One Night at the Call Center Read online

  “What?” Priyanka said, “next month?” and looked around at all of us with a shocked expression. Everyone returned puzzled looks, as if they didn't know what was going on. I also pretended to look confused.

  “Mum, no!” Priyanka wailed. “How can I get married next month? That's less than five weeks away.”

  “Oh you don't have to worry about that. I am there to organize everything. You wait and see, I'll work day and night to make it a grand event.”

  “Mum, I'm not worried about organizing a party. I have to be ready to get married. I hardly know Ganesh,” Priyanka said, entwining her fingers nervously in the telephone wire.

  “Huh? Of course you're ready for it. When the families have fixed the match and bride and groom are happy, why delay? And the boy can't keep visiting again and again. He's in an important position after all.”

  Yeah right, I thought. He was probably one of the thousands of Indian geeks coding away at Microsoft. But to his in-laws, he was Bill Gates himself.

  “Mum, please. I can't go ahead with it next month. Sorry, but no,” Priyanka said, “and I have to put the phone down now.”

  “What do you mean no? This is too much. Do you have to disagree with me always or what?”

  “Mum, how does this have anything to do with disagreeing with you? In fact, how does it have anything to do with you? It's my life, and sorry, I can't marry anyone I have only known for five weeks.”

  Priyanka's mother stayed silent for a while. I thought she would retaliate, but then I figured out that the silence was working more effectively than words. She knows how to put an emotional slasher knife right at Priyanka's neck.

  “Mum, are you there?” Priyanka asked after ten seconds.

  “Yes, I'm still here. I'll be dead soon, but unfortunately I'm still here.”

  “Mum, c'mon now …”

  “Don't even make me happy just by chance,” Priyanka's mother said. What a killer line, I thought. I almost applauded.

  Priyanka threw a hand up in the air in exasperation, then grabbed a stress ball lying near Vroom's computer across the table and squeezed it hard. I tugged the headset closer to my ear as Priyanka's voice turned softer.

  “Mum, please. Don't do this.”

  “You know I prayed for one hour today… praying you stay happy … forever,” Priyanka's mother said as she broke into tears. Whoever starts crying first always has an advantage in an argument. This works for Priyanka's mother, who at least has obedient tear glands, if not an obedient daughter.

  “Mum, don't create a scene. I'm at work. What do you want from me? I have agreed to the boy. Now why is everyone pushing me?”

  “Isn't Ganesh nice? What's the problem?” her mother said in a tragic tone that could put any Bollywood hero's mother to shame.

  “Mum, I didn't say he isn't nice, I just need time.”

  “You aren't distracted, are you? Are you still talking to that useless call-center chap, what's his name? Shyam?”

  I jumped.

  “No, Mum. That's over. I've told you so many times. I've agreed to Ganesh, right?”

  “So, why can't you agree to next month—for everyone's happiness? Can't a mother beg her daughter for this?”

  There you go: can't-a-mother No. 2 for the night.

  Priyanka closed her eyes to compose herself and spoke slowly, “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. Think about it. But think for all of us, not just yourself.”

  “OK. I will. Just… just give me some time.”

  Priyanka hung up the phone and kept still while the girls asked her for details.

  She looked around and threw the stress ball at her monitor.

  “Can you believe it? She wants me to get married next month. Next month!” Priyanka said and stood up. “They brought me up for twenty-five years, and now they can't wait more than twenty-five days to get rid of me. What is it with these people? Am I such a burden?” Priyanka repeated her conversation to Esha and Radhika. Vroom checked his computer to see if Bakshi had sent us any e-mails.

  “It doesn't matter, right? You have to marry him anyway. Why drag it out?” Radhika said to Priyanka.

  “Yes, you get to drive the Lexus sooner, too,” Vroom said, without looking up from his screen. Screw Vroom. I gave him a firm glare out of the corner of my eye.

  “What will I wear?” Esha said. Her somber mood had lightened with the new announcement. Give her a chance to dress up and she'll ignore people dying all around her. “This is too short notice,” she continued. “I need a new dress for every ceremony.”

  “Get your designer friends to lend you a few dresses,” Vroom said to Esha with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  Esha's face dropped again. Only I saw it, but her eyes became wet. She took a tissue from her purse, pretended to fix her lipstick and casually wiped away her tears.

  “I'm so not ready for this. In one month I'll be someone's wife. Gosh, little kids will call me auntie,” Priyanka said.

  Everyone discussed the pros and cons of Priyanka getting married in four weeks' time. Most of them felt getting married so quickly wasn't such a big deal once she had chosen the guy. Of course, most people didn't give a damn about me.

  In the midst of the discussions the systems guy returned to our desk.

  “What happened here?” he said from under the table. “Looks like someone ripped these wires apart.”

  “I don't know,” I said. “See if we can get some traffic again.”

  Priyanka's mother and her words—“the useless call-center boy“—resounded in my head. I remembered the time when Priyanka told me her mother's views about me. It wasn't long ago: It was one of our last dates at Mocha Cafe.

  Chapter 18

  My Past Dates with Priyanka—IV

  Mocha Cafe, Greater Kailash I

  Five months earlier

  WEPROMISED TO MEET ON ONE CONDITION: we wouldn't fight. No blame games, no sarcastic comments and no judgmental remarks. She was late again. I fiddled with the menu and looked around. Mocha's decor had a Middle Eastern twist, with hookahs, velvet cushions, and colored glass lamps everywhere. Many of the tables were occupied by couples, sitting with intertwined fingers, obviously deeply in love. The girls laughed at whatever the guys said. The guys ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Every now and then their eyes met and giggles broke out. It was perfect, like all they needed to be happy was each other. Aren't the silly delusions in the initial stage of a relationship amazing? My life was nowhere near perfect, of course. For

  Starters, my girlfriend, if I could still call her that, was late. Plus I could sense she was itching to dump me. Priyanka and I had ended eight of our last ten phone calls with one of us hanging up on the other.

  I hadn't slept the entire day, which isn't a big deal for most people, but considering I work all night, it hadn't left me feeling too good. My job was going nowhere, with Bakshi bent on sucking every last drop of my blood. Maybe he was right—I just didn't have the strategic vision or managerial leadership or whatever crap things you are supposed to have to do well in life. Maybe Priyanka's mum was right too, and her daughter was stuck with a loser.

  These thoughts enveloped me as she came in. She had just had a haircut and her waist-length hair was now just a few inches below her shoulders. I liked her with long hair, but she never listened to me. I told you, I didn't have the leadership skills to influence anyone. Anyway, her hair still looked nice. She wore a white linen top and a flowing lavender skirt with lots of crinkly edges. She wore a thin silver necklace, with the world's tiniest diamond pendant hanging from it. I stared at my watch as a sign of protest.

  “Sorry, Shyam,” she said as she put a giant brown bag on the table, “that ass hairdresser took so long. I told him I had to leave early.”

  “No big deal. A haircut has to be more important than me,” I said without any emotion in my voice.

  “I thought we said no sarcasm,” she said, “and I did say sorry.”

  “That's