Monday, 30 September 2013

Bittersweet

Author : Radha Sawana

About the author: Radha still hasn't worked out the long-pending description of herself. Now she hopes it will write itself when she writes her first book. She blogs, intermittently, at Entropy (http://blog.radhasawana.in).

Story: 
For the fifth time during the day, Smitha walked into the ladies room and splashed her face with cold water. Supporting herself with her hands on the wash basin, she just stood in front of the mirror, head bowed, water dripping down her chin. After a few long minutes, she wiped off the water and stood in front of the mirror. Did she look pale? Nervous? Did her face give away her secret? She straightened herself up and smiled at her reflection. A weak smile, she realized, and scared eyes. Sighing, she walked out of the room and decided to grab another cup of coffee.

The thought of coffee suddenly made her smile. Had it been just four days since that fateful conversation? She remembered everything about it even though it felt like a long-lost memory. What was it that he had said? “Failure is bitter and success is sweet, and in between, lies a bittersweet thing – coffee!” He had then laughed at his own joke and proceeded to add, “A lot can happen over coffee, don’t you think, Ms. Smitha?” Back then, she had been horrified at his sense of humour, but now, for some reason, it made her smile. What did that say about her?

“Sweet thoughts?” said a voice, breaking her reverie.

“Bitter-sweet,” she said abruptly, surprised at her own response.

But opposite her, Sumit grinned. “Bitter-sweet, huh? Kinda apt, I guess.”

Smitha just gave him half a smile, not trusting herself to say a sane thing.

Sumit changed the topic. “Would you like to have some coffee?”

“Oh sure!” She exclaimed, sounding a bit more excited that what she really was.

“With me?” asked Sumit, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” She added, puzzled. “We have had coffee together loads of times, Sumit!”

“Sure, we have. But you seem to be avoiding company off late. So I thought… maybe I should just ask, to be sure.”

Smita looked into his eyes. They seemed to be piercing, almost accusing her. Had it been that obvious? This wouldn’t do! With a deliberate effort, she laughed. “Have I, now? Some misunderstanding Sumit, I am sure. Why would I avoid you guys?”

“We are not stupid Smitha.” He said, without so much as a smile on his face. “You are jumpy, almost on an edge these days. You keep looking at the computer screen, but you hardly work. Your report is three hours overdue, and that is very much unlike you. And then, there is this rumour on the grapevine-”

“What rumour?” She asked, despite herself, and immediately realized her mistake. “I mean,” she said, covering up, “if it is about me getting married soon, I just want to clarify that it is not true! I just gave the girls a hint, and I have no idea why they told it to everybody! I mean, Dad did broach the marriage topic, but I said a big NO on his face!”

For once, Sumit smiled. “A big NO, is it?” He chuckled. Had her ploy worked then?”

It hadn’t, because Sumit immediately said, “Good that I know this now, though this wasn’t what I had heard, really. Never mind about the grapevine, for now at least. Can I ask you something else, Smitha?”

Restraining her anxiety, Smitha smiled. “Sure, tell me.”

“This might be the most commonly asked question on the planet, but here it goes. Is everything okay?”

Feigning puzzlement, she said, “Yeah, it is. Why are you asking this, Sumit?”

He gave her a hard look. “Why? Because you are nervous, fidgety and unable to focus at anything. You have been coming to office later than always and leaving earlier than usual. This is the fifth time during the day you have come to the coffee vending machine, and yet, you haven’t had a single sip since I started talking to you.” For one moment, he stopped and stared at her, as if daring her to deny the charges. The, he continued, “So, Smitha, I would ask you one more time, and I really wish you would give me an honest answer – is everything okay?”

Smitha swallowed. Sumit still looked at her, his eyes trying to bore into her head. Could he read her? Could he hear her heart thumping in her chest? How much did he know? She decided to take her chances and find out.

Leaning forward, she looked into his eyes and said, “OK. I accept. Things haven’t been too good. Like I said, Dad asked me to get married, but I don’t want to. But he has been insisting that I meet some guys. And I don’t know how to talk to them, Sumit! What do you talk about – house and kids and families? How do you talk about all this when you have got just career on your mind? I am not ready, Sumit, it’s just too much to handle! I like to take things slowly, and this…” She sighed, and then taking a sip out of her coffee, she added, “I like to have my coffee cold, you see.”

Once again, Sumit smiled, though she thought it was a reluctant effort. Had she done it then? Was it a grand flourish, or was it a botched cover-up? She waited for Sumit reply.

“So,” he said, “You dad… is he looking for guys who belong to your community or caste or whatever, or could he do with any charming prince?”

