‘H
34
i, can you see me?’ I said. I sat at my dining table, facing my laptop.
I had a Skype call fixed with Raj Bakshi, a doctor based in Boston, USA.
‘Yeah. It’s a little dark though. Can you switch on another light?’ Raj said. He was thirty years
old, had a thin moustache and wore a light blue shirt.
Before I could respond, my mother switched on all the lights in the apartment.
‘Mom? What are you doing here?’ I whispered to her.
‘Yeah, much better,’ Raj said.
‘One sec, Raj,’ I said and muted him. I bent the laptop screen to cover the camera.
‘What happened? Don’t keep him waiting. Talk,’ mom said.
‘Mom, if we are doing this, we are doing this my way.’
‘I am only trying to help.. .’
‘Thanks. But let me talk to them without you hovering around.’
My mother made a face and left the room. I resumed the Skype call.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hello. Must be quite late there?’
‘It’s midnight, yes. London is five hours ahead.’
‘Sorry. I just came back from work,’ he said.
‘You are a doctor, right?’
‘Yeah. And what exactly do you do? Your profile said banking.’
‘I am in Goldman Sachs. VP in the Distressed Debt Group.’
‘Oh,’ he said and became quiet.
‘So yeah,’ I said, wondering what to say next. I don’t know why I take responsibility for
awkward silences.
‘What kind of doctor are you?’ I said.
‘I am a GP, general practitioner, in the Boston City Hospital. Doing my residency.’
‘I could never be a doctor. All that blood. I feel faint in hospitals,’ I said and smiled.
‘It’s a part of life,’ he said, his tone sombre. ‘People are dying. Someone needs to save them.’
‘Ah. Yes. Of course,’ I said. Okay, isn’t Dr Bakshi a little too serious?
‘How’s Goldman Sachs?’ he said.
‘Good. Hectic. But I like it.’
‘They pay people very well, I hear.’
‘It’s based on performance, but yes. It’s good money.’
‘If you don’t mind, how much do you make?’ he said.