One Night at the Call Center

by Chetan Bhagat

  Priyanka was busy on the phone, scaring Americans out of their wits. I think she can put on that voice of authority whenever she wants, and it's impossible not to believe her. It comes from her mother, I think. After she had ended a call, Vroom spoke to her.

  “Hey, Priyanka, quick question. My cousin also did a Masters in computers in the U.S. Which college did Ganesh go to?”

  “Huh? Wisconsin, I think,” she said.

  “Really. Let me e-mail my cousin and ask him if it's the same one. What's Ganesh's full name by the way?”

  “Gupta. Ganesh Gupta,” Priyanka said as she prepared to make another call.

  “Oooh. Mrs. Priyanka Gupta,” Esha said, putting on a smart voice and laughing. Priyanka poked her with her elbow. Priyanka's new name sent ripples of pain down my rib cage.

  “Cool. Keep calling,” Vroom said and went back to his seat.

  As Vroom's monitor was broken, he took control of my computer. He searched for the following terms on google.com:

  ganesh gupta drunk Wisconsin

  ganesh gupta fines Wisconsin

  ganesh gupta girlfriend

  Several links popped out, but there was nothing we could make much sense or use of. We hit upon Ganesh's list of classmates, and found out that he was on the Dean's list in Boston.

  “Damn, what a boring guy. Let me try again,” Vroom said.

  ganesh gupta fail

  ganesh gupta party

  ganesh gupta drugs

  Nothing interesting emerged.

  “Forget it, man. He was probably the head boy at school,” I said.

  “You bet, one of those teacher's pet types,” Vroom said, letting out a frustrated breath. “I give up. I'm sure if I type something like ‘ganesh gupta microsoft award’ plenty of things will pop out, achiever that he is.”

  More links popped out. We clicked through a few, and then we hit on one with his picture. It was Ganesh's online album.

  “Damn, it is him, with his mates,” Vroom whispered and clicked on the link. “Let's check out how ugly his friends are.”

  The link opened to a webpage titled “Microsoft Award party photos.” The party was at Ganesh's house. Ganesh had won some developer award at Microsoft and a couple of his friends had come to his house to celebrate.

  “Look at the slideshow,” I said as Vroom selected the option. We looked up once to confirm the girls were still busy with their calls.

  As the picture flicked onto the screen we saw a garden party full of Indian people. On the tables there was enough food to feed a small town. I saw Ganesh's house and the famous personal pool, which was no more than an oversized bathtub, if you ask me, even though Ganesh had made it sound like Olympic champions trained in it.

  “Hey, I think we've found something. Check out our man,” Vroom said. He pointed to one of the photos in which Ganesh held a beer glass.

  “What's the big deal?” I said. It was hardly scandalous to hold a glass of beer. Priyanka herself could knock back ten if they were free.

  “Check out Ganesh's head,” Vroom said.

  “What?” I said. I looked closer and then I saw it.

  “Oh no,” I said and covered my mouth to keep my voice down.

  Ganesh had a bald spot in the middle of his head. It was the size of a Happy Meal burger and had caught the camera's flashlight.

  “Unbelie—” I said.

  “Shhh!” Vroom said. “Did you see that? He has perfect hair in the Statue of Liberty picture.”

  “Are all his photos in this album like this?” I said.

  “Yes, sir,” Vroom said and flicked through the slideshow One boring picture after another followed, mainly of people with mouths and plates stuffed with food. Every picture had one thing in common, though: Wherever Ganesh was, so was the shiny spot.

  Vroom pushed his computer mouse away and reclined on his chair with a proud expression, “As I said, sir, no one is perfect. Apart from Google, of course.”

  I looked at the screen and back at Vroom.

  “So, now what?” I said.

  “Now we invite the ladies for a viewing,” Vroom said and grinned.

  “No, that's not right…” I said, but it was too late.

  “Esha, Radhika, Priyanka. Do you want to see some more Ganesh pictures? Come here quickly,” Vroom said.

  The girls dropped their phone calls and looked over at us. Esha and Radhika stood up.

  “Where, where? Show us,” Esha said.