She was startled. “What? Oh! That’s fine! Whatever! But I don’t want to discuss all this Sumit! Like I said, I have nothing other than my career on my mind right now!”

“Nothing other than your career, huh? Said Sumit softly, his eyes mellow.

He was clever, Smitha realized. He had played well and cornered her into the very spot she had been avoiding. She had to play delicately now, very delicately. “Isn’t that the same with you, Sumit?” She said, “We all have ambitions, don’t we? We studied so much, and worked so hard, what for? Not so that-”

“Yes, we all want progress. I do, too. But do I want nothing more than that? Would I give away everything for my ambitions? No, Smitha, I would rather earn a small, honest living and enjoy it with a beautiful wife, my family and friends. Have you ever thought of that kind of a life, Smitha?”

He pronounced her name ever so softly, but behind that soft demeanour, she could sense an intensity she had never seen in him before. Why was so he playing with her?

“Yes, I have!” She said, her voice rising out of control. “But have you ever stood in front of an interviewer from another competitor company – just any damned company? Do you know what he asked me? He asked me what I could offer to them! ‘What does a business analyst such as yourself have to offer, Ms Smitha?’ – These were his words. What on earth do you say to that? ‘What do you know, Ms. Smitha, that could be useful to us, except, of course, a secret or two about your company that very few have knowledge of?’ These, precisely these, were his words, Sumit, and I haven’t been able to forget them since. What would you do if somebody asked this of you, Sumit? People like us would never be able to rise with our small, honest ways. We have no value outside, Sumit, not unless… not unless we…”

Sumit came to her rescue. “Not unless we lose ourselves in this grill, not unless we give everything we have to our career, not unless we sink neck deep in our work… I know! I have seen you work like crazy, Smitha, and that always makes me wonder – is that all the value you want? Do you have no idea of how valuable you are? ‘What do you have to offer’ he asked you – let me tell you what you have, Smitha! You are a beautiful, smart, capable woman. You light up the workplace with just your smile and inspire the team with just a sweet word. Your mere presence lights up the spirits around you, but it looks like you have no idea! Had I been the interviewer, I wouldn’t have asked such a dumb question.”

Smitha just stared at him, confused. He looked so earnest that it was overwhelming, but what did he want from her? Before she could understand what was happening, he looked at her, blushing and smiled. “Sorry,” he continued, “This is not how I wanted to say it, really. What I mean is - I like you. I really do. And it’s not just another pretty face, don’t get me wrong. I love you for all that you are. I always have. But then I heard that you were leaving, that you were really eager to leave this company behind and join someplace else, and it hurt! It’s painful to see you go, but it’s worse to see you leaving so easily, as if you won’t miss a thing here. As if there was nothing here that mattered to you. So, I cannot help asking this anymore – have you ever, ever thought of me as someone special? Anyone more than a colleague, ever? Because you mean a lot to me, and before you go, I would just like to… know.”

And then, Smitha understood. In one thunderclap moment, it all became clear. He didn’t know anything… And if he did, he didn’t care. He just… he was upset because she seemed so ambitious… he just… he just… loved her? It felt so odd to hear it…

“Smitha?” He interrupted her thoughts. “It’s OK, you can take your time, you know. It’s alright!”

“I just…” She said, looking up to him, “I don’t know…”

He smiled again. “Let me put it in a simpler way, then. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me, sometime? Hopefully, you would have regained your voice by then, and we would be able to talk in peace.”

Coffee, she thought, her mind clearing slowly. “I would have some coffee” she said, breaking into a relieved smile. “After all,” she added playfully, “a lot can happen over coffee, right?”

As Sumit raised his eyebrows, trying to form a reply, Smitha drained her cup and walked away. Her shoulders weren't hunched anymore. Instead, her eyes were twinkling, and her gait was infused with the confidence of an Executive.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

In the Place Between the Right and the Wrong

Author: Rajrupa Gupta

Author Intro:
 Rajrupa is whimsical in one part, carefree daydreamer and obsessive freak in another part. She suffers from nostalgia and worries about the uncertain. She has a varied range of conflicting interests - books, movies, music, travel, architecture, hacking, cooking, sleeping, gossiping, being lazy on purpose and perhaps most importantly - observing people and reflecting about life. In her head random thoughts are always rioting to come out first. She presents them to you as Riot of Random.



