‘The second important job is to develop a relationship. Tamilians love educated people. You, being from IIT and IIM, must develop a relationship with them.’
I nodded. I was the endangered species in the priority-banking zoo that customers could come throw bananas at.
‘Now, it is going to be hard for you as you are…’ Bala paused as if he came to a swear word in the conversation.
‘Punjabi?’
‘Yes, but can you befriend Tamilians?’
AskManiG.com
‘I am trying to. I have to,’ I said, wondering where I could call Ananya apart from her home number. If only these damn cell-phone prices would drop fast.
‘Good. And the last thing is,’ Bala moved forward to whisper, ‘these reps are quite lazy. Keep an eye on them. Anyone not doing their job, tell me.’ He winked at me and stood up to leave. ‘And come to office early.’
‘I came at seven-thirty. Isn’t the official time nine?’
‘Yes, but when I was your level, I came at seven. If you want to be like me, wake up, soldier,’ Bala said and laughed at his own joke. The Tamil sense of humour, if there is any, is really an acquired taste.
I didn’t want to be like him. I didn’t even want to be here. I took a deep breath after he left and meditated on my salary package. You are doing it for the money, I told myself. Four lakh a year, that is thirty-three thousand a month ,I chanted the mantra in my head. My father had worked in the army for thirty years and still never earned half as much. I had to push bubble stocks and the cash would be mine. Life isn’t so bad, I said to myself.
‘Sir, can I go to the toilet?’ one female rep came to me.
‘What?’
She looked at me, waiting for permission.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sri.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Coimbatore,’ she said, adjusting her oversized spectacles with cockroach-coloured borders. Fashion is not a Chennai hallmark.
‘You went to college?’
‘Yes sir. Coimbatore University, distinction, sir.’
‘Good. Then why are you asking me for permission?’
‘Just like that, sir.’ She said.
‘No one needs to ask me permission for going to the toilet,’ I said.
‘Thank you, sir.’
AskManiG.com
I read reports for the next two hours. Each one had financial models done my overenthusiastic MBAs who were more keen to solve equations than to question what they were doing. One table compared value of Internet companies with the number of visitors to the site. The recommended company had the lowest value to eyeball ratio, a trendy term invented by the analyst. Hence, BUY! screamed the report. Of course, the analyst never questioned that none of the site visitors ever paid any money to the Internet company. ‘It is trading cheap on every multiple conceivable!’ the report said, complete with the exclamation mark.
‘Sir, my customer is here. Can I bring them to you?’ Sri requested well after her return from the toilet.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Sir, this is Ms Sreenivas,’ Sri said. A fifty-year-old lady with gold bangles thicker than handcuffs came to my cubicle. We moved to the sofa area, to give a more personal, living room feel as we robbed the customer.
‘You are from IIT?’ she peered at me.
‘Yes,’ I said even as I readied my pitch about which loss-making company to buy.
‘Even my grandson is preparing for it,’ she said. She had dark hair, with oil that made it shine more.
‘You don’t look old enough to have a grandson preparing for IIT,’ I said.
Ms Sreenivas smiled. Sri smiled back at her. Yes, we had laid the mousetrap and the cheese. Walk in, baby.
‘Oh no, I am an old lady. He is only in class six though.’
‘How much is madam’s balance?’ I asked.
‘One crore and twenty lakh, sir,’ Sri supplied.
I imagined the number in my head; I’d need to work in this job for thirty years to get there. It almost felt right to part her from her money. ‘Madam, have you invested in any stocks? Internet stocks are cheap these days,’ I said.
Ms Sreenivas gave me a worried look. ‘Stocks? Never. And my son works in an Internet company abroad. He said they might close down.’
AskManiG.com
‘That’s USA, madam. This is India, we have one billion population, or two billion eyeballs. Imagine the potential of the Internet. And we have a mutual fund, so you don’t have to invest in any one company.’
We cajoled Ms Sreenivas for five minutes. I threw in a lot of MBA terms like strategic advantage, bottom-line vs. top line, top down vs. bottom up and it made me sound very intelligent. Ms Sreenivas and Sri nodded at whatever I said.
Ultimately, Ms Sreenivas agreed to nibble at toxic waste.
‘Let’s start with ten lakh,’ I said to close the case.
‘Five. Please, five,’ Ms Sreenivas pleaded with us on how to use her own money.
