The Heart’s Gentle Surrender

Our Satyam Days, part XXIX

Together as four best buddies of each other—Una Artoran, Mom, Padma, and Kavitha—in the unforgettably extraordinary year of 1998 and after, these vivacious, talented young women were brimming with happiness and shared a deep, unmatched friendship blossomed from their everyday conversations in the office. That was during the memorable year of 1998 and beyond.

Their adventurous spirits and mutual laughter transformed ordinary experiences into treasured recollections for each of these working young women, making their lives a delightful voyage through tip-top dressing sense, catchy old Hindi film songs, and heart-warming stories of their personal experiences, have all made their iconic avenue of work the Oxford Plaza come alive, twenty-seven years ago to this day.

Here we go on Kavitha’s three closest pals, one of whom I had a little ‘continuity’ with. Ms. Una Artoran, a December-born Sagittarian with an eye-catching charisma; Ms. Fishsketcher, alias Mom, a hobbyist sketch artist who is passionate about capturing unsalvageable love stories with her free and frank fishing skills; and dear Ms. Padma, a dependable truth-seeker who enjoyed engaging in fun projects like humming Bryan Adams songs and competing fiercely in ice cream-eating contests at Softy Den— preferably with butterscotch and chocolate flavours to go with.

To elaborate more on the bittersweet reality of those rare moments of great wonder, a profoundly enchanting experience filled with sheer awe and charming delight had etched itself into my memory forever. And then there were the raw, stupefying, darker shades of someone's sulking pangs of envy and fiery jealousy that accompanied those moments —

Ms. Una Artoran, a December-born Sagittarian, as well as an eye-brow arching senora, does not lament anything that she could have won for herself because her days in the HYD city were already veering into an exiling interminability and immutable passivity that she had no heart to brook, as all that she has lost is beyond any redemption since those beautiful, loving heart-beats she once experienced barely stirred any upheaval in her heart than they might have in the past when she was a financial enchantress handling cash disbursements and inflows (in the back office of the Stan-Chart Bank) because she was love-phobic right from the word go, and consequently, she hastened escape, distancing herself from her former sun-kissed life to a distant shore untouched by the sands of the past ocean of love and longing that someone endeavoured to pledge, but then the romance faded and love died soon after, and thanks to her best pal Kavitha's intrusive third-wheeling and her hustling, howling, radicalizing madness that needs no retelling here, an affair so destined, never returned that first-time tenderness of love, forever making sure it would never come back, had ended;

Ms. Fishsketcher, alias Mom, an amateur (albeit artistic) freehand sketch artist who, through her one great sketch of a fish (which has mistakenly found itself swimming the jealous waters that Kavitha would soon muddle because she can and she will because everything that followed with her irrational standpoint foraging on juvenile delinquency had destroyed with one phone call of reprimanding discouragement to her college-time buddy Una, even as Mom was passionate about bringing unsalvageable love stories to dash) as Mom (meaning Candle, Fishsketcher is my coinage), her first name which is not about being untowardly motherly, matronly or anything, penned the most flavoursome take on Una's fleeting love that passed through time and fate like a warm breeze on a cold day, but sadly that prophetically auspicious fish-sketch couldn't salvage the solitary love that she approvingly favoured for the natural coming together of two hearts as she once graced as a friendly ally of her office colleague, Una Artoran at an underground coffee shop a long time ago;

And finally, Ms. Padma, a dependable truth-seeker, enjoyed being intensely involved in her fun projects, such as melody-humming Bryan Adams songs, competing in ice cream-eating contests, her sweet tooth automatically favouring rich butter-scotch and velvety chocolatey flavours, infinitely preferable than the spartan plain vanilla flavours, etc. — was immersed in a rich, deep Jane Austen-themed friendship with her jolly office companions, namely, Una and Mom (also known as Fishsketcher) as well as Kavitha's intensifying social bonding temper notwithstanding, and their friendship bond had no comparison really, having been forged in the cheerful fires of shared experiences and mutual support at their place of work.

Their friendship is now undeservedly forgotten. That sounds... unfortunate, to say the least. Here's wishing that the eternal sunshine will eventually win back the day for them.

