his window.
‘Is she hot?’ Bala said, ‘like good-looking?’
‘She is my girlfriend’s mother. I find the daughter pretty.’
‘What?’
‘I have to do this Bala. I am hitting all-time lows with her. If I don’t do something drastic, I can kiss my girl goodbye forever. They’ve got a Cisco guy lined up, pure as fresh coconut oil.’
‘Your girlfriend is Tamilian?’
‘Yes, Brahmin, so you can deal with it for once.’
‘Iyenger or. . . .’
‘Iyer, does it matter?’
‘No,’ Bala said and came back to his seat. ‘Now I know why you came to Chennai.’
‘Apart from the fact that I was dying to work with a financial wizard like you,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Nothing, now, are you doing it?’
‘What?’
‘Finalising the singers, Hariharan, S.P. and new talent Radha.’
‘What will the agents say? We have a committee.’
‘Everyone in the committee works for you. They are your drones.’
‘But still,’ Bala said, deep in thought.
‘You decide,’ I sighed. ‘I have work. I haven’t cleaned up my mailbox in ages. I still have those emails of yours asking me to push those Internet stocks. I should delete them, right?’
Bala started at me as I turned to leave. ‘Look, it is not personal,’ I said, ‘but this is about my future kids.’
31
‘Aunty, may I come in?’ I s
aid.
Ananya’s mother looked at me through the mesh door with sleepy eyes. She wore a nightie; I had disturbed her afternoon nap.
I had told my agents I would be out for a late lunch. Before coming to their house, I stopped at Grand Sweets and packed two kilos of Mysore pak.
Aunty opened the door. I came inside. She went inside to change her clothes. I flipped through The Hindu until she returned.
‘Uncle’s back?’ I asked.
‘He came last night.’ She yawned. ‘But he is in office now.’
‘Sorry to wake you up,’ I said and passed her the box of sweets.
‘What’s this?’
‘I wanted to apologise for the dinner that night.’
Aunty kept quiet and looked at the coffee table.
‘I am sorry about the Ratna Stores incident. I assure you, nothing cheap happened,’ I said.
‘Chitra is a loudmouth,’ she responded. ‘She would have told the whole of Mylapore by now.’
‘I can understand. We have people like that in Punjabis as well. People who love to interfere in other people’s lives.’
Aunty ignored me. She went inside to keep the sweets in the fridge. She came back with a glass of water and their family dish of hard, brittle spirals that didn’t taste of anything.
I took one. My tooth hurt as I tried to bite it. I took the spiral out of my mouth and faked I had taken a bite by pretending to chew. We had an awkward minute of silence.
‘Aunty, I wanted to show you this,’ I said and opened my bag. I took out the Carnatic music CDs and gave them to her.
‘T.S. Subramanium? Whose is it?’
‘Mine.’
‘What?’
‘I’m trying to develop a taste. I’m learning, but it’s hard. There’s the swara, the raga, the shruti.’
‘You know about shruti?’
‘Only the basics. I am not an expert like you.’
She returned my CDs and gave a wry smile. ‘In Chennai I am a nobody. Even Chitra is better than me. Though people say she knows the corporator of Chennai, who asked Guruji to take her on. The corporator is in charge of the kutcheri venues, so Guruji had to oblige her. Can you imagine how shallow she is?’
‘There have to be other gurus,’ I said.
‘I was ready for an advanced one. Anyway, I am sorry I overreacted that day.’
‘No, no, you don’t have to apologise. I came to apologise. And for a little request.’