This was the first I'd heard of it. Thank you, Dad and Ma, for not naming me after a shoe.
My dad said, 'Yes, yes, Gajju,' and looked like he wanted to change the subject, but then Kattu piped up, 'Zoya's very friendly with all the team, she was mentioning it when we went out for a' - he looked here and there and actually had the grace to blush - 'friendly dinner the other day...'
I choked at that, but it got worse, because Anita Chachi joined in the conversation. Adjusting her pallu so it showed a little more cleavage, she murmured, 'Arrey, the whole world knows that it's Zoya, jis par Zahid Pathan ne dil khoya....'
Ouch.
I tried a casual laugh. But before I could speak, Yogu said smoothly, 'What terrible rhyming. Is that original-Anita, or are you quoting someone?'
Chachi flushed, but stuck to her guns. 'It's from Mid-day. Where Zoya's being featured regularly. I'm surprised you allow it, bhaisaab.'
'I'm surprised you read that rag,' Yogu started to say, but my dad cut in with, 'Zoya's life is her own.' He spoke calmly, though his nostrils did flare, just a little: 'She showed me the article in question herself, by the way, Anita. Sorry if she stole your fire.'
Then Mohindar got up and raised a toast to Neha and Kattu and everybody started cheering. I cheered the loudest, a fake smile plastered on my face, hating Anita Chachi's guts.
I know my dad, and I knew there was trouble ahead.
Monita dispatched Neelo to Bombay the next day to carry out all the changes on the Shah Rukh film. She was full of guilt for not going herself, but she was also full of guilt because her older son, Armaan, the panty-peeker, was going through a weird phase where he wouldn't leave the house without carefully arranging a dupatta around his shoulders. This had totally horrified her homophobic husband. And Aman, the just-turned-two-year-old, had apparently kept her up the whole night, insisting that if he was too big to be allowed a snack at the maternal bosom, he could at least be allowed to keep a firm hold on it all night.
'On top of everything, Zoya,' she sighed into her coffee cup on Monday morning, 'Armaan stumbled into my room in a blind panic at five this morning and announced that he had to go to school dressed as a Polluting Chimney.' I nodded sympathetically, not really listening. 'So then I had to run around rolling him up in chart paper and making smoke out of bathroom tissue because he always wins the fancy dress contests. He'll be totally traumatized if he doesn't....' She suddenly realized I wasn't listening and demanded: 'Why are you looking like such a bheegi billi today, anyway?'
I told her about the lunch yesterday, the cocky Kattu, the beauteous Neha and what my cow of an aunt had said.
'What a kutiya,' said Mon matter-of-factly. 'Don't worry, Zo, she probably has all these kinky Men in Blue fantasies herself. Hey, maybe she makes Mohindar dress up in cricket blues and then beats him up with a Sahni Sports groin guard.'
I laughed, feeling a little better, 'So you don't think that's what everybody in office thinks too, do you?'
'Naah,' said Mon comfortingly. 'Besides, why would you care? You should just care about what your dad thinks.'
We started talking about work after that. Sanks had handed me a new HotCrust brief for Mon and I quickly filled her in on it. 'They want to do a big awareness-building campaign on fast deliveries. Presently, Benito's Pizza owns that turf with their promise of half an hour for delivery or the pizza is free.'
'So why can't HotCrust make a twenty-nine-minute promise or something?'
I shook my head. 'That was the first question I asked. They won't. Too me-too. Besides, they don't have the infrastructure to make that promise come good. Too few kitchens. Also, there was a spate of accident cases in the US involving pizza delivery guys who mowed down a lot of pedestrians because they were speeding to meet the half-hour deadline. It made a big stink. We'll never get approvals from the head office in the US.'
'But you're saying fastest deliveries,' Mon pointed out. 'How can you say that if it isn't true?'
'Don't say it,' I told her. 'The legal people say if you just imply it, very strongly, our ass is covered.'