Kavitha worked for Satyam, while the other three members of the foursome were all employed at the same city-based banking organization. Working there was enjoyable and rewarding, but Mom, Una, and Padma had a tight schedule, with little to no leisure time throughout the day. While Una and Kavitha may still be in touch with each other, the other two finally parted ways and, over time, steadily grew apart from the original story of acclaimed friendship. The story did end there, but one wishes it hadn’t.

+*+*+*+

Back to Satyam: Our days of working together with abounding happiness were about to end. Renju and Gnana moved on; Revathy and Rafi were already far gone into a different epoch of exemplary IT experience; Mandeep went and joined GG's IT firm before heading into Real Estate Infra for good; Balaji took up a Business Analyst's role at STC; GG quit Satyam; and I shifted to STC for a year and then off I went to Vikrampuri office branch on an IJP: didn't like it much but had to. 

I unreservedly, unequivocally, absolutely hated that office branch of the company — a dreadful infestation of reprobates milling about all over the place. Such was my life, post our days of ecstasy on Raj Bhavan Road. And I wanted out as soon as I could get away from the Vikrampuri office branch, and that came painfully a year later, thankfully on a platter.

By the end of all our Satyam days, Devi, who was a fine gentleman of jovial, charming nature with a round belly and a hearty, mirthful laugh, would get on with anyone, no matter their age: I can't believe he turned up his nose at getting too acquainted with anyone beyond Suresh, his finance counterpart. Post Satyam, Mandeep and I were in contact by phone or mostly on social media. But Devi and Suresh got away as if not meant to stay in the association of brotherly friends who once worked together in a climate of joyful camaraderie and extraordinary comradeship, if you will — absenting themselves permanently, as did Revathy and Rafi, who sure had made a life-affirming impact on the team's quick learning and professionalism.

Truthfully, our family lives (and IT careers) have kept us occupied, so none of us barely had the necessary continuum of time for anything other than wishing each other happy birthday or happy new year when that time of year comes around, evanescing into a void of nothingness. Devi and Suresh have been gone for a long time, never returning to the camaraderie we had during our good old days of Satyam.

Since our memorable Satyam days, Mandeep and I could maintain the degree of communication required to stay afloat in our friendship, which sadly has dissolved into a colourless chemistry that formerly existed between us.

By Arindam Moulick

Transient Friendships

Our Satyam Days, part XXVIII

Friendships at work do not necessarily last a lifetime. Put differently, workplace friendships often do not endure after a certain point. That's usually the case.

For all one knows, they endure, seeing as I believe that we instinctively understand that remaining curiously incommunicado all through the time passing is perhaps the most reasonable recourse to cherish the familiar relationships still going strong as they are. When our interests and needs change owing to life’s social circumstances, we find ourselves unable to connect in the same way as before when we were in Satyam — not because we intentionally seek disconnection from each other, but because we feel in some way powerless to do otherwise.

Contrary to what the preceding para might suggest, there has never been any attempt to foster a casual air of distancing between us team members during or after our considerable time as workplace acquaintances or, better still, friends, lifelong friends, Satyam friends. However, as time transitioned to a different realm of unexperienced reality and its apparent effect on our professional and private lives, our individual lives and all the ensuing responsibilities associated with the life that surged in like the pull of high tides afterward changed invariably. Consequently, since our last day of work at Satyam, all those beautiful Satyam friendships began eroding or abandoned if you like.

The bonds we made and lost over time.

That realistically is what has happened to everyone, with the possible exception of Mandeep, who, for a few prolific years after leaving Satyam, had maintained contact with me, while Devi and Suresh promptly stayed in touch with each other through the post-Satyam years but couldn't do so neither with me nor Mandeep. With other ex-colleagues such as me or possibly even Mandeep, as time went by, they never managed our unmissable good friendship going strong.

I kept an eye out for them, and on many occasions, Mandeep and I were conversing about their whereabouts. But we couldn't do the same for Renju, Shiv, or others after some time since we knew that, like her teammate Gnana, Renju would switch projects and possibly even relocate to a different city, and there would be nothing to reach out to.

