by Divya Anand
Wait. What did he just say?
My head was spinning.
I had done everything right and yet, somehow, they’d found a new curveball to throw at me. Harsh really was a masterful politician; he’d managed to find a role that was on a team that didn’t do much and yet could be passed off as a ‘good’ role because it was led by Anirban, who happened to be Ash’s brother-in-law and was never going to get fired, even though his team wasn’t known for delivering anything. He was a horrible person and everyone in the office knew his work would go nowhere even though he had a fancy title and pretended he was single-handedly saving Glam. But I wasn’t going to let go that easily.
‘What concerns?’ I said sharply, collecting my thoughts and preparing myself for a fight with Harsh.
‘Well, your peer feedback was appalling, to put it mildly. Every single person rated you ‘Needs Improvement’. We decided you needed more direction, and someone with strong people skills could coach you on that.’
‘People skills!’ I burst out. ‘That peer feedback was because people thought I was responsible for the insane deadlines, but that came top down!’
‘Good people managers know how to manage upward, as well as delegate,’ Harsh said. ‘The peer feedback is reflective of the fact that you did not handle that level of responsibility well. Or at all.’ This was ironic coming from a man whose own team evaluation scores were abysmal, and had been so for years.
‘But Harsh, I was able to get the team together and deliver on an impactful project . . . ’
‘Performance is just one part of leadership,’ he said. ‘As you become more senior, your people skills are far more important. And I will not let the culture of my team get impacted by having someone with such poor peer feedback scores!’
I couldn’t believe my ears. Harsh himself hadn’t delivered anything in years and he held the office record for having the worst team evaluation scores, and yet he was sitting here with a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression while saying this?
‘Harsh, if this structure goes into effect, what happens with my project? I came up with that idea and I proved its viability,’ I said with gritted teeth.
‘There is no I in “team”,’ he said grandly. ‘If only you realized that and paid attention to the feedback you got during the Circle of Success programme, your peer scores would be better. Dhruv has expressed interest in a product role, and he gets along fabulously with the team. He was also part of the launch, so he is the perfect candidate to scale the subscription programme.’
The penny finally dropped. This wasn’t just about Harsh, this was also Dhruv’s revenge. Even though I’d got my promotion, I was being shifted into a role where I would disappear. It was the equivalent of banishing me to a forest in the middle of nowhere, while he stole my project. He would scale the subscription programme, get promoted and then be on the fast track to future leadership roles. In time, everyone would forget I had anything to do with this, and all my hard work would be wasted.
‘Harsh, I don’t want to be on Anirban’s team,’ I said.
‘In that case, find a role that suits you. As of today, you’re no longer on my team,’ he dismissed me.
I left his office fuming.
I went up to the terrace, the only place I could spend some time alone. As alone as I could be with the crows and pigeons that hung out there. I took deep breaths in a wasted attempt to calm myself down. I was fuming at the unfairness of everything that had just happened. I closed my eyes thinking of everything I had done to get this promotion. Which of course brought me back to Abhimanyu and his horoscope, and how I’d managed to drive away someone who truly cared. I couldn’t believe just how much my life had spiralled out of control within the span of a month and a half.
When you thought about it, it was such a short period of time, and yet so much had changed. After all the change, things were still somehow the same. Career-wise I was back to square one, and once again, I didn’t have a friend named Abhimanyu. The only difference was, instead of thinking he was a dick, I now knew he was the best person I’d ever met. And he now thought I was a manipulative bitch. But I missed him. I missed his voice, I missed the way he ran his hands through his hair when he was stressed, I missed the way he was like the earthing wire to my fiery moods, I missed the way he made every problem seem non-existent. Thanks to Harsh and my new role, I would probably never run into Abhimanyu at work again, and he would avoid me too. Maybe I should quit so I’d never have to see him again?
I wondered if he would ever forgive me. I could remove every trace of him from every online platform, avoid him, but how could I turn off my feelings? Forgetting him would be like forgetting to breathe. Over the past month, he had been there for me whenever I needed someone, and now I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
Suddenly, I felt the urge to take matters in my own hands.
