Tea for Two and a Piece of Cake

  Seven more days (and eleven more interviews) of similar kind follow. I call, I set up interviews, I attend them with hope, but mostly what they advertise isn’t what they really want. By the end of the seventh day, I am tired and frustrated. I feel dumb and worthless. My diploma in travel and tourism does not seem to count much in all the jobs that I am applying for. But then, hardly any travel agencies advertise for their staff positions. Recruitments in the travel industry are done mostly through word of mouth or through campus recruitments (which was how I had landed the job at Point to Point, fresh out of college).

  I curse stupid Parinita and her precious Jairaj. I truly do not care whether she is his mistress or madame. I curse Prashant. I curse my big mouth for having boasted about my stupid date. All I want is a decent job. But I do not seem to be able to manage even that.

  The prospect of sitting at home with nothing to do scares me to death. I am at my wits end and am fast losing my patience too. I truly do not know what to do except wait for the next day’s paper, in the faint, tiny hope that some travel agency in some obscure corner of Mumbai might need a travel assistant like me. Apart from the eleven interviews that I have attended, I have also submitted my CV to many places, where they said they would get back to me after the initial assessment is done.

  When the phone rings, I almost jump out of my skin. My heart pounding, I pick it up. It might be someone offering me a job. But it turns out to be Chetana.

  ‘So finally someone remembered that I exist,’ I say acidly when she asks how I am, the events of the last few days not helping a great deal to up my mood.

  ‘Hey, look. I am so sorry about not calling earlier, but I was caught up in this whole “arranged marriage” business. My parents just can’t seem to leave me alone.’

  ‘Anything clicked? Do we hear wedding bells soon?’ I perk up a little despite my current state of misery.

  ‘Arre yaar, the guy looks like a cross between a bull and a bull dog. His nostrils are so big, and by the looks of it, he weighs at least ninety kilos on a five-foot ten-inch frame. Plus the guy seems to know nothing apart from his work, which I know nothing about.’

  I giggle at her description of him.

  ‘What made your parents consider him then?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh that’s easy to guess. His IIT-IIM tag,’ she spits out the words and I can almost picture her disgust.

  I sigh.

  ‘But hey, listen, that is not why I called! Guess why I did!’ she says in a sing-song manner, her voice taking a more upbeat tone now.

  ‘Ummm…does Parinita want me to come back?’ I barely whisper, hoping against hope that it is true, hating myself as soon as I say it. If I had any shred of self-respect left, I would not even hope for this outcome, and instead would tell Parinita to stuff her job up her pert you-know-what.

  But seven days of useless job hunting has worn down my pride as well as chipped away at my determination. I am ready to beg, borrow, or even steal, as I am desperate for a job like the one I had.

  ‘I wish I could tell you that, but this is something even better,’ says Chetana.

  Eh?! What can be better than that? I am dying of curiosity now.

  ‘Tell woman! Tell me fast before I explode!’ I exclaim.

  ‘Samir called up here a little while ago asking for you!’ she says, as though she has delivered a bit of news that will make me want to throw my hands up in a dance.

  But to me it is disaster. Oh no! Now Samir would now know that I lost my job. What a shame!

  ‘Oh,’ I say unable to hide my disappointment.

  ‘And when Deepti told him that you are no longer working with us, he wanted to know why. She said she had no idea and that you had left.’

  ‘Thank Lord she had that much grace, I mutter.

  ‘But aren’t you happy?! Samir Sharma himself actually called up asking for you! He wants to talk to you. I would be over the moon if I were you,’ says Chetana.

  How can I make Chetana understand how much a job means to me at this point in my life? Chetana comes from an affluent family, and she has all the love and acceptance as well as plenty of money. For her, the job at Point to Point is just a temporary thing to occupy herself with, till the time she nets a good husband.

  For me, it is everything. It is where I get my acceptance, it is my little secure world, it is where I get my financial independence—as small as it may be. Heck, it is the only place I ever felt I belonged.