Mon rolled her eyes. She hates the legal guys with a passion. They keep ruining her taglines with their quibbling. (Once, just because there's no actual nimbu juice in Belinda Lemon, they made her change, Belinda Lemon, Made in Heaven to Belinda Lemon flavour, Made in Heaven and couldn't understand what she was mad about.)
'Okay,' she said, 'anything else you want to tell me?'
'Well, we do have this one thought starter,' I told her eagerly. 'How about if we promise Hot deliveries? That will imply fast, because they're still hot when you get them, see?'
Mon didn't look too impressed. 'When do you want this?'
'This evening,' I told her.
'Balls,' she said, without rancour. 'Day after tomorrow, second half. Now run along, okay?'
I ran along. And sat, totally at a loose end, at my table. There was nothing much for me to do on Zing! because all they were doing was cricket. As I fiddled with the Dealer Board layouts lying around the servicing area and looked wistfully at close-ups of Khoda's face smiling out at me with GOLA RESTAURANT ZING! RS 10 ONLY emblazoned across his front, the phone rang.
It was some dude from IBCC. He wanted to meet me to hammer out the details and 'firm up' my contract with the Board! I bit back my panic, acted as savvy as I could, asked him to call me again in the evening, and rushed into Sanks's room screaming 'Help!'
Sanks has this spondylosis problem that acts up now and then and basically makes him even more cranky than usual. 'What?' he snapped, as I burst in.
I told him.
He rolled his eyes at me. 'Just tell the guy you'll meet him tomorrow with your lawyers.'
My lawyers? Hello, I'm a lowly account executive, drawing a twenty grand basic every month! I don't have any lawyers! I tried to say as much to Sanks but he just waved a hand dismissively. 'Now get that HotCrust thing done, will you? Those guys are really on my case.'
I told him what Mon had said, that we'd get nothing before day after tomorrow, second half. He snorted, muttered totally unacceptable, hauled himself out of his chair and headed for her room, the tuft of hair on the back of his head bristling dangerously.
Five minutes later, the door of her cabin opened and Sanks emerged. He looked at me and said, 'Day after tomorrow, second half.'
'Okay,' I nodded, totally straight-faced.
'What you grinning about?' he snarled. 'Go call up that IBCC guy and get your meeting organized.'
I ducked into Mon's room again.
She was on the phone with Neelo, discussing the Shah Rukh film changes, bloody but unbowed. 'I don't care what the post guy says,' she was raving, 'we can't have any flab around the girl's navel! Clean it up, frame by frame if you have to! And don't lose that list of seventeen changes I gave you. Bye!' She slammed down the phone and pulled out a cigarette. I eyed her warily as she lit up with shaking hands, exhaled a long stream of smoke, and said, in a very mild voice, 'I told Sanks I can't give you HotCrust earlier.'
'I know,' I said. 'D'you want to brainstorm on it?'
She glowered at me for a bit. These creative types hate it when they feel the servicing people are managing them. Then she shrugged. 'Okay,' she said. 'What we need is a symbol, something that cues speed and swiftness without our having to say it.'
'Cheetahs?'
She gave me an impatient look. 'No, Zo! Like Formula One racing.'
'But the delivery guys ride bikes...'
'That's true. So we can't do cowboys drawing their guns at lightning speed either. Hey, maybe we should get Abhishek Bachchan and do something Dhoom-ish?'
'Too expensive,' I said gloomily. 'These guys bust the bank getting Javed Jaffrey to endorse them.'
Mon scowled. She hates working on stuff that doesn't have a huge budget. She's quite a snob about it.
'What about our Hot delivery idea?' I asked her tentatively. 'Nothing there?'
She shook her head emphatically. 'Nope. It's too layered. The ot
her guys are saying fast. We have to say fast too...'
I didn't expect her to come up with anything till day after, so I was surprised when she came and folded up on the chair next to me while I was talking to the IBCC dude on the phone that evening. 'I've cracked your HotCrust thingie,' she said smugly, exhaling a long stream of smoke into the air. 'What do you think of when I say fastest deliveries?'
