by Divya Anand
Surprisingly, the guru ignored the snoring and slowly wrapped up the meditation session. Once we had all opened our eyes, I realized that the snores were emanating from Harsh who was still curled up in the foetal position and was fast asleep. Aakash reached out to touch his shoulder, but moved back when he saw that the guru was glaring at him.
‘Harsh is in a deep, meditative trance and should not be disturbed. He will open his eyes when he’s ready,’ the Guru pronounced.
‘Inner peace, inner peace,’ someone mumbled in the back.
I smirked. I turned and spotted Abhimanyu sitting in the lotus position looking as though he was perched on top of a mountain. I tried to stop myself from staring at his six-pack abs and lean, toned body. His eyes were closed and he was doing a brilliant impression of someone in a deep, meditative trance. Every time Harsh snored, he muttered ‘inner peace’ to the tone and pace of the snore. When this happened for the fourth time, I couldn’t help myself any more and burst into giggles. The guru glared at me, but by this time more people had begun to giggle. He sensed that he was fast losing his grip on the audience and decided to move on.
DONNNNNNNGGGG!
He struck the giant gong hanging by the side of the stage.
Harsh snorted but remained asleep. I marvelled at his ability to sleep through that sound.
‘Feel the vibrations from your head to your toes,’ the guru said. He struck the gong again and this time Harsh stopped mid-snore. He quickly sat up, trying to appear as though he’d been up all along.
‘Good morning, Harsh,’ sang Abhimanyu.
The entire room erupted into laughter.
‘Does Ash stand for Ashwatthama?’ Bhargavi asked, as she shook the Magic 8 Ball.
‘How do you come up with these names?’ Upasana replied.
‘Come on, he’s hidden the origin of the name so well, I’m sure it isn’t as obvious as Ashwin,’ Bhargavi retorted.
She peered at the Magic 8 Ball and then glumly read, ‘My sources say no.’
‘Maybe it’s Ashwagandha,’ Aakash said. ‘You know like the herb?’
‘A herb known as poison berry,’ Shirin said, looking at her phone. ‘I don’t think his parents thought Ash was poisonous, no matter what we think!’
‘What are you discussing?’ Abhimanyu’s voice broke into the conversation as he approached our table with a coffee in his hand. Yet again, I had to struggle to tear my eyes away from him. It should be illegal for someone with that build to wear a fitted shirt!
‘Oh, we’re just asking the Magic 8 Ball silly questions,’ Upasana said nonchalantly. We couldn’t afford to have someone from senior management discover our obsession with finding out Ash’s real name.
‘Will the guru lose his temper again?’ Upasana continued, and shook the Magic 8 Ball. Abhimanyu sat down as she stared at the answer.
‘You may rely on it,’ she read. The entire table burst out laughing.
‘Come on, he knows how to re-laaaax and relaaax,’ Abhimanyu said, with a near perfect imitation of the man himself, replete with the twang.
By this point, we were clutching our stomachs and laughing. One of the servers looked over. They were probably wondering how to get rid of this rowdy bunch creating havoc in the middle of Starbucks. A group of us had stopped after the session to grab some coffee and snacks for the long night of work. Unlike the other bosses who disappeared as soon as the session ended, Abhimanyu had joined us. I didn’t know whether I was more surprised by the fact that he seemed to enjoy slumming with the minions, or by the fact that the dour, Oscar-like man actually had a fun side.
‘Me!’ Shirin leaned over and grabbed it. Upasana owned the Magic 8 Ball. We liked playing with it whenever we were bored and wanted to pass some time. Of course, none of us really believed in it. But it was really funny to see what the ball came up with, so we kept going.
‘Magic 8 Ball, will I manage to complete the competitor analysis tonight?’ she asked.
‘Don’t count on it,’ she read out loud and groaned. She took a sip of the coffee that was placed in front of her.
‘As if you needed a Magic 8 Ball to tell you that,’ Dhruv said. ‘Ask an interesting question.’
‘OK, will this be the year I move to Delhi?’ Shirin had been threatening to quit Glam and move back home for as long as I’d known her.
