“Don’t live for our future, don’t live for me either” “Just fucking living for yourself” She said infuriating.
“And I don’t want to get bound by your imagination of a distant future” “I want to go out there and live” “- whether you do or don’t, I simply don’t care”
And then she said, what hit my guts harder than that burning martini.
“You are suffocating me, you are limiting me, I want to run, I want to fly” “You are not letting me move, and so I want to move on”
“Damn it, I love you so much. Do you think it’s easy for me?”
“We were so perfect for each other” I said under my breath.
She shook her head and said, with her hands gripping mine tightly.
“The problem is-” “We are too perfect for each other”
She said it, and withdrew her hand. I searched for warmth. It was too cold.
I closed my eyes for a moment and I didn’t see her, only darkness, endless of it. I opened my eyes and there was she again, sitting opposite to me. So close, but so far away. We were in embrace but of pain, pain that begin to threaten our lives. There was an undulating flicker of silence between us.
I let her go at that very instant.
Perhaps we were not meant to be together. It felt unreal. a part of me was gone, just disappeared on me, tonight. But somewhere in my heart I feared that this day would come, I knew the separation was inevitable. The only consolation was I could see her, and got a closure. I was glad we talked, and said things that we really wanted to say. There was no pretence.
As I got up to leave, her voice rang in my ears like a buzz of bee.
“We are too perfect for each other”
#
Days went by and I struggled to hold on to my sanity. There she was thoughts of who just wouldn’t just leave my head, and on the other hand was the work that was driving me crazy.
Soon the appraisal season was upon us, with little enthusiasm I submitted the online form; the application was called Sarahana, which I thought was very ironic. The minute I got the HR mail, I started filling it up, it was long three page form with innumerable fields, tiring it was very.
"Done" I shouted when I finished it, people turned around and looked at me strangely. "What?" I said. With nervous swing of my arm, the coffee mug kept at my desk fell off, and broke into several pieces. Suddenly people got up at their places and started clapping. It was crazy. I visualized the whole situation - got reviewed, got shattered, got laughed at.
The next day my manager called upon me. She took me to her personal cabin and asked me to change my ratings, she had problems with that, evidently so as I had rated myself five stars in all the parameters, I knew I had to take a chance, and I knew what I will eventually get was what I would be able to negotiate, so I put my best foot forward. After half an hour of discussion, we agreed upon a rating of average. She told me I was average, I had been an average joe the whole year, and probably whole my life. I told him that did very well what I was assigned, but she countered,
"That everyone did" "Tell me I what extra did you do?" "Did you take any initiative?"
"You didn’t tell me to do that."
"You dont have to tell someone to take an initiative, that's why it is called initiative!"
I agreed she had a point. Probably that’s why she was manager and I a meager clerk. But still. So it went, she questioned me for things I didn’t do, pointed to the parts where I committed mistakes, and ignored the parts where I reflected brilliance and in the end my appraisal was screwed, my self esteem was screwed, I was screwed. It was the starting point in my downward trajectory.
Vishwas bumped in the alley while I was coming back, as usual I ignored him, but he stopped in his tracks and said,
“Had your appraisal, how did it go?” It struck me like a lightning bolt, it was not my performance that doomed me but it was his arrogance, his word against me. This man, really hated me. I could smell his dirty plan off the smirk that he had on his face, he gave me low rating so that he could put me in performance review system and eventually fire me.
#
I called up Arnav, and I chatted with D.B. in his cubicle with my eyes wandering on Bhargavi Seth time to time. Was it a sign of something? Was I already move on? No, but I was forcing myself to. I stole a glance at Bhargavi whenever I could, hoping I’d get distracted eventually.
D.B. looked off too, his beaming face was unusually pale and his grin had no sharpness. I knew what had gotten him, I just nodded my head and put my hand on his shoulder. Bhargavi Seth who was talking to someone looked strangely at us, immediately I took off my hands.