Story:

Sunday 4 pm in a club
Hey Pooja! What a pleasant surprise! “
“Puneet! Surprise indeed! I didn’t expect to see you here. What are you doing here?”
“Umm… Nothing. I am just stalking you!”
“What?”
“Hey! I was just kidding! Don’t look so shocked. Actually, I come here often. I am a member here. But what about you? I have never seen you here before.”
“Yeah. I am just meeting someone.”
“Meeting someone here! Who? Can’t be a client. Can it?”
Pooja doesn’t answer but one of her arched eye brows shoots upward.
“I mean, please pardon my curiosity Pooja, it’s just that I happen to know most of the members here so I was wondering if I knew the person you were meeting.”
“Oh. Alright.”
Puneet eyes Pooja while she fidgets with her phone.
“I am sorry. But I have to go. He is not coming.”
“Hey. Is everything alright?”
“Yes. Everything is fine. He just got some urgent business to take care of.”
“Who is this mysterious ‘he’ by the way Pooja? Why are you being so secretive about him?”
“Puneet! This is my personal life. I don’t appreciate you asking questions about it.”
***
Monday 12 pm in office
“Hey Pooja. Got a minute?”
“Puneet! Yes! Please come in! Please sit down.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you yesterday.”
“It’s ok Puneet. I am sorry too. I overreacted.”
“I still want to make it up. Over lunch maybe?”
“Um… I am not sure….”
“See! You still haven’t forgiven me! Come on, I insist.”
“Hey Puneet! It’s fine. I didn’t mind anything at all. I really can’t join you for lunch because I plan to eat here in my office. I have some really important work to finish.”
“Ohh… ok. Yeah, Mr. Patel did mention that you are working real hard on that Penske case.”
“Mr. Patel discusses associates with you?”
“Oh no! Pooja, not like that. It’s just that he and I play golf together sometimes.”
“I get it.” Pooja says and goes back to work.
Puneet looks visibly dejected but says, “I guess I’ll just go then. By the way Pooja, please don’t get offended but I have to ask this, are you seeing someone?”
“What?”
“I am just curious. I mean the way you behaved yesterday, it’s not very usual of you…”
“Puneet…”
“Don’t say anymore, I get it. It’s none of my business. I will just get going.” Puneet leaves looking frustrated. A little while later Pooja’s mobile rings.
“Hello”
“Pesho? Hey how are you doing?”
“I understand but I would appreciate it better if you didn’t call me during the office hours. I don’t think it’s right.”
“Yes. I am onto it. Though I think Puneet, you know Puneet right? From your club? I think he already suspects something but I am trying as best as I can.”
“No, you don’t need to worry. I don’t fail in my undertakings. Because I am the best. And I think you know that.”
“Ha ha ha! And you will! Just a few more days.”
***
Monday 11 pm in office
Puneet peeps through the door of Pooja’s office seeing a blue light emanating from the otherwise dark room. He finds her laptop on her desk but she is nowhere to be seen. As he enters the room, it lightens up sensing his presence. He picks up a famed photograph of Pooja from her desk and looks at it. A deep sigh escapes him. He stands in the middle of the room for some time looking around fondly.
As he turns to leave, Pooja enters the room with few files. She starts so violently seeing Puneet in her office that one of the files slips to ground without her noticing.
“Jesus Christ! Puneet, what are you doing here in my office?” she screams, “I can see that obviously you are up to something. Probably you meant it when you said that you were stalking me yesterday. What is it you are looking for?”, she hurries over to her laptop, “Did you try to hack my computer?”
“What? No! What’s wrong with you Pooja? You are behaving very strangely of late!”
“I am not the one prying over others Puneet!”
“Why the hell would I pry on you?”
“I don’t know! Maybe you are after my clients? Maybe you are trying to dig up dirt on me! Maybe you think that I am your competition on your way to becoming the partner! How will I know? All I know is, I found you in my cabin looking at my computer when I was away. And this doesn’t look normal to me.”
“Stop being so paranoid! You and I work for the same firm Pooja, and we have worked together in the same team for the same client multiple times. I cannot steal your clients because they are my clients too! Yes, I consider you as a competition but a healthy and worthy one, I wouldn’t stoop so low to dig dirt on you because you are my colleague too. Even if I want to, I don’t need to sneak into your cabin to do that. I have worked closely enough with you to find that out on my own if I so wish. And it’s not the first time that I have entered into your cabin in your absence! Gosh! You are acting so jumpy! As if you were burying evidence when I barged in! You know what Pooja, I think you have worked too hard on the Penske case and I think you are too stressed and that you should go home.”
Pooja sits heavily on her chair holding her head between her hands and breathes heavily.
“Hey Pooja, are you alright? Is everything alright?”
“Everything is just fine Puneet! I am so sorry for the way I behaved with you but I am just not myself today. You are right. I am probably too stressed. Would you mind leaving me alone for some time please? I am sorry!”
“Absolutely. I understand. Our jobs do get to us sometimes. Even to the very bests. I will leave you now but are you sure you can drive back home? Else I can drop you!”
“I can drive home Puneet. But thanks very much for the offer.”
Puneet turns to leave. But then stops and stoops to pick up the file Pooja had dropped earlier. “Here. You dropped it I think. Wait a second! Isn’t this Pamela’s deposition file? The plaintiff in Parekh Phosphate case?”
