Chaper of a novel

Chapter 1

Sameer

Life in a…Metro

She wore the button down pink blouse and the dark grey skirt he had seen her wear before, as she sat close to him, her legs slightly apart.  Close enough for him to smell the jasmine scent of her perfume, feel the warmth of her body, see the contours of the lacy white bra she wore underneath.  She crossed her legs and the skirt slid up a little.  His eyes were glued to her smooth thighs.  God, she was hot. 

She turned to him and smiled right then, like she knew the innermost secrets of his heart, of what he desired. 

“Sameer, what do you think?”
 
It wasn’t her though.  It was a man’s voice.  And it had come from the other side of the room. 

“What are our financing alternatives for the business plan?”

It was Ketan Pandit, CFO of the company.  She wasn’t the only one looking in his direction.  Another ten pairs of eyes were on him.

The blue and green of presentation slides glinted off the walnut table in the conference room.  Rohan, the new Corporate Strategy guy had just presented the business plan for next year.  And he hadn’t heard a word, for some time.  Riya was sitting right next to him wearing the pink button down shirt and dark grey skirt.  He had lost interest midway and had found Riya’s legs more captivating.  Damn Riya.  Why did she have to  be so hot. And why did she have to sit right next to him. 

There was a smirk on Kartik’s face – he sensed Sameer wasn’t quite prepared for an answer.  Damn Kartik.  He will get back at him one of these days.  What should he do now – just bluff his way out or own up?  The business plan had arrived in his mailbox a couple of days back but he hadn’t had the time to study it – he had thought he will get what he wanted when Rohan presents it.  After all, he was a veteran at this now.  That hadn’t gone too well. 

He cleared his throat, “Ketan, given the significance of the plan to the company’s future, I think we would need some more time to review all its facets to zero on to a congruent and feasible financing plan.” 

Big words.  May be they would save him…..

Not today. 

Ketan looked perplexed.  “But isn’t this what the meeting is all about Sameer?  I thought we had agreed we would settle this today. We are already running late; the Board meeting is in two weeks.”  Ketan was generally soft on him.  Everyone knew that.  But this was important.  Everyone knew that too.  Kartik was grinning. A few others looked amused too. 

The bastard.  He will show him.  He wasn’t going to go down alone on this. 

“I had asked Kartik to take a look.  He  can provide some early feedback.” 

All eyes on Kartik. 

Kartik began, “Neha and I have done some prelim resource matching and our view is that the resource gap is going to be about  $ 2 M.  We have worked out a few scenarios of raising funds.  Let me show you some of the projections.” 

What?  He was actually prepared for this? 

Kartik was explaining the financing alternatives now.  “Perhaps, Neha can explain the convertible bonds option”, he turned to Neha.   

Her too!  How come they hadn’t even spoken to him about this.  They were going undermining his authority all the time.  He had to do something. 

Ketan seemed pleased.  “Sameer, this seems like a fairly good analysis.  I am not sure why you need more time.” 

“It's just that I haven’t fully examined the options so far.  The last couple of weeks .……”  . 

“Then let’s go with this – unless you come up with one better.”

“Good job guys!”  Nodding at Kartik and Neha, Ketan shuffled his papers to signal the end of the meeting. 

They started to filter out of the conference room.  He followed Riya, looking at her swaying behind. 

Kartik had a triumphant look on his face. 

Sameer had come out of the meeting looking like a fool.  Again.  It was becoming a habit really.  He had been with the company for twelve years now.  Perhaps one of the oldest serving employees  - along with Ketan and Ashok, the office boy.  It felt awful. 

Ritu smiled at him, as he passed her desk.  He liked Ritu.  One of the few old timers, he could relate to.  She looked good in the blue green saree she wore.  The color of the damn slides.  He had never seen her dressed in skirts too short or tops too tight like others, but she made you wonder what she hid.   

Riya, Ekta, Tanvi, Annie, Palak.  Attractive, desirable women all around.  If only this was his harem and he was the king.  An image of him reclining on a couch, with Riya dressed in translucent pants offering him a bunch of grapes, Esha filling his silver goblet with wine, flashed in his mind.  He smiled to himself. 

At least, he still had his sense of humor.   