Her strong-willed ambition to make for herself in the global IT world, in the U.S. or the E.U. she worked so hard for when doing projects in Satyam and post-Satyam years of IT experience, in her original brightness, finding a balance — friends, family, personal likes, and (maybe) dislikes have solved a lot of problems for her while others get created no doubt. Life cannot be a bed of roses for anyone: you have to work at it, and not many of us are born with a silver spoon in our mouths. Renju, by extension, all our former Satyam friends, had faced her share of life's typical and not-so-typical challenges, like staying on what matters without losing focus while knowing that it's even harder to learn whom to trust. Although there were difficulties or challenges—unavoidably, of course, that was to be expected—her life's journey through the passing years, post-Satyam, may have been safer and sweeter than she had imagined. Renju had brilliant joy and energy that most wouldn't be so lucky to have. Likewise, Gnana, too, I am sure, handled the purpose long enough to be fully ship-shape in the emerging IT world, sustaining a professional life that'll ultimately be for the world something to get talking about, I am sure.

As I write these words, an intention so deep, I place a quiet invocation of revival into each letter, as I believe that the nostalgic warmth of our Satyam friendship hasn't faded and never will because even though our Age of Innocence is long gone, we will maturely go on living with our fond memories of the teamwork we all performed at Satyam Computers, now a long time ago. It is impossible to forget the permanence of a memory of our profound experience at Satyam. Satyam gave us so much to remember.

From their vantage point in life, it is easy — conveniently forgotten, to not dwell on what is now a thing of the past, so that is what some people do. It's hard to believe they've sunk into such a surprising inward viewpoint.

+*+*+*+

Mandeep and I talked to each other intermittently, periodically going to the forthcoming movies at the Imax or having buffet lunches: Indian and Continental at one Jubilee Hills eatery or Mexican nachos at a chic Banjara Hills restaurant. We would order a big round pizza (with unlimited toppings!) from a newly opened Domino's Pizza on Raj Bhavan Road on the weekends. After leaving Satyam, we once or twice met up at a Pizza Hut on the hills of Banjara to have a go at their flatbreads with various topping choices alongside an oversized jar of cold drinks: I think it was Pepsi.

In these chaotic days, the fond remembrance of the Satyam friendship story is very significant, grounded in history, for all of us former associates or ex-Satyamites if you like: it is always my go-to for some of my best professional days. And will never outgrow a place in my heart. Today, that lovely old, familiar association is no longer there, lost in time as it has. And while the passing years haven't been able to erase the treasured recollection of those euphoric times, they have ultimately forced an incomprehensible amount of time and distance—the gap of incommunicative aloofness—between us dearly beloved pals of Satyam.

While I often find myself engrossed in the easy-going days of my youth and reminiscing about the wonderful times I had working at Satyam, I have yet to come to terms with the fact that so much time has passed without anyone noticing. Who among us, if anyone, could conform to the ever-evolving standards of a lasting friendship in the current millennium, post our Satyam experience? Am I the only one who is nostalgically inclined, or are we all sailing in much the same boat, experiencing similar things along the way? Do tell me.

+*+*+*+

After leaving Satyam in the mid-2000s, I sojourned in another city for around a year, working for Wipro. I met new friends and led a somewhat self-deceptive aspirational life until I realized over time that returning to the asphalt jungle of the city where I grew up would be preferable because this was not going as I had initially planned.

Though I had a super time at Wipro working with a wonderful group of people, I was growing inchoate and lacking focus as anything I would do would not bear fruit of even a rudimentary feeling of success for settling down in the city where I believe my roots were still intact. I felt as if I had been doused in self-delusional grandiosity of my own making, as my naive way of handling things had led me nowhere solid in the foreseeable future, not career-wise, of course not, but life-wise. Whereas, after working for a few years with a GG-headed IT division, Mandeep finally said goodbye to a French-cut (of beard style) maverick who replaced GG and resigned before joining a multi-national IT firm back again. I had a strong impression that Mandeep missed our Satyam days on the 5th floor of the Raj Bhavan Road office branch, and I never got the chance to ask him, but I wonder if he still does. Devi, Suresh, and Shiv would respond with the same feeling as him or me, Renju, and Gnana — who can forget the glory days of our early careers?

Even our violently arrogant and unfriendly boss, GG, who was known for being a narcissistic and controlling bully, would be missing those Satyam days. We all miss Satyam, and those brilliant, bright young days are over and won't return. Those days have passed. There will never again be "Satyam Computers." It's lost forever.

