RECAP


Returning home from office, Roshni feels bad on having picked up a quarrel with her boss.  Her mother wants to show her the responses they have received to the matrimonial ad.  Roshni, still in a foul mood, has a shouting match with Mother.  Later, however, she decides to patch up with her.

CHAPTER 3

When I entered the office room, KR was in his chair.  He looked at me and then he looked at the clock on the side wall.  I walked to his table and stood before him, my arms hanging loosely by my sides.

KR squirmed in his chair.  ‘So?’ he asked challengingly.

‘Sir, I’m sorry!’  I said.

‘But why should you be sorry?  The Queen Bee follows her whim, while the lowly workers like us buzz around.  That’s how this office seems to have been running. Isn’t it?’

KR sat with both his hands placed firmly on the table-top.  Yet his frail body shook with every word that he spat out.  Poor old Kayaar!

There were just the two of us in the room, him and me.  Yet, we seemed so far apart across the narrow width of his table. I reached out and put my right hand on his.  He relaxed at my touch.

‘Sir,’ I said, ‘Queen Bees don’t have to come to an office to earn their bread.  I’m a worker here like anyone else.’

‘Then let’s get to work. There’s a lot to do.’  KR grinned at me.  His gaze was fixed at my bosom.  My bent posture must have given him an eyeful, I realized.  I hated myself for being a woman that moment.  Would KR have reacted to a male subordinate in the same manner?  How often my physical attributes had turned me into a receptacle of man’s desire!  Withdrawing my hand from the back of his hand, I straightened up and came back to my seat.

It was a hectic day.   As KR’s secretary it was my responsibility to see to the creature comforts of the Chairman and the bevy of chamchas that had followed him.  The most difficult part of all was wearing - the way one wears a gaudy locket - the feel good expression and a matching it’s-great-fun-to-have-you-with-us voice, which sounded strange even to my ears.

In the evening, the office organized a dinner at the City Inn.  Chairman seemed to be happy with the picture of efficiency we had presented him.  A roly-poly man of uncertain age, he had already downed a couple of whiskey pegs when he approached me with a glass of red wine in his hand.  ‘I know you’d say no, but believe me, wine does wonders to a pretty young woman like you.  Take a sip.  If you don’t like the taste, pour it down the sink.’ 

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he expected me to refuse and afford him an excuse to play the role of an indulgent uncle.   I had seen this game too often in office parties: older men trying to ingratiate themselves with younger women.  I accepted the glass from his hand and brought it to my lips.  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I said, accepting the wine glass from him.  ‘I like the wine and the compliment that comes with it.’  Playing his part to the last, the Chairman made a stagy bow before me and joined a group of men.

KR, who was nursing his drink for quite some time, gave me a broad smile.   When the party ended, he insisted on dropping me home.  During the first five minutes of the ride he didn’t utter a word.  I asked him if everything had gone well.  KR was perhaps waiting for such an opening.  For the remaining twenty minutes of the drive he kept on talking; profuse in his praise for my dedication, commitment, initiative, drive, tact, intelligence, friendliness, cordiality, grooming and what not. I noticed that he had taken care not to get sizzled.  But even with the limited quantity of the imported scotch that he had imbibed, he seemed to have gone a bit off the track.  Liquor, I had heard, loosened the tongue and brought out what lay concealed in a man’s head.  What did this ageing man think of me?  Was he having any ideas on me?

The bit of truth came out when KR stopped the car in front of my house.  “You know Roshni,” he said as I was coming out of his car, “If only I were ten years younger, you could have been girl friend!”  I stood on the road knowing not how to respond. KR resumed his homeward drive without waiting for my answer.

KR’s outburst had sounded funny to me.  Men remain boys, even though they may turn moldy with age.   Lying on my single bed in my 8x10 bedroom, I thought of my own life.  Home-office-home.  Or was it just office?  Home was where I came to replenish myself.  To return to office.  I was born for office.  I was brought up for office.  I lived on for office.  One day the office-walas would give me a nice little wrist-watch and tell me not to come back any more.  I would then be home for ever, contemplating the moving-hands-going-nowhere of the wrist watch till the end of my days.

KR had hinted at giving me back a part of my life.  If only I were ten years younger, you would have been my girl friend!  I ruminated.  An old fox he was, but a friendly one.  If I could be a friend to someone like him, it meant that I was valued for what I was.  It meant that I too could extend or deny the precious gift of friendship.  It meant that, if need be, I could even outsmart KR at his own game. 

 
The days that followed sparkled with happiness and anticipation.  In between the hectic activity whenever KR and I managed to exchange a smile, all the drabness of office would go away.  Like someone had switched on a bulb in a dark room.   We went to the Narula's at the Vasant Lok, when he was particularly in an upbeat mood.   Initially, I expressed reluctance going out with him.  But he had a way to win over my reservations. Or, perhaps I was too ready to be won over. 

                                   To be continued ....