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No Night for Rookies

  The extent to which you can enjoy the Mumbai nightlife is a direct function of how heavy your wallet is. While this is true for any other city in the world, it is far truer for Mumbai.

  The bars and clubs spanning the southern tip of the city are expensive and usher in a high class of clientele, mostly bankers, brokers and lawyers thirsty for a drink and more. The Dome atop the Intercontinental offers a beautiful view of the marine drive and the vagabonds and families that throng the strip. At the Dome, you can get into the rooftop pool with your friends for a price. If you are feel more like a no-frills drinking party then you will be spoilt for choice.

  Nakul was arguing with Prashar and Neel about the best venue to spend their money and dole their hearts out to each other and to anyone willing to listen. They were still too poor to get a taste of the action at the Dome. Yet, few minutes later they were inside the lift ascending to the famed rooftop, the Dome.

  “Man, we should listen to ourselves for a change,” said Prashar.

  “Hahaha…we want to come up here all the time just to get a glimpse of the ladies but no luck so far,” said Neel, the other Associate.

  “Either that or to feel what success may feel like, right?” said Nakul.

  They ordered a couple of beers and looked around.

  “Blimey, this place is always so freaking dignified, one would feel guilty of thinking about raw sex and stuff, you know,” said Neel.

  “Another round may change your view,” said Nakul as he requested the waiter to come over to their table.

  “Yo, check out the Ferraris,” said Neel as Nakul and Prashar leaned over the railing to look towards the Marine Drive. Two red Ferraris drove up to the curb in front of the Intercontinental. After a couple of minutes, the three friends saw the glam kid of Bollywood, Vicky baba, with the young, vivacious and upcoming diva, Shruti.

  “Yaar paise wasool ho gaye,” said Prashar. They were all down a couple of rounds but not drunk enough not to realize that they were just a few steps away from the nation's heartthrobs.

  “Dude, I would give half of my bonus to just have a drink with those 2,” said Neel, a comment that worked up Prashar and Nakul enough to make them forget their ordeals and micro-analyze this thought.

  “I don’t think of him as much of an achiever anyways,” said Nakul, flicking a finger towards Vicky baba.

  “What do you mean, there are millions in this country who worship him,” said Prashar.

  “What do you think the typical profile of a worshiper is?” asked Nakul.

  “Well they are spread across the demographics...”

  “...Still, what would be the typical profile of a fan of our Bollywood newcomers, who anyways owe their movies to their parents’ connections,” said Nakul.

  “Hmmm...” thought Prashar.

  “...Hmmm is right...a typical fan is a college zombie…the dude who thinks Yo yo Party Singh is our prescription to the cultural trauma that the western world inflicted upon us.”

  “Anyways, they are famous, they are rich, bro,” said Neel for the first time in this debate.

  “Coz your average retard who would happily consume his pizza in through the wrong hole just to sleep with the likes of yo ‘Freaking Bigger Retard’ is, by the way, the richest demographic in our country with the most disposable income,” said Nakul, realizing every bit that he had become inappropriately angry on a topic as petty as this.

  “Like the rotten spoiled offsprings of lalas and daddy jees…morons who keep supplementing the retarded fan base,” said Neel, who could have been one himself though, had it not been for a desire to somehow utilize his mind.

  “Papa jees’ paan ki dukaan kinda looks like a factory that doles out morons, too!” interjected Prashar harmoniously in a bit that set all of them laughing loudly at the reference to their employer.

  “…Well I don't care a damn about being in...” began Neel when a waiter approached them.

  “Sir, can I request you all to respect the presence of the other guests please,” said the attendant.

  Nakul saw Vicky baba looking across the seating area towards their table.

  “Ok,” said Nakul as the waiter turned away.

  “Our laughter probably echoed our sentiment about their ‘talent’ as artists,” said Prashar.

  “Hmm, I can see why Shruti is talented though,” said Neel.

  “Her talent clearly shows, the masses make no effort to conceal the excitement,” said Nakul.

  “Hahaha yeah, she should dress more appropriately, I agree…” said Prashar.

  “What are you talking about? I was referring to her fans,” said Nakul.

  They laughed heartily this time around as they all stood up to leave. They had drowned a couple of hard rounds and Neel could not help look in the direction of the Bollywood couple once more.

  “Man, let us break some ice tonight,” said Nakul. Neel and Prashar looked on in disbelief as he approached the Bollywood table. They frisked towards the table too to join Nakul.

  “Hey, good to see you here,” said Nakul to the actor called Vicky baba. The actor looked more approachable than any of them thought him to be but he clung to his air of aloofness. He didn’t seem to look at them directly.

  After a second or so, Vicky baba smiled a little and said “Hello” just as the waiter walked towards the table with some champagne in a bucket of ice for the movie stars.

  “Ah well, just wanted to say my 2 year old is a big fan…and he likes you too…” said Nakul, now facing Shruti, the Bollywood vixen.