  “What are you talking about?” Priyanka said and came over to our side.

  “The power of the Internet. We found an online album. Come and see what your new house is like,” Vroom said. He kept quiet about the shiny spot so that the girls could see it for themselves. I saw the mixture of excitement and curiosity in Priyanka's face.

  “Nice pad,” Esha said as she noticed the barbecue behind the pool, “but where's Ganesh. Let me guess,” she said and touched the monitor with her finger. “Here, this one, no. But wait, he's a baldie. Is he the elder brother?”

  Priyanka and Radhika looked closer.

  “No, that's Ganesh,” Priyanka said, her open mouth as round as the bald spot. I could sense that the wind had been knocked out of her sails.

  “But I didn't notice the bald spot in the photo you showed us, Priyanka,” Esha said. Radhika squeezed

  Esha's arm. Esha stopped talking and raised her eyebrows.

  Priyanka came up closer to the screen and began flipping through the images. She didn't notice, but her hair was falling on my shoulders as she bent over. It felt nice.

  But Priyanka wasn't feeling nice. She brought out the Statue of Liberty picture and we looked at it again. Ganesh had perfect hair.

  “Maybe the guy in the online album is Ganesh's elder brother,” Radhika said.

  “No. Ganesh doesn't have a brother. He only has one sister,” Priyanka said, her face distraught at the fact that he had deceived her like that. Such a tiny lie could lead to bigger lies.

  There was silence for a few seconds.

  “Well, it doesn't really matter much, eh? What's a bit of smooth skin between the true love of two souls?” Vroom said. I clamped my jaws shut to prevent a laugh escaping. “Let's go back, people, enough fun. Don't forget to keep calling,” Vroom said.

  Priyanka retraced her steps in slow motion. She went back to her seat and took out her mobile phone. She dialed a long number, probably long distance. This call was going to be fun—I only wished I could tap into it.

  “Hello, Ganesh,” Priyanka said in a direct voice. “Listen, I can't talk for long. I just want to check on something … yes, just one question … actually I was just surfing the Internet…” Priyanka said and got up from her seat. She moved to the corner of the room where I could no longer hear her.

  I made a few calls and terrorized some more Americans. Priyanka returned after ten minutes and tossed her cellphone on the desk.

  Esha jiggled her eyebrows up and down, as if to ask, “What's up?”

  “It is him in the online pictures,” Priyanka said. “He didn't have much to say. He said his mother asked him to touch up his hair slightly in the Statue of Liberty snap as it would help in the arranged marriage market.”

  “Oh no,” Esha wailed.

  “He apologized several times, saying he'd been against tampering with the picture, but had to agree when his mother insisted.”

  “Can't he think for himself?” Esha said. “That's not a good sign.”

  “Oh god, what am I going to do?” Priyanka said.

  “Did the apologies seem genuine?” Radhika said.

  “Yes, I think so. He said he understood how I must feel and that he was ready to apologize in front of my family as well.”

  “Well, then it's OK. What difference does it make? You don't really care about him being bald, do you?” Radhika said.

  “Yeah, besides practically all men become bald in a few years anyway. It's not like you can do anything about it then,” Esha said.

  “That's tr
ue,” Priyanka said in a mellow voice. I could see her relenting and turned to Vroom.

  “Yeah, it doesn't matter. Just make sure he wears a cap at the wedding—unless you want to touch up all the wedding pictures,” Vroom said and chuckled. Esha and I looked down to suppress our grins.

  “Shut up, Vroom,” Radhika said.

  “Sorry, I'm being mean. Honestly, it's no big deal, Priyanka. No one's perfect, we all know that, don't we? So, let's get back to our calls.”

  Chapter 35

  6:00 a.m.

  FOR THE NEXT HALF HOUR we focused on one activity: making calls to save Connections.

  At 6:30 a.m. I went up to the main bay. Team leaders huddled around me as they gave me the news. The incoming calls had already shot up, even though we hadn't expected the big boost for another six hours. Despite their turkey dinners, Americans were scared out of their wits. Some had called us several times an hour.