I swept out of the terrace in such a tizzy that the pigeons scattered and the crows began to caw in rage. I banged the door shut and stormed down to Ash’s office. Luckily for me, he wasn’t in a meeting. I took the opportunity to barge in.
‘Ms Srinivasan,’ he said, looking up. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘Thank you for the faith you’ve shown in me, Ash,’ I began.
‘You proved yourself worthy of it,’ he said, as he looked at me somewhat warily. I sensed he wanted to cut to the chase. After all, people didn’t just storm into his office purposefully to talk about his faith in them.
‘Did you come in here to praise my people management or do you want to discuss your new role?’
‘I did,’ I said and straightened up. This wasn’t a conversation where I could afford to feel sorry for myself. This was a ‘Sitara Srinivasan, ready to kick ass and take over the world’ conversation. I knew exactly what I needed to do, and I was going to do it with full confidence.
‘As Harsh probably told you, he doesn’t think you’re a fit for his team,’ he began. ‘You could do really well on Anirban’s team. They need innovative thinkers like you. I’m happy to discuss how you can be most effective there . . . ’
‘The subscription programme is mine,’ I said cutting him off. ‘Ash, I’m most suited to expand the programme. I already have a detailed plan for scaling it.’
‘That may be,’ Ash said. ‘But your reviews showed you’re not ready to manage a cross-functional role like this. You’re an asset to Glam and I want to ensure you’re able to achieve your full potential.’
And there it was. Time to forget wheedling, horoscopes, other political manipulations and do what I should’ve done from day one. It was time to bet on myself.
‘And what if I say I can achieve my full leadership potential by expanding the subscription programme?’
‘Some of the senior members of the team are dead set against that. It wouldn’t work,’ he said. ‘Just take the new role, Sitara.’
‘Let me explain.’ I sensed he was still curious to see what I’d come up with, and I did not want to give up without a fight. I took it as a good sign that he hadn’t dismissed me yet, nor was he looking at his laptop and avoiding my gaze.
‘We start a new vertical for the subscription programme, which I lead as senior manager reporting to you. You give me six months to show you how I expand the programme, as well as improve my peer feedback. This way, I’m focused on a product that gives me the best growth potential and I’m not on Harsh’s team.’
‘Six months is a long time,’ he said. ‘And reporting into me isn’t easy.’ I suppressed a grin. If only he knew just how well I knew that reporting into him was no cakewalk.
‘I’m ready for a challenge,’ I said. ‘You can think about it and let me know. I really do not want to take my ideas to a competitor.’ I stressed on the word competitor, hoping he would pick up on the not-so-subtle hint that I was willing to resign over this.
‘I’ll give you three months,’ he said, ever ready to negotiate. ‘And if your peer feedback doesn’t improve, you will mo
ve to Anirban’s team. I’m only taking a bet on you because of the impact of your work so far.’
‘Done,’ I said and stuck out my hand. I couldn’t believe my gamble had paid off.
Every problem had a solution. I couldn’t turn off my feelings for Abhimanyu without some kind of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind type mind wipe out. That didn’t exist in the real world so I would need to find a more constructive solution.
If I could get the promotion in spite of all odds, if I could get everyone to forgive me, if I could get a second chance to prove my worth at Glam, why couldn’t I get Abhimanyu to forgive me?
I got back to my desk and sent an email saying I had some personal work and left the office. I called Kavya on my way home.
‘Can you help me get in touch with The Sherlock Homies?’ I asked. Kavya was a great online stalker and someone who always seemed to have only two degrees of separation from anyone, so I knew that with a little effort, she would be able to easily locate all the phone numbers.
‘Why?’ she said curiously.
‘I won’t give up,’ I said. ‘I know what to do now . . . ’
‘Yay,’ Kavya cheered. ‘Tell me more!’