Sameer Chadha, Asst. Financial Controller, the black on silver name plate outside his office read.  He winced.  He was forty three and still Asst. Financial Controller – no promotion for the last five years now.  They had all started at the same time.  The others had moved far ahead.  Anand was the CFO of a Dutch multinational based in Mumbai.  Rajiv had gone to US five years ago and was doing well at Coke headquarters in Atlanta.  Even though Stonewell’s pharmaceutical business had continued to grow, he had stopped growing some time ago. 

Twelve years with Stonewell.  That had been his mistake - sticking with the company too long.  He had believed his consistent hard work and loyalty will pay off in the end.  He had been wrong. 

He looked at his name plate again.  He didn’t even like his last name.  Chadha.  Surely, his forefathers could have chosen better.  He could have been a Khanna, Malhotra, Anand or Kapoor.  Nice punjabi last names.  Bollywood hero names.  Ever heard of a hero called Chadha?  No.  He had to be a Chadha.  An easy target for jokes, all his childhood.   

He had a team of four working for him – well, technically working for him – Kartik, Neha, Arjun and Neena. The buggers worked for themselves really. Kartik, the senior most, was the ring leader, and was increasingly running the show.  Neha, Sameer’s protégé at one time, was a rebel now, firmly ensconced in Kartik’s camp.  And Arjun, he always ended up with the winning side.    Neena, the zombie, as she was known in the office, was their secretarial help.  She practically sleepwalked the job.  Hence the nickname.  Not much of a team there.

He walked out to Arjun’s desk, “Arjun, did you call Steven to check the budget forecast problem?”

“I am skyping him this evening.”

“What?”

“I am skyping him this evening”, Arjun enunciated each word, as if talking to a child.  Kartik and Neha looked up from their desks.  Apparently, he was the only one who didn’t know what Arjun was talking about. 

He felt like an alien in office these days.  He barely understood the language the younger set spoke.  They were so bloody good with technology; he could barely type.  Ketan was the closest to him in age.  And he has just become the CFO from being the Financial Controller.  The big boss.  He was looking forward to replacing Ketan, becoming the next Financial Controller.  But who knows who was going to pip him to the post this time.

Returning to his room, he picked up the folder lying on his chair.  Not finding a place on the table, it landed on the floor.  Too much clutter.  Files, loose papers, all over his desk.  If only Neena could file.  He needs to carry out a major clean up one of these days.  So much for the paperless office management advocates.

He read through his e-mails.  A stinker from Rohan for not receiving any comments on the business plan.  Yeah, that worked out great today. 

The London office had asked for more information for auditors.  What did they do with all those papers – light a bonfire?

Neena had sent him a note.  She didn’t understand  how he wanted the worksheets revised.  God.  How did you work with a retard?  She sits practically two feet away from him and she thinks it best to send him a note. 

He called her in.  Neena arrives wearing a harried expression, her bleached hair frayed as usual.  He wonders if she ever combs them.

“Can you please move these columns to the right to display the growth in sales of each region?” 

“Oh, I forgot.  Mehta called.  He can’t come this week.”

Focus, Neena, focus. 

“The worksheets, Neena.  These columns here”, he says, running his finger on them. 

“It is so confusing.”

He sighs. 

When she leaves, he went back to his mails and sees a new message pop up.  From Tim Reynolds, Global Financial Controller.  Subject - Financial Controller - India.  His heart leapt with hope.  May be.  Just may be. 

Knock on the door.  Abhimanyu, from the Treasury team.  The office gossip, harbinger of all news, good and bad.  “You saw the announcement?” 

“No”.  Did he make it?  Ketan hadn’t said a word  - but then it wasn’t his style.

“It’s Uday!  My boss is now our boss.”

“Good.”  His face muscles froze, as he tried to hide the disappointment. 

The rest of Abhimanyu’s chatter was lost on him. 

Uday was his counterpart in the Treasury team.  They preferred Uday over him?  Uday?  He didn’t even have direct finance experience.  He was so ….so…..young.  Perhaps, that’s what it was.  Sameer was too old.  The company didn’t see him as a future leader. 

Passed over once again.  What should he do?  Talk with Ketan?  Would it help?  The decision had already been made.  He wanted to talk to someone.  Who?  He rolled the pencil between his thumb and forefinger.  Kavita, his wife.  She won’t understand.  She had stopped understanding him and his problems a long time ago. 

Anand?

“Oye, what a surprise.  How are you?” There was joy in Anand’s voice.  That’s what he loved about him – his infectious enthusiasm. 

“Busy?”

“Actually, I am.  Can you call me in an hour’s time?”

He hangs up the phone, disappointed. 

