The Fatal ‘Head’ache – III

I was dumbstruck. Too perplexed to react. I was a little over a month into the system. I had no clue about how to deal with it. Nishigandha continued her stroll. Her hands were holding each other behind her back. My eyes were following her from one corner to another, begging for mercy.

Several questions were doing the rounds. I was desperately looking for answers. Should I oblige? Or should I refuse her outright? An invisible force was pulling me back whenever I attempted to turn her down — do as she says; she holds the key to your career.

The clock was ticking. I needed to address this dilemma before the cab driver rebelled and left.

“Nishigandha, I am not comfortable with the idea of singing in a meeting room. Offsite was something different,” I told her. She suddenly stopped in front of me. “Arre kuchh nahi hoga. Chalo, jaldi se woh gaana suna do – yeh nayan dare dare. You really sing that well. I was virtually floored by your singing during the offsite,” she said.

This was the biggest compliment on my singing to date. Still, it didn’t excite me. My mom had always told me that I was the worst singer our family had ever produced. And to date, I had preferred to confine my singing to the four walls of my bathroom. Offsite was a departure.

“Sorry. I can’t. This is something unprofessional,” I said.

“Do you think I will tell you to do something unprofessional? I am known for my professionalism in this organisation,” pat came her reply. I could sense that she was running out of patience, but her face displayed calm.

“Well, I didn’t want to mean that exactly. I am just not comfortable with the idea. And my cabmates have messaged me thrice. The driver is refusing to wait any longer.”

“Raj, jyada bhav mat khao. No one is going to ask you like this,” she said and began sauntering once again. Her hands were still holding each other behind her back. But, her face was now angled towards the roof. Her eyes were shut, as if she was waiting for a riveting tune to sip into her ears. There was silence all around.

Saare Jahan Se Achha…my phone suddenly started ringing. Someone from the operations team was calling. I picked up the phone.

“Hey! You still in office?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please stretch till 9:30 today? We have a fire here — an ad hoc request from client. And the deliverable has to go out today. My AVP doesn’t want the deliverable to go out unedited.”

“Don’t worry. I will be there till 9:30,” I replied.

I disconnected the phone and turned to Nishigandha. “There’s some urgent deliverable going out today. Can you please take care of it? Else, I’ll have to stay back,” I told her.

“These guys can never plan it. You should not entertain such requests,” she continued. “But I guess you will have to handle it as I have some other work.” She was visibly disappointed — the catch had just slipped out of her clutches.

I quickly got up from my seat, informed my cabmates and rushed towards the editorial bay. The bay wore a deserted look. All my team members had left for the day. There were seven to eight people working in the two adjacent bays. I quickly logged into my system. The report had already arrived in my outlook inbox.

It was quarter to eight. I thought that my ordeal was over. I thanked the operations guy, and of course his ‘demanding’ client, a zillion times in my mind. A waiting cab with tired cabmates could not do the trick. A waiting project just did it to perfection.

Nishigandha usually left office by 7:00PM. But, to my surprise, she returned to the bay after five minutes and quietly took her seat. I used to sit at one end of the bay, which could accommodate 12 people, with Atiya and two other team members for company. Nishigandha’s seat was at the other end.

I finished editing the report by 8:30PM and emailed it. I called up the operations guy to check whether there were more. He thanked me for the help. I wrote a mail to the transport for a 9:30 drop. I stretched my arms. It felt like I would drop dead. Although there was a desperate call from within for a smoke, my body was not responding. I slipped into my chair to convert the backrest into a headrest.

The IM blinked all of a sudden. It must be the operations guy, I thought.

“Tea? There’s still an hour to go,” the message read, obviously it was from Nishigandha.

“Thanks. But, no thanks,” I replied. “I am not feeling well – a bit feverish.”

Within seconds, I could sense something heavy with brute kinetic force approaching towards me. Before I could realize what it was, I saw Nishigandha standing beside me. Her right palm comfortably placed on my forehead, ‘checking my fever’.

“Arre haan, you have fever. Get up. Let’s go home. I will make tulsi tea for you.”

“Thanks. But, it’s nothing much. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I said in a stern voice.

But, Nishigandha kept on pestering. I got up from my seat and looked around. And our neighbours had got curious. All eyes were now pointed towards our bay. I was determined — I would not leave my seat…whatever it takes.

The pestering continued for five minutes. I could feel that Nishigandha’s persistence was getting better off my willpower. I didn’t want to create a scene in the bay as well. I budged. “Okay. Let’s go,” I told her, “but you will have to drop me back to office before 9:30.” She nodded in agreement.

Nishigandha’s black Opel Astra was parked in the basement. I was about take the backseat, when she intervened. “Sit in front,” she said. I obliged. There wasn’t much traffic on Gurgaon-Sohna Road. We soon sped past the office building into the dark alleys of Sector 57 in Gurgaon.

The tulsi tea arrived in five minutes. I took a sip. But, it wasn’t much of a relief. I finished my cu in five minutes and eased myself a bit on the couch in the living room, waiting to be dropped back to office for the next cab.

“Hey, you felling well now?” she asked.

“Somewhat! Can we go back now? I don’t want to miss the 9:30 cab.” I replied.

“What happened? Headache, huh?”

“Yes,” I replied.

She quickly left her seat and in a jiffy was in front of me.

“Let me massage your head,” she said and bent down to touch my forehead. This time I was quick to react. I clasped her hand and pushed it out of my way.

“Why are you behaving so strangely? Try to acknowledge your friends and their intent.” She quipped.

“I am not behaving strangely. I always acknowledge my friends and their intent, but your friendship is becoming suffocating for me,” I said in one breath and raced out of the house. She followed me quietly. We got into the car and sped towards office. And thankfully she didn’t utter a word along the way back.

A white Tavera was waiting for me and four more on the ground floor. A cabmate sensed something was wrong in me and offered me his middle-row seat. The road was almost traffic free. And within 10 minutes, we were on MG Road. I asked the cab driver to switch on the radio.

Teri duniya mein jeene se toh behtar hai ki mar jaaye…

[Send in your comments, queries or questions to rajkmitra@gmail.com]

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