‘Better not to tell you now,’ I read out for her as we all laughed. I picked up my chocolate croissant and took a bite.
‘Will I get a raise?’ Aakash grabbed the ball.
‘Deep question,’ Dhruv said. ‘Do you really think a Magic 8 Ball can answer that?’
Aakash shook the ball hard as if he was hoping he could shake it into giving the response he wanted.
‘Cannot be certain,’ he read out and frowned.
‘I could’ve told you that, why waste it on the Magic 8 Ball?’ I laughed.
‘Actually, Aakash, your chances will be better if you move your desk,’ Abhimanyu said. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.
‘I have the perfect seat,’ Aakash insisted. ‘That giant pillar behind me ensures that no one can sneak up on me!’
Abhimanyu looked as though he was weighing the pros and cons of what he was about to say. He took a sip of his coffee. Suddenly, he seemed to make up his mind. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.
‘Sitting behind a pillar is bad vaastu. It will outweigh any other benefits of that location,’ he said.
Aakash looked stunned. I began to laugh, as did a few others at the table. Why on earth would he believe in this kind of mumbo jumbo? I wondered if he was teasing us for our Magic 8 Ball game.
‘You can laugh, but this is important,’ Abhimanyu said. He looked directly at me in a way that made me stop mid-laugh. ‘Where you sit in your workplace has a big impact on how well you do. Why do you think I moved my seat? And my team’s location too?’
I stared.
‘No way,’ Shirin said. ‘HR wouldn’t agree!’
My mind raced. I would’ve had more respect for Abhimanyu if he had admitted that all the office reorganization was a power move. Doing it because he was looking for ‘vaastu-appropriate’ seating seemed random.
‘Boss, next you’ll say you also believe in horoscopes,’ Dhruv joked. He was grinning, knowing fully well that being able to say this to his boss in front of a table full of subordinates would make it clear that he had an exceptionally good relationship with Abhimanyu. What a show-off!
‘Well, my family astrologer is pretty accurate,’ said Aakash. He got a dirty look from Dhruv.
‘Yeah, mine too,’ Bhargavi said shyly. ‘She predicted I would get married in six months, and while I thought it was absurd, I met my husband within a week of her prediction. And we were married six months later.’
I choked on my croissant. I reached out for my coffee and took a sip, hoping to stop myself from coughing out loud. I hadn’t realized just how many people at this table believed in astrology.
‘I also find Bejan Daruwalla’s app to be pretty good,’ Aakash piped in again. ‘It said that I would try something new today. And I did yoga for the first time.’
‘I read the one in the paper every morning,’ Bhargavi said. ‘It’s decent for the most part, though it doesn’t always get everything right.’
‘I’d recommend checking out the AstroZone app,’ Abhimanyu said as he reached out and took another bite of his sandwich. ‘She doesn’t just give you a generic horoscope, she also points out specific dates that are good or bad in the month. I use that to plan my schedule and it works fantastically.’
‘What?’ Dhruv said, with his eyes wide open. He took a giant gulp of his coffee, looking as though he wished it was an Irish coffee and not just fortified with regular caffeine.
‘Yes,’ Abhimanyu replied calmly. ‘If I’m feeling uncertain about a project, I use it to schedule leadership reviews based on the dates it recommends. Hasn’t failed me yet!’
I resisted the urge to poi
nt out that maybe he did well because of his own efforts and not because of some app. But I didn’t think he would take it very well. It seemed like he was really sold on this app. Aakash and Bhargavi pulled out their phones and began looking it up.
‘Sounds far-fetched,’ Shirin said, pragmatic as always. ‘How can a single horoscope be accurate for so many people.’ She peered into Aakash’s phone. ‘So if this app says the 31st is a bad day, we assume every Taurean will have a terrible Friday?’
Aakash looked concerned. ‘Shit, I have a review with Harsh on Friday,’ he burst out.
Abhimanyu patted him on the back. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not all Taureans. Only the ones with a moon rising in Saturn.’ Either he was a Taurean himself or such a fanboy of this app that he had mugged up the details of all the star signs. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
‘You’ve got to be kidding, Abhimanyu,’ Dhruv said.Clearly, I wasn’t the only one wondering what warped parallel universe we’d suddenly woken up in.