  I tell Chetana about the last seven days and how unsuccessful I have been at scouting a job for myself.

  She does not know what to say.

  ‘Don’t worry. Something will turn up,’ she finally says to perk me up a little.

  Then I remember her soiled clothes and apologize profusely for the tear in her skirt. She asks me to forget about it. She says she doesn’t even need them as they do not even fit her anymore. I do not know whether to feel pleased that I was feeling bad about damaging them for nothing or whether to feel upset that I had been handed over discarded clothes which she did not even care about and I had taken great pride in wearing. Anyway, it is too late to brood about it now, and I have the more pressing matter of finding a job. So I politely thank her and hang up.

  The phone rings again almost immediately, startling me again and I pick it up at once and say a resigned hello.

  ‘Hey. Do you always answer on the first ring?’ asks a deep voice and it is unmistakably Samir’s.

  ‘Oh! It’s you. How did you get my number? Did Deepti give it to you?’ I ask, quite taken aback that he has called me at home. I never gave him my home number and I did not even think that our paths would cross again, ever.

  ‘Deepti who?’ he asks, and I can picture him furrowing his brows.

  ‘Deepti, my colleague at Point to Point,’ I say, and as soon as I say it, I realize she is an ex-colleague now. The realization and talking to Samir bring a fresh wave of pain, like a nasty gash which you think is healing, opens up suddenly and spouts blood everywhere.

  ‘Oh no. I have no idea who it was I spoke to there, but I can see you are well informed about my activities,’ he teases.

  It irks me, even though I know he means it purely as a joke. The last thing I want to do is track the activities of the likes of Samir Sharma. All that is on my mind right now is landing myself a job.

  ‘Look Samir, I have to go. But I would appreciate it if you tell me how you got my home number,’ I say a little icily.

  ‘Hey sorry! I didn’t mean to annoy you. You had dialled your dad that day from my cell phone in the restaurant, remember?’ he says.

  I had almost forgotten about that magical evening which had later turned into disaster. I soften a bit at the memory. Even though it has only been a week, so much has happened since that first date that it feels like a month.

  ‘Oh yes, I do remember,’ I say.

  And before I can say anything more, Samir has asked me out again. He says he would really like to talk to me about something important and asks if we can go out this Friday, which is tomorrow. I cannot believe it.

  One part of me does remember the grand time I had with him. But the other part of me wants to hang my head in shame, after the first disaster of falling flat on the ground in front of him in such an undignified manner. Plus, I’m now without a job and feel too ashamed to tell him I was fired.

  ‘I happen to be in your part of town tomorrow evening, and there is a new place owned by a good friend which is being inaugurated tomorrow. All the A-list celebrities will be there and I find these dos boring. But my chore becomes a lot easier if you agree to go with me,’ he persuades.

  I still hesitate, but mentally I am thinking that it would be better than sitting at home gloomily, doing nothing on a Friday evening. I have had a really hard week and here is a guy actually asking me out and telling me he enjoyed my company.

  ‘And we can slip out as soon as the ribbon is cut, go somewhere quiet, you know?’ he persuades even more, as he senses my hesitation.

/>   That does it. Here is a fun opportunity being handed to me on a platter. All I have to do is put the past behind me and say a yes. I do.

  ‘Oh great then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Pick you up at eight then?’ he says.

  I am horrified at the thought of Samir coming home, that too in his fancy car! So I tell him that I will meet him at a place close to my house. And he agrees.

  Then I realize that I again have nothing suitable to wear other than Chetana’s discarded clothes. But now I know that I can look good with the right clothes and accessories. There is no way in hell I am again borrowing clothes from Chetana. So I rush to the bank and withdraw the whole of my last month’s salary. I save almost all of it, as I live with my dad, and so my food and accommodation is already taken care of. So I do have a tiny fortune carefully squirrelled away over the years.