‘Let’s just say that the answer is written . . . ’
‘In the stars?’
‘On a cue card.’
I held my breath and thought about what I was about to do. If it didn’t work, I’d make a fool of myself in the most public way.
But then, I had nothing to lose.
30
Venus Brings Forth the Jewel in Your Crown
I stumbled into Last Call in a manner very reminiscent of my first meeting with Abhimanyu. I was extremely late and I had an important handoff to make. Every second I sat in the Uber, my blood pressure rose, taking minutes off my life. I had to run the last few metres, and of course I’d broken my slipper yet again. So there I was, dripping wet, holding a slipper in my hand as I stumbled into the pub.
This time, the only person I saw when I walked in was Abhimanyu. He was at The Sherlock Homies’s usual table, studiously avoiding my eye and staring into his phone as though it was hazardous to life if he looked up. I handed off the pen drive I was clutching in my palm to George and walked to our table.
‘You’re insane,’ said Kavya, peeling off a wet curl away from my forehead.
Upasana dug through her bag and silently handed me a clutch.
‘Do you think he’ll go for it?’ Shirin asked. She began pouring out drinks for everyone at the table.
‘Let’s see,’ I said.
‘Welcome to tonight’s edition of Thirsty Thursday, ladies and gentlemen,’ George boomed. ‘After the spectacular success of the knockout rounds a few weeks ago, we’re going to do that again tonight.’
We cheered, even though ‘spectacular success’ wasn’t quite how the knockout rounds could be described, after the brawl we’d caused. George shot us a look to get us to quiet down.
‘The first round in today’s knockout will be between Whiskeypedia and The Sherlock Homies. This is an audio round,’ he announced, gesturing to the set-up in front of him.
There were two chairs facing each other, and the ever popular buzzer. He had learnt from the last time and skipped the weird floor lamps.
I held my breath. There was a bit of an argument at The Sherlock Homies table. I watched Abhimanyu shake his head vehemently, as his teammates pushed him out of his chair. He reluctantly made his way to the stage.
This was my cue. I went up to the stage and sat on the chair opposite Abhimanyu. I nervously smiled at him, but he continued to avoid my eyes. He was busy glaring at his friends who had now moved to the front of the pub. They were joined by my friends.
‘Let’s begin,’ George said.
He played the familiar strains of the Airtel signature tune. ‘What was the first song the composer of this jingle composed for his movie debut? Bonus points if you can name it in the original language, and not the dubbed version.’
BUZZ!
‘“Chinna chinna aasai”, from the movie Roja,’ Abhimanyu replied. He looked mildly suspicious.
Satish whooped, ‘Go macha’, as the rest of the team softly began humming the song.
‘Next question. This popular singer couldn’t even make it to the top five on a popular music reality show in 2005. Today, nobody remembers the winners. Name the singer and for bonus points, name this song,’ he said, as the opening bars of the song began to play.
BUZZ!
‘Arijit Singh and Raabta,’ said Abhimanyu.
‘Sing it,’ yelled Zaina, as a blush crept up his cheeks.
‘Yes, sing it,’ George said.
Abhimanyu started to demur but then, the entire pub erupted in cheers and shouts of ‘SING IT.’
He was still studiously avoiding my gaze, but began to sing. When he got to the line ‘tera nazaara mila’, our teams joined him to yell out in unison ‘roshan SITARA mila . . . ’
His face was now a ‘flaming fire engine’ red as he finally looked at me. I felt goosebumps on every inch of my skin. But I was suddenly too nervous and shy to look up.
He stopped singing abruptly and looked at George. ‘Shouldn’t we get on with trivia?’ he asked pointedly.
The crowd booed, clearly wanting to hear more of his singing.
‘OK, let’s move on,’ George agreed. ‘M. Balamuralikrishna sang the Tamil sections of this song that was telecast for the first time after the prime minister’s Independence Day speech in 1988. It featured Indians from all walks of life and was meant to be a message of national integration. Name the song.’
BUZZ!
