54
I turned workaholic after Goa, spending fourteen maniacal hours a day in the
office. I even bought the company laptop home to slog more. I achieved twice my
work targets, I didn't socialise, I didn't see movies and I stopped going to
restaurants.
‘You have a great future,’ Rannvijay, my new boss, told me.
When Citibank sees a great future in you, it means you have no life at present.
‘Thanks, Rannvijay,’ I said.
‘Though you could do with a shave. What's with the new look? Growing a
beard? And you look weak.... Take care of your health.’
I had tried to call Ananya several times after my return. Her parents would not
pass her the phone if I called home. In her office, the receptionist would tell me
she was in a meeting. When I did reach her, she'd make an excuse and not
converse. Ananya had a cell-phone now, but she stopped taking any calls from
Delhi. One day I had a visitor in office from Citibank Mumbai. I requested him for
his phone to make a call.
‘Hello,’ Ananya picked up the phone.
’Hi, don’t hang up. It’s me, ‘ I said.
’Krish, please...whose phone is this?’
’A colleague from the Mumbai office. Listen, I am sorry, for the tenth time. Your
receptionist will have a count of my earlier attempts.’
‘Krish, this isn’t about an apology.’
‘Then stop sulking.’
‘I am not sulking; I am doing what maximises everyone’s happiness in the long
term.’
I scratched my head to respond to her corporate-vision type answer. ‘What
about you and me?’
‘For my own sake, I can’t let make my parents feel small.’
‘Don’t you miss me?’ I said.