  I realize that I don’t even know where to go shopping, other than Fashion Street. Somehow I don’t want to wear tacky Fashion-Street imitations and so I make a quick call to Chetana and apprise her of the new situation I am finding myself in,

  ‘You lucky cow,’ she almost shrieks when I tell her. ‘Fancy Mr Sharma chasing you!’ she says.

  ‘Hold on! He just happens to be this side of town. It is not that he is coming here especially for me. Besides, he is just using me as a toy to make his time at the party more bearable. I must just be an amusement for him,’ I quickly say. I am not a fool and I can see reality for what it is.

  ‘Don’t be such a pessimist, Nisha! He wouldn’t have asked you out a second time, had he not enjoyed your company.’

  Maybe she has a point there. But I really do not want to dwell too much on it. I ask her to tell me where I should shop and mentally make a note of her suggestions.

  Five hours and three thousand five hundred bucks later, I am back home with a whole new wardrobe and a whole new look.

  This is the first time I am actually feeling good ever since the day I lost my job. It makes me feel like I have something to look forward to once more.

  And as I try out the different outfits and heels that I just acquired one after the other, posing happily in front of the mirror, I feel quite pleased with my transformation. For the first time I also understand why women call shopping therapeutic.

  Once again, I can’t wait to meet Samir, and this time I am determined to make it a grand success and not fall flat on my face like I did the last time around.

  The Unnamed Feeling

  We slip out of the party in exactly ten minutes like he promised. He looks even more handsome than the last time I saw him. He looks so gorgeous that I have to forcibly tear my eyes off him. I am happy that I agreed to accompany him. Last week’s events have seriously created a large dent in my self-esteem and Samir treating me like I am really interesting pleases me no end, although the little, niggling voice in my subconscious mind does scream that he is just amusing himself with me. Whatever it is, I am now out with him, and I am determined to have a good time. I don’t often get such opportunities.

  The party turns out to be a grand affair. Living in Mumbai, one does get used to seeing celebrities every once in a while. After all, this is the mecca of Bollywood. But this is the first time I see so many up close and am able to recognize quite a few. I am not really in awe of them, but I do feel like I have stepped into some television show or a film set. I am suddenly glad that I splurged on my fancy clothes. No longer do I feel like ‘Nisha-plain-Jane-in-borrowed-clothes’.

  Samir introduces me to his friend whose restaurant is being inaugurated, congratulates him, and poses for a few photographs which he wants me to join in, but I mouth a no, quietly fading into the background. After the pictures are clicked, Samir whispers something to his friend and gestures for me to join them. Then he quickly excuses himself and me. As we slip away, he smiles at me and says, ‘There, that wasn’t too bad, was it? Hope you weren’t too bored.’

  ‘This is the first time I am seeing so many celebrities up close,’ I confess.

  ‘It’s such a fake world,’ he says, his expression darkening slightly. He offers no more explanation and I don’t ask either, as we make our way towards his car.

  The music that he is playing is an eclectic mix of strange names that I have never heard before. It is soothing and calming. When I ask him what it is, he says he picked it up in one of his favourite haunts in Bali. He asks me if I have ever been to Bali. I say with a little laugh that I have never been outside the country, let alone to an exotic destination like Bali. His world and my world are truly poles apart and I don’t think he has a clue. But he is nice enough to not show his surprise and he says, ‘Oh, it is a lovely place. You should go sometime,’ and I nod and say I must, secretly smiling to myself, thinking that if it was that easy, I’d have visited Bali and many more destinations some fifty times by now.

  This time, Samir drives us to a lovely little cafe that overlooks the sea. Again it is tastefully done, discreet and very exclusive. I can’t help thinking that he does know some great places in Mumbai. Of course, he has the money to splurge on them too.

  When we are comfortably seated, he asks, ‘So did you like the songs?’

  ‘You mean the music you just played in the car? I loved it.’

  ‘No, no, I meant the CD I gifted you the last time we met.’