Pooja hurriedly takes the file from Puneet’s hand and shoves it down her drawer with other files.
“I didn’t know you were working on the Parekh Phosphate case.”
“I don’t think Mr. Patel discusses everything with you after all.”
***
Thursday 10 am in office
Pooja is busy cleaning up her office when Puneet hurriedly walks in looking hassled.
“Pooja, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now Puneet. I am busy.” Pooja continues to clean her desk and never turns back to face Puneet.
“I see that you are in a hurry to leave.”
“I am.”
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“To Pesho and Pillai?”
Pooja stops dead. Her face looks paper-white as all colours drain from it in an eye blink. She starts shaking. She holds her desk tightly and turns slowly to face Puneet.
“You know!” she says slowly.
“Yes! I heard that we lost the Parekh Phosphate case. And the day before, I saw the deposition file with you, remember? And I knew that you were not working on that case. And I also knew that Pesho was the defending attorney in that case. So I just had to add two and two. You’d only made it easier for me. I remembered the way you were behaving so uncharacteristically that day.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Patel then?”
“I would have to probably, sooner or later. But before that I have to know your take on it. I need to know why you did what you did.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Does it? Even if you tell Mr. Patel, it won’t matter because you don’t have any proof. And by the time you can dig up something I will be gone far from your reach.”
“Don’t talk about going away, I can’t stand it. And are you telling me that you are naïve enough to believe that Mr. Pesho will be able to trust you completely after what you did? After all isn’t it already proved that you are capable of backstabbing?”
“Thanks for making it clear that I am a big loser! I think I should go now.”
Pooja tries to leave but Puneet continues, “But the thing is, I am shattered. I feel like a loser Pooja. I just can’t believe that you are capable of doing such a despicable thing. Betraying your own firm by equipping the defence? Denying a dying lady the compensation she deserved? How desperate you must be! But every time I try to despise you I realize that I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t do anything so horribly wrong just because you want a better paying job. So as a friend I am just asking a justification from you.”
Pooja looks like on the verge of breaking down for a moment or two. Then she recovers but continues to look dubious.
“Don’t you have anything to say? Are you telling me you did such an immoral thing just so you’d get a job in Pesho and Pillai?”
“A partnership. Not just another job.”
“So this was your only motive?”
Pooja continues to look haughtily at Puneet for few more seconds. Finally she says, resignedly, “Actually, no. I don’t want to sound like defending myself for my actions. What I did may be immoral but was the right thing to do in legal perspective.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pamela sued Parekh Phosphate with the charges that the unhealthy toxic smoke filled work environment in their factories gave her lung cancer. But Pesho always had his doubts about the truth of this statement and this case meant a big deal for PP’s reputation and the stakes were high. Pesho approached me with a very lucrative offer in exchange of information. I didn’t decide on it until I overheard Pamela talking to Mr. Patel and understood that her cancer may or may not have been caused by the environmental condition of her workplace because she has a long genetic history of cancer. But she needed the compensation money for her treatment. So Mr. Patel advised her not to speak about the family history in the actual deposition. But I handed Pesho the actual buried documentation than what was officially produced.”
Puneet’s convoluted expression clears. “So we lost on the ground of withholding the truth.”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to. Just let me go.”
“Except one thing maybe.”
“What?”
“That I don’t think you did wrong. Don’t give me that look. We all learnt law is just about telling right from wrong. It’s not about emotions!”
“You believe that?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t. I am moulded too much like Mr Patel. But I always knew you were hardnosed. Maybe Pesho and Pillai is the best place for you after all. You will grow better there.”
“Was that mockery?”
“Oh, no, Jesus. I am serious. You align well with their principles. The ruthless manner with which you handle your cases, I am sure Pesho and Pillai will be delighted to have you.”
“Thanks. But I bet you are delighted to have me gone.”
“What? Why would I be so?”
“Because with me present here, you could never be made partner.”
“Now that’s a debatable topic. Why don’t we discuss this over dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up at eight? What say?”
Pooja looks thoroughly taken aback! “I don’t understand. Are you…”
Puneet cuts in, “I am just asking you out on a date where we can discuss about who would have made partner had we both continued to work here.”
“I still don’t understand. Why suddenly…”
“Stop being so paranoid Pooja. I have wanted to ask you out for a very long time now and I suddenly realized that I may not get another chance if I don’t do it now. I just can’t let another robotic lawyer from Pesho and Pillai sweep you off without even trying in my own emotional way.”
“You think I am robotic?”
“That’s another debatable topic I would prefer discussing over dinner. So what do you think?”
“I think I’d like to discuss that over dinner too!”

