Posts Tagged ‘Satire’

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“Have some Idli with tomato chutney”

Baccha was sitting in the balcony of his 5th floor apartment that he shared with Bakwasbola and was playing sad tunes on his violin like he did every night.

He looked at the plate that his fellow dweller was now shoving into his face.

The idli looked under-cooked.

“Err, you can keep it there on the dining table and I’ll have it later” he said to Bakwasbola, who was glaring at him eagerly and waiting for him to eat the idli and give his seal of approval.

“No, No, No! You just try one piece now”, Bakwasbola replied in a high pitched excited voice.

“Oh! I’d love to, but as you see I will get my hands soiled and I can’t play my violin with soiled hands”, Baccha retorted with the best possible excuse he could then think of and believed Bakwasbola couldn’t say no to that.

Bakwasbola thought for a split second and flashed all his teeth in glee when he came up with a solution.

“No problem! I will feed you the idli. Just open your mouth!”

“What? No, no! That’s embarrassing”

“No problem! See? My hands are clean, I just washed it”

Baccha sprang up from his seat before Bakwasbola acted. The thought of having his over-zealous floor manager feeding him like an infant was enough to put him into action.

He kept his violin and bow on the chair he was sitting, ran to the kitchen, grabbed a spoon, ran back, took the plate from Bakwasbola and quickly devoured the idli and chutney.

The idli was under-cooked and tasted of raw rice batter but Baccha couldn’t say that when he saw Bakwasbola eagerly staring into his face awaiting feedback for his cooking.

“Err, the tomato chutney is good but I think the idli might just be a little under-cooked. What do you think?”

Bakwasbola thought for a second and the 100 Watt bulb above his head lit up!

“Oh no no! I understand. Maybe I put it for too long and it has over-cooked. Let me take out the next batch a little earlier and then you can try them!”

Baccha wanted to slam his head on the wall; eating one under-cooked idli was bad enough, but having to try more of Bakwasbola’s  under-cooked idlis was simply ludicrous!

“Maybe another time, I’m already full Bakwasbola. I just had dinner”, Baccha quickly gained composure and replied.

“Sigh! Ok fine”. Bakwasbola seemed disappointed. “But do try it later! Don’t forget!” he added after a pause.

Baccha heaved a sigh of relief and went back to his violin.Bakwasbola’s incessant need to please everybody could get tiring at times. And Bakwasbola was extra friendly now that Baccha was on the verge of leaving.

It was Baccha’s last few days in Empty Men. The law of averages had finally caught up.

PPTwala had finally (after three weeks of incessant reminders) communicated to Cheeku that Baccha was leaving that week.Cheeku didn’t protest much and agreed since most of Baccha’s work was over two months ago and he had been under-used since then.

“So Baccha”, he said with his evil grin when Baccha went to his cabin, “Your paid vacation is getting over!”

Baccha blinked for a second. He saw Cheeku laughing at his own insulting joke and felt the urge to land a punch straight on Cheeku’s face, break his two front teeth and flatten his nose.  Baccha swore in his mind,“The b@#$#^ didn’t have any issue when I had been working 80 hours per week in office or when I was putting in 12 hours daily for almost 4 months. But he has to raise a joke when I work within human hours for 2 months.”

He held his tongue from retaliating though and said, “Yes, as you know I’ll be leaving tomorrow so just wanted to let you know that I have done all the necessary transitioning to Happy for whatever is remaining to be done”.

“Ok let me check with him” said Cheeku before settling his eyes on somebody outside his cabin whom he identified as his victim for his day that he cuold torture as part of his daily sadistic routine.

Baccha walked out of Cheeku’s office and sat down at his desk to write the formal emails notifying stakeholders of his leaving.

There used to be farewell dinner parties once upon a time at Empty Men when one of the people from Mech Tee went home after their stint. That was the only time when the team got together without having to discuss too much of work. The senior managers did all the talking and the junior folks just crammed the food indifferently (the expenses were split between everybody equally anyway); the only genuinely happy person in that get together would be the person who was about to leave Empty Men for good.

However, by the time Baccha was ready to go, there had been far too many expensive farewells that nobody was interested in farewells anymore (cost of farewells weren’t that easy on the pocket either). So this time, Bakwasbola (who tried to display some redeeming human qualities once in a while) arranged for just a ‘goodbye’ meeting instead.

If you have seen enough Hollywood movies, you probably would have seen how during traditional Christian funerals, friends and family members of the deceased come and say eulogies before the burial. They say all sorts of nice things that the dead person would have been glad to hear had he been alive but that would not matter now that the person was dead anyway.

That’s how these goodbye meetings are like. Everybody says niceties for the sake of saying them but they won’t make much of a difference to the guy who was on his way out.

So over a dozen Mech Tee men, working at Empty men, gathered in a conference room and started their mini speeches egged on by Bakwasbola and Biwi No. 1.

“Baccha was very talented. When I first heard sweet violin music in our apartment, I didn’t know where it was from. Later I saw it was coming from the balcony and that its source was Baccha. I was so amazed” said one.

“I had the privilege of being Baccha’s flatmate for a good amount of time. I remember him to be very neat and dedicated at work”, Bakwasbola droned on too for 10 minutes till somebody started snoring and the speech was cut short.

Everybody was forced to utter a few words while Baccha squirmed in his seat waiting to see the speeches get over. He almost bit his tongue when he heard Chaatu Sharma give his comments in that inimitable ‘Butler English’ of his.

“Baccha write so much! I think if he write big pages after seeing a taxi driver for 1 hour, then what he write after so many days here! I get a shiver he write book only about me and everybody

Baccha replied tongue in cheek, “Chaatu, for all you know I may have already been writing about you. Don’t you think so?”

Chaatu laughed “Ha ha ha” along with the others. Baccha laughed too (ho boy, if only Chaatu knew that Baccha had already made him a star in his dramatised blog story series!)

Once the meeting got over, Baccha went to say goodbyes to all the folks that mattered.

Guddu was shocked. He was scratching his latest beard after sitting two days in a row overnight after launching a Tecnoplant product when he heard the news. He couldn’t believe Baccha was actually going to leave before he did.

Pehalwan was upset. He didn’t know who he could sit and gossip with. “Man! I’m gonna really miss you here when I’ll be left alone with all these jokers. Even Guddu and Motesepatla will be leaving in the next two weeks.”

“Oh well”, Baccha replied, “Don’t worry my friend. Your time will come. Also, from what I heard, PPTwala’s dharna seems to have yielded some success. They have managed to blackmail the consulting company into sending back Baba Om again. So no worries, you’ll get good company”.

A few hours later, Baccha was smiling to himself and sitting in a plane heading back to India. He was done with his ‘memorable’ stint at Empty Men Telecom.

In the span of almost a year, Baccha had come across or worked with at least a hundred people, a few sharp ones but, whose minds were blunted by the likes of Cheeku and PPTwala, idiots galore, some unique persons such as Muthusamy who defied all categories and some others who had simple lost their minds and worked like zombies. The collection of people and experiences that Baccha had was something he was going to remember for a long time.

He was keeping his fingers crossed; he was hoping he wouldn’t have to work with another company like Empty Men Telecom again if he could help it. The stress was just too much; there are some things that money can’t buy.

Epilogue

Many miles away in India, Baba Om was spitting fire and cursing his bosses in the high flying consulting company. Mech Tee had paid all dues finally and PPTwala had struck a new deal with the company. They wanted Baba Om back!

Baba Om was going to go back to Empty Men again. And this time, he promised to himself to rain hell on the scumbags there!

 

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