By Arindam Moulick

The Silent Drift

Our Satyam Days, part XXVII

Friends have reasons to part. They may not feel like staying in touch. One possible reason could be this: I got a promising job somewhere, so I am moving on, going off the radar altogether if you fancy the term, and losing touch entirely. In the pre-mobile phone era, let alone the landline, to get in constant contact was becoming a challenge, a tough call.

So why did we abandon a trustworthy company of one another when nobody had done anything "disappointing" or "unpleasant"? Why this complete absence of social interaction, then? I wonder why I feel this sad sense of being left behind now, weighed down by nostalgia, which is, confessedly, had been largely self-inflicted upon my senses. Things were so wonderful when we were younger, more ambitious, and more driven (GG had no idea!). We worked well and made a good team (GG was instrumental in this, at least!): more like lifetime friends than just merely like workmates working as a team at an office.

Do you remember the discussions we've had in our cubicle? The booming GG-led Monday-morning meetings? Those hilariously candid conversations? Think back to those coffee breaks that sparked more humorous conversations, our sense of good humour: really about anything our apparent enthusiasm welcomed while working collaboratively on our functional tasks and coping with our demanding taskmaster, and not to forget mentioning our conduit of personal creativity and jovial collaboration in pulling up GG's huffs and blow-ups like Ongole Bull almost daily. Those unforgettable moments shaped our journey as a team together at Satyam! But we all ended up quickly drifting away. I know priorities shift. But still.

Not long afterward, marriage occurs, a kid or two, and then settling down in life, romantically and financially. Learning and mastering the craft of family life while working to keep everything coherent day in and day out causes one to fall into a traditional routine, perhaps resulting in a 'peaceful' family circle in a by-now familiar household domain but, alas, with old friends long gone and their relationships left to fade, life had turned a different chapter, met new friends maybe, and it goes on.

Communication, circumstances, and these days, some well-meaning individuals don't hesitate to reiterate personal growth endlessly. Everything indeed changes. Friends change, too. There's no sacred promise, is there, that we will stay in touch forever. Nobody keeps their word. I understand that now. What better reason could there be to pursue new opportunities and move away, even if it makes us reluctant to communicate? Priorities do shift. And some friends never look back.

When Friends Drift Apart

After my years in Satyam, I have often looked back with nostalgic awe: the memorable friendships I made with the colleagues I worked with; we all have tried to embrace the change that didn't seem to lurk around the corner but eventually made their icy presence felt: GG jumping ship first.

I embraced change (did I really? I have my doubts), as anyone would (but with great reluctance and unhappiness) in the face of new changes. I joined Wipro after leaving Satyam. Later, after returning to the city, I moved on to a New York-based IT organization for a few years, followed by a position at a U.S.-based IT group company. Life has evolved this way for many of us in the software industry. As a result, hardly anyone could be concerned about keeping in touch with old Satyam colleagues who have gone on to make a difference to the world beyond Satyam.

Life of a whole other kind took over our lives, wholly and completely, casting off old friendships as if they were enough, slowly falling away as some of us were too quiet and aloof to reflect on the past.

Devi and Suresh, the finance wizardry that only they could handle in the GG-helmed roaming division, never tended to stay in touch, except with Mandeep perhaps, as did Renju and Gnana, who have similarly forged ahead to other, newer, growth-oriented IT vistas: at large somewhere in the messed up, global crisis-laden, AI-driven disruptive world of IT software industry, scaling up the career totem pole while also losing contact permanently with every one of that old beautiful time we have all loved so dearly at the Satyam Computers on the Raj Bhavan Road.

Shiv and Shahnawaz have also disappeared, permanently out of reach—more than 25 years have passed—since those beloved days at Satyam. Thanks, guys.

GG never enquired after us. Has he ever? Ha-ha-ha. Can he ever? He will never stoop to the level of doing such a menial thing in his life of a (un)Holy Man of... Hell: GG the Great Dope, and that's understood. To be sure, 95% of the ex-bosses like him feel less important to do so. For these forever accursed individuals, nostalgic memories of the distant past don't recur as they don't let them enter their present — no one can expect anything like that from this rude narcissist who had damaged our innocent days of the first IT experience.

