Corporate Carnival (22 page)

I visited Sunny Singh the following afternoon. Sunny Singh was delighted with this move of ours. He tossed me a can of beer and opened one for himself.

‘Thank god you are leaving that bank. I don’t know how you managed for a year, even
I
was feeling suffocated.’

His father joined us soon and Sunny told him how this group of youngsters had started a private equity firm. ‘I am putting five million dollars in it. They will do well, these boys. They just need encouragement and some freedom to think and work. That bank was like a jail. Bunch of losers.’

‘Oh, jolly good, jolly good,’ roared the father through his bountiful grey beard. ‘It is good to be your own master. When you control your destiny, if you are hard-working, you will be a winner, not a loser. And the winner should have champion!’

I raised my eyebrows enquiringly.

‘Champion!’ he repeated. He left the room and returned moments later with a bottle with ‘Champagne Pol Roger’ written on it. He was smiling triumphantly.

‘Enough of this silly beer,’ he thundered. ‘
Champion
for the winner!’

Later, Sunny’s driver took me home. I left my car at Sunny’s place because his dad had made me drink so much ‘champion’ that I was fizzing and frothing and popping just like that ghost in Kitch’s room.

On my way home, the phone began vibrating in my pocket. It was Lalwani. ‘Seventeenth December,’ he said. ‘Mark your calendar. You have to be there. We are inaugurating factory. Set up in record time, just like that. Early January, my first zalzalah will hit the market. But this one, I have made easier to blow. The one you brought, too difficult. My son is blowing it, but I’m not able to do it. Almost my lungs were bursting off.’

The next day, Mina called me at work and asked me if I could join her for lunch at her favourite restaurant. Galiya was taking her somewhere and she wanted to meet me after that. She sounded a little breathless on the phone.

‘Can you come right away, please? It’s a little important. Can you come now, Jai?’

So I went. Galiya was there too. When they saw me they whispered something to each other and started giggling like schoolgirls. They looked flushed and happy.

‘You two look like teenagers about to go on your first date. What’s up?’ I asked them.

They continued acting silly.

‘Tell him,’ said Galiya.

‘
You
tell him!’ Mina said.

I was getting quite irritated. I opened my mouth to issue a firm rebuke. I didn’t leave my work halfway and rush here for all this.

‘We’re both pregnant!’

I started violently. ‘W-what, really?! P-p…!’ I opened my mouth, then closed it and swallowed a couple of times. ‘B-both of you?’

They nodded, then held each other’s hands and giggled some more.

I hugged both of them. I didn’t know what to say. I was excited and happy, yes. But I was also apprehensive, a little incredulous and even a shade embarrassed. Then, like an idiot, I giggled too.

That night, we celebrated at Kitch’s place. For some reason, we kept meeting at Kitch’s apartment; partly, I guess, because of Olga. But somehow it always seemed more fun here than anywhere else. The living room was nice and cozy and we all had our favourite spots to sit in. Kitch had kept his word and managed to get the ‘LOVE’ photograph back into the bedroom.

With her plate piled with rice and vegetables, Peggy looked around for Galiya. ‘Any VK?’ she asked.

‘Oh, by the way, I know what VK stands for. I think I have mastered the word,’ said Harry. ‘After Yashodhara, everything seems simple.’

‘‘Let’s hear it, Harry,’ I said, feeling rather tense. If a Brit could pronounce Tamil words, what skills would I, a mere Gujarati, be left with?

‘
Wotto columbay
!’ he said.

I heaved a sigh of relief, even as Kitch covered his face with his palms and groaned.

‘Thank god we may never have to hear you say that word again,’ he told Harry. ‘Galiya is off VK completely. I think she had an overdose of it. She has switched to onion thokku.’

‘Oh, darn it!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘Just as I had mastered the previous one.’