  Prashar suddenly came to life and turned towards Shruti, “Yo, my cousin Amrit is a real fan too, I think he slit his wrists for you…!”

  “Thanks,” said Shruti from Bollywood, trying to understand what was going on.

  “Thanks?...,” said Prashar. Before he could say anything else, Neel and Nakul quickly led him out towards the lift, away from the celebrity table. Nakul dished out some notes from his pocket and paid the waiter following them. The friends walked away from the staring eyes and as they hurried into the lift, they broke into the loudest laugh of that evening.

  “We kind of lost you there, man!” said Neel, turning to Prashar.

  “Bhai, if infants are hooked on to Vicky Baba’s gyrations to Party Singh…he must be really proud…” laughed Prashar. Even before any one of them could say anything more, they realized that someone in the lift with them was saying something too.

  “I am sorry?” said Nakul.

  “You don’t think he has a future…this Vicky actor?” said a guy with a pencil nose and choppy teeth, dressed in a suit that fitted quite well on his rather bulky frame.

  “I don’t know, he didn’t really have a past as far as I know, at least not with the thinking class,” said Nakul as he wondered if the pencil nosed guy had any right to intrude on their evening.

  “Oh, so you all are the thinking class,” said the guy who, Nakul noticed, had shabby hair and an uncomfortable air around him as if to say he was the boss but he was always to be found in unexpected places…like a lift. Funny…all the things one tends to catch when one is drunk.

  “We are products of the grudge factory, we take about 4 years to weld in the engineering sweatshops then for 2 years we are painted with the best fragrant synthetic out there in the MBA shops,” said Nakul.

  “Eh?” said the pencil nosed intruder.

  “I mean, yes, we were part of the grind, we got into the B.Tech race then we switched over to the MBA run and now our cheese has moved on to the investment banking world.”

  Pencil Nose looked all interested now. Rather, he looked animated at this point: he obviously realized that the talk was about the career race and he loved the good rendition of it. Perhaps he was also someone who’d suffered the herd mentality?

  As they headed out of the lift, a tall guy walked up to the Pencil Nose and escorted him out of the hotel while the friends followed. Nakul immediately recognized this person as the taller of the two people that
he had seen during his first day at PanAsia...the ones who had come to the office dressed in tight jeans and colorful shirts.

  “I like the way you put it,” said the Pencil Nose at length, “Well, if you guys hang out here often enough, would be good to catch up sometime.”

  “Sure,” said the friends as they walked past him and crossed the marine drive to chat a bit by the sea before heading home.

  Know Thy Co-Workers

  In the early days of his second month at PanAsia, Nakul had started spending 13-14 hrs. a day at work in an effort to complete things beforehand, do some groundwork, and anticipate what his boss might want the next day. Nakul was determined to face his challenges passionately. He was invariably the last one to leave office every day. During one of first long days at work when Nakul was the last to leave office, he was taken aback to find that he would have to pull down a garage-shop type of shutter at the main door of the office. In his experience in the corporate world, he never had to shut down a shop in true parlance. He was unsure if this was typical of offices at Nariman Point or if this was an attribute of the stingy Indian promoters, who run business that did not want to invest in access cards, or even ID cards at the minimum.

  Today, he was closer to the end of his second month at PanAsia and he was feeling markedly less passionate about his work. For all his hard work, he was still being harassed by Rohtaj. Almost as if his boss had a penchant for showing Nakul down for the smallest of mistakes. After another round of uncalled-for reprimand by Rohtaj, Nakul and Prashar came to the common area to get some coffee.

  “Don't take too much tension, this goes on,” said Prashar.

  Nakul was staring at the floor, he was feeling dejected and he wondered if he should think of anything to say to Prashar.

  “Man, I don't know, things anyways don’t seem to moving around here, to top that, that son-of-a-midge Rohtaj just has a fetish for shredding off anything we bring to him. Not doing good to my confidence as a….as an employee, you know?” said Nakul.

  “Don't worry...he is the problem, not you,” reasoned Prashar, “dude, at least 8 people have left this shop because of him.”

  “Ah, this is good information,” Nakul said, halfheartedly. He thought he may have done less to acknowledge Prashar’s intention of calming him down so he regretted being unreasonably reactive.

  “I know that I ought to cut my new job some slack…give it some time and adjust to the culture here,” said Nakul, now looking out to the sea visible from the only window opening to the vast expanse of the nether side of Nariman Point. “For the past few weeks, I have strived to do my best...yet…shit strikes more often than I can handle.”

  Neel walked in on them in the middle of this grim topic and felt an urge to lighten the moment.

  “Don’t you ask him for a date now…Dudes, get a room already! Cheer up fellows, we are going to go out again soon and lets have ourselves another Bollywood themed evening!” Neel said. This had the desired effect of cheering up Nakul and Prashar.

