Sunday, April 27, 2025

The Beauty and The Gentleman

Our Satyam Days, part XXV

GG, the greatest of all compulsive Dumbledores/Gargoyles ever lived, or the Satyam world has ever known, directed, not just directed, but thunderously ordered his financial proselyte Suresh to escort the stunningly beautiful Michelle for an official outing around town after the 2000's annual conference at STC.

Since Suresh, possibly in his entire life, had never taken a lady out, he initially became nervous (but perhaps not lacking the desire) about taking a breath-taking beauty out in the town. Hence, his tensed face was a magnified example of how to show a woman around the city.

Saying no to GG would be tantamount to wishing for his extinction from the planet right at the very moment if he sounded negative by any chance — so Suresh, come what may, will accept the challenge because he never thought he would be so daringly brave as to disobey GG's commands! He did not. Luckily for him, he was in sublime company: Michelle's, so he had nothing to complain much about. In the company of someone as beautiful as her, who wouldn't want to bask in the joy of that experience? Suresh definitely would.

Suresh's Day Out with Michelle

Upon hearing about Suresh's unexpected escort assignment, I jokingly teased, "Wow, Suresh ke mann mein toh laddoo phoot rahe hain!" Looks like Suresh is on cloud nine! Bubbling over with joy!

Mandeep laughed pleasantly in response, even as Suresh felt deeply anxious about how to take a stunning woman out around town in a company-hired vehicle.

Devi flashed a grin at Suresh and encouraged him earnestly, saying in a light reprimanding tone, “Come on, Suresh, go re! You’ve got this! Go for it!" However, Suresh couldn't shake his concerns about the unexpected assignment GG had handed him. He wished someone could join him on the trip, but GG had turned down his request for any company.

+*+*+*+

Back at the office the next day, after our annual client meetings ended at STC, Suresh faced a perfect quandary: how to show Michelle about town. On GG's orders, our financial pro, that is Suresh fell into a romantic tizzy. It must have been a rollercoaster challenge, a thrilling experience no less for him to go from his cubicle to the city with a stunning companion like Michelle, balancing his anxieties on the one hand and avid admiration for her captivating beauty on the other for an outing he had never done before, let alone with a woman outside of his household maybe. Suresh's day out with Michelle was an adventure he never anticipated would come by. We thought that GG had handed him a lovely anxiety, a delightful task, to manage, and Suresh would do well to work it out nicely.

The problem wasn't just taking out a woman; the problem was taking out a stunningly beautiful woman! The difference between the two perspectives ate Suresh up from the inside. How could he be expected to take a stunning woman on a local city tour when he had never before taken anyone out? Suresh demurred by half. As a result of this highly official obligation, he started the day slightly anxious, getting restless even. He drank several cups of coffee while surveying the floor of his cubicle and looking askance this way and that, contemplating long and hard and asking us ad infinitum, "How do I get this over with, alone?" Because of that imagined tension eating our office’s Gilbert Grape, he became a little nervous and jittery about the impending expedition that GG had imposed on him. Fair and square, it was now Suresh’s responsibility to see it through. The proverbial ball is firmly in his court. We could hear GG implore: Good luck with that!

A "No," even if it were a tame-lame "No" from Suresh, would mean his continued employability in Satyam would be at stake, besides a horrible unleashing of GG's rage no man had ever witnessed. So Suresh — hair nicely prickling on the back of his neck and raising goosebumps of all different shapes and sizes upsetting all his facial lines in the process, tragicomic perils of the age we are living in, more of GG-instigated tragedy than of Mandeep-improvised comedy — could only react, very very cautiously by saying something two-worded: “Yes GG,” and got on with it.

Not that he did not want to sound a categorical "No" to GG's explicit directive, but still, showing Michelle around the city would be more comfortable if someone could tag along with him, for heaven's sake. Suresh wanted me to join him on the short excursion with Michelle. Eager to see some historic landmarks before returning to London, she made hotel reservations at the Grand Kakatiya and extended her stay by two more days. Our team's responsibility was to ensure she had a memorable experience that exemplified the best of our hospitality — from the warm greetings to the personalized touches. However, GG put the kibosh on our action plan and insisted that only Suresh accompany her. Period.