I settled at five and Sri was ecstatic, I had become their favourite customer service manager.
Bala took me out for lunch at Sangeetha’s, a dosa restaurant.
‘What dosas do you have?’ I asked the waiter.
‘We have eighty-five kinds,’ the waiter pointed to the board. Every stuffing imaginable to man was available in dosa form.
‘Try the spinach dosa. And the sweet banana dosa,’ Bala said as he smiled at me like the father I never had. ‘So, how does it feel, to get your first investment?
Heart pumping?’
My heart didn’t pump. It only ached. I’d been in Chennai for fifteen hours and had not spoken to Ananya yet. I wanted to buy a cell-phone as soon as possible.
Wait, I’d need two.
‘I see myself in you. You are like me,’ Bala said as he dunked his first piece of dosa in sambhar. I had no clue how he reached that conclusion.
I had Ananya’s home landline number. But, she didn’t reach home until seven.
She had a sales field job so no fixed office number as well. I remembered how we’d finish lunch in campus and snuggle up for our afternoon nap. It is official, life after college sucks.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ Bala said. ‘I get a rush every time I come to the bank. And it is twenty years. Wow, I still remember the day my boss first took me out for lunch.
Hey, what are you thinking? Stop work thoughts now. It is lunch-time.
‘Of course,’ I said and collected myself. ‘How far is HLL office from here?’
AskManiG.com
‘Why? You have a potential client?’ Bala asked as if the only reason people existed was to become priority banking customers.
‘Possibly,’ I said. One good thing about banking is that you don’t feel bad about lying at all.
‘It is in Nungambakkam. Apex Plaza,’ he said.
The waiter reloaded our sambhar and delivered the banana dosa. The latter tasted like a pancake, and I have to say, wasn’t bad at all. ‘Oh, that’s where I am staying, right?’
‘Yes, the Citi chummery. My first home too,’ he leaned forward and patted my back.
I suppose I had a good boss. I should have felt happy but didn’t. I wondered if I should call HLL first or straight land up there.
I came back to my desk in the afternoon. I met some customers, but most of them didn’t have time to stay long. Ms Sreenivas had given me a lucky break, but it wasn’t that easy to woo conservative Tamilians, after all.
‘Fixed deposit. I like fixed deposit,’ one customer told me when I asked him for his investment preferences.
At three in the afternoon, I had a call.
‘It is for you, sir,’ Sri said as she transferred the line to my extension.
‘Hi, I’d like to open a priority account, with my hot-shot sexy banker.’
‘Ananya?’ I said, my voice bursting with happiness, ‘Where are you? When are we meeting? Should I come to HLL? I am sorry my flight…’
‘Easy, easy. I am in Kancheepuram.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Three hours from Chennai. I’ll head back soon. Why don’t you come home for dinner?’
‘Home? Your home? With your mom and dad?’
‘Yes, why not? You have to know them anyway. Mom’s a little low these days, but that is OK.’
‘Why is she low? Because of us?’
AskManiG.com
‘No, she finds other reasons to be miserable. Luckily, this time it has nothing to do with me.’
‘Ananya, let’s go out, OK?’
‘I can’t today. My aunt is visiting from Canada. Come at eight.’ She gave me her address. I noted it down after making her spell it thrice. ‘See you in five hours,’ she said and hung up.
I stared at the watch, hoping it would move faster. The reps left at six, and as Citi’s great culture goes, MBAs never left until eight.
I killed time reading reports on the Indian economy. Smart people had written them, and they made GDP forecasts for the next ten years with confidence that his the basic fact – how can you really tell, dude?
At seven-thirty I stood up to leave. Bala came towards me. “Leaving?’ he asked, puzzled as if I had planned to take a half day.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Not much to do.’
‘One tip, never leave before your boss,’ he said and winked at me. He laughed, and I didn’t find it funny at all. I want to see what a Tamil joke book looks like.
‘What time do you leave?’ I said, tired.
‘Soon, actually let me call it a day. Kusum will be waiting. You want to come home for dinner?’
‘No, thanks,’ I said.
He gave me the second disappointed look.
‘I have to go somewhere, distant relatives,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ he said, his voice still a little sad.
I am sorry dude, I am not handing you the remote of my life because you are my bos s,
I thought.
