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Amit’s extension rang. It was 6:30 P.M. Amit sighed as he picked up the phone.
“Hi Amit, could you please come over to my desk? I need to talk to you,” said Smriti in her usual friendly tone.
Amit was longing to stretch his limbs but had to dutifully rush over to Smriti’s desk.
“Hi, ummm .... Amit, I needed you to do some research for me,” said Smriti.
“Alright,” said Amit, taking out a pen and his notepad.
“First of all, check what is the penalty for opening an office in a residential area. I mean whether the offence is compoundable, i.e. whether the company can get away with just paying a fine or whether the civic authorities have to shut down the office,” said Smriti.
“Okay,” said Amit noting down.
“Secondly, check whether a similar disclosure has been made before by any other company in their offer documents,” said Smriti.
“Alright,” said Amit.
“Oh by the way, do me one more favour,” said Smriti.
“Go ahead,” Amit frowned.
“I received a call from Mr. Naveen Jain. He said he needed some of his documents back,” said Smriti.
Amit looked blank.
“Remember the agreements with their clients we had asked for? Those agreements are going to be listed in the business section of the offer document. The business section? The one that talks about the company’s main and side businesses?” explained Smriti.
Amit was listening.
“The purpose of the business section is to tell potential investors in very general terms what the company does before they decide to invest their money for the expansion of that company,” said Smriti.
“Right. Got it,” said Amit.
“However, Mr. Naveen Jain was saying that those documents are extremely confidential. And now he wants them back because he fears that they may get leaked or even lost. It’s for safety, and his peace of mind, you know,” said Smriti.
Amit nodded.
“So please do me a favour. Call a cab, take these documents with you to Pitampura and personally hand them over to Mr. Naveen Jain. That will reassure him,” Smriti said.
“And you want me to do that right now? How urgent is it?” asked Amit.
Smriti thought for a moment. Then she continued:
“Mr. Naveen Jain sounded a little agitated. I think it would be better if you delivered the documents right away. Consider this matter as priority,” she said.
“And one more thing. When you hand him over the documents, please call and let me know that the documents were delivered safely,” she said.
“Okay,” Amit said. He immediately called a cab and moved downstairs.
***
It was 8 P.M. by the time Amit could reach the company’s office in Pitampura after being stuck in an hour long traffic jam. This was Delhi’s rush hour after all and everyone was obviously returning home from work. He delivered the documents to Mr. Naveen Jain and called Smriti to let her know that the documents were delivered safely.
“Great. Thanks very much. Oh by the way there were a few litigation documents that I needed to hand over to you, but I forgot. These pertain to the open cases where the company is being sued by other parties in courts. They will form a part of the Risk Factors chapter. They are lying on my desk in office. Please pick them up as well,” said Smriti.
Amit was extremely tired. He wanted to go home and take a short walk in the nearby park to catch some fresh air.
“How important are those documents? Can they wait till tomorrow morning?” Amit said.
“No, no, no. It’s urgent. I don’t want those documents lying on my table. You need to also familiarise yourself with those cases. This will help you in tomorrow’s meeting,” insisted Smriti.
“Okay,” said Amit, his voice sounding tired. He got into the cab and asked the driver to drive back to Connaught Place first.
The traffic was crazy. 1400 cars were being added to Delhi’s roads every day, and Amit could sense the effect. The traffic jams often stretched for miles. Some cars had formed their own serpentine lanes. Now when five lanes form when there be space for only two, people in Delhi go crazy. Everyone starts honking like mad as if that could somehow magically clear the jams!
Amit thought he was going crazy. His sensitive ears were almost collapsing under the weight of the incessant honking. He wanted to listen to crickets chirping in the park and the breeze making a rustling sound but here he was sitting and witnessing all the madness which was so common place in Delhi.
Amit’s cab was moving at a snail’s pace. After an hour, the cab picked up some speed. Amit felt a little relieved. He was about to reach his destination, when his mobile rang. It was Smriti again.