I finished writing my diary for the day and kept it aside. Mina was asleep beside me. I looked at her. A strand of hair was falling over her face stubbornly, making her nose twitch. I watched it twitch a couple of times, then smiled, pushed the hair back and switched off the light. Lying in bed, I took stock of things. They looked good to me.

Family, check.

Friends, check.

Health, check – though that six pack remained a pipe dream.

Wealth – hmm… would be nice to have some more, but check.

Colleagues, check.

Baby, bless the little thing, check.

There was a little issue about Jan threatening to get immigration to put a temporary entry ban on our passports, but I rather thought we had the UAE law on our side. We were professionals and we would be completing the mandatory one year of employment in a week’s time. In any case, I was sure we could face a small thing like that. As Rocky Balboa and Madhusudan Pikle would say, ‘It ain’t about how hard you hit but about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done.’

I turned over and looked at Mina. She was sleeping peacefully. The straying hair was now firmly in its place. Gently, I touched her stomach. My baby was in there.

Acknowledgements

Mukul Deva for putting me on to HarperCollins.

Neelini Sarkar, my incredibly talented editor.

Roshan Bhaskar, my youngest reader and so far my biggest fan. May his tribe increase. This is possibly the only book he has read that is about human beings. The rest seem to be about wizards, dragons, Greek, Roman and Egyptian gods.

My sister Shobhana, the only one who takes my writing as seriously as I do.

My wife Anandhi for putting up with my frequent silences and, in her own crisp words, ‘letting me write’.

Every noble soul who bought my first book and liked it; it encouraged me to write this one. So they have no choice but to read it.

My heartfelt thanks to these members of the august but rapidly dwindling group of bibliophiles: Nagendra, Raman, Francesca, Sarabjit, Ashwin, Monisha, Mansi, Mathangi, Satya and H.E. Sanjay Verma, Consul General, CGI Dubai.

Everyone who took the trouble to criticize my first book, thank you for taking time and voicing your opinion. After giving your comments a great deal of thought, I have decided to continue writing in the same vein.

Praise for
Jack Patel’s Dubai Dreams

‘Jack Patel might sound like the proverbial banker but his rather quirky sense of being and tongue-in-cheek humour gives you a new perspective on a man whose dreams don’t seem too far from reality.’
The Hindu

‘P.G. Bhaskar’s lines are packed with wit that ring with sincerity and spontaneity eliciting some hearty laughs. He has an amazing ability to strike a chord despite the scene.’
The New Indian Express

‘A witty book, full of inventive one-liners, humorous asides and smart observations’
The National, Abu Dhabi

‘Jack Patel’s Dubai Dreams
is a delightful, funny read. Written with the financial crisis as a background, one might expect a heavy, sad tome, but it surprises us with its dealing of some sad times with its light-hearted treatment.’
New Global Indian

‘Read it for the humour, for the quirkiness and to understand the wisdom of depositing Rs 5000 in a recurring account every month!’
tabla

‘An ideal way to while away a lazy afternoon’
dawn.com

About the Author

P.G. B
HASKAR
is a twenty-first century banker and in that capacity needs everyone’s empathy. A chartered accountant, he left India for Dubai in 1992 and, what with one thing and the other, stayed put, watching the city grow. He now lives there with his wife and teenage son.

Bhaskar is one of the modern world’s thinkers and philosophers. He thinks deeply about several things, including but not limited to, the ups and downs of Indian cricket, why Pluto stopped being a planet, who chose February to have fewer days than other months, and his frequently missing handkerchiefs. He has come to no conclusion on these issues, or indeed on any issue. Nevertheless, he continues to ponder. In the meantime, he has decided to write books, despite being warned that nobody below the age of seventy-two reads nowadays.

First published in India in 2012 by
HarperCollins
Publishers
India

Copyright © P.G. Bhaskar 2012

ISBN: 978-93-5029-351-5

Epub Edition © December 2012 ISBN: 9789350295885

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

P.G. Bhaskar asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under The Copyright Act, 1957. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
Publishers
India.

Cover design Mayek Projects

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