02-01-2019, 04:56 PM
Ramesh 1/2
It was the day after … I wasn’t feeling well at all.
What had got into me yesterday? Why did I have to send that mail to Mr. Ching? God they must be laughing their guts out. What purpose did that solve except as a demonstration of immature behavior? How did that improve my situation in any way? Truth be told, I was no where near to solving my own unemployment problem. Increasingly, the prospect of making that call or visit in person and discussion with Kajol – loomed its menacing head. The predator was in wait and watching - I could sense that -it was only a matter of time.
“Fuck, you Rao”, I kicked at the nearby stool in disgust.
My toes hurt. The face of that oily bastard Rao and of Ching appeared simultaneously, both smiling, both smirking.
In a huff I walked over to the computer and logged in to my mail – hoping, hoping desperately, hoping against hope that at least one of the job queries / applications that I had sent in yesterday would have drawn a response. My eyes eagerly skimmed through the inbox. Fuck! There was no such luck.
I slammed my palm on the computer table. It was as unyielding as was my fortune.
Where was my guardian angel now? Did any such thing exist? If there was a moment in life when I desperately needed a bit of lift from up above; this was it now. I prayed hard. Kajol’s face came up before me – the day we had met, the peacock blue saree she had worn on at the engagement ceremony and her face which I had been holding tenderly during the honeymoon at a budget hotel – for that was all that I could afford then … … how quickly had the years passed … and how before one realized it life had started assuming serious tones … the planning for her career … and mine … all these scenes started flashing before my eyes one by one as I lay face down on the bed.
And now. I was going to talk to her about being practical and tell her Rao’s proposition, which we would have to accept if I didn’t manage to land a job soon. May not be today but certainly in a near future … … at once, oily bastard’s face came up again – he and his bitch wife – both made for each other – how glibly had the two of them operated – how gullible I had been – how I had encouraged Kajol to socialize with them – how smart the two of them had been in winning over Kajol through all that dazzle of art and sophistication – how had I missed all that – even the gift of the transparent saree, which at that time I had just dismissed as a mere overreach – each of these memories raised their serpent hood and I winced as they stung me repeatedly – what a stupid fuck I had been the whole time!
Then it was Kajol again looking at me, mouth agape, after I had explained the proposition to her – ‘how could you, how could you even think of this’ – she was screaming at me and I wrenched my eyes shut. It was too much, just too much. I went out to the balcony and with fumbling hands lit a cigarette …
Later I came and rechecked the inbox. You have two unread mails – it flashed in bold. My heartbeat increased. I opened them one by one. Both were regrets …
I hadn’t had breakfast and it was nearing lunch time. My stomach was rumbling though I had no appetite. I went over to the fridge and took out some slices of bread. As I munched those dry pieces, I began to think of the high points in my life and how we forget to treasure those – taking them for granted – as if we have obtained those by right. How naïve of us – how very human …
Sometime in the afternoon, I waded to the bedroom; all empty save my whirling thoughts. The demons however wouldn’t go away - how was I going to face Kajol? how was I to put up the proposal to pimp her out to Rao ? . I slammed a pillow over my head and sobbed my heart out …
Around six in the evening, Preeti called. “Did you talk to Kajol”, she asked.
“No, not yet”, I almost shouted at her. I hated the bitch.
“Ok, ok”, her voice sounded very tired, “just let me know when you do”, she said and hung up.
I placed the mandatory call to Kajol feigning fatigue and overwork and asked how things were at her end and cut her mid-sentence when she was excitedly speaking about her work – to say that a client was calling me and that I would speak to her later or tomorrow …
The approaching evening was very long and scary for me. Neither did I have the strength to go out – if at all to escape the depressing walls at home. I called up an off-duty guard and whispered instructions to get me my regular whiskey bottle …
I checked my email again. The screen mocked back at me.
* * *
Early in the morning Kajol woke me up and my heart missed a beat. Had someone already told her? Thankfully, it was on some mundane matters, she wanted a transfer of money to her account. I told her I will attend to that and fell back on the bed. Sleep wouldn’t come this time. My mind wondered over to the future where she with a swollen belly was being photographed with the Raos flanking her on each side. I cursed myself. Damn, these images never went away. I had to get out of the house, preferably out of the town – if at all to get some respite from my thoughts. But how would I explain that to Kajol?
A distraction was much needed. I went downstairs. One of the guards was smoking a beedi in the shadows. He did a curtsey when he saw me, ‘salam saab’.
“Say what is the news around here …”, I prompted.