“Hi Amit, sorry to disturb you, but I forgot to buy Mom’s medicine. I was rushing and I’m terribly tied up for the whole day tomorrow. Can you do me one more favour?” said Smriti.
“Yah, go ahead,” Amit said, his voice now completely lacking in energy.
“Near the office, there is a Pharmacist. Please go there and buy some methotrexate. I’ll collect those medicines from you tomorrow morning,” said Smriti.
Amit opened his rucksack and took out his notebook and pen.
“What’s the spelling?” Amit asked.
“It’s called Methotrexate. M-E-T-H-O-T-R-E-X-A-T-E,” said Smriti.
Amit made a note. For a moment he regretted being not in London. First, no one would have asked him there to get medicines for themselves or their dog. And even if they did, no pharmacy would have allowed him to buy anything without a prescription.
But this was India. How could he say no when he knew how sick Smriti’s mother was. He should be willing to do anything that could bring a little smile to anyone’s face. This was his upbringing and was now second nature to him.
Sometimes such small things gave him the greatest pleasure. Today was not that day, but he still had to say:
“Okay, don’t worry and take care of your mom.”
“Oh thank you so much,” said Smriti. Amit could sense a gratefulness in her voice. He knew he was doing the right thing.
Meanwhile the cab had reached Connaught Place. He asked the driver whether he knew of any Pharmacy around, and the driver promptly took him to one that was open 24*7. Amit bought some Methotrexate, asked for the bill, which you don’t get automatically in India, and went back to the office.
When Amit entered the office, he saw that most of the lights were switched off. No one was around except, of course, Arshad Khan. Amit knew where Smriti’s cubicle was but was having difficulty finding it in the dark. He ultimately managed to get to her desk and collect all the heavy litigation files.
He then took the cab back. It was nearly 1 a.m. when he reached home. Bagga, his domestic help, who stayed with him, opened the door.
“I can heat some soup, rice and vegetables for you. Would you like to have some?” he said.
“No. Thank you very much. I’m extremely tired and would like to go to sleep,” Amit said.
Bagga felt bad.
“You haven’t had anything in the evening. Have something, even a little,” he said.
“No, no, I’ll just crash,” Amit said.
Jeff came running at him but Amit was too tired to even pat him. He changed his clothes and went straight to bed. It had been a hectic day for him. But at least he had helped Smriti professionally as well as in taking care of her mom. He didn’t want any recognition for that. Or a round of applause. That was just good karma, he thought.
***
The next morning Amit reached office at 9:30 A.M. He was wearing a stylish grey tweed and a maroon coloured tie. He hadn’t slept well last night.
He was usually the brightest in the morning ready to start his day. But today he was groggy. His mind just wasn’t working.
Amit took his seat and started to check his e-mails.
Just then, his extension rang. He picked up the receiver.
“Hi Amit. What was the outcome of the research I had asked you to do last evening?” asked Smriti.
Amit was blank for a moment and then he remembered.
“Oh that research, I will just get to that. You know last night I was delivering documents and got stuck in a terrible traffic jam...”
“The what? How can you be so careless, Amit? That research was so important for today’s meeting which is about to start in an hour,” said Smriti in an uncharacteristically aggressive tone.
Amit was stunned.
“But you didn’t tell me that the research was so important. Last night you told me that picking up those documents was urgent. Had I...”
“Now, don’t you give me those lame excuses? I am not in the habit of hearing them. I had asked you to pick up those documents because you had nothing better to do,” said Smriti.
“Huh?” Amit could only manage that much.
“Listen to me first. I had asked you to call me when you delivered the documents, which you did. But you didn’t tell me that the research was still pending. Since you kept quiet, I thought you had done that job,” said Smriti.
“But you never told me that the research was so urgent. In fact last night when I called, you sent me on another errand to collect some more documents from your office,” protested Amit.