AskManiG.com
17
‘Swaminathan’, the name plate of Ananya’s small standalone house proclaimed in arched letters. I pressed the doorbell even as a buzzing grinder drowned the ring.
‘Yes?’ Ananya’s father opened the door with a puzzled expression. I bet he recognised me but feigned ignorance to rattle me. He wore a half-sleeve white vest with a front pocket and a checked blue and white lungi.
‘Krish, sir, Ananya’s friend,’ I said. For no particular reason, fear makes me address people as sir. I had brought a gift pack of biscuits, as my Punjabi sensibilities had taught me to never go to someone’s house without at least as many calories as you would consume there.
‘Oh, come in,’ he said after I reintroduced myself.
I stepped inside and handed him the gift pack.
‘Shoes!’ he said in a stern voice when I had expected ‘thanks’.
‘What?’ I said.
He pointed at the shoe rack outside the house.
I removed my shoes and checked my socks for smells and holes. I decided to take them off too, I went inside.
‘Don’t step on the rangoli,’ he warned.
I looked down. My right foot rested on a rice flour flower pattern. ‘Sorry, I am really sorry, sir,’ I said and bent down to repair the pattern.
‘It’s OK. It can’t be fixed now,’ he said and ushered me into the living room.
The long rectangular room looked like what would be left if a Punjabi drawing was robbed. The sofas were simple, with cushions thinner than Indian Railways sleepers had and from the opposite of the decadent red velvet sofas Pammi aunty. The walls had a pale green distemper finish. There were pictures of various South Indian gods all around the room. The dining area had floor seating. At one corner, there was a daybed with a tambura (which looks like a sitar) kept on it. An old man sat there. I wondered if Ananya’s parents were cool enough to arrange live music for dinner.
‘Sit,’ Ananya’s father said, pointing at the sofa.
AskManiG.com
We sat opposite each other as I faced Ananya’s dad for the first time in my life.
I strained my brain hard for a suitable topic. ‘Nice place,’ I said.
‘What is nice? No water in this area,’ uncle said as he picked up a newspaper.
I hung my head, as if to apologise for the water problem in Mylapore.
Ucle opened the newspaper, which blocked his face from mine. I didn’t know if it was intentional. I kept quiet and turned to the man with the tambura. I smiled, but he didn’t react. The house had an eerie silence. A Punjabi house is never this silent even when people sleep at night.
I bent forward to see if uncle was reading the paper or avoiding me. He had opened the editorial page of The Hindu. He read an opinion piece about AIADMK
asking the government to do an enquiry on the defense minister who had sacked the naval chief. It was heavy-duty stuff. No one in my family, correction, no one in my extended clan ever read editorial pages of newspapers, let alone articles about AIADMK.
Uncle caught me peeking over him and grunted, ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. I didn’t know why I felt so guilty.
Uncle continued to read for five minutes. I had an opportunity to speak again when he turned the page. ‘No one is at home, sir?’
‘Where will they go?’
‘I can’t see anyone.’
‘Cooking. Can’t you hear the grinder?’ he said.
I didn’t know if Ananya’s father was naturally like this or extra grumpy today.
Maybe he is pissed about me being here, I thought.
‘You want water?’ he said.
‘No sir,’ I said.
‘Why? Why you don’t want water?’
I didn’t have an answer except that I felt scared and weird in this house. ‘OK, give me water,’ I said.
‘Radha,’ uncle screamed. ‘Tanni!’
‘Is that Ananya’s grandfather,’ I said, pointing to the old man.
AskManiG.com
‘No,’ he said.
I realised Ananya’s father answered exactly what was asked. ‘Who is he?’ I asked slowly.
‘It’s Radha’s Carnatic music teacher who came to see her. But she is busy in the kitchen making dinner for you. Now what to do?’
I nodded.
Ananya’s mother came in the living room. She held a tray with a glass of water and a plate of savouries. The spiral-shaped, brown-coloured snacks resembled fossilised snakes.
‘Hello, aunty,’ I stood up.
‘Hello, Krish,’ she said.
‘I am sorry I came at the wrong time,’ I said, looking at the teacher.
‘It’s OK. Ananya invited you. And she has a habit of not consulting me,’
Ananya’s mother said.
‘Aunty, we can all go out,’ I said.
