AllFreeNovel
Share Us
to myself, I will tell her I am not as bad as she thinks I am.
P.P. Padma is the EA to the MD. Tall, thin and dark, with long hair that she generally keeps oiled and tied in a ponytail, P.P. Padma is undoubtedly a force to reckon with. Irrespective of what she wears, a tiny black bindi adorns her forehead without fail.
When I was new to the organization, I had asked her a question that turned out to be the final nail in the coffin within which our potential friendship lay, already dead. ‘Why don’t you take the bindi off your forehead?’ I had asked her, meaningfully eyeing her jeans and ridiculously pink, frilly top.
She stared at me, stunned, unable to speak for the next few minutes. Is she having a heart attack, I wondered as I saw her face turn purple.
‘Take off my bindi?’ she asked incredulously, in a low growl.
I cowered under her glare. ‘No ... no … I mean … why not take this one off and put on a pink one instead of the black one … err … to match your pink top...’ I fumbled. P.P. Padma said nothing and simply turned away, disgust written on her angry face.
With that innocent suggestion, I knew I had squashed any chance we had of becoming friends. However, there are other reasons for this friendship to not have bloomed. P.P. Padma is more dedicated to work than I would have thought humanly possible. The aim of her life is to serve the MD. The aim of my life is to make the MD suffer. Our interests, ideals and work ethic clash, rendering this friendship effectively impossible.
‘Kasturi!’ Mr Vijaywada hollered from his cabin, interrupting my line of thought. I yawned again, not bothering to cover my mouth and turned my attention towards the Facebook page open on my screen.
‘Kasturi!’ Mr Vijaywada hollered for the fourth time.
I rolled my eyes. Not a moment of peace in this god-forsaken office, I thought to myself. The day was indeed not turning out well.
‘No harm in working once in a while,’ Padma muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear. I turned around sharply to look at her.
‘I’m sorry?’ I said, belligerent, yet dangerously polite. ‘Did you say anything to me?’
‘No, not to you, just to myself. General observation,’ she said in her thick south Indian accent. She continued to stare at her laptop, allowing herself a rare, small smile.
‘KASTURI SHUKLA!’ screamed my boss, giving me a start.
I will deal with P.P. Padma later, I told myself and, giving her one final stare, stormed off in the general direction of Mr Vijaywada’s office.
Mr Swaminathan Vijaywada – the MD of Vijaywada & Sons – is, if nothing else, a fair man. He pays me half of what he should pay someone with my qualifications and I do half the work that someone in my position should do. It is a simple arrangement. Our goals are contradictory. I try to get him to increase my salary and he successfully resists. He tries to get me to increase my working hours and I successfully resist. However, in spite of the situation, the two of us get along fairly well, much to the disdain of P.P. Padma.
The door to his office was open and I stormed in, still piqued at the comments of his faithful EA.
‘Morning, Mr Vijaywada,’ I said angrily.
‘Morning,’ he said, looking meaningfully at the small antique alarm clock on his table. Our meeting was scheduled for 11.00 a.m. and it was already 11.15.
I smiled apologetically, feeling no remorse. ‘I was busy making the presentation, Vijaywada Sir,’ I said meekly. Both of us knew that was untrue.
‘I called out your name twice,’ he said accusingly.
‘Five times,’ I said to myself. ‘Sorry sir, I did not hear it even once,’ I said, making a sad face.
His face softened. ‘Ear problem?’ he said, shaking his head sadly.
‘Yes, sir,’ I nodded my head. I sighed a deep, sad sigh, befitting the occasion. Mr Vijaywada looked at me with pity in his eyes, shaking his head sorrowfully. Poor girl, fairly incompetent and partially deaf. Whatever will happen to her, he seemed to think to himself.
So, yes, Mr Vijaywada thinks I am partially deaf. I’ll delve into the long story of how that came about later. Suffice it to say that I do little to correct it.
‘Okay, so moving on. How are we coming along with the PowerPoint?’ he asked, referring to the presentation that I was making to suggest ways of increasing brand awareness.
I was walking back to my cubicle after the meeting, out of which nothing useful had emerged, when my cell beeped.
‘Emergency meeting. Premarital issue. Same place. Right after Purva’s shift at the hospital,’ the unusually dry text from Pitajee read.
‘What has happened now?’ I wondered to myself. I got a distinct feeling that all was not well in the world of Pitajee and Anu.
I sighed as I sat at my desk and flicked Facebook open again.