GG derived altruistic pleasure in reprimanding us every step of the way; saying 'No' to almost everything became known as his forte, his signature response to everything that his subordinates might score a brownie point or two over his wish and will. It was his way or the highway. Because of this, a certain sort of stubborn bone-headedness was writ large on his person all year round (in fact, for a little over two years at a stretch that we worked under him, we always found him to be in a hedonistic chauvinistic disposition); it was almost pathetically entertaining to observe as it spiralled around him day in and day out creating an atmosphere of tight-ass oppressive intensity much like being trapped in shackles and making others who reported to him see the trifling frivolity of it all. Good grief!

Now, Suresh was a cheerful, down-to-earth, temple-going, God-fearing finance professional who preferred his clothes nicely tailored. Readymade garments did not quite appeal to him much as he wanted the old-world, vintage charm of going to his same old, seasoned tailor shop every few months for stitching, particularly when Dussehra or Diwali festivities were approaching. “Proper fitting” and "comfortable fit" were always the common issues with the brouhaha about the new-age readymade garments such as Arrow, John Miller, White House, Newport, Pan America, Independence, Wear House, Peter England, et alia, which were beginning to be every IT professional's wardrobe in Hyderabad; part of this sentiment Suresh and I had absolutely abhorred while Mandeep swung between having his dresses sourced by readymade or by bespoke tailoring.

+*+*+*+

On a related note: Mandeep got his clothes tailored at Yeomen Tailors, his favourite tailor, while I got my clothing custom-tailored at Visa Tailors. Afterwards, I moved on to Superb Tailors, which I had quit going to many years ago, though I still love to get my clothes stitched at a professional tailor's. But soon, new businesses sprang up like mushrooms among the slowly forgotten old-fashioned, traditional shops to vend readymade garments — more the prettier and get to be called modern or developed mindset; less or nothing, then be dubbed under-developed or not so forward-looking and backward class. That is how the world works and sounds and aligns with those realities. Talk of being spiritual!

The prêt-à-porter quickly dominated and monopolized the stores and malls that surfaced everywhere almost overnight, old ways giving way to the new. And I could not say if I appreciated even an iota of that kind of new-age development. Anyway, hardly any bother for the world (read marketplace) out there who welcomed and fell for it immediately. (I suppose when times change like that, you realize it and accept it even if you do not fall into the trap of fancying it much.) Eschewing bespoke tailoring, the trend of buying readymade clothes had already caught on — confounding effects, I am sure, of rampant 'CORPORATIZATION' and 'GLOBALIZATION' of all trade and business.

Mostly, we were just content savouring the occasional Burger or Hot Dog—Mandeep hilariously referred to it as "garam kutte"—alongside some potato chips and a refreshing bottle of Thums Up (at Universal Bakery). Our favorite snacks included the delightful Samosa Chaat, Sev Puri, Pani Puri, or Dahi Papdi Chaat at Park Lane. On certain days, we would indulge in an Egg Puff or Osmania biscuits paired with a cup of Irani Chai at either Garden Restaurant or Paradise Cafe. Life was what it was: simple and truly beautiful.

(Unfortunately, those beloved friends have left, and the joy we once experienced moving around or passing through the city, especially during Dussehra or Deepavali, has diminished. The twin cities have changed; political and economic masters claim to have 'transformed' them, 'putting them on the global IT map.' Yes, but beyond recognition or feeling. If this is what transformation truly is, they made it difficult for those who relate to or remember their former charm and character. Coping with this sense of loss, for all the old things and old times, will always be there to bear. But will brook no love. And as time passes, the pain will never lessen, ever.)

Nevertheless, I noticed that Mandeep was increasingly choosing to purchase readymade clothing. He would fly to Delhi to kill two birds with one shot: he'd meet his relatives and get some shopping done from that place up north. A pair of Levi Strauss jeans was one of his numerous must-haves. Devi moved on to buying off-the-shelf, ready-to-wear shirts and trousers from a departmental store called Chermas, his watering hole for complete family shopping.

+*+*+*+

When GG, our boss who does not listen to anyone, puts it on him straight to escort a London beauty like Michelle, naturally, he becomes squarely nervous than he thought he would get if someone went with him. Devi found no mention, and neither did Mandeep. Shiv was… denied access. None of us talked about it much except Suresh, who had wanted me to accompany him.

GG—with the hard carapace of a Dung Beetle for an attitude—turned down Suresh's request to have me also on the task of showing Michelle around town. He wanted only Suresh to perform this official function, no questions asked. And to suggest what he thought he needed to do, he flared up into a volley of abuses and hollered at Suresh,

Suresh! Tell me, what part of what I said didn’t you understand?