Screw Uday.  Screw Ketan.  Screw Stonewell. 

At times like this, he wanted to get away from it all.  Go somewhere else and start afresh. 

He had this recurrent fantasy about giving it all up and leaving quietly without telling anyone.  He saw himself working as a school teacher in Agra.  Not sure why he thought of Agra.  It clearly had nothing to do with the Taj Mahal.  Or the pagalkhana for that matter.  He imagines arriving in his dimly lit one room home in the evening after a hard day’s work at school.  He parks his dusty bicycle against the wall, drinks a glass of water from an earthen matka and sits down on the bare charpai.  In the fantasy, he is happy though.  Content. 

The reality is something else. 





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He left for home at seven and promptly got stuck in traffic at Pragati Maidan.  The driver behind him, despite realizing it was a jam, honked away his frustrations.  A balloon seller tapped on his window, made a half hearted attempt to sell him one, and walked away.  Right when the rest of the drive home seemed to be smooth, he got stuck again near Lajpat Nagar.  He saw the plethora of sign boards on the left.  Geeta Coaching centre – BBA, MBA, BCA, MCA, BE, B.Arch, B.Tech, BScIT, MBBS.  Sachdeva school, Indian school, Shiva Coaching Centre, Saraswati School.  With many more degrees.  He didn’t even know what half of those degrees stood for.  It was like they were jostling with each other to shout the loudest.  So Delhi, he smiles to himself, competitive, every one fighting for space.  A city of ten million.  Ten million sighing, breathing together.  Ten million dreams dreamt every night. 

The traffic jam was on account of some construction they were doing for Delhi Metro.  He had never known of a time when some construction or the other wasn’t underway on Ring Road.  A battered Indigo overtakes him, and the driver stops to ask for directions, oblivious to the honking behind him.   

At Chirag Delhi crossing, he saw Imran, a load of magazines and books on his tiny body, thread his way to him. 

He rolled his windows down and shivered in the cold January air.  The traffic fumes burned his eyes, “Kaisa hai?”

“Very fine”, Imran responded in English. 

Sameer smiled.  So Imran was trying his English on him, “How’s school? You go every day?”

Imran nodded vigorously. 

Looking through his pile of magazines, he added, “Sir, no new Business Today or Women’s Era.”

Imran, wearing a brown muffler that covered his head and an oversized coat didn’t seem bothered by the cold, the pungent air or the cacophony of traffic around him.  Under the flyover, a bunch of ragged children sat around a make shift fire, warming their thinly covered bodies. 

“Sir, books?  Chetan Bhagat, Arvind Adiga, River of Smoke, Narcopolis.  Good books, sir.  Booker awards.”

“Imran, you know I don’t read those big books.  I don’t have the time…..or the patience.”

Imran flashed his white teeth in his most charming smile, “Yes, I know.”

Sakeena, Imran’s mother, peered from behind Imran, joining them.  She sold incense sticks on this crossing. 

“Sahib, one request.”

“What now?”

“His shoes are all torn”, she took one of Imran’s shoes off to show him, “the other kids make fun of him at school.”

It was tattered, a gaping one inch hole at the top. 

He took out his wallet and handed over a five hundred rupee note to her as the traffic light turned green, “But this goes strictly for his shoes – not for his father’s drinking……and I want to see those shoes tomorrow.”

He winked at Imran, “What color?”

“White”, he said without a moment’s hesitation, flashing his white teeth again. 

“White”, he said to Sakeena, as he handed her the note and drove away.  Driving the home stretch, he felt more cheerful than he had all day.   

He reached home a little after eight.  Damn the traffic. 

There was a talk of moving Stonewell corporate office to Gurgaon.  Life would be a bigger hell when that happened. 

Pari, his nine year old, was in the living room watching a Disney show on TV. 

“Hi, daddy”

“TV as usual.  How about homework?”

“All done, daddy”, she hadn’t taken her eyes off the TV a second. 

“Where’s mom?  And Tania?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. 

He saw Kavita in the kitchen on his way to the bedroom, helping out Ammaji, their long time cook cum maid. 

“Late?”

“Traffic”

He had noticed that of late, their conversation was increasingly in  mono syllables. 

“Dinner?”

“Later”

“Drink?”

“Bedroom.”

Later, at the dinner table, he didn’t see Tania.  Kavita said she had eaten already. 

“Whatever happened to the rule of dinner at the table together?”

“You have to give her some space, she is growing up.”

