Speaking of outings, after work in the evenings, we had the opportunity to visit a few roadside open-air eateries known as dhabas.
During our visits to Zee, Deewan, and Baisakhi dhaba restaurants, each of which we visited once, we also went to another venue some other time on National Highway 44 where Devi, Mandeep—both sober social drinkers—along with Suresh and Shiv, Jagan and Shahnawaz, had indulged in white rum and vodka, famously known as Bacardi and Smirnoff, respectively.
The choice of the venue not only offered them the necessary impetus they needed to drink beer (from tall highball glasses, I noticed!) but also led them to indulge in a peck of whiskey or two, the brand of which I couldn't make a head or tail of in the dimming twilight of the pleasant evening in the open-air dhaba. But I refrained from inquiring about the brand name (for posterity's sake, if there is anything like that), knowing that as the only, though safely a non-judgemental non-drinker myself, among my like-minded office colleagues who loved to nurse a drink or two while fraternizing, I would only end up eliciting, understandably, seriously quizzical looks—especially from the fun-loving person Mandeep, who raised an soft-angled dramatic eyebrow, to move it further upwards in surprise or in mild indignation who knows, little hints that may have given his species an evolutionary advantage over mine as far as social drinking is concerned, as he swirled the clear distilled vodka contemptuously in his mouth before gulping it down with deep satisfaction—during our enjoyable sundown along the boondocks of National Highway 44, which was not very far and yet not that close either, where we all lounged together on the shaded patio to drink and dine and make merry as a team that Balaji and GG put together nearly two years before.
Although all of us enjoyed savouring authentic, freshly prepared, amply spiced-up cuisine in a uniquely rustic and open-air environment not found in city restaurants—at incredibly affordable prices that made us eager to drive down to India's longest highway, famous for these distinctive no-frills roadside dhaba setups on both sides of the road—most of these garden-like establishments have unfortunately closed down or no longer exist.
Some dhabas exist and persist in thinking resiliently about their former well-deserved glory days of the nineties and carry on regardless of whatever is happening everywhere in this day and age. Others have gradually faded from the reckoning as they receive increasingly scant patronage from discerning customers whose dining preferences have changed drastically. Going to the dhabas and dividing the expenses equally among us (going dutch) was really a sociable experience, unique to our day and age. And that era has gone forever.
During our nearly three-year-long association at Satyam's Raj Bhavan Road office branch, we experienced a remarkable era filled with work and fun, creating unforgettable memories that still make me smile with pride and joy every time I recall a story or two of those days, summoning small bits of past events that fascinated me. I concentrate on the thoughts and emotions associated with sounds, sights, songs, melodies, and fragrances, reconstructing them into my conscious awareness, forming them within my mind's eye as conscious pictures of those past days. Each time I get to do this, my happiness knows no boundary, even as I realize that all of my lovely Satyam memories are still there, unchanged, unforgotten within me. Nothing faded away even as time passed. That's how I'm feeling these days. Quite nostalgic.
We often received plenty of invitation cards for events related to marriage functions in preferred banquet halls and star hotels. Although we couldn't attend all the events, we did manage to show up at quite a few.
+*+*+*+
After our last day of the Annual Seminar at Satyam Technology Centre (STC) in the morning, we returned to the office on Raj Bhavan Road and, by midday, could get our parked motorbikes and head home. We drove in Mandeep's ever-dependable beige-colour Maruti 800 car (always borrowed from his businesswoman aunt), which he rode nicely, a little too nicely, to reach Raj Bhavan Road from STC.
As we burned rubber on India's longest highway, the NH 44, our hunger increased to become more famished. Once or twice, we thought about stopping at a roadside tea shack for a kadak chai but decided against it and drove on. I sat in the front passenger seat, awestruck by Mandeep's driving skills. In the back of the car, if I remember correctly, were Shiv, Jagan, and Shahnawaz, and they too were showing subtle symptoms of being starved—or is it an expectation "for a nice party" that has made them wilfully famished, eh? Or am I reading too much into this? I can relate to that. After all, we left STC with just a cup of double shots of espresso coffee/tea, toasted slices of buttered bread, and Kissan jam in our stomachs. Before starting our journey back to the office, Shiv and I took a couple of sugar cubes with us and slipped them into our shirt's front pocket, willing the cubical cargoes not to melt.
