Ananya arrived with her father and brother at 7.15. ‘Are we late?’ she asked
breathlessly. She wore a peach chiffon sari with a skinny silver border. She had
accessorised with a silver necklace and matching earrings.
‘Yes, but the concert hasn’t started yet. Come,’ I said. I led them to one of the
several round tables laid out in the garden. I chose one near the stage.
‘Food is that side, and uncle, the bar is that way,’ I said.
‘I don’t drink,’ uncle said, looking at Ananya.
‘Sure.’ I said.
Clients filled each of the ten seats on all eighteen tables. One or two bank
agents sat at every table, comprising primarily of junior Chennai Citibankers. Bala
and the country manager had a separate table with the biggest clients, those with
assets of five crore or more. I felt sorry for these clients. Frankly, I’d rather not be
rich than face the agony of having dinner with senior bankers.
The lights dimmed at 7.30. Conversations stopped at the round tables as Bala
came on stage. He wore a shiny cream silk shirt under his suit and resembled a
pimp in training.
‘Welcome everyone, what a delightful evening! I am Bala, regional manager for
the Priority Banking Group,’ he said and wiped the sweat off his face.
‘Your boss?’ Ananya whispered to me.
I nodded.
‘What’s with the shirt?’
‘Shsh,’ I said. Manju and Ananya’s father listened to Bala with full attention.
‘I want to welcome someone special,’ Bala said.
The crowd cheered as they expected Hariharan or S.P to take the stage.
‘Please welcome Mr Anil Mathur, country manager and MD, Citibank India,’
The crowd let out a collective sigh of disappointment.
Anil came on stage and realised that no one cared about him. He attempted a
joke. ‘Hello everyone, who would have thought some of our biggest clients will
come from the land of dosas and idlis?’
nora
(Nora)
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