I was splashing my hands in the water pointlessly in the sea. I can't even
swim in a pond, let alone in the Indian Ocean. I was in the water while my
boss Bakshi was in a boat next to me. He was pushing my head down in the
water. I saw Priyanka drifting away in a lifeboat. I screamed even as Bakshi
used both his hands to keep my head submerged. Salt water filled my mouth
and nostrils as I heard loud beeps at a distance.
My nightmare ended as my cell phone alarm rang hard in my left ear and
I woke up to its Last Christmas ring tone. The ring tone was a gift from
Shefali, my new semi-girlfriend. I squinted through a half-shut eye and lifted
on the screen.
'Damn,' I said and jumped out of bed.
I would have loved to analyze my dream and its significance in my
insignificant life, but I had to get dressed for work.
'Man, the Qualis will be here in twenty minutes,' I thought, digging
matter out of my eye. I was still tired, but scared to sleep more because I was
getting late. Besides, there was a serious risk of Bakshi making a comeback in
my dreams.
By the way, hi. I am Shyam Mehra, or Sam Marcy as they call me at my
workplace, the Connexions call center in Gurgaon. (American tongues have
trouble saying my real name and prefer Sam. If you want, you can give me
another name too. I really don't care.)
Anyway, I am a call center agent. There was hundred of thousands,
probably millions of agents like me. But this total pain-in-the neck author
chose me, of all the agents in the country. He met me and told me to help
with his second book. In fact, he near as well wanted me to write the book for
him. I declined, saying I can't even write my resume or even other simple
things in life, there is no way I can write a whole damn book. I explained to
him how my promotion to the position of team leader had been put off for
one year because my manager Bakshi had told me I don't have the 'required
skill-set's yet. In my review, Bakshi wrote that I was 'not a go-getter'. (I don't
even know what 'go-getter' means, so I guess I'm not one for sure.)
But this author said he didn't care—he had promised someone he'd do
this story so I'd better cooperate, otherwise he would keep pestering me. I
tried my best to wriggle out of it, but he wouldn't let go of me. I finally
relented and that's why I'm stuck with this assignment, while you are stuck
with me.
I also want to give you one more warning. My English is not that great—
actually, nothing about me is great. So, if you are looking for something posh
and highbrow, then I'd suggest you read another book which has some big
many-syllabus words. I know only one big, many-syllable word, and I hate that
word—'management'. But we'll get to that later. I told the author about my
limited English. However, the pain-in-the-neck author said big emotions do
not come from big words. So, I had no choice but to do the job. I hate authors. For now, let us go back to the story. If you remember, I had just
woken up at my home.
There were noises in the living room. Some relatives were in town to
attend a family wedding. My neighbor was getting married to his cousin…er
sorry, I was too groggy to figure this out—no, my cousin was getting married to
his neighbor. But I had to work, so I could not go to the wedding. It doesn't
matter, all marriages are the same, more or less.
I reached the bathroom still half-asleep, it was already occupied.
The bathroom door was open. I saw five of my aunts scrambling to get a
few square-inches of the wash-basin mirror. One aunt was cursing her
daughter for leaving the matching bindis at home. Another aunt had lost the
little screw of her gold earring and was flipping out.