“Everything good sir”, he bared his teeth, “in fact we would be getting a raise in our salaries from next month – after the rents go up.”
“Is there going to be a hike in the rent?” I was curious.
“That is already decided sir, in the last society meeting. Didn’t you know that sir? They were saying that most of the house-owners have already hiked it by 15-20%. The rest would be following soon.”
My head swum at that information. I mumbled something and came back. There was now no point in delaying my visit to Kolkata. The sooner, I had the thing off my chest – the better. Switching on the computer, I decided that I will take the train this time – no use spending extra on a flight. Pennies did count.
As the desktop came to life, there was the notification – you have 1 unread message. I clicked it open without interest – must be another rejection / regret mail.
However, it was from HK Corp, Singapore. My eyebrows stitched together when I went through it …
Mr. Ching would like you to give a call to the following two numbers at the earliest please …
There were two numbers – both local ones. What further game was Ching upto – I wondered. Nevertheless, there was no harm in trying those out. I called the first number …
“Hello, Sudha Imports, may I help you”, the cool voice of the receptionist came from the other end.
I stated my name and with great embarrassment tried to explain to the lady that I had been asked to call on this number by Mr. Ching …
I must have been blabbering for she listened with absolute silence, but the moment I mentioned Ching’s name, she came through,
“Mr. Ching of HK Corp?”
“Yes, yes; the same”, I blurted out.<
“Hold on please …” she said and the music came on. I don’t know why but an unknown fear gripped my heart …
Within a minute, she was back. “I am sorry, but Mr. Ching is tied up in the meeting”, she sounded truly apologetic and to some extent respectful. “He requests that you meet him during the lunch hour. Sir, where shall I send the pick-up to?”
I was dumb struck. What the hell? I mumbled my address and she confirmed it. “Sir the pick up will arrive at eleven, ok sir? And may he call you at this number?”
I sat stunned . Ching was here, here itself. What was he doing here – finalizing the deal with Rao? And both of them inviting me over … I had one too many experience of lunch with Ching – it had cost me dearly. I debated for an instant. Then I shimmered down. Possibly, he might have felt a slab of regret over his actions and so decided to call me after reading the mail, if only for form’s sake. In any case, I had also over reacted. I decided to go, if not for anything but to tender an apology for the outburst… and to get out of my claustrophobic apartment for a couple of hours …
It was the day after … I wasn’t feeling well at all.
What had got into me yesterday? Why did I have to send that mail to Mr. Ching? God they must be laughing their guts out. What purpose did that solve except as a demonstration of immature behavior? How did that improve my situation in any way? Truth be told, I was no where near to solving my own unemployment problem. Increasingly, the prospect of making that call or visit in person and discussion with Kajol – loomed its menacing head. The predator was in wait and watching - I could sense that -it was only a matter of time.
“Fuck, you Rao”, I kicked at the nearby stool in disgust.
My toes hurt. The face of that oily bastard Rao and of Ching appeared simultaneously, both smiling, both smirking.
In a huff I walked over to the computer and logged in to my mail – hoping, hoping desperately, hoping against hope that at least one of the job queries / applications that I had sent in yesterday would have drawn a response. My eyes eagerly skimmed through the inbox. Fuck! There was no such luck.
I slammed my palm on the computer table. It was as unyielding as was my fortune.
Where was my guardian angel now? Did any such thing exist? If there was a moment in life when I desperately needed a bit of lift from up above; this was it now. I prayed hard. Kajol’s face came up before me – the day we had met, the peacock blue saree she had worn on at the engagement ceremony and her face which I had been holding tenderly during the honeymoon at a budget hotel – for that was all that I could afford then … … how quickly had the years passed … and how before one realized it life had started assuming serious tones … the planning for her career … and mine … all these scenes started flashing before my eyes one by one as I lay face down on the bed.
And now. I was going to talk to her about being practical and tell her Rao’s proposition, which we would have to accept if I didn’t manage to land a job soon. May not be today but certainly in a near future … … at once, oily bastard’s face came up again – he and his bitch wife – both made for each other – how glibly had the two of them operated – how gullible I had been – how I had encouraged Kajol to socialize with them – how smart the two of them had been in winning over Kajol through all that dazzle of art and sophistication – how had I missed all that – even the gift of the transparent saree, which at that time I had just dismissed as a mere overreach – each of these memories raised their serpent hood and I winced as they stung me repeatedly – what a stupid fuck I had been the whole time!