Monday, 12 August 2013

Every Magic is an Illusion

Author: Arvind Passey

Author Intro: Arvind has been heading Corporate Communications for leading education brands before deciding to discover the writer in him. Now an enthusiastic blogger, he has also got the 'Best Reviewer of 2012' BTB Literary Award, has a weekly column in The Education Post, loves his tech involvement as the Samsung Brand Ambassador, and dreams of completing his first novel soon. His blog ( www.passey.info ) has posts that meander through travels, technology, politics, books, wit, poetry, short-stories, food-n-wine, sports, and other thoughts that may just trigger the start of yet another dream for a reader!

Story:

Everyone called her a magician. They said, ‘She has a way with words. Spoken, unspoken, and the ones that went into devising strategic content.’

She agreed.

And when they heard she agreed, they said, ‘What an arrogant bitch Singha is!’ This is how the corporate world functions. But Singha was hardly bothered about such agreements or such disagreeable conclusions. The important thing is that every word always reached her. She was once heard telling her boss, ‘I know more about what you plan to do next than even you do.’ She then laughed and the boss too joined in this unwholesome mirth.

An hour back, Singha’s boss called her up and said, ‘I’m assigning Raza to your team. He’s as good as you are with marketing insights. You must’ve heard about him?’

‘Yes, I know who Raza Sufi is. But tell me, have you heard about the new product that we are planning to launch?’

‘Yes, I have. But let’s not discuss about it on the phone.’ As soon as she disconnected the phone, there was a discreet knock on her cabin door.

‘Come in.’

He entered. ‘Good afternoon. I’m Raza.’

‘I’m expecting you. Sit down please.’ She turned her attention to the new email that had just arrived. It was her boss’s assessment of Raza.

‘You have had an interesting career graph,’ she turned to Raza after a minute of rapidly reading the email, ‘why did you want to opt out of the core research team and join marketing?’

‘It’s simple. I had promised that I will help market what I had helped develop,’ said Raza, ‘and anyway, such rotations, I’m sure, will give my research instincts a sharper edge.’ He then mumbled something.

‘What? I didn’t get you?’ She asked.

‘I just called you a magician.’

‘And a bitch too?’

Raza smiled and said, ‘No. But if being bewitching makes you a witch, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

Singha smiled and said, ‘Isn’t it too early to flirt with your team leader? Marketing isn’t about research molecules that you can pour from a pipette into a burette and wait for a reaction. It is all about understanding reactions before you pour in anything anywhere.’

‘I’m just a seeker of answers.’

‘You’re an interesting person, Raza Sufi. Do you also like sufi music?’

‘I love anything that brings me closer to answers. That is why I’m here,’ Raza wasn’t sure if this last bit would go too well with Singha, but he did say it. There was no answer from her, so he went on, ‘Everyone calls you Singha. But I’d love to call you Sigiriya. The lion’s throat!’

Singha looked at him with narrowed eyes and asked, ‘You do research well, Raza. Tell me something about the research assignment that you just left to join my marketing team.’

‘That is classified information yet. And all that anyone may want to know in the pre-launch stage is already with you, Sigiriya.’

By now Singha was sure in her heart that Raza was either totally smitten by her or was making all the right moves to be sent back to his research team. ‘One more attempt at flirting,’ thought Singha, ‘and you’re not going to remain in marketing anymore.’ And this was when she read this message on her mobile:

‘Your selection as VP-Mktg is nearly confirmed. CMD wants to discuss the final step today at a dinner interview. Come prepared. –Ambika.HR’

She smiled but also knew that the dinner interview would navigate to the juicy bits about the new molecule and she simply had to know more.

‘We have less time, Raza,’ she said, ‘and marketing is all about readiness. The way I see it, we are always in the WAR zone.’ She wrote down the alphabets WAR on pad lying in front of her and pushed it to towards Raza, saying, ‘Define it.’

Raza looked at the three alphabets and wrote:

Watertight strategy
Action-seeped tactics
Rapid reaction to feedback

‘That’s war to me,’ said Raza, as he turned the pad for her to read what he had written.

She just wrote: ‘We Are Ready’ on the pad and said, ‘Loved your perception of marketing. But remember, it is readiness that surrounds every iota of strategic thought and every inch of tactical manoeuvre. This is why I am happy to have someone from the research team here. I know you will give us information before the slowly moving files get them to us. We need the information. You get that? We need the information.’ She paused for a couple of moments before repeating, ‘We need the information.’