Mandeep and I maintained our friendship for a few years before letting ourselves abandon it altogether, ultimately drifting apart as some people do, no longer in tune with each other's company — perhaps having less interest in the life of the other. Kavitha was gone, escaping—just like anyone having slightly more grit and guts than the thousands of ducky also-rans and has-beens—to the US all those years ago: the profoundly exciting years she missed out on living and longing in this very city where she belonged to. That's her life, her choice. She was too far away for Mandeep, me, or anyone to renew or fully understand or establish the bonds of friendship that existed only for a little while among us when we worked as a team at Satyam, after which, sadly, it had to taper off as there was no forward momentum in the ordinary flow of friendship, albeit more professional than personal, none that had even existed ever since she went away purposefully choosing to live an ambition-scarred (or is it?), too-much-of-too-soon, gravy train of life that certainly had to be less ordinary there than it afforded her here if she continued in the same usual oh-no-not-again Indian mode, so to speak. That is all there is to this touching tale of friends and friendships that had, many years ago, taken place at a renowned company called Satyam Computers, our former office on Raj Bhavan Road, which regrettably went out of business (due to a sensational financial bungling in 2009 and the economic recession of 2008).

But Kavitha, now a veritable Half-Indian-Faux-American (HIFA, my coinage), had missed out on a great deal of that exquisite Satyam experience. The choices she had for herself differed from those that we had taken for ourselves: we continued to work with Satyam while she chose, rather determined, to move to the U.S. Every person's life is different from that perspective.

It is a bittersweet feeling, leaving behind something unforgettable and a lovely environment filled with numerous memories and camaraderie meant for the fortunate few. I still consider myself to be born under a lucky star to have been in such great company of friends at Satyam, for the incredible friendships I forged during those years that shaped my personal and professional life. It is no small miracle that my fate took a proverbial leap of faith to that level of what life could give me as a blessing as we supported each other and celebrated each other’s successes, making it all the more worthwhile memories that will last for a lifetime. Speaking from the point of view of an ex-Satyamite, for those of us who worked with Satyam, two eras will characterize our professional life: The Satyam era and the post-Satyam era.

In the storybook of my life, my friends have carved out a significant niche for themselves in today's fast-paced world where friendships are difficult to make, and the freedoms that once fostered camaraderie seem to be dwindling. It is rare to find friends these days, nor are they found in many places, especially when they like to move on, leaving everything behind while aspiring for a new life ahead. Memories are rarely made, often slipping away unnoticed, uncared for, and unloved by many who have no, as it seems to me, inkling about the significance of your life's work: your memories for the soul. For some of us, this is how life has turned out to be. Even though the mildewed pages are wasting away and my thoughts are as scatter-brained as autumn leaves lately, they remain etched in my mind even as the relentless march of time, a blessing or a curse, happens along swiftly, year after year and era after era.

Yet, I hold on to nostalgic memories of the past Satyam years that I will never omit from my present and continue cherishing no matter the changing circumstances I am dealt with, time after time, unravelling the mystery that life is.

So let’s pick up where we left off.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

The Bonds We Left Behind

Our Satyam Days, part XXVI

Maybe it is better to remain forgotten than to be remembered. This solitary thought lingers fondly as I reflect on the penultimate chapter of my second memoir about our Satyam days. (Between this and the last piece, there may be two more parts.)

I humbly confess my eager heart doesn't know how to let go of those lovely memories, but in the desirable end, I'm sincerely convinced I'm not the last one standing, so to speak, who is totally into this. My former friends, too, I am sure, retain a happy recollection of those memorable Satyam days just as I do, and it would be wondrous to know what they recollect about those glorious days of more than twenty-five advancing years ago.

Even though ample time has passed, the nostalgia for those heady times stoically endures. After all, it is a compelling story filled with exquisite moments of profound self-reflection, lasting memories of my beloved friends from Satyam, and brief revelations about specific emotions I had previously been unaware of. These cherished memories have occupied my private thoughts ever since I left Satyam. Written prolifically over several months, I admit thoughtfully that I didn't even realize how self-indulgent I had been while writing my Satyam memoir.

But I still can't make myself forget the eclectic recollections of those Satyam days, which have been deeply ingrained in my thoughts, never fading from memory ever since I left Satyam. Today, as I get older, I still feel like devoutly clinging to the past (foolishly? Maybe not) in a way that I'm unable to let go of my earlier memories about my Satyam experience, contrary to what rational people opine that one really shouldn't.

(But I can vouch for the fact that among all my Satyam friends, I may not be the only one who is into the business of recalling memories, that is, recalling past experiences into one's close conscious awareness; others are just as nostalgically inclined about it as I like to be, more often than not.)