“Let’s meet today evening at my place” I said. I'll bring white sherbet, He replied.
“What should we toast about?” Smiles said raising his glass.
I looked at Arnav and said, “let’s toast about new beginnings” “no, no, no wait” “let’s toast about toasting about toast” I quipped. Their faces reflected it was kind of lame. And then Arnav seized the moment and said,
“Let’s toast about the fact that we all got screwed” “to our friendship” We all raised glasses at his command.
Arnav was out of sorts too, he was talking about life and philosophy, “nothing really matters” was his catch phrase that he repeated the whole night, I brought an Adam Sandler’s DVD from nearby store to alleviate our pain by laughing at even bigger loser.
I finally told Arnav about what really happened at Vizag, and I told him about the cunning Vishwas. He couldn’t believe it, both of them were silently staring at me. And then Arnav got up and slapped me. I was shocked to the core. “What the fuck, dude?” I yelled and stood up as well. He then punched me in the guts, I fell on the couch with an intense pain.
“Why did you do that for?” Smiles shouted at Arnav.
“This bastard” “That’s why we all were screwed.” He said and punched me on the face. I almost felt unconscious.
“Vishwas has a personal vendetta against, and he is dragging us all down. We are being punished to be friends with you”
“What happened to our friendship?” I yelled, “Just a minute ago you were going gaga over friendship being everything and nothing else matters”
And that made him, I bet it hit him harder than the punch he landed on me. He took his place on the couch and said to me, “We gotta take care of him man” “We have to” “If we don’t hit back, he’ll just keep screwing with us”
Minutes passed in silence, we were all silent, we were meditating on the shooting alcohol level in our blood.
And then we all spoke at the same time,
“Did you think of anything ?”
I asked Arnav, “Do you have anything in mind?”
“We gotta take care of him” He repeated himself.
“But, how?” Smiles asked almost innocently.
“The plan is simple” “We got to find his weakness” “Something that he deeply fears, or something he dearly loves”
“You are a goddamn genius!” I exclaimed.
“But how do we find his weakness” Smiles said.
“It’s on him to find out” Arnav said pointing at me.
Then we poured ourselves drinks, chatted, argued, sang friendship songs and slept on the cold floor. In the morning I bumped into Poorab, “Last night was great!” I looked at him trying to understand what he really meant, “You don’t remember, don’t you?” He said. Later sometime Poorab had also joined us.
“No!” I replied, caressing my left eye which was all turned blue. Why does my face hurts, I wondered.
I caught Arnav, shirtless, climbing down the stairs with a blanket on his hand.
“What were you doing up there?”
“I just woke up”
“You slept at the roof?” I asked.
He looked past me and said, “okay I have to leave now” “But remember what I said last, find his weakness”
I ran inside to see D.B., I was just hoping he didn’t
marry a hooker last night.
#
I was still not feeling alright, my head was whirring and banging from inside but I had to turn up for work. I thought I turned up drunk at office. But technically it was only a hangover from previous night, but a hung over so massive that it felt like being drunk. Fortunately for me vodka never smells. I didn’t remember what I was typing in the eclipse window, but surely it didn’t look like java code, or it was a language of its own, undefined and un-compliable. I wondered what came first, a compiler or a language? But one exciting thing happened that day was that I talked to Bhargavi Seth by the water cooler, she had this small water bottle with her like 200 ml capacity. This is something that they give you in flight, I knew that, though I hadn’t ever flown myself.
"Kingfisher?" I commented looking at the label at the bottle, it was a tiny s which meant SpiceJet. I was playing around, she played along. "Yes" She replied smilingly.
"I myself only fly with KF" I replied. "I prefer comfort and safety over economy"
"Me too!" She said flying.