‘Ah! The Negro needs the white man to free him from his fears. The white man needs the Negro to free him from his guilt,’ said Raza and smiled.

‘What?’ asked Singha sharply. The thought that blitzed through her was: ‘How much does this man know of my intentions? Has he been sent here to find out her true motives?’

Raza, on the other hand, was taken aback by the sharpness in her tone and simply said, ‘Martin Luther said this. Not my words. And I was just trying to talk about the fragile equation between the consumer and the marketer.’

‘Fragile equations!’ thought Singha, and then said aloud, ‘It is well past the usual lunch hour, and the company kitchen will be closed now. Let’s go out and eat something.’

Raza said nothing but again murmured, ‘Khalil Gibran said – Your friend is your needs answered.’

‘There is a war of needs going on here,’ thought Singha, ‘I know what I need but I don’t know yet what you need. But I’ll find that out soon enough.’ She then got up and they went out, with Raza echoing a similar thought in his own mind. What happens when two people with almost the same thought are walking together? They stop and look at each other.

Raza stopped. Singha stopped. They looked at each other. Anyone else observing them would’ve seen two armies of thoughts desperate to enter the other’s mind.

Singha said, ‘Life is so full of questions, isn’t it?’

‘You just have to press the right button for the right answers,’ said Raza with a smile as he stretched his hand to call the lift, and then once they were out of the lift and walking towards Udupi, the eatery they had decided to go to, he asked, ‘You always have the right answers. I know you do. I have been hearing your quarterly addresses that the research team also attends. Is it that you know the answers only if you are plagued with questions?’

She was not the sort to let an honest complement fade without a return gift and said, ‘Even I have been following your exploits in the research team and how you have this uncanny ability to dip into the cauldron of human expectations and magically bring out exactly what they want.’ Raza always took more time to assimilate what he had heard and while he did that, Singha had already moved on to her next volley, ‘What I mean is that your product innovations match what the market research team brings in.’ The research team was involved in almost everything, starting from package innovations to suggesting the manufacturing scientists with suggested molecules or combos that will finally lead to a new product being born. Raza was an expert in reading the market pulse and putting the scientists on the right track.

‘The new product,’ began Raza, ‘that we will be launching soon, is soon going to sanitize the entire world.’ Singha was all ears now.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘this is what we all know. But we don’t yet know anything beyond these cursory details. And devising a marketing strategy around a mysterious product is impossible. Tell me more, will you?’

‘Dosas are delicious,’ said raza.

‘What? Are we coming out with packaged dosas now?’ Singha exclaimed.

Raza laughed and said, ‘No, of course not. I just said I am going to order a dosa for me. What will you have?’

‘Ah! Yes, I love dosas.’

Raza gave her the soft-focus look that only a lover can reserve for someone he loves. He went to the payment counter and returned with two servings of dosas with steaming rasam and sambhar.

As they sat down to eat, Raza asked, ‘Have you ever wondered why a dosa tastes good only with sambhar? I mean, not with butter-chicken, for instance.’

‘The right stuff goes…’ began Singha and then laughed, ‘well, birds of a feather flock together, don’t they?’

‘Like you and more information,’ smiled Raza, and then hastily added, ‘I mean like our having similar tastes.’ Singha chewed on the first part of Raza’s sentence thoughtfully and said nothing. She would normally never have kept quiet on hearing careless remark like this, but she not only kept quiet she also seemed to like the way Raza was throwing caution to the winds! She was still circumspect though.

After they returned to the office, Raza went attend to some urgent request from his research section, and Singha settled down to think of how she could get hold  of more information on this new product… and slipped into what we all call a power-nap in corporate jargon.

The ring of the intercom brought her back to this world.

‘Hello,’ she said.

‘Can you come down for a minute, please? It’s urgent.’ This was her boss and he seemed hassled.

She went and returned after a while with a smile on her face. As she entered her cabin, she stopped. Raza was there and swivelled his chair to get up and greet her. ‘I’m back.’

‘So I see,’ she said. As she walked round the table to where she sat, she could see Raza looking closely at the file in her hands.

‘Will you still want to know something more about the new product that we are planning to launch?’ he asked, and then added, ‘The band on the file tells me that you have finally got hold of what we call classified information.’

Singha did not say anything.

Raza went on, ‘You are a marketing wizard. An artist. Can I ask you something?’ She looked at Raza and nodded her head indicating him to go on and ask.

‘Do artists need a muse or loneliness?’

‘Life is so full of questions, isn’t it?’ she said and smiled.

Raza laughed but persisted, ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

She said, ‘The keyword is neither muse nor loneliness. The keyword is that small innocuous word hidden in the question you asked.’