Unable to shirk free of the cherished times that ultimately exist as prized possessions, my heart longs for every waking day of its little-known history, as it were, trying to remember everything of those extraordinary IT years, forgetting nothing. Having had the good fortune to share with you, I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia for a sweet old time that has faded into the unknown, anonymity—being (needlessly?) nostalgic for a lost time that had phased out and gone forever into history unsung, destined to be slowly but surely forgotten and remain unrecalled perhaps for all time to come. Hopefully not.

[However, perhaps old memories die hard, and the powers of recalling those that gently let us reflect on the glory days we held close to our patient hearts for so long and for great reasons known and unknown after we left Satyam in the early two-thousands. After all, there are some unbreakable bonds we leave behind, never mind that all my super social Satyam friends have moved away: some to foreign countries while others continue to be incommunicado, married, and have their kids, living a family life. Now, it's only me and my strange forlorn thoughts (and my usual cup of tea!) keeping me company, spoiling me rotten while I attend to my family. But those friends are not coming back; they are gone away and will not return, broken free from the shackles of the past times we have shared so much of. None of us can forget anyone, as we all have left our bonds behind at the juncture from where we parted one by one: the bonds of enduring desire for each other's friendship we had at our former company, Satyam Computers — the name itself is enough to bring back memories. Each of us has gone to battle with the world; perhaps I ought to follow suit the way they do. It has become increasingly nastier for everyone to pick their own battles and face the hard realities of life. They say: The world is your oyster. Is it so? I seriously doubt it, though. But at the end of the day, we are all in this together, aren't we?

Reminiscing fondly as a former roaming division team as if still going strong, just like in those days, all the wonderful days we have been privileged to experience deeply. These are barely spoken words, a heart's quiet echoes, for what's left behind, for what's to carry forever into the coming times and the future beyond, which is moving away from the past even as the present appears to be in a constant abysmal stupor that doesn't feel quite relatable. Words are all we possess, and all those memories, I promise, will last for a lifetime.]

True, it is better to remain forgotten than to be forced to remember. Now I understand perfectly fine. We all parted, I think, forever, but we did so happily, knowing that friendships ebb and flow and have had their seasons, just as people's lives change and adapt to new stages as and when they come. So, let's be happy for each other because the feeling of continuing a lifelong friendship matters more than the years we've lost contact.

As for me, letting go of the past has always been difficult and impossible even to think of. Hence, I shall carry on remembering the fallen leaves in the garden of whispering memories, having a nostalgic bent of mind and a heart full of memories that never relent. I'd like to believe that I'm not alone in feeling this way, despite being solitary right now, in this quest for an inner yearning for the times we've yielded to the world's goings-on: to go forward in time as each year goes by. Time passed, and everything changed. For as long as I can remember, remembrances of our Satyam days have shaped my thoughts and emotions like tiny whispers of dreamy, melodic beauty echoing through all my days now, twinkling down in love, hidden forever in the stardust of the past times we once shared all those years ago.

“Kisi baat par main kisi se khafa hoon

      Main zinda hoon par zindagi se khafa hoon

          Ho khafa hoon, khafa hoon, khafa hoon…”

An Afterthought:

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, many parents hoped (sometimes even hunted for some) that their daughters would marry software techies, resulting in software engineers or IT professionals (hardware techies, poor fellows, had no chance for consideration!) becoming highly sought-after marriage potentials. However, this dynamic, not without the usual high drama accompanying it, mind you, had been altered significantly in the twenty-first century.

But still, the concept of matrimonial alliances has become more than anything you can comprehend or relate to: software engineers are no longer the hot potato they once royally were. These expectations now have become fearfully extreme in setting unrealistic expectations for the grooms before and after marriage, such as substantial salary earnings, owning a lavish house or luxury apartment: preferably a condo, well-furnished to the teeth, and the intolerable preference for the newly married couple to live apart from the groom’s parents right away!

This all-or-nothing approach has eliminated the fairy tale aspect of "the marriage of true minds," creating a false sense of security for grooms seeking a life partner, only to be disillusioned when reality catches up with them. That’s just how it is.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

“Khafa Hoon Khafa Hoon” song from the Bemisal (1982) film is voiced by Kishore Kumar.