I shrugged. 'What?'
'Zahid Pathan!' Mon said grandly. 'The world's fastest delivery record holder. 169 kmph!' Then she added, in a more prosaic voice, 'Actually, that's second-fastest but who cares?'
Huh?
Basically, she wanted HotCrust to tie up with Zahid. And get him to deliver HotCrust pizza for a week. On a Dhoom-type bike, or something. It was strange, but it could work. Except that Zahid wasn't on contract with HotCrust.... But if HotCrust gave some free Zing! away with the pizzas, Zing! Co. might be willing to let HotCrust have him free. Of course, the bike idea may be unfeasible because of security reasons but I'd voice that concern later. Right now, I had an insane deadline to meet and also, I had a feeling that if I said anything negative Monita Mukherjee might start bawling. She looked pretty pushed to the edge to me...
Sanks liked Mon's HotCrust concept. We took it along and got approvals from both Zing! and HotCrust the next day. Now the next crisis was, of course, Zahid's dates. So I called Lokey.
'Where are you, Joyaji?' he demanded. 'And who's looking after your legal affairs?'
I told him what Sanks had told me. That the head of Zing! Legal would come along for the meeting with the IBCC guys today at five.
'That buffoon Saldhana?' Lokey snorted. 'Take me, Joyaji! In advisory capacity only if you like. No charges.'
I told him he was welcome to come along. The whole conversation felt totally unreal. 'But what about Zahid's dates?' I said, remembering why I'd called him in the first place. 'We'll need to take him through the scripts.'
Lokey chuckled fatly. 'He and Nikhil are in Delhi only, to judge the Miss India Contest. You know he will make himself free, Joyaji. He thinks of you very highly.'
I muttered something non-committal.
Lokey said he'd see me at the IBCC meeting and hung up.
***
We rolled in to the Taj Mansingh business centre at a quarter to five. Me, Sanks, Joel Saldhana from Zing! Co., Lokey, trailing pista shells behind him like an overfed Hansel, and, looking a little bewildered by it all, my dad.
The smiling lady showed us into a long conference room where four guys in dark suits and one bulbous dude in bright orange robes, sporting Jimi Hendrix dreadlocks, were seated. We all did some hello-helloing, and then they handed us the contract they wanted me to sign:
This is a contract between ZOYA SINGH SOLANKI (henceforth referred to as the Undersigned) and the INDIAN BOARD OF CRICKET CONTROL (henceforth referred to as the Board). It pertains to a six-month contract of employment by the Board of the Undersigned in the position of third additional coach to the Indian Board of Cricket Control Team (henceforth referred to as the Team).
The Undersigned is bound to EAT EVERY MEAL with the Team for the time period of the World Cup 2011 if the Team so wish it. The term 'meals' pertains to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and any snacks at any other time of day.
The Undersigned is EXPRESSLY FORBIDDEN FROM EATING ANY SOLID FOOD WHATSOEVER WITH THE MEMBERS OF ANY OTHER TEAM, participating in any Cricket World Cup whatsoever.
The Undersigned is to REFRAIN FROM FASTING OF ANY KIND at all mealtimes for the duration of the World Cup 2011 in spite of any religious injunctions or reasons of health.
The Undersigned is to REFRAIN FROM ANY BODILY CONTACT with any members of the Team, except from a kiss on the facial cheek or a comradely pat on the back.
The Undersigned is to KISS AT LEAST ONE TEAM MEMBER on the facial cheek directly after breakfast on the day of every India match.
The Undersigned is expressly forbidden from engaging in any physical contact with any member of any other cricket team whatsoever.
The Undersigned is forbidden from the Team locker room, the Team strategy and coaching meetings and training sessions.
The Undersigned is to defer at all times to the team leadership and chain of command.
The Undersigned is to refrain from endorsing any product that may be in conflict with the products or companies sponsoring the Cricket World Cup 2011.
The Undersigned is to MAINTAIN HER SPINSTER STATUS till the 22nd of May 2011.