Raza went over his question in his mind and guessed, ‘Need?’

‘You’re so perceptive,’ she said, and then went on, ‘the day we stop needing, we transcend everything. We cease to yearn to be artists… and become one. We stop seeking a muse or loneliness as they are anyway all around us all the time.’ As she said this, she found her voice trailing off into a whisper. She whispered, ‘Need is what makes us do what we might not like to do.’

Then suddenly Singha put the file on the table and said in her usual brisk and business-like tone, ‘Wonder why I was finally handed over these details? Look Raza, why don’t you go and meet the rest of the team while I go through this file?’

Raza got up and went out.

Singha read the file fast as she knew she knew that all the relevant information deep inside her would make her so cruelly attractive to the CMD of the rival company who she’d be meeting tonight. Just then the intercom rang. It was her boss.

‘Forgot to mention this, Singha but it was Raza who had this file sent to be handed over to you,’ said her boss, ‘In fact, it came with a note that said… and I’ll read it out for you… Information delayed is information denied, especially when it is to be used to device a powerful marketing thrust. This file may please be handed over to Ms Singha as strategic decision-making needs the insights mentioned on these pages. Raza Sufi has insisted that this information be handed over immediately.’

‘So thoughtful of him,’ was all she could say.

The boss did remark, ‘You were so desperate to get this information, Singha. Now you have it. Let’s see some marketing adrenalin course through your strategy now.’

‘Yes sir.’

Singha closed the file and mumbled, ‘Raza is certainly sharp and a go-getter. Needed in marketing. Need! Ah! Need is the keyword here and everywhere. What do I really need? The tag of  VP?’

She got up and pensively strode up and down the small cabin in small, slow, and deliberate steps. Then she opened the door, went out and took Raza aside.

‘Yes, Ms Singha?’

‘Sigiriya. Call me Sigiriya.’

Raza looked at her, smiled, and slowly asked, ‘The Udupi dosas were good… but would you want to taste the best dosas in Delhi?’

Singha flung aside her dinner date with a promotion telling herself that that magic was an illusion, and said, ‘Sure. Let’s have a magical dinner. We need to be backtomorrow and…’

‘…and I’ll watch you weave your magical marketing net tomorrow,’ Raza completed what she was anyway planning to say.

Sunday, 21 July 2013

Exercise for Edition 9

Judges: Pankti Mehta, Seema Gopalan, Medha Kapoor
Plot by: Medha Kapoor
Exercise genre:Dialogue 

Exercise: A woman working in a multinational company seeks an opportunity to secure an executive position in a rival company by leaking sensitive information from her office. She is in the state of anxiousness and trepidation which seizes one about to undertake such a task. She is confronted by a guy who starts chatting with her, asking questions about what she is up to. It looks like an interrogation to her and she tries her best to keep her motives under cover. But, in reality, the guy is just hopelessly in love with her and looking for a chance to ask her out.

Rules:

1. Build the plot through dialogue only with minimum narration.
2. The lady has to be portrayed with the necessary deviousness. The guy is smart and charming, but totally smitten.
3.Secondary characters could be introduced to guide the plot.
4. The story should end with the guy finally asking her out and the woman succeeding in her task as well.
5. 
The lower word limit stands at 2000 and max of 2500.

General ground rules: 

  1. The entry has to be sent by e-mail to the workshop e-mail id posted on FB along with Exercise declaration.
  2. The entry should be in the body of the mail. Do not send as attachment.
  3. The body of the mail should contain (in order): Title of story, Author Name, Author Intro, Story. If an entry is not complete in all respects it shall not be considered a valid entry.
  4. The post shall be carried in this blog. You are required to post in your blog either a link to your post on this blog or your entire post with a link to your post on this blog and give accreditation to Medha Kapoor for the plot line. Once your entry is put up, the link to your entry shall be put up on the Indifiction group in FB – and within 48 hours of the link being put up on FB, you are requested to post in your blog and intimate the post link on FB. Otherwise, your entry shall be taken down from the blog.
  5. The judges’ decision shall be final and the winners will be required to give the plot line, critique every entry as well as declare the winners of the next edition (Exercise 10). The judges of the previous edition – Leo, Jayashree, Rajrupa Gupta - shall not be declared as winners in this edition even if their entries happen to be the best. This is in order to ensure that the load of judging does not fall disproportionately on a few.
  6. Though it is not obligatory, we do request everyone to take the time to read and give constructive criticism on as many posts as they can possibly manage.
  7. Please note that there shall be no extensions of deadline. If we face a situation of insufficient entries, we shall still close the exercise and proceed with the next with volunteer judges.