This time, I picked up the mic and began singing, ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara.’ The crowd went wild, as they all joined in.
Abhimanyu was now glaring at his friends, who looked like they were the very pictures of innocence. Mine, on the other hand, were trying hard and failing to hold back their smiles. I stopped singing and looked at him. There was a glimmer of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth, and he was struggling to control it.
‘Next question,’ George smoothly interjected. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘This one’s a movie clip so look carefully at the projector.’
The clip began to play, as my heart sped up.
A man in a blue shirt leaned into a mic and said, ‘I’m afraid you did it again, Bill.’
The camera panned to an upset looking Billy Mack who said, ‘It’s just, I know the older version so well.’
The man in the blue shirt replied, ‘We all do. That’s why we’re making the new version.’
The clip faded.
‘Remember the question is, name the movie,’ George said. ‘Also a good reminder that sometimes the new version is better than the old.’ Some folks booed.
I looked up, and I was staring directly into Abhimanyu’s eyes. My heart was pounding in my ears.
BUZZ!
‘Love Actually,’ he said. He could no longer avoid my eyes. He looked at me as I slowly mouthed ‘I’m sorry!’. I hoped it would remind him of his apology from a few days ago.
The ghost of his smile was slowly becoming broader.
‘Patience reaps rich rewards,’ George said. ‘I know some of you are having a little too much fun with this round, but we’re almost at the end. Next question: This 1994 movie only did moderately well when it was released, but became a cult classic in recent times, with Raja Sen calling it ‘one of the greatest comedies in recent times’. There’s a song picturized on one of the lead couples, where they’re on a horse cart. Name the song, the movies and for bonus points name your favourite dialogue from this cult classic.’
There were loud whoops.
BUZZ!
I picked up the mic, and in a shaky voice I said, ‘“Ello ello” from Andaaz Apna Apna.’
Before I could name a dialogue, my team began singing the song and gesturing at me to join in. I threw all caution to the winds to join the racket and sing, ‘Ello ji sanam, hum aa gaye, aaj phir dil l
eke . . . ’
Krish had jumped on the stage and begun doing a dance on my behalf, replete with gestures to say ‘ab itna bhi gussa karo nahin jaani’.
When I ended the rendition by quoting the dialogue ‘galti se mistake ho gaya’, for the bonus points, Abhimanyu couldn’t hold it back any more.
He smiled. It was like the sun had come out from behind the dark clouds. I slowly smiled back. George was looking back and forth between us, seeming extremely pleased with himself. Every single person in the pub was singing and clapping.
Abhimanyu opened his mouth to say something, but I gestured him to wait.
‘The last question is a toughie,’ George said. ‘The two books the singer is reading in this song are Love at First Sight by B.J. Daniels and Skylar’s Outlaw by Linda Warren. Name the song.’
BUZZ!
‘This one looks like it’s a tie, folks,’ George said. ‘Both teams pressed the buzzer at the same time, so maybe they can answer together?’
Abhimanyu blushed as the opening strains of the song began playing. We stared at each other as we began singing the chorus of ‘Call Me Maybe’. The pub went wild as our friends all jumped on to the stage to mime the hook step of the song.
‘You’ve got to forgive a girl who can accept your love for Carly Rae Jepsen,’ Zaina yelled.
‘And one who’s taught you the Tamil version of Rahman songs,’ Satish added.
I took a deep breath. By this point, every single person in the pub knew this was not a regular trivia night. And it didn’t seem like anyone cared that they weren’t going to participate in a trivia competition today. George grinned as though he had spent all his time as a quizmaster training for this very moment.
My entire body felt like it was on fire. Every eye in the pub was trained on me. In the past, this had happened because I’d given stupid answers, started a pub brawl or otherwise embarrassed myself. I didn’t know what I was going to be doing today.
Abhimanyu looked into my eyes. I cleared my throat. My face was completely red, and resembled an apologetic tomato.
‘I messed up! I was a complete idiot . . . ’ I started.