Tania had turned sixteen last month.  Sweet sixteen.  There was very little sweet about her these days though.  She needed space all the time.  Kavita let her off too easy. 

“You lecture me on not spending quality time with the kids – and now you are defending her.  Ask her to come down – spend some time with the family.”

No reaction.  Kavita fussed over Pari’s plate. 

“Fine, I will fetch her myself.”

He knocked on Tania’s door.  ‘Keep out.  Danger Zone’, the sign at the door read.  Of late, it did seem like a danger zone.  What times – he had to knock on the kids’ doors now. 

“Yes?” She shouted from inside. 

He opened the door.  He sees Justin Bieber glaring at him from the bedside wall, before he sees her.  She sat on the pink floral bedspread, her eyes on the laptop, cell phone on her ear.  God knows who she was talking to with the door closed.  The soft toys, Winnie, the pooh and the Ted, the teddy included, huddled in a corner, discarded in favor of her new toys - laptop, phone and Justin. 

She looked quizzically at him. 

“Dinner.  We are all waiting for you.”

“But I have eaten already.”  The phone was still on her ear. 

Look at her.  She treated him like he was disturbing her in the midst of her final discussions on world peace. 

“Still.  You know the tradition of having dinner together”, he persisted. 

She seemed annoyed but sensed it wasn’t going to be the thirty seconds conversation she had hoped for.  She whispered into the phone and put it away,  “Dad, I don’t think we have a tradition of that kind any longer.  You eat alone in front of TV when there is a cricket match on.  So we can’t have a rule you enforce only when it suits you”.   

How dare she talk to him like that.

Tension at the dinner table.  Pari, who always had something to say, knew better than to start any conversation.  She hated these tense situations in the house and there seemed to be more of them lately.  Kavita quiet.  Sameer fuming. 

It hadn’t always been like this.  Dinner used to be a fun occasion.  The girls related the stories of the day excitedly, vying for his attention.  They raised hands for permission to go first –the other wasn’t allowed to intervene when one was speaking.  Kavita joined in too – raising her hand to get a word in.  They had been happy. 

What had gone wrong?   

Why did Tania not like him any longer?  Kavita said it was a growing up thing and all kids were the same at this age.  But he didn’t think so.  He saw her with Kavita and she wasn’t as abrupt with her.  He missed the old Tania. 

Later, when they were alone in their bed room, he tells Kavita, “Uday Sharma is the new Financial Controller.  They announced today.  He is replacing Ketan.”

Kavita’s face registered a look of comprehension.  Oh, so that’s what’s wrong. 

“Do I know him?”

“Yes, you met him at the last Year end party.  The young clean-shaven guy with a red sweater, the guy who was the first on the dance floor, with his wife.”

Yeah, she remembered him.  He had been the life of the party, circulating, laughing, making jokes.  Unlike Sameer who had stood in a corner holding a drink all through.  They looked good together, his wife and him, a charming couple. 

She was unsure how to react.  Should she console him that there would be another opportunity.  Or tell him what she really felt – that all of this – chasing these imaginary rungs of ladder didn’t really matter.  All what mattered was his being happy – and he could find happiness in now and here if he tried to. That it was all about the journey.  Life would be a breeze if we remembered it every living moment. 

But perhaps, it was not what he wanted to hear now. 

He bristled inside as he switched on the TV.  Not even a word of understanding.  She had been his partner, his soul mate.  They had shared their small victories and disappointments.  They had felt comforted and cared for in the attention of each other.  She didn’t care any longer.  They lived in separate worlds. 

He flipped TV channels.   

He saw her getting up from her side of the bed with her pillow.  She had a special pillow – an ultra thin one because of her neck trouble.  It was so thin, he often wondered why she used one at all.

“What?”

“I have a headache…the TV isn’t helping.  I can sleep in Pari’s room.”

Sure, leave me alone when I need you the most. 

Why couldn’t she ask him to switch off the TV? He would.  All he wanted was to talk, to vent, to be comforted.  Was it too much to ask from your wife of eighteen years? 

This wasn’t the first time either.  She was building a distance between them.  She was sleeping in the girls’ rooms often these days.  One reason or the other.  Tania had an exam and she didn’t  want to be alone.  Pari needed to talk about a problem at school.  What about him? 

It hadn’t done their sex lives any great service either.  Of course, in the true Indian tradition, they had never talked about it. 

He sighed.  The life and times of Sameer Chadha.