While he drove on, Mandeep, who is quite well-known as an expert in the powers of persuasion, put his skills to the test with me in the pact: he began persuading me to the effect that I eventually acquiesce to give "a nice party." He needn't have talked me into this; he just needed to put it in a perspective that would be great to acknowledge, and I'd have agreed. For remarkable friends with whom I had the privilege to engage and collaborate at Satyam, I would cherish any opportunity that can make us triumph in our friendship while remembering to dote on all the significant moments for years. Furthermore, anyone could easily influence me to host a party. I willingly, readily, and lovingly give in to various persuasive attempts from my colleagues "to give a party." Consider it done, I had said. Party time has begun, so let's make the most of it. Let's enjoy a nice lunch.
Sitting in the car, I turned to him before looking at the back seat, exclaiming, "Why not? Let's party, guys, what do you say?!" to which Mandeep enthusiastically responded, "Oh wowwww! So it's party time, fellas!" as he amusingly swayed his head in slow motion like the iconic Air India mascot, Maharaja, attempting to sing along to the song blasting from the car stereo, "Come on, Barbie, let's go party!" I carolled in, "Ah, ah, ah, yeaaahhh."
We guffawed for a while. Shiv, Jagan, and Shahnawaz in the back seat exchanged puzzled looks and smiled away like proud brothers in the know of things, perhaps wondering: What had suddenly got into us... to sing like that... in the car? Ha ha…wait till I recount this to GG! The last part was Shahnawaz’s tease! We even considered pulling over, getting out of the vehicle, and stretching our legs!
Well, I'm positive that had GG been there with us in the car, he would have grinned, for a start, like an unsightly old Crone, and secondly, his leathery face would have lit up with massive excitement for us all, knowing that a surprise party is on its way, almost here, anytime now!
After I decided to host a “party” for everyone, Devi and Suresh drove down from our office on Raj Bhavan Road to join us at Hotel Urvashi. Jagan, Shiv, Shahnawaz, Mandeep, and I drove directly to the restaurant, which was Mandeep's choice, adept at making party reservations. Whatever or wherever you prefer to party in the city, he knows where to dine and dine in style.
Those years at Satyam were the best of my professional life, as we worked hard—thanks to GG's eye-popping leadership!—and had so much fun. Yet, despite working for other IT companies, I have never experienced days like those spent with my wonderful friends during that beautiful era of my life, which remains incomparable to any other experience that came afterward.
Words often fall short of expressing just how special those years at Satyam were. But yes, with ready access to all my nostalgic recollections, writing this 22nd memoir-like narrative piece (and a few more coming) feels good. Even if only briefly, it feels like I've travelled back in time to those unforgettable Satyam days.
(To be continued…)
By Arindam Moulick
Well, I'm positive that had GG been there with us in the car, he would have grinned, for a start, like an unsightly old Crone, and secondly, his leathery face would have lit up with massive excitement for us all, knowing that a surprise party is on its way, almost here, anytime now!
After I decided to host a “party” for everyone, Devi and Suresh drove down from our office on Raj Bhavan Road to join us at Hotel Urvashi. Jagan, Shiv, Shahnawaz, Mandeep, and I drove directly to the restaurant, which was Mandeep's choice, adept at making party reservations. Whatever or wherever you prefer to party in the city, he knows where to dine and dine in style.
+*+*+*+
Words often fall short of expressing just how special those years at Satyam were. But yes, with ready access to all my nostalgic recollections, writing this 22nd memoir-like narrative piece (and a few more coming) feels good. Even if only briefly, it feels like I've travelled back in time to those unforgettable Satyam days.
(To be continued…)
By Arindam Moulick