‘It’s OK. Food is almost ready,’ she said and turned to her husband. ‘Give me half an hour with Guruji.’ She went up to Guruji and touched his feet. The Guruji blessed her. Ananya’s mother picked up the tambura and they left the room.
‘So, Citibank placed you in Chennai?’ uncle said, initiating conversation with me for the first time.
‘Yes, sir’ I said. Ananya had told him the bank transferred me.
‘Why do they send North Indians here?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Useless buggers,’ he mumbled and buried himself in his newspaper again.
I cleared my throat and finally gathered the courage to ask. ‘Where’s Ananya?’
Uncle looked up in shock as if I had asked him where he kept his porn collection. ‘She had gone for a bath. She will come after evening prayers.’
AskManiG.com
I nodded. Ananya never did any evening prayers in Ahmedabad. I heard noises from the other room. They sounded like long wails, as if someone was being slowly strangled. I looked puzzled and uncle looked at me.
‘Carnatic music,’ uncle said. ‘You know?’
I shook my head.
‘Then what do you know?’ he asked and sank into The Hindu waiting for me to respond.
I had an urge to run out of the house. What the fuck am I doing here in this psycho home? I heard footsteps outside.
‘Sorry,’ Ananya said, coming in.
I turned to look at her. I was seeing her after two months. She wore a cream-coloured cotton sari with a thin gold border. She seemed prettier than I last saw her. I wanted to grab her and plant the biggest kiss on her lips ever. Of course, things had to be different with Mr Hindu-addict Grumpyswami in front of me.
‘Hi Ananya, good to see you,’ I greeted her like a colleague at work. I kept my hands close to my body.
‘What? Give me a hug,’ she said and uncle finally lost interest in The Hindu.
‘Sit here, Ananya,’ he said and carefully folded the newspaper like he would read it again every day for the rest of his life.
‘Hi dad,’ Ananya said and kissed her father on the cheek. I felt jealous. ‘Oh, mom is singing,’ she said, upon hearing her mother shriek again.
‘Yes, finally,’ Ananya’s father said. ‘Can you tell the raga?’
Ananya closed her eyes to listen. She looked beautiful but I had to look away as uncle eyed every move of mine.
‘It’s malhar, definitely malhar,’ she said.
Uncle nodded his head in appreciation.
‘How many ragas are there?’ I asked, trying to fit in.
‘A thousand, yeah dad?’ Ananya said.
‘At least. You don’t listen to Carnatic music?’ uncle said to me.
AskManiG.com
‘Not much, but it is kind of nice,’ I said. Of course, saying I have no fucking clue what you are talking about didn’t seem quite right.
‘Mom won two championships at the Tamil Sangam in Kolkata when dad was posted there,’ Ananya said, her voice proud.
‘But she has stopped singing since we came to Chennai,’ uncle said and threw up his hands.
‘Why?’ I said.
‘Various reasons,’ Ananya said and gestured at me to change the topic.
‘Your aunt is here?’ I asked.
‘Yes, Shobha athai is in the kitchen. She is dad’s elder sister.’
I prayed Shobha aunty didn’t have a personality like her brother’s. Silence fell in the room. I picked up a snack to eat it. Every crunch would be clearly in the room. I had to keep the conversation going. I had read a book on making friends a while ago. It said take an interest in people’s work and keep bringing their name into the conversation.
‘So, you have worked all over India, Mr Swaminathan?’ I said.
‘A few places, until I became stuck here,’ he said.
‘Stuck? I thought you like Chennai, your hometown,’ I said.
Uncle gave me a dirty look. I wondered if I had said something inappropriate.
‘I’ll get Shobha. Let’s eat dinner soon,’ uncle said and left the room. I wanted to ask Ananya about her father, but I wanted to grab her first.
‘Don’t,’ Ananya said as she sensed my intentions.
‘What?’
‘Don’t move. Keep a three-feet distance,’ she said.
‘Are you mad? There is no one here.’
‘Not here? My mother is singing in the next room for God’s sake.’
‘That’s singing?’
AskManiG.com
‘Shut up,’ she giggled. ‘And I’d suggest you learn a bit of Carnatic music. No, stop, don’t get off the sofa.’ She gave me a flying kiss and I subsided back into the sofa.
‘Dad is having a bad month at the bank,’ Ananya whispered. ‘He got passed over for promotion. He deserved to head Bank of Baroda for his district but dirty