Then it was Kajol again looking at me, mouth agape, after I had explained the proposition to her – ‘how could you, how could you even think of this’ – she was screaming at me and I wrenched my eyes shut. It was too much, just too much. I went out to the balcony and with fumbling hands lit a cigarette …
Later I came and rechecked the inbox. You have two unread mails – it flashed in bold. My heartbeat increased. I opened them one by one. Both were regrets …
I hadn’t had breakfast and it was nearing lunch time. My stomach was rumbling though I had no appetite. I went over to the fridge and took out some slices of bread. As I munched those dry pieces, I began to think of the high points in my life and how we forget to treasure those – taking them for granted – as if we have obtained those by right. How naïve of us – how very human …
Sometime in the afternoon, I waded to the bedroom; all empty save my whirling thoughts. The demons however wouldn’t go away - how was I going to face Kajol? how was I to put up the proposal to pimp her out to Rao ? . I slammed a pillow over my head and sobbed my heart out …
Around six in the evening, Preeti called. “Did you talk to Kajol”, she asked.
“No, not yet”, I almost shouted at her. I hated the bitch.
“Ok, ok”, her voice sounded very tired, “just let me know when you do”, she said and hung up.
I placed the mandatory call to Kajol feigning fatigue and overwork and asked how things were at her end and cut her mid-sentence when she was excitedly speaking about her work – to say that a client was calling me and that I would speak to her later or tomorrow …
The approaching evening was very long and scary for me. Neither did I have the strength to go out – if at all to escape the depressing walls at home. I called up an off-duty guard and whispered instructions to get me my regular whiskey bottle …
I checked my email again. The screen mocked back at me.
* * *
Early in the morning Kajol woke me up and my heart missed a beat. Had someone already told her? Thankfully, it was on some mundane matters, she wanted a transfer of money to her account. I told her I will attend to that and fell back on the bed. Sleep wouldn’t come this time. My mind wondered over to the future where she with a swollen belly was being photographed with the Raos flanking her on each side. I cursed myself. Damn, these images never went away. I had to get out of the house, preferably out of the town – if at all to get some respite from my thoughts. But how would I explain that to Kajol?
A distraction was much needed. I went downstairs. One of the guards was smoking a beedi in the shadows. He did a curtsey when he saw me, ‘salam saab’.
“Say what is the news around here …”, I prompted.
“Everything good sir”, he bared his teeth, “in fact we would be getting a raise in our salaries from next month – after the rents go up.”
“Is there going to be a hike in the rent?” I was curious.
“That is already decided sir, in the last society meeting. Didn’t you know that sir? They were saying that most of the house-owners have already hiked it by 15-20%. The rest would be following soon.”
My head swum at that information. I mumbled something and came back. There was now no point in delaying my visit to Kolkata. The sooner, I had the thing off my chest – the better. Switching on the computer, I decided that I will take the train this time – no use spending extra on a flight. Pennies did count.
As the desktop came to life, there was the notification – you have 1 unread message. I clicked it open without interest – must be another rejection / regret mail.
However, it was from HK Corp, Singapore. My eyebrows stitched together when I went through it …
Mr. Ching would like you to give a call to the following two numbers at the earliest please …
There were two numbers – both local ones. What further game was Ching upto – I wondered. Nevertheless, there was no harm in trying those out. I called the first number …
“Hello, Sudha Imports, may I help you”, the cool voice of the receptionist came from the other end.
I stated my name and with great embarrassment tried to explain to the lady that I had been asked to call on this number by Mr. Ching …
I must have been blabbering for she listened with absolute silence, but the moment I mentioned Ching’s name, she came through,
“Mr. Ching of HK Corp?”
“Yes, yes; the same”, I blurted out.<
“Hold on please …” she said and the music came on. I don’t know why but an unknown fear gripped my heart …
Within a minute, she was back. “I am sorry, but Mr. Ching is tied up in the meeting”, she sounded truly apologetic and to some extent respectful. “He requests that you meet him during the lunch hour. Sir, where shall I send the pick-up to?”
I was dumb struck. What the hell? I mumbled my address and she confirmed it. “Sir the pick up will arrive at eleven, ok sir? And may he call you at this number?”
I sat stunned . Ching was here, here itself. What was he doing here – finalizing the deal with Rao? And both of them inviting me over … I had one too many experience of lunch with Ching – it had cost me dearly. I debated for an instant. Then I shimmered down. Possibly, he might have felt a slab of regret over his actions and so decided to call me after reading the mail, if only for form’s sake. In any case, I had also over reacted. I decided to go, if not for anything but to tender an apology for the outburst… and to get out of my claustrophobic apartment for a couple of hours …
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