"You know…" She said something which my mind said it was too crappy to listen, I just continued nodding and asked a question here and a question there. We talked at the water cooler for like fifteen minutes, till I noticed people have started noticing us. Water cooler discussions are never healthy! So, I cut the conversation; always do so first with people, and left. But much before I left I fixed her evening with me, we were to go to a theater that we both like, or rather she liked and I pretended to like. It was a new age drama of Sita haran, exploring the theme of deception by the kasturi mriga. I admit I was happy but I was not over the moon or something, and why? Because I couldn’t care less about some pretentious little creature.
I was feeling so high because of the vodka and my tate-a-tate with Bhargavi Seth that I felt a sudden surge. I got up from my desk, and went straight to manager's cubicle.
"You know what I don’t really care, how you grade me" I said it loud enough for everyone to hear.
"But I feel very relieved and happy that I have given my hundred percent to my work, whether anyone recognizes or not".
She tried to pacify me, but I didn’t, I was not in a rage or something, I was acutely aware of what I was saying and doing. I carried on till I emptied my heart out. People stood at their seats listening, it was not very often that someone rebels. She was in a fix she had to say something, so she replied that she acknowledged my work but unfortunately there had been budget cuts, 'Her hands are tied' in her own words. They can’t give top grades to everyone, there was a limited quota. Everyone heard that and my job was over, that's all I wanted, and so I went back to my desk sitting like a duck – quack, quack.
Before I know it, the news of the incident spread like a wildfire in summer, I became instant celebrity for taking on the system, people talked about me, people knew me - I was the new poster boy. I could start a merchandising brand if I wanted – just as Che Guevera.
#
Few days later when the appraisal cycle was closed the HR called me congratulating, incidentally I was the first one in the whole Pune DC to submit the appraisal first and thus I got entitled to a very special prize, a privileged brown bag lunch with the DC head. I laughed at the irony.
The lunch probably was the most pretentious place I had been to, I wouldn’t have given a shit, God if not for the love of free food. So, there we were bunch of hopeless sitting around a big table in a big conference room, introduction started and as we went along in the circle it amazed me how talented and special everyone one was, guy from bengal played cello, girl from Amritsar a kathak dancer, and so on and so forth, at this point I couldn’t help think about Bhargavi Seth, finally my turn came I just told that I am a java programmer, to which everyone looked in an amazement of horror, there was a brief moment of silence, an awkward pause in the game of ‘me too’, there was no glory in being an ordinary worker, you have be to something extra. So, I chipped and bragged that I am a writer and I am researching on my first fictional novel, I considered telling them the endless story of a feud - between the dragon and the boy or perhaps I told - either way it doesn’t makes a darn difference.
What is important is that when I finished everyone clapped real hard, like really really hard. It took a while for intros to complete and then there was this round of qna with the dc head, and all the while I was thinking about food, I was waiting for the brown bags. Food did come, although not in the brown bags, but a nice buffet table was decorated and food was presented, the smell of basmati rice rose through the air, it was getting almost impossible for me to sit back, I wrapped my arms around the arms of chair tightly, my jaws pressing hard, and few sweat drops trickling from my forehead. I don’t know what happened exactly but there was little panic in the room as everyone thought I was getting sick, I was taken to emergency care. It was diagnosed as food poisoning as the acids inside acted on my empty stomach.
#
So, before everything else that was about to happen, I took Bhargavi Seth out. Even though Bhargavi Seth was Punjabi but she was filled with all those non-usual Punjabi traits, and you know, thank god for that. By afternoon and early evening the vodka effect had worn off and the reality of a date with Bhargavi had kicked in, I was almost beginning to panic. I looked myself in the mirror and right away I could see the creepy mole right on the center of my left cheek, my nose hair outgrowing almost beginning to act like my moustaches, my drowsy eyes tinied by lenses of my glasses, by no means I could go out with her. I didn’t realize how much did I waste in self-loathing, but i was back to senses when I saw my mobile buzzing.
It was guess how, Bhargavi Seth, and the time was 05:30 in the morning. I was too nervous, I had been to nervous actually, I picked up and replied in a hoarser voice, much thicker than I speak in real life.