Suresh looked at the floor and calmly said, “Yes, GG!

GG spoke back: "Do as I say."

(But here is the thing. Nothing exists as an antidote (ha-ha) — in the challenging world of rude bosses who enjoy nagging their employees simply because they can: should you ask anyone, including those of us who worked with GG, our former crooked, bad-to-the-bone, techno-bull corporate manager — against the daily emotional lacerations we faced. It often felt like enduring vicious scorpion stings, Ram-packed with dreadful horns of fear and intimidation. (Check with Kavitha; she possesses an incredible grasp of the topic discussed in this paragraph! She was in copious tears: salty lacrimal secretions from the eyes that never softened GG's heart, not even a wee bit. After surviving for a year or so, she vamoosed to the U.S., which was far better a proposition than to face a boss who came from hell). If you have a death wish to risk an early premature termination of your life and career, then you can harbour the gumption to refuse his orders but proceed with caution. Likewise, you can let your bad manager know — you don't have to say anything drastic, but your actions should speak louder than words — that his authoritarian style (bordering on pathological narcissism) won't dishearten or dissuade you. Unless you haven't learned to assert yourself and say a friendly "no," you may feel compelled to comply with your manager's requests.)

Primarily, it was Suresh's responsibility to ensure Michelle visited the places she wanted to see in Hyderabad. And GG wanted it that way, with no additions to the two-some party. Knowing that you and I do how GG is, you better do what he says, or things will be knocked off their stack at once, leaving you to handle an avalanche around you later, I reasoned with Suresh. Thankfully, Michelle was a sport. And like a companionable associate, Suresh showed Michelle around the city. On finding that she was unpretentious and not as level-headed as had been innocently presumed, Suresh revved up his enthusiasm so much that it looked like he was going on a date with her! Good on him, though.

While Suresh was out of the office with Michelle, Devi returned to his cubicle positioned inconveniently across GG's 'see-through' glass-walled cabin in the West Wing, focusing on organizing his all-important monthly financial settlements that would get dispatched to all the finance managers across the country. In the meantime, Mandeep and I grabbed a cup of coffee in the hallway, just a short distance from the roving eye of Ann Mary R's reception lobby area on the green-marbled 5th floor.

It was Friday. Returning to our workstations, we set out to make plans to order a Domino’s pizza delivery to the office on the upcoming Saturday shift. And that was tomorrow. While we were at it, Mandeep started composing daily operations emails to send to Susanna in Denmark, and meanwhile, I began putting together marketing reports, including updates on file processing status, which were to be delivered to our domestic partners at the EOD.

+*+*+*+

Dressed simply in dark trousers, a light-coloured matching cotton shirt, and black Bata shoes, Suresh went on the city trip with Michelle. Clad in denim blue jeans and a white flannel shirt, Michelle was killing it — as she gracefully walked down the 5th-floor hallway before grabbing a cup of coffee from the Nescafe dispenser and entering the West Wing conference room, which was close to Devi and Suresh's finance cubicles, with GG's glass-cabin facing them.

Michelle and Suresh likely visited the Birla Temple and the Salar Jung Museum and then went to the Charminar area to shop for the famous lacquer bangles. A difficult situation for Suresh came to a close, and despite the rollercoaster of a day, everything turned out to be just fine for him. Fortunately for Suresh, his day with Michelle went perfectly.

All of us at roaming division were sure of this: Wherever she went as she strolled through our humble metropolis, people must have stopped dead in their tracks ogling at her, forgetting to breathe or wink, in complete arrest of her extraordinary whitish beauty. Michelle's golden, milky-white complexion was dazzling to behold, and naturally, Suresh, as was everyone else in our company, was in the absolute trance of her astonishing heavenliness. She walked in beauty, absolutely slaying it. That was the first and the only time a sublime beauty like Michelle had ever walked on this part of the Satyam earth.

Devi spoke with a naughty grin, “Wow! She is just too good to be true!” “Absolutely. They don't make them like her anymore. Oye! I can't blink my eyes re!” Mandeep chimed in, who was in absolute awe of our stunning guest. We all shared a laugh, and when Suresh joined in later during the coffee break in the evening after dropping Michelle off at her hotel, it added to the joyous atmosphere in the cubicle.