  It is only then I remember that I had rushed out of his place without leaving him a note, and that he had gifted me a little something that I had not even opened and which was still lying in a drawer at home. How could I have forgotten?!

  ‘Oh my God, Samir, I am so sorry. I forgot all about it. I haven’t even opened it,’ I say sheepishly, a little embarrassed now. Samir throws his head back and laughs.

  ‘You are so honest, Nisha! I like that about you,’ he says.

  I squirm as I think about how my ‘honesty’ got me thrown out of my last job. But I smile and say nothing.

  Samir bowls me a googly just then.

  ‘Nisha, I need to confess something,’ he says.

  My heart starts beating like the drumbeats of a death metal band. What is he going to confess now? That he fancies me? Is Chetana right after all? It seems impossible to believe. I clench my fists under the table and try my best to appear cool.

  ‘Yes, go on,’ I say, trying my best to conceal my trepidation.

  ‘Well, I called up Point to Point, and when they told me you left, I made a call to Parinita.’

  I am horrified now. The one thing that I did not want Samir to know was that I had been thrown out. In case he asked about my job, I had been planning to tell him the same thing that I had told my dad, that I was simply taking a break. Well, searching for a new job does count as a break, doesn’t it?

  ‘Oh,’ I say and I feel the colour rising to my cheeks. I realize that Parinita might have told him the whole story of my conversation with my colleagues that day. I am dying to know what she told him and how much he knows. But I am too terrified to ask.

  ‘She really did not tell me the whole story. But from what I gathered, I do think she has been harsh, and when I questioned her as to the exact details, she got irked and implied that how she dealt with her employees was none of my business,’ he says, as though he has just read my mind.

  I swallow twice and then I say nothing.

  ‘Look Nisha, I am really sorry about what happened and I think I am partly responsible for this,’ he continues.

  ‘No Samir, it really isn’t your fault,’ I finally manage to say.

  It truly isn’t. I am too shamefaced to confess to him that it was my big mouth and my petty need to rub Prashant’s nose in the dirt that made me lose my job.

  ‘Well, I somehow feel responsible, Nisha, and please allow me to make amends. How would you like to work at Magellan International as an Executive Assistant to the senior partner?’ he asks.

  I cannot believe what I have just heard. Is Samir really offering me a job?! That too at Magellan? And not just at the ticketing desk but as an Executive Assistant! This must
be my lucky day!

  Samir mistakes my utter shock and disbelief to be disinterest on my part.

  ‘Hey, there is no compulsion to take it up. The person working right now is serving her notice period. She quit as her husband has moved abroad and she is expecting, and we do need someone with a travel agency background to fill up the position. But I completely understand if you have other plans,’ he says.

  It takes all my self-control to not jump up and down right there and shout out that I will take the job.

  ‘No, I am definitely open to it,’ I say. Secretly I am dancing. I am thrilled.

  ‘Oh, that’s great then. Just call up the office and ask to speak to Smriti. She will brief you about everything, including the pay and other details. See if it suits you,’ he says.

  Oh it would suit me all right! Samir has no idea how desperate I am for a job and how hard the last week has been. But of course I tell him none of that, and instead say that I will contact Smriti.

  The rest of the date goes off as smooth as silk gliding across marble.

  When I get home, I get a call from Akash. He asks me how I am doing and says he misses me at Point to Point. I tell him that I do miss working there and also tell him how unsuccessful I have been in my job hunt, and how finally I have now got a chance at Magellan. He is genuinely happy for me and wishes me all the best and asks me to keep in touch.

  I want to call up Smriti right then. But that would seem too eager, and so I wait until eleven the next morning. The original plan was to wait till evening, but I cannot control myself, and so I make the call.

  Smriti is friendly and says she was expecting my call. She says that Samir had spoken to her and she knew I would call. She asks a few quick questions about where I studied, what my diploma is on, and how much work experience I have so far. She asks nothing about my previous job. I am guessing that Samir might have briefed her and asked her not to.