  Vroom and I went to Bakshi's office with some of the senior team leaders. He had arranged an urgent video conference call with the Boston office. Bakshi supported us as we presented the new call data, insights into the call traffic, and potential new sources of revenue. After a twenty-minute video discussion, Boston agreed to a two-month reprieve before deciding on layoffs. They also agreed to evaluate the possibility of sending top team leaders on a short-term sales assignment to Boston.

  However, the team leaders would have to present a clear plan over the next few weeks.

  “How did we do it, man? I never thought it would work,” I asked Vroom as we came out of Bakshi's office.

  “Promise Americans lots of dollars in the future, and they'll listen to you. It's only a two-month reprieve, but that's enough for now,” Vroom said.

  Reassured that Connections was safe, I returned to my desk while Vroom went outside to clean the Qualis before the driver woke up. I had told Vroom I wanted to slip away—no good-byes, no hugs, and no promises to meet, especially in front of Priyanka. Vroom agreed and said he would be ready outside with his bike at 6:50 a.m.

  The girls stopped their calls at 6:45 a.m., just as our shift ended. Everyone began to log out so they could be in time for the Qualis, which would be waiting at the gate at 7:00 a.m.

  “I'm so excited. Radhika is moving into my place,” Esha said as she switched off her monitor. She opened her handbag and started rearranging the contents.

  “Really?” I said.

  “Yes, I am,” Radhika said. “And Military Uncle is going to recommend a lawyer friend. I need a good, tough divorce lawyer.”

  “Don't you want to try and work it out?” Priyanka said as she collected the sweet boxes and placed them back in the bag.

  “We'll see. I am in no mood to compromise. And I'm not going back to his house now, for sure. As of today, my mother-in-law will be making her own breakfast.”

  “And after that, I'm taking Radhika to Chandigarh for the weekend,” Esha said and smiled.

  Everyone was busy making plans. I excused myself on the pretext of going to the water cooler for a drink, so I could leave the office from there.

  Chapter 36

  6:47 a.m.

  AT 6:47 A.M. I REACHED THE WATER COOLER and bent toward the tap to take my last drink at the call center.

  As I finished, I stood up to find Priyanka behind me.

  “Hi,” she said. “Leaving?”

  “Oh, hi. Yes, I'm going back on Vroom's bike,” I said and wiped my mouth.

  “I'll miss you,” she said, interrupting me.

  “Huh? Where? In the Qualis?” I said.

  “No, Shyam, I'll miss you in general. I'm sorry about the way things turned out.”

  “Don't be sorry,” I said, shaking my fingers dry. “It's more my fault than yours. I understand that. I acted like a loser.”

  “Shyam, you know how Vroom said just because India is poor, it doesn't mean you stop loving it?” Priyanka said.

  “What?” I blinked at the change of topic. “Oh yes. And I agree, it is our country after all.”

  “Yes, we love India because it's ours. But do you know the other reason why we don't stop loving it?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it isn't completely India's fault that we are behind. Yes, some of our past leaders could have done things differently, but now we have the potential and we know it. And as Vroom says, one day we will show them.”

  “Good point,” I said. I found it strange that she should talk about nationalism this early in the morning, not to mention at what was possibly our last moment together.

  I nodded and started walking away from her. “Anyway, I think Vroom will be waiting …” I said.

  “Wait, I haven't finished,” she said.

  “What?” I said and turned back to look at her.

  “I applied the same logic to something else,” she said. “I thought, this is the same as my Shyam, who may not be successful now, but it doesn't mean he doesn't have the potential, and it sure as hell doesn't mean I've stopped loving him.”

  I stood there dumbstruck. I fumbled for words and finally spoke shakily:

  “You know what, Priyanka? You say such great lines that even though I've tried to hate you all night, it's impossible. And I know I should hate you and that I should move on, because I can't offer you what Mr. Microsoft can—”

  “Ganesh,” she interrupted me.

  “What?” I said.

  “Ganesh is his name. Not Mr. Microsoft,” she said.

  “Yes, whatever,” I kept talking, without pausing to breathe.