We all couldn't agree more that Michelle was a masterpiece of extraordinary beauty—"breathtakingly beautiful," as Suresh said before he took her along for an official tour around the city—with the power to alter the course of history for all time to come. A beauty that captivates not just men but, most certainly, women as well.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Alternative titles considered for this blog were: “Beautiful Anxiety,” “Suresh's Rollercoaster Day,” “From Cubicle to City: Suresh's Unexpected Adventure,” and “Suresh's Dilemma: Navigating an Outing with Michelle.”

Sunday, April 20, 2025

Morning Blooms: A Dormitory Tale

Our Satyam Days, part XXIV

Renju and one of her best friends and flatmate, Elizabeth, accompanying her as a roommate at STC, had their dorm rooms on the opposite side of the long corridor. Elzy (short form of Elizabeth) was so visibly tired that had Renju not put her hand around her and led her together to their room, she would have tripped and fallen in the first few seconds of walking to their room.

Overwhelmed by sleep, Elzy lay her head on Renju’s comforting shoulder while the best friends trudged down the aisle. Before shuffling back to our dorm rooms, Mandeep, Gnana, and I said Good-Night-Sweet-Dreams to Renju and Elzy as they strode through the long corridor, and they wished back the same, Elzy raising her hand and drawling: Ggooooodd nniiiiight!

Remarkably, Elizabeth was up and ready by morning the following day. She was idling around the edge of the dorm's garden lawn, admiring a row of Daisies, Lilies, Lavender, and Periwinkle that were blissfully in bloom. The night before, Gnana, Devi, Suresh, Mandeep, Devi, and I were all allowed to sit on the same lawn grass by the dorm cafeteria and play dumb charade and Antakshari until our hearts' content. Even in 1999—one of the golden years of our lives in terms of overall Satyam experience—mobile phones hadn't invaded our lives yet. (Life is so much more significant and gloriously wonderful—that is, so much more alive and active—when we are not carrying a cell phone).

When Mandeep and I emerged from the dormitory, Elzy looked up, waved her hand, and cheerfully said, "Hi, good morning! Last night, I got so tired and couldn't say goodbye properly."

Mandeep smiled understandingly and replied, "No problem. We were exhausted, too. We crashed on the bed as soon as we got to our room. It was a long day."

Elzy nodded in agreement. I asked her curiously, "Where's Renju?"

Elzy answered, "She's coming presently... I just got dressed and came out to admire these gorgeous flowers. They are well-tended. Look!" She handed Mandeep and me what I believed was a geranium flower, inviting us to admire its beauty. We did so and appreciated it as much.

As we spoke, we saw Renju approaching. She greeted us, saying, "Hello, Mandeep... Hi, Arindam, good morning!" Noticing that her teammate Gnana was missing, she asked, "Where's Gnana?"

"He'll be here any moment,” I said. “He was wearing a tie when Mandeep and I told him we would wait for him outside on the lawn for a while. You know that knot… it doesn't always come out right the first time. Gnana is tying the knot around his neck!"

Ha ha ha... I hope he does it right,” said Renju good-humouredly.

As we stood at the entrance by the garden lawn, Gnana joined us and suggested, "Let's head over to the cafeteria for some delicious breakfast. What do you guys say? By now, they should have served it. I need my coffee fix," he said with a playful grin. His well-knotted tie and neatly done hair made him look well-dressed and dapper.

Look at you, you finally got the knot right. The knot, I mean,” quipped Mandeep.

Gnana smiled and, feeling the wrapped knot under his neck, said, “Yeah, finally. Not used to it. But I got it.

Chalo, let’s go. GG must be expecting us in the conference hall by 9:30 am,” said Gnana.

Someone quipped that (it must have been Devi), saying, "Yeah, GG and his <bleep> expectations!"

Everybody joined in the laughter as we stepped towards the dorm cafeteria nearby. We appreciated GG, our fire-breathing Wrecking Ball of a manager, who was, literally and figuratively, behind everything and our stay at the incredible Satyam Technology Center, even though he was completely unaware of our candid yet pointed critiques of him.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Sunday, April 13, 2025

A Night of Reflection

Our Satyam Days, part XXIII

Stars Above, Memories Within

After a long day of work, we were all a little worn out and exhausted, so we just walked to the grassy lawn adjacent to the dorm cafeteria to rest for a while, everybody taking a much-needed breather before heading to our dorms and calling it a day.

Night fell, a lovely night. Every little star started to glisten in the pure, dark sky. Back in 1999/00, pollution had not taken over the environment as it has now, possibly the reason why the skies above us were noticeably boundless and darker, with brilliant stars sprinkled throughout the lordly heavens. Sitting on the lawn glowing with the day's twilight, I realized the time for a sacred moment of nostalgic reflection had arrived.