‘You don’t have to believe in this,’ Abhimanyu said. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, I would never schedule a meeting or pick up something important on a day that the app warned against. I can’t risk that again.’
He shuddered slightly. I wondered what ‘again’ referred to, but it didn’t seem like he would share details with a table full of people, some of whom were already judging him for his love for astrology.
‘Wait, so does this mean you approved the #MeTooGlam campaign because I pitched it on the right day?’ Dhruv asked.
‘You’ll have to check your horoscope to know for sure,’ grinned Abhimanyu.
Wait, what?
The team continued to ask Abhimanyu questions about the app, but I was no longer listening. Last week, I assumed that while Dhruv’s campaign plan sounded good to Ash, he would still have to get Abhimanyu to approve the finer details. Now, it seemed he had already managed that. His campaign would launch fairly quickly now. Meanwhile, I was still planning my project and hadn’t got very far.
Shit, shit, shit.
I had a mental image of Dhruv running towards a finish line labelled ‘promotion’, while I was still dawdling behind the starting point. I was being left well and truly in the dust.
If only I could kick him in the shins and take him out of this race, I thought.
It’s too bad that nothing in adult life worked the way it did in lemon-and-spoon races in class four.
10
The Planet of Surprise Brings Delight
‘Wow! This is cool,’ Kavya said, as she finished scrolling through my presentation on the subscription programme. ‘I would definitely sign up for this!’
Kavya and I often bounced ideas off each other at home. Since this was one of my biggest presentations yet, I just had to show it to her. I had spent the last week getting it ready so I could get Abhimanyu’s approval. Now that Dhruv had announced he would be launching his campaign soon, I was running out of time. I had put in a lot of effort and I was glad that Kavya liked it. I felt as ready as I would ever be.
‘Maybe we can clone you,’ I laughed. ‘Preferably such that each version buys a subscription. Then I’ll get promoted for sure.’ I shut the laptop and began serving myself breakfast.
‘Does that mean you’ll finally start going out again?’ Kavya asked.
‘Hmm,’ I shrugged non-committally.
‘You aren’t even coming to trivia tonight,’ she said. ‘Or is that because you started a brawl last week?’
‘Attending trivia tonight has nothing to do with work. Or rather, it does, but it’s because we have to attend that ridiculous workshop,’ I said as I took a huge bite of my omelette.
‘Come on, Sitara,’ Kavya said. ‘You’ve been killing yourself with work, starting trivia arguments and obsessing over Arjun. You need a break. Maybe take a day off?’
I shook my head and smiled. ‘You know what it takes. You went through this last year! It’s fine, this entire thing is just temporary. Once I get this promotion, I promise I’ll relax. Maybe we can finally go on that trip to Greece we keep talking about!’
‘If you say so,’ Kavya replied, taking a sip of chai. ‘All work and no play will make Sitara a crazy cat-owning spinster. Minus the cat.’
I smiled and took another bite.
‘I’m serious,’ she insisted. ‘Maybe you should consider going on a date. Get on Bumble, and have some mindless sex!’
I choked on the sip of chai I had just taken.
‘Um, what?’
‘Mindless, meaningless sex. That’s just what you need to take your mind off work and relax a little,’ she repeated, proving that my best friend had well and truly lost her marbles.
‘No thanks,’ I said.
‘Really? So are you going to let your parents look for a guy?’
I considered all the ‘relationships’ I knew. Krish and his unrequited crush on George, Kavya and her revolving door of Bumble and Tinder matches, Upasana and her long-distance boyfriend who saw each other only twice a month. Compared to that, my parents’ arranged marriage almost seemed like a roaring success. Almost.
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But I’m busy with work. I need to get this project approved.’
‘Maybe you should check that app of Abhimanyu’s to see if there’s any sex in your future,’ she suggested mischievously. ‘What was it called?’
‘Wait . . . ’ I said as a sudden realization struck me.
She swallowed and took another sip of chai.