  “Thanks anyways man, it feels good that there are wayfarers who are suffering in the boat with me, gives a lot of hope too that if we remain a team then tomorrow will perhaps be better,” said Nakul. He felt as invigorated as he had felt after the talk with Talukdar the other day. He had developed a cordial chumship with Prashar and Neel after the Bollywood night the other day and was grateful for the brief ‘cheer-me-up’ bitchings that his new friends felt privy to every now and then.

  “Yeah,” said Nakul “Let’s talk after office.” He saw Keshav bending over Reshma’s desk. Reshma was a new joinee and no doubt she needed someone to show her around the office. Nakul thought he had been talking to her for the past hour or so. Seemed quite a lot unfair, given that Nakul, Prashar and Neel were smothered with all kinds of nonsensical research, presentations and other grudge work of the sort, so much so that they could not leave work until at least 10 PM everyday.

  “Dude, gotto get some work done, too, right?” he said as he walked past Keshav.

  Keshav hardly even seemed to acknowledge. Nakul let it go this once. He slumped on his desk and waited for Rohtaj to leave office so that he could also go home. When it was time to go home, Nakul realized that he and Prashar were still the last ones to leave office. Prashar heaved the shutter down and offered to drive Nakul to Churchgate station, from where Nakul could catch the local to Bandra.

  “Dude, you’ve worked at PanAsia longer than any other associate-a total of 7 months!” Nakul said as Prashar was driving.

  “Yeah! Quite a feat! Still haven’t checked into a mental asylum as yet so good for me!” said Prashar.

  Nakul had found it odd at first that no one stay back in PanAsia at least for a couple of years. He recalled Viraj mentioning that people were unable to take the work pressure, girlfriend issues creep in, a business idea suddenly seems achievable. But the reasons were clearer now...sadistic bosses and stunted careers.

  “The guy before you left in less than a month,” said Prashar.

  “No surprise. But why are you still here?” asked Nakul.

  “Man, I am too stupid to make it anywhere else.”

  “No, really.”

  “I’ve been applying, but you know I’ve spent the most time…more than anyone else…in this company?”

  “Yes.”

  “…and Bonus is just round the corner in December, I could really use some money man, I might get married soon.”

  “Dude, you better…before PanAsia sucks out the remaining smidgeon of manhood in you. Maybe you should snap out of your banker-confidence and get your sperm count tested,” retorted Nakul.

  “Ya? Ha! That’s no worry, the high tide brings a good number of them out into the open ever so often! Haha!” laughed Prashar. He continued, “Also, dude, I haven’t had any big deal experience here. That’s really bad for the CV. Viraj and others have been avoiding transactions that involve big money. In fact, they haven’t closed any deal so far. They keep playing ‘office’ and keep evading deals and we always find ourselves on the same presentations and documents that we were working on months ago.”

  “Why doesn't Viraj do something about this company, why is he still keeping the likes of Rohtaj on the pay roll, does he know how much of a team player and a mentor he is?” said Nakul, meaning the pun.

  Prashar pulled up towards the left lane as they approached the station.

  “Rohtaj is a certified loser. After his MS in the US, he wandered around until some chip manufacturer took him in. He probably got thrown out of there and didn't want to come back to India so got into a business school after which he was riding atop probably the best hiring season for I-Bankers and found himself at Lehman Brothers. Then 2 things happened that shaped his future...Lehman Brothers realized that pursuing a diverse employee base should not be done at the cost of retarding the firm’s collective IQ. And second, in one of his assignments, his MD threw a book at him that struck him right at the face.”

  “Ah poor MD couldn’t hold herself back anymore…but how do you know all this?”

  “The asshole’s boss was Mayur's VP at Hyphen Capital,” said Prashar, referring to the Associate who joined PanAsia just last week.

  “Rohtaj realized that the MD had probably stepped over certain limits. Soon after he came out of the MD's cabin, he reported the incident to the HR. He just covered his eye with his hand and made a grimaced face. The HR was triggered into a damage control mode with the sole objective of preserving the Lehman identity as an equal opportunity employer. Rohtaj thus bought himself a great severance package and flaunting rights of an exalting experience letter from the holy grail of banking...Lehman Brothers. Not surprisingly though, thanks to his sparse knowledge base, he did not find another job in the US, the only company on the globe that would care to look at him was in Mumbai. For a while before coming here, he was at some small legal shop in the documentation team where he was supposed to cross the t's and dot the i's for 4 years as an ex-banker.”

  Sudden
ly clarity set in. Nakul had worked hard the past month and a half. True sense of the word hard. He had gathered his facts from comprehensive base, constructed the presentation with as succinct a flow as possible, double-checked the comps that Prashar gave him and went over the formatting in the end. Still, he was certain that the boss' feedback was not a function of their approach and their effort. Strangely, Nakul thought he could now be more tolerant to the crap meted out to him and his friends at PanAsia. Awareness is truly liberating. The only thing that bugged him was the realization that they were being subject to a cheap replica of the I-Banking culture at Wall Street.