“Stop whining, Amit. Learn to take responsibility. Accept gracefully that you slipped up. It will only help you in your career. Learn to be humble. And please don’t speak to me in that irritable tone. Speak to me properly. I am your senior after all,” said Smriti.
Amit’s brain had gone totally blank.
“Oh and one more thing. Next time you are going to ask ME what is important and what is not and how then to prioritise your work, which you obviously can’t manage on your own. Got it?” said Smriti.
“Yes, boss,” Amit was too tired to say anything more.
“And next time please don’t even bother to offer any lame excuses. Extend your day. You are in corporate law and very soon you will have to learn to sit longer hours. I need you to do your homework properly. I really don’t care how you do it. Whether you do it in the car or sit up here whole night, I just don’t care,” Smriti was now croaking like a frog.
Amit was listening, with his head in his hands.
“You have been goofing up on too many occasions. Missing deadlines. But what is worse is that you put me in an embarrassing position and I am forced to defend you in front of everyone. On top of that, when I ask for an explanation, you argue back. I don’t like that irritable tone you use to speak to me. I am not in the habit of taking nonsense especially from someone who is five years junior to me,” Smriti was just raving and ranting.
Amit was thinking of what to say but Smriti had hung up. He covered his face with his hands. It was totally his fault, he thought. He used to be quite careful about meeting deadlines but this time how did he miss it?
Smriti was absolutely right. How could he be so careless? Maybe he wasn’t clear enough in his communication. Or maybe he was becoming plain lazy. He should have researched the topic.
What was he doing after 1 a.m. in any case? Sleeping, which as he very well knew, was one of the cardinal sins of corporate law. He could have stretched himself and completed the task. But he didn’t. He instead chose to give his body a rest.
She was right, it was his fault. And he did make her look bad in front of everyone else.
Amit’s thoughts were becoming darker and darker. He didn’t deserve this job, he thought to himself. He was extremely sloppy and forgetful. There were other people in this firm who could have done a better job than him any day. And here he was, not capable of managing even the simplest of tasks. What was wrong with him?
“Is your boss nit-picking at you again?” Amit suddenly heard someone saying. He looked up and saw that it was Naina. There was a mischievous glint in her eye that hid the compassion in her tone as if she could understand what Amit was going through.
Naina was wearing a black and white sari and a black formal short coat on top which barely covered her toned belly. Her voice sounded so sweet, like from an angel who had descended from the heavens.
“Yah. Sort of,” Amit replied half-heartedly.
“Bosses are like that,” Naina said.
Amit was surprised. Suddenly as if he was struck by lightning, he asked:
“How do you know that my boss was nit-picking?” asked Amit.
“Because you were taking such great pains to explain yourself. It was making my stomach churn,” Naina grimaced.
“Your boss Ms. Smriti Jain is currently a trending topic in gossip circles, but you won’t know that, would you?” Naina continued.
Amit didn’t reply.
“I have actually heard all kinds of weird stories about your boss,” Naina added.
“And I have heard similar stories about yours. How he keeps his juniors awake late at night even if there be no work or how he makes something up just to keep everyone on their toes,” Amit retorted.
“Forgive me, I overheard a few interns complaining about his behaviour.”
“You heard it right. He tried the same tricks on me. But I told him to go kiss himself in the a**,” said Naina with a grin.
Amit squirmed as he thought that was too strong a language to be used in office.
“Really? Then how did you survive after that incident?” he asked.
Naina was about to explain, as graphically as she could, but Amit put a finger to his lips and hushed her up. A Senior Partner was walking up in their direction.
Amit knew that Naina would have some very interesting things to share, things he would have loved to hear. But he knew that an open plan office wasn’t the right place for such chit-chats. Sound could travel in any direction and could even land up in your boss’ ears, an outcome Amit didn’t wish to happen.
“Why don’t we move somewhere safer to discuss this?” he said.
“Yes, why don’t we? I know of a place which is perfect...,” said Naina.
“Then let’s go,” said Amit.