  “I can't offer you what Ganesh can. No way could I ever buy a Lexus. Maybe a Maruti 800 one day, but that's about it.”

  She smiled.

  “Really? An 800? With or without AC?” she said.

  “Shut up. I'm trying to say something deep and you find it funny,” I said.

  She laughed again, gently. I wiped a tear from my right eye and she raised her hand to wipe the tear from my left eye.

  “Anyway, it's over between us, Priyanka, and I know it. I'll get over it soon. I know, I know,” I said, talking more to myself.

  She waited until I had composed myself. I bent over to splash my face with water at the cooler.

  “Anyway, where's your wedding going to be? Your mum will probably blow all her cash on a big gig,” I said, straightening up.

  “In some five-star hotel, I'm sure. She'll be paying off loans for years, but she has to get a gold-plated stage that night. You'll come, won't you?”

  “I don't know,” I said.

  “What do you mean, you don't know? It'll be so strange if you aren't there.”

  “I don't want to be there and feel sad. Anyway, what's so strange if I'm not there?”

  “Well, it will be a little strange if the groom isn't there at his own wedding,” Priyanka said.

  I froze as I heard those words, rewinding her last sentence three times in my head.

  “What… what did you just say?” I said.

  She pinched my cheek and imitated me: “What… what did you just say?”

  I stood there speechless.

  “But don't think I'm going to let you go that easily. One day I want my 800 with AC,” she said and laughed.

  “What?” I said.

  “You heard me. I want to marry you, Shyam,” Priyanka said.

  I thought I would jump for joy, but mostly I was shocked. And even though I wanted to hug, cry, and laugh at the same time, a firm voice, like a guard inside me, asked, What's this all about? Hell, however miserable my life was, I didn't want pity.

  “What are you saying, Priyanka? That you would choose me over Ganesh? Is this a sympathy decision?”

  “Stop thinking about yourself. My life's biggest decision can't be a sympathy decision. I've thought about it. Ganesh is great, but…”

  “But what?” I said.

  “But the whole touching up of the photo bothers me. He's an achiever in his own right, so why did he have to lie?”

  “So you're rejecting him becau
se he's bald? My hair isn't reliable, either,” I said. It was true. Every time I took a shower the towel had more hair than me.

  “No. I'm not rejecting him because he's bald. Most men go bald one day, it's horrible, I know,” she said and ruffled my hair. “He might be fine in most ways,” she continued,

  “but the point is, he lied. And for me that's a clue as to what sort of person he is. I don't want to spend my life with a person like that. In fact, I don't want to spend my life with a person I don't know very well beforehand. That's one part of my decision. The other is the big part.”

  “What?” I said.

  “I love you. Because you are the only person in the world I can be myself with. And because you are the only person who knows all my flaws and still loves me completely. I hope,” she said, with a quivering voice.

  I didn't say anything.

  “And even if the world says I'm cold, there is a part of me that's sentimental, irrational, and romantic. Do I really care about money? Only because people tell me I should. Hell, I prefer truck driver dhabas over five-star hotels. Shyam, I know you and Mum say I am uncaring—”

  “I never said that,” I interrupted, holding her shoulders.

  “I'm sorry, Shyam. I've judged you so much. I'm such a bitch,” Priyanka said. She sniffed and her puckered nose looked cuter than ever.

  “It's OK, Priyanka,” I said and wiped her tears.

  “So that's it, Shyam. Deep inside, I am just a girl who wants to be with her favorite boy, because like you, this girl is a person who needs a lot of love.”

  “Love? I need a lot of love?” I said.

  “Of course you do. Everyone does. It's funny that we never say it. It's OK to scream, ‘I'm starving,’ in public if you are hungry; it's OK to make a fuss and say, ‘I'm so sleepy,’ if you are tired; but somehow we cannot say,'I need some more love.' Why can't we say it, Shyam? It's just as basic a need.”

  I looked at her. Whenever she delivers these deep, philosophical lines, I get horribly attracted to her. The guard inside reminded me to be firm.

  “Priyanka?”

  “Yes,” she said, still sniffling.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you, too,” Priyanka said.