The Undersigned is to treat every conversation with the Team or any or every of its members as TOTALLY CONFIDENTIAL. The Undersigned is to divulge no information regarding the workings and strategies of the team, that she may be privy to either intentionally or unintentionally.
The Undersigned is to give NO INTERVIEWS OR QUOTES to any member of the print, TV, email or radio press.
The Undersigned is to travel and stay at any five-star hotel of the Board's choice in the continent of Australia for the period of the World Cup 2011.
For this the Undersigned will receive from the Board, all expenses paid, and a sum of RUPEES TEN LAKHS in cash, on the 23rd of May 2011.
This sum will be paid out irrespective of how the team performs in the cricket world cup 2011.
IF HOWEVER, THE TEAM WINS THE ICC CRICKET WORLD CUP 2011 TOURNAMENT, THE SUM PAID OUT TO THE UNDERSIGNED WILL DOUBLE EXACTLY.
The Undersigned will be, for the period till the 22nd of May 2011, a bonafide employee of the Board and will be subject to all its rules and policies as such.
If the undersigned violates any terms of this contract, it shall be declared instantly null and void.
It took me forty minutes to read through the whole thing and to kind of grasp what it meant. I read the ten lakhs bit right in the beginning though, because they'd written it in big type and it kind of jumped out of the page at you. It was good money for someone like me who hadn't ten thousand in the bank. But some of the clauses in the contract worried me.
Like, where had they picked up the phrase facial cheek?What was all that stuff about kisses? Why couldn't I get married? Why couldn't I endorse brands? And why did I have to defer to the 'team leadership and chain of command'? That sounded like Khoda and Wes Hardin could really push me around!
As I read the thing through, I felt my (facial) cheeks getting hotter and hotter. When I reached the end of the page, I looked up and asked, in a voice that was shaking slightly, 'Is this some kind of a joke?'
At the other end of the table, my dad snorted loudly in agreement.
None of the IBCC guys said a word.
And then Lokey burst in, breathing heavily, 'Ten lakhs? That's it? You are expecting my young client here to disrupt her professional life, experience, her...um...distasteful physical contacts and go through so much ups and downs psychologically for this' - he paused, tried to find an English word that fitted and then gave up - 'chawanni sum?'
'And why can't my client get married if she likes?' Joel Saldhana demanded (stressing the my for Lokey's benefit I think).
The IBCC contingent, obviously taken aback at this onslaught, turned to look at the godman-type dude in mute appeal.
He inhaled deeply, put his palms face down on the polished table top and said calmly, 'We fear marriage may affect her propitiousness.' He turned towards me, locked his hypnotic, boiled-looking eyeballs with my indignant ones and said in a kindly voice that sent a shiver down my spine, 'You see, your propitiousness is directly proportional to your purity, Devi.'
I almost choked. How humiliating. Now this entire room knew that at the grand old age of twenty-seven I had still not been relieved of my 'purity'. And how did the old godman variety know anyway? It wasn't like I was walking around with a STILL-A-VIRGIN glow-sign on my forehead. So it had to be total guesswork on his part.
Whatever. He was seriously intruding on my personal space. 'Listen, you're seriously intruding on my personal space,' I told him.
The godman said nothing, but all the legal types leapt up and st
arted making a lot of soothing noises, saying nothing was final, it was all very rough, just a first draft, and so on.
My dad held up one hand, and such was the impact of his flaring nostrils that they all backed off one by one.
When the room had gone quiet, he said, 'Gentlemen, I will be honest with you. The money is tempting. Besides, my daughter is dutiful and would like to be of service to her country. But she is not a minor. Even I cannot tell her to wed or not to wed, to fast or not to fast. How can you people do so? There are too many conditions to this contract. And forgive me, but I have to add that it's also extremely crassly worded. So I'm sorry, your offer, as it stands, is unacceptable.' He turned to look at me. 'Right, beta?'
The Zoya Factor Page 14