That was when I realized again — as I sat down on the patch of green for a breather, enjoying the nightfall descending on the land — though not for the first time as now but lacking in a way to examine the kind of personal loss I have been destined to mourn and am now living with that reality which affected me badly, albeit still believing that L. and I will always be in love no matter what life throws at you. While I stayed at the STC for the technical forum to conclude, the frailty of my love for her: the much-vaunted pain of losing someone my heart still went out to, my dearly beloved, nearly two heart-breaking years ago at that point in my life, had slowly begun to appear to be frittering away like a candle in the wind.

After a time, things weren't the same anymore, and it broke my heart. I lost her forever to the next time and era that has passed into the heartless, fast-changing world, which fell out of my liking. Now, it's only loneliness and isolation.

To this day, I kept the weight of those old introspections in my chest to myself, unable to confide to any friend or confidante. Sharing is accepting, I know; maybe it even creates a space for the absolution that has still eluded my understanding of what could have rightly been mine. Yet, some vain noise flutters as though chastising me: "What sort of absolution are you talking about? There's no absolution; just get ahead and move on. Life is for living, not for floundering in self-pity." I never did, to the best extent possible. I survived because I knew, deep down, I wasn't alone; I have all my memories safe in my heart.

I didn't heed that well-intentioned, if not blunt, 'advice.' Sometimes, random thoughts can intrude on your mind, often with so dramatic an unsuspecting force that can knock you down on the rocks of other such reflections, upsetting your perspective, even belittling your beliefs and convictions that you have always held close to your heart.

I realized, somehow, thank heavens, I need not privilege them with much attention and significance and yet be aware of their drastic impact if taken into consideration, for they might further target my vulnerability to thwart me off the nostalgic path to living and longing for the old days, among which the memory of L.T. is every little part of the whole firmament awash with divine faultless stars and that lovely pink moon that once brightened my youth, back when life felt much simpler and more genuine.

(Let this be my ode, my parting word, to my L.—My lifelong love for you is as vast as the boundless ocean. All I wanted was for you to have a better life. No matter how long I have left, maybe in the next life, I pray to get lucky again to complete you and me together where we belong: in an endless, everlasting melody of love that will fill our lives with happiness unbound as our love sets us free with every heartbeat taken for the one and only you: the only path I once knew. With every word written here, I promise I'll be there, hand in hand, until the end of time, forever and ever.)

“Hum chup hain... ke dil sun rahe hai…
Dhadakanon ko…, aahaton ko..,
Saanse... ruk si gayi hai,
Hum chup hain... ke dil sun rahe hai…”

Instead of acceding to the usually critical reasoning that my mind soft-soaped, I followed the sincere whispers of my heart. It was a heart that had only called her name once long ago; it has continued to do so ever since. And look what happened: I ended up enriching and restoring my mind's previous criticality with her beautiful thoughts for eternity; otherwise, I would have lost them to the void and "moved on" as if nothing of value had happened in my life or, as my mind, critically admonishing me once, had dared to suggest. So, wisely, I listened to my heart, not my head.

But I couldn't consider a rational way to apprise anyone of how my fate, destiny, and kismet had taken my special someone away from me as I got swept up into the continuous chaos of time and change. It broke me beyond belief, leaving me powerless to do anything. I remember breaking down, feeling shattered, alone, and lost. Accepting life's uncertainties was beyond words. My heart was gone, even as crying out my heart was the only thing to do. 

I just sat among my jolly good friends, staring into my not-so-distant past, watching the starry night sky aloft and the beautiful people around me talking, singing, and making merry. While my friends made merry, still so joyful and vivacious, even after a long day's work finished with a touch of finesse, I found myself yielding to the chronically lonesome thoughts of L.T., my gracefully elegant L., shining with light and colour in beauty and purity somewhere in the big wide world out there.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Note: The song “Hum Chup Hain,” featured in the Hindi movie Faasle (1985), is sung by the legendary voices of Lata Mangeshkar and Kishore Kumar.

Dedication: For L. It amazes me how I still believe what we started will go on eternally. You're still you and I'm still me.

Friday, April 4, 2025

Pastoral Dining Party

Our Satyam Days, part XXII

Speaking of outings, after work in the evenings, we had the opportunity to visit, only on two or three occasions, 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