“Is I there?” Bhargavi asked.
“This is me Bhargavi Seth” I replied. I imagined an endless confusing moment where we were trying identify ourselves, she’d say, “No, I am Bhargavi Seth” “Can you give it to I” “This is me Bhargavi Seth” I’d reply adamantly, none of us willing to give up an inch. It was a perfect clash of egos. Anyway, back to the reality, she only enquired if I was feeling alright to which I backfired, ‘if she was trying to make an excuse, with me being the excuse’.
She was an honest girl I could tell, and a good sense of humor as well – She only laughed at my suggestion. While talking to her I completely forgot how incomplete I looked, infact I thought it was a very silly thought that I thought so. I was as good as anyone, if not the best. She came on her activa, around half an hour later, it was a bit awkward moment for me when I told her that I couldn’t really pick her, she was surprisingly accommodating. I sat behind her as clutching her shoulder with my strong arms, as she rode the activa, which she borrowed from her friend, in the maddening evening traffic. We were going against the traffic as people were coming back from their offices. I felt like a rebel with a cause, 9-to-5. Theater was something not to speak-of, it was a dull evening, my heart, my head was not there, and perhaps she noticed that as well, my thoughts were engaged on that one thing that I could possibly never have.
#
So, the embarrassment of the other day propelled me to another landmark point of my life. I finally bought a bike, it was an old Enfield and from a guy from company I bought it, I went to the great parking lot of ph-2 to see it, the parking was built on the hill, and if you look at it the parking steps they look like they are part of some giant mayan pyramid. Arnav came along as well, there were a hell lot of pulsars there, as far as eyes could see, it was like seeing the tuna (most common fish perhaps) in the sea water. Arnav did a test ride, he okayed it, there was small scratch across the petrol tank, so I negotiated a little on the basis of that, finally he gave it to me at 42, four thousand less from his original asking price. I checked my saving balance it was forty seven rupees sixty nine paisa, thank god I had got my salary loan and salary advance approved, I transferred the amo
unt to him making me the proud owner of a second hand bike; a second hand life. I think about it sometime what if our lives our not our own, what if were just some random characters being played out by someone, or if were just some holographic image of a multidimensional being.
As if destiny was not doing its job well Poorab ditched me too, his ‘holidays’ have finally come to an end, now was the time to save some poor African kids, I went to Mumbai to drop him off, it was odd but he had convinced me to do so.
My shitty existence continued, the appraisal letters finally came out, four people from the team resigned, that was the ripple effect of my drama, they thanked me in person for waking them up. They had been working in the company for about four years and still hadn’t got nothing. They said they needed the kick of reality. I remembered the story of US postal worker and I wondered if they would have reached a breaking point and a killing spree - had they stayed for few more years.
The thing with Bhargavi
Call me a stalker or call it a stroke of destiny I was going on holidays at the same time as Bhargavi was, and in the same train in which Bhargavi was. My holidays were cancelled due to the very obvious reason - my rebelliousness had caused the account dearly, there was a loss of significant number of critical resources. Boss was certainly not happy, and that’s why she must have burst with anger when she found out I was gone, without telling her.
As I stepped in the coach I wished there'd be no children in our section. I bumped into Bhargavi when I was taking a walk in the train, I was looking for the bread-pakoda guy who I had just missed, I was bored sitting duck in my seat anyway.
At somewhere near Ratlam we got down for food, even though her place was near and she would be having dinner in the comfort of her home in probably few hours but still she insisted to eat with me. She showed me one food-counter we ordered puri chole, as she told me that she had it many a time from here, it's just delicious. I don’t know how it was I can hardly differentiate or appreciate food quality, my taste buds have been forever set to bland by the canteen food. We ate slowly and then it struck me that we were here in out for at least twenty minutes.
Zero Defect: An autobiography of a software engineer Page 14