Adultery DEN OF DEBAUCHERY

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3 QUEENS (Wife+Mother+Sister)= 2 JOKER (Son+Father)

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DEN OF DEBAUCHERY

By Sahebji

   As I turned in bed I thought my head would fall off. Cautiously, I opened one eye then the other.  Through the crack in the window curtains I saw that at last the sun had penetrated through the clouds.  I pulled myself into sitting position and lit a cigarette.  'God!  What a night?' I felt that a hundred drums were beating in my head.  What I really needed now was a steaming cup of strong coffee but I did not have the strength to make one.  'Best would be to go to office' I said to myself, 'one of the girls will brew one for me'.  I looked at my watch.  It was only seven thirty, a little early to go to work.  'Maybe one of them will come tooffice early too' I hoped.

 
   One-hour later, still feeling miserable, I walked into my office with heavy steps.  Throwing myself behind my computer I switched it on and with bleary eyes stared at the booting sequence of the machine.  Slowly my eyes focused on the screensaver, showing vast green fields with golden yellow stalks of wheat dancing in the breeze.  It reminded me of home.  I leaned back and closing my eyes let my mind wander homewards....
 
   My home was over one thousand miles to the north.  My father, Mr. Prithvi Singh Rata, a well do to farmer, was a big built man with a fierce looking moustache.  He was hard as nails and ruled the farm as well his family with an iron hand.  His word was law.  My mother was a short chubby lady with sad eyes.  Her status in the family stood reduced to producing the children of her husband and feeding them.
 
   Exactly twenty-four years ago I was born sandwiched between two brothers and two sisters. My elder brothers Shammi, 27 and Shashi, 25 unlike me were good in their studies and in sports.  My sisters Ritu, 19 and Nitu 18 were not Miss Universe material but nevertheless beautiful with head turning figure and nice sized boobs.  I am Randhir, tall, reasonably handsome and well built like my father.  The only thing common in us children was that we all were shit scared of our old man.
 
  My report card was a constant irritant to my father.  Whenever I brought one home for him to sign, he would invariably say to my mother, 'Saraswati I don't know what will become of this son of yours.  He is neither good in studies nor sports.  When he is not playing with that infernal machine of his, he lies around dreaming.  He is lazy and wants to enjoy all the good things in life without working for them'.
 
   His assessment of me was right.  I loved my computer and was lazy.  I dreamed of vast riches, a fleet of cars and a bevy of beautiful women at my beck and call but earning all this never figured into my scheme of things. I was not much of an achiever but when I did achieve something I tended to boast about it.  I was not all bad.  I also had a positive side.  I was good at computers and had a phenomenal memory for figures.  For this reason I opted to study 'Computers and Finance'.  To my father's surprise I passed my exams with excellent grades.
 
   After finishing my course for two months I applied for jobs without any success.  Then one day a job offer came from my present employers.  I was all set to refuse it.  Firstly the salary offered was a pittance and secondly I did not want to go so far away from home.  My father however had different ideas.  'Randhir' he said, 'they want you to report on the first of next month.  Today is the twentieth.  I have booked your seat for the 27th.  It is advisable to reach a few days earlier so that you are well settled by the time you have to report on duty'.  All I could manage to say was, 'Yes father'.
 
   My mother was very unhappy.  She said to my father, 'Please, don't send Randhir so far away from me.  Who will look after him and in this low salary how will he live and eat'.
 
   'Saraswati let your son go' my father replied, 'living alone for a few years and fending for himself will do him good.  They have promised him a considerable raise after six months provided he is able to earn it.  Rest is up to him'.
 
   After a long two-day train journey I stepped on the soil of this new city.  With great difficulty I was able to find a room to stay.  It was not really a room.  It was a dark dingy hole but that was the best I could afford.  My landlady, a 60-year-old widow, as I found out later was a miserly bitch.  She was constantly lecturing me to mend my extravagant ways. Every day she reminded me to switch off the light or to use less water.  She would throw a fit if she saw the lights burning in my room after ten p.m.
 
   On the first morning, dressed in my only suit, I presented myself before Mr.  Swami, General Manager (Accounts & Finance).  Mr.  Swami peered at me over his horn-rimmed glasses for a few minutes sizing me up and then got up to greet me.  Mr.  Swami was about 45 years old, 5'6" tall with a thin wiry figure.  'Glad you have come Randhir.  You will find the work atmosphere here very congenial.  I am sure you will be happy' he said, then glancing at his watch he added, 'let me check if the MD would like to meet you before he gets busy with other matters'.
 
   Mr.  Swami punched some numbers on the phone, 'Good morning sir it is me Swami.  The new accountant, Randhir is here'.  He listened as the phone made cackling sounds.  'Yes sir the same.  Would you like to meet him?' he spoke into the phone.  The phone made some more gawking sounds.  'Yes sir, we are on our way' Mr.  Swami said replacing the receiver, 'come Randhir let us go.  He is free and will see us right away'.
 
   Mr.  Rajan, the managing director of the company, popularly referred to as MD by the staff, was seated behind a huge desk reading the morning financial papers.  His office was four times larger than the dingy hole I was living in.  It was very tastefully and lavishly furnished.
 
   'Welcome to our company Randhir.  I am glad that you took up this job despite the meager salary offered by us' he said with a disarming smile and extending his hand, 'but it doesn't have to remain so.  If you work hard and deliver the goods then you could end up earning more than what Mr.  Swami earns, believe me he earns a hell of a lot.  Our company is on a roll and set to go places.  The only drawback today is that our account books are still written manually and the flow of real time financial data is lacking.  Your first job is to computerize our accounts.  You have six months time to do it.  Trained staff is in place and Mr.  Swami will give you all the help you require'.
 
   'I will do my best sir' I mumbled.
 
   'Good' he said and dismissed us with a nod.
 
   The MD was a young man of not more than forty years of age, 5'8" tall and unlike Mr.  Swami was of stocky in built.  'Mr.  Rajan is very young' I commented.
 
   'Yes and he is also very intelligent.  Under his dynamic leadership the profits of the company have soared to new heights in the last few years' Mr. Swami replied proudly.
 
   Back in the accounts department he showed me my cabin.  The cabin was spacious, adequately furnished with glass windows all round it.  On one side was the wall.  Through a window in it I could see the city's golf course.  On the left was the accounts department and on the right the audit cell.  The entry was from the front.  He called three ladies and said, 'Randhir meet Mrs.  Meera, Mrs.  Neha and Mrs.  Abida.  They are familiar with accounting procedures and are computer literate.  From today they will report to you'.





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