Timelines for Exercise 9:


  • Exercise 9 begins: Monday, 22nd July 2013
  • Exercise 9 concludes: Sunday, 11th August 2013
  • Exercise 9 results/judges’ comments: Sunday, 24th August 2013
  • Exercise 10 begins: 27th Aug 2013

Sunday, 14 July 2013

The Horror of Edition 8! Results!

Another edition comes to an end. We had a different theme this time: horror. Out of 8 entries 6 were eligible winners. Overall it was a successful edition! But the horror it gave us the judges to try and find three winning entries was unimaginable; for every entry fared so well in some elements or the other that it was a Herculean task to pick just three. But anyway, thanks to Leo and Jaishree, finally it’s done. And the three winners for this edition, and the judges for the next are

  • Seema Gopalan
  • Pankti Mehta
  • Medha Kapoor


Individual feedback is given for each post so we would not repeat them here.

As for the general tips of writing horror, I feel I am not experienced enough to impart that. However from my reading experiences what I understood is: it is very important to differentiate between horror and terror.

            As far as I am concerned, I attach the word horror to the fear of reality. It’s the reaction that rises when faced with a logical crisis. There may not be an immediate solution available but at least you can decipher the context.

            Whereas terror, I feel, is the fear of the unknown. The kind of fear your mind can attach no logic to. It is the fear of something that is unnatural. It is stronger than horror.

            As an example, I take two famous movies. In the movie Se7en, the deaths are horrifying and gruesome, because whether severed heads or not, a psychopath is always capable of that. Whereas in the movie The Ring, the deaths are purely terrifying because you cannot imagine an earthy creature to be capable of distorting its victim’s face in such a way!

            To make it even easier, take two different situations in Harry Potter:

  1. When Harry witnesses Voldemort’s return in the graveyard he is horrified: it is awful, shocking, dreadful, disturbing, disgusting.
  2. When Harry is out there in the cave to find Slytherin’s locket with Dumbledore, he is terrified. Because of the anticipation of the unknown. It is his dread, his panic that is frightening.


Terror makes you think of what lies around the corner? Horror comes when you actually go round the corner and experience the wrong thing physically.

Once I understood this, I realized that when I try to write something of horror genre, my foremost objective should be to terrify. It’s the most difficult thing to achieve: to create the absolute sense of panic, to make one feel a fear so frightening that he feels numb. I feel a lot of subtle suggestions and implications in the prose are necessary to achieve this. While describing the setting is important along with vivid imagery of scenes and sounds, I think it’s best to leave it to the imagination of the reader than to give a vivid description of the scary thing itself. Describing a ghost or beast maybe horrifying but creating a mysterious sinister force that is beyond mind’s comprehension is terrifying. The trick lies in deciding where you will tell your reader in exhaustive details and where you will just give a hint and let him form his own opinion.

Writing horror is probably easier. Anything from paedophiles to brutal murderers can be passed off as horror genre of fiction. Horror mostly deals with the shock values of an unpleasant scene that you describe in a detailed manner. It’s fear but has a bit of revulsion in it too. For example in TF’s story the macabre he describes is a fine example that evokes a mixture of fear and revulsion.

As I told in my FB post in IFW I am not quite a fan of such horrors. Gruesome crime scenes, violence and blood gross me out so I cannot really opine on how to write it. But I’ll like to touch upon again on the book of M.R James that I mentioned. I have read just the first story so far. It’s called Canon Alberic’s Scrap Book.

In that story, James is obsessively detailed in his description. He establishes an immaculate setting in two or three first paragraphs: a French village and the haunted sacristan. He leads me to believe that the church is where the horror lies and does so with such intensity that it makes me very uncomfortable. But soon I am proved wrong by the presence of a seemingly innocent book and a particularly scary picture which he describes with his usual valour but then turns the dread, the horror, and the fear into an absolute terror with a singular sentence: ‘One remark is universally made by those to whom I have shown the picture: ‘It was drawn from life.”’

When the story ends a lot many things are still not clear. But James told just enough to keep me guessing. Though I can never be sure, I have a fair idea of the sacristan’s motives and have a reasonable doubt about whether or not the protagonist committed suicide in order to avoid a much worse fate.

If you can find it, I suggest you read it. It’s not very scary, I say eerie at its best, but it will definitely give you a basic idea of the mood setting. And that’s most important in a horror fiction.

Having said that, I feel I have horrified you enough with my gibberish. So I will take my leave now with a final note of congratulations to the winners and those who didn’t make it. It was not an easy edition to judge and from all the preceding mind boggling rants I think you can judge what a toll it has taken on my nerves. So for now this is it and all the best for the next edition, judges and participants.

(on behalf of Jaish and Leo)
Rajrupa.