‘I was joking,’ she replied. ‘I’m not trying a modern version of sending a jadagam* your way by suggesting you use an app to decide when to start dating again!’
‘Forget dating! The app could still work,’ I said. My mind was racing with the possibilities.
‘What?’ She looked at me like I was crazy. I rubbed my eyes so hard, one of my contacts fell out. It was a good thing I wore disposables, the way I treated my contacts!
‘Abhimanyu believes in that ridiculous app. And Abhimanyu has to approve my proposal. What if I use the app and find the right time to pitch this?’
‘Please tell me you aren’t saying what I think you’re saying,’ she said. She reached out and grabbed my hand, something she did when she thought I was being impulsive.
‘It’s perfect,’ I said. ‘If he believes the app when it says a date is good or bad, then all I have to do is read his horoscope every day and time my actions based on it.’
She stared at me.
‘Firstly, that sounds extremely far-fetched. Do you even know his star sign? What if there are no good days this month?’ she challenged.
I ignored her as I pulled out Facebook to see if I could find his birthday. I scrolled through his sparse timeline before realizing his birthday wasn’t there. I went to Instagram next with no success. Finally, out of desperation, I went to LinkedIn and that’s where I hit the jackpot. For some reason, an old colleague had left Abhimanyu a message on his birthday five years ago. I thanked the overly enthusiastic Mr Sharan Shekhawat for doing me a favour and helping me discover that Abhimanyu was an Arien. I opened up the app store and began searching for the AstroZone app.
‘I hope there are some good days soon. Otherwise, I’ll have to abandon this plan . . . ’ I muttered to myself.
‘Secondly,’ Kavya cut in, stressing on the word so I’d look up. ‘This is super manipulative.’
‘All’s fair in love and corporate politics,’ I said as I willed the app to finish downloading.
‘When this kooky scheme of yours ends in tears and tantrums, remember I reserved the right to say I told you so,’ she said as she got up and walked into the kitchen with her empty plate and mug.
I was too busy reading Abhimanyu’s horoscope to respond.
‘Jaanusirsasana,’ the guru barked as we all scrambled trying to remember which of the numerous asanas he’d taken us through corresponded to that name.
I had to stop myself from giggling as I recalled Upasana’s cartoon versions of each asan
a. She’d drawn a version of the warrior pose that she’d termed ‘deadline warrior’ and stuck it on my cubicle. It depicted me struggling with the warrior pose, while using my arms to stick a Post-it on my desk. It was funny and stressful all at once.
‘Jaanu meri jaan . . . ’ I heard Abhimanyu humming in the background as Ranjani began to giggle.
The HR and admin posse would laugh at just about anything, I thought as I finally remembered the pose and struggled to touch my knees with my head. These days, they giggled every time Abhimanyu passed by their bay. Upasana, Shirin and I were convinced that one or more of them were already in love with him. I couldn’t completely blame them, especially when he was able to do even the most complicated yoga pose without breaking a sweat, muscles rippling on his arms and legs.
‘ . . . jaane saara hindustan,’ the song continued to play in my head, even though Abhimanyu had stopped humming.
‘Thanks for the earworm,’ I muttered to myself.
‘One must not speak while the guru is instructing . . . ’
I got a dirty look from the guru and put on an innocent face. Shirin had overheard that he was not just a corporate guru, but also a ‘life coach’. The orange robes were to give him more of an ‘Indian’ look in the foreign circles that he typically targeted. We’d joked that the exalted status he received at his corporate retreats abroad explained his deep desire to always be respected, but despite all the jokes, I did not want to anger him. After all, who knew how pissing off the spiritual adviser of your super boss could impact your career?
I struggled to keep up. I hoped nobody was looking at me, because I was likely the most uncoordinated person there. Upasana was possibly the best because she was super flexible. She was able to perform every asana with ease, contorting her body in all kinds of poses as though she had rubber in the place of bone and muscle. Shirin was giving me competition in the clumsiness department, struggling to balance herself in some of the harder poses. Thankfully, neither of us had fallen flat on our faces yet. I heaved a sigh of relief as we moved into Bhujangasana. This was easier than some of the earlier contortions.
