Three Thousand Stitches Read online

  ‘The group murmured in agreement.

  ‘So Uncle called Draupadi on her cell phone and said, “My dear child, please excuse us. We will not be able to eat at your home today. I promise we will come another time.”

  ‘Draupadi smiled. As always, her brother had come to her rescue! “You are always welcome here, Uncle, but please let me know in advance next time,” she said and hung up.’

  I was stumped. The stories had been transformed, and how! After that reinvention, I didn’t have the guts to share the story of Draupadi’s disrobing in the royal court!

  10

  A Day in Infosys Foundation

  Shoba is one of my school friends. In a small town like Hubli, it is common for close friends to become as comfortable with each other as siblings. As life usually turns out, we walked down different paths and Shoba settled down in Hubli, while I moved to Bengaluru. Her children, like many others in Karnataka, became software engineers and moved to Bengaluru. So Shoba frequented the city to visit her children and often called on me whenever possible.

  One day, she phoned my office. Since I was in a meeting, I passed on a message to her that I would call her back later. When I reached out to her in the evening, she asked, ‘Why did you take so long to return my call?’

  ‘Shoba, I got time to return my personal calls just a short while ago.’

  ‘I know that you are very busy,’ she said, sounding a little concerned. ‘But it’s so difficult to reach you when I want to—sometimes you are at work or travelling or out for an appointment even during the hours when I think you might be at home. I only wanted to invite you for my grandson’s first birthday. It is on Monday and you must come at whatever time is convenient for you.’

  ‘Oh Shoba! It is almost impossible for me to visit you on a working day, especially Monday.’

  ‘Can’t you spare one hour for a close friend?’ asked Shoba, the way only old friends can do. ‘I know that you are the chairperson of a foundation and you must be having visitors all the time asking you for grants, but you can always reschedule or refuse to meet them. They will come again, I’m sure!’

  ‘It isn’t that simple,’ I replied. ‘With the two hours that takes from Jayanagar to your home and back, half my day will be gone. A day at the foundation is filled with many activities, some of which aren’t easy to explain. For someone who doesn’t work there, it may appear to be the apparent simple task of giving money or grants. If you really want to know what I do, then come and shadow me for a day. Maybe then you will get a glimpse into the complicated nature of social work.’

  Enthusiastically, Shoba agreed and a few weeks later, on a Monday, she joined me for a day at the office.

  I was happy that she had come. I told her, ‘You will only observe and not comment or participate as I go about my day! Is that okay?’

  She smiled and nodded.

  Meanwhile, I gave my assistant, Asha, a list of people with whom I needed to speak to that morning. Soon, the phone rang. Asha sprang into action and answered the call.

  A voice spoke, ‘We are from Hubli and know Mrs Sudha Murty very well. I’d like to speak with her.’

  ‘What is your name, madam?’

  ‘Usha. Usha Patil.’

  Asha turned to me, ‘Usha Patil is on the line. May I connect her to you?’

  Usha is a common name in Hubli and so is the last name Patil. I knew at least ten Usha Patils from Hubli—a neighbour, a classmate, a cousin, a cousin’s wife, a writer, an acquaintance, a temple priest’s daughter and a few more and I wondered who this person was.

  Asha seemed to be at a loss, just like me.

  I took the phone from Asha. ‘Sudha Murty here,’ I said.

  ‘I am Usha Patil from Kundgol, a village near Hubli. My son needs a job . . .’

  ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘No, but you are from Hubli. That’s why I am sure that you will help someone from there.’

  ‘Usha ji, why did you say that you know me?’

  ‘I do know you through newspapers and television,’ she justified. ‘But I didn’t say that you knew me. Keeping that aside, my son is keen on getting employed soon.’

  I was firm. ‘I am not responsible for recruiting people at Infosys. Please email the human resources department for this as they have their own procedure.’

  ‘But if you put in a word, they won’t refuse your request,’ she persisted.

  ‘I’m sorry, Usha ji, but this is a matter of hiring professionals and employees are hired only after interviews and tests. I run the foundation and don’t interfere with the process of another department.’

  Usha wasn’t convinced. She sounded reluctant. ‘Then will you give me the details of an appropriate contact?’

  ‘You can send the resume via email,’ I replied.

  ‘Please hold on for a moment while I find a pen and take down the email address.’

  I didn’t have time to wait and gave the phone back to Asha, ‘Give her the recruitment email address and from now on, when someone says that they know me well, please also ask if I know them.’

  I went and sat down to check my emails.

  Leena, my secretary, said, ‘Madam, there are 410 emails for you today.’

  The number was not unusual. ‘Let’s separate it based on its category and then start from the bottom.’

  Once that was done, we began. The first was an email describing me as if I were some kind of a goddess. ‘Leena, just read the last line,’ I said.

  ‘The request is for a grant to build a temple,’ Leena explained.

  The foundation does not help with any religious constructions or restorations unless it is of archaeological importance, as declared by the state or central government. ‘Please send our regrets,’ I said.

  By the time Leena and I moved to the next email, most of the cell phones began chiming in the office indicating that we had received several messages. They were all in response to one that said, ‘Infosys Foundation is giving scholarships to all those who apply. Contact the foundation immediately.’

  The phones also began ringing.

  The news was absolutely untrue. Several years ago, the foundation had offered limited scholarships, but the programme had been terminated based on the exit policy at the end of the specified term. Despite this, we were aware that some people were floating this information on the instant messaging application WhatsApp. As a result, students and parents often inundated us with emails, letters and phone calls.

  I asked Asha to reply to each query in the same mode that it was received. I knew it would keep Asha busy for a few hours.

  Once that was done, Leena and I opened the second email. A university wanted to confer an honorary doctorate on me.

  Leena was thrilled but I wasn’t. Soon enough, we read the relevant line, ‘Once you receive the doctorate, you will become an alumnus, and we are sure that you will help the university in any way that you can.’

  I scratch your back and you scratch mine. ‘Please decline the doctorate politely,’ I told Leena.

  The next request was an invitation to be the chief guest for a college’s annual day in Mumbai. While I usually can’t go to most of the events that come my way, I make an effort to attend at least a few. Leena told me that the event was only for two hours but the travel time to Mumbai and back would take one and a half days. I considered declining it, but then thought of the students, who I always hold dear.

  ‘If I am going to Mumbai that day for work, I will attend it,’ I said.

  She checked my diary. ‘You are going to be in Mumbai for meetings in the afternoon on that date and there are a few available hours in the morning. Luckily, the venue is close to the airport and you can go there after you land. We can reschedule the flight and you can leave early in the morning from Bengaluru.’

  ‘Tell the college management that I will be there slightly early at 9.30 a.m. and must depart by 11 a.m.’

  The shrill ringing of the phone on my desk interrupted our conversation a