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
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