The End of Terrorism
Page 6
Angelina went for early morning jog like always. She had to jog at least five miles each way to keep her sanity. Her sanity really was mired in her physical appearance. She had long flowing hair that was the pride and joy of her life.
“She cared for her hair more than
she cared for anything else in the world.
She sat in her cube and asked
What is a pretty girl?
Lost in the narrow confines
Of maintaining the looks
Looking right at the mirror, looking in her eyes
Streams of fire
Ashes of desire
Cheeks saddled with tears
False complements and artful meek
Minutes, days and years
Continue the game
True beauty lies hidden
Glittery jewels in the eyes around
What is the reason?
That such a glaring truth
Stays unfound”
Never before in history or her story had anybody cared about silky extensions so much. She ran and she ran and her hair waved and it waved. It ebbed and it flowed.
She always went by the small trail that cut through the central park. Angelina always marveled at the armies of flowers that were in full bloom with vibrant mustard yellow.
Jogging gave her time to think about the tasks that lay ahead in the day. She did not worry of the bygone days or nights.
Especially candidate x was falling behind in the early poll taken on the web. She was trying to craft a position candidate x as sympathetic to job creation at home. She saw a little cactus along the path and stopped to look at.
Did God create this beauty at home or did he outsource? If it was made in heaven than it should have had all the hallmarks of an eternal pleasing form and function. She mused and thought what if this was the work of devil who had outsourced this to some third world place that was worse than hell as measured by Devils eyes.
The more she thought about the cactus the more she realized that god and his good people did not outsource but the devil and his minions did. She thought this line would go well with the moral majority and would marginalize other candidates and strengthen the standing of candidate X.
She realized she was late for the conference call that she usually took it in her apartment. She hurried through the shower and came up with a perfect plan. She presented her idea to Fermi and he was not convinced at all by this logic. Fermi was of the view that outsourcing was not evil and therefore it was the work of God.
Fermi and Angelina decided to take a first hand look at the effect of this issue by visiting India the mother of outsourced land. Angelina agreed to such a plan. They took flight from JFK to Frankfurt and on to Mumbai.
The plane landed at ungodly hour of midnight. First step out of the plane and into the airport felt like falling out of heaven and stepping into a mysterious place where the air was loaded and heavy as if walking was like wading through water. In addition the monsoon rains had left the interiors moldy.
It reminded her of her days when she worked as a volunteer at skilled nursing home.
They took a taxi ride to the downtown Mumbai fort market area. It was three am when they reached the intercontinental hotel. The air again become less heavy and her stomach churned like when she was at the high school prom night.
She felt a surreal experience in being at a place so far remote from home.
Many folks were still walking the street as if getting ready for a million men march. Every morning a stampede of office workers and service providers emerged from their flats or chaws and provided a mosaic in motion.
All these people and a single dream. Dream created by the few and promised to many. What a symphony of lies and mischief.
She had read so much about India but could not relate to the contrast in the urban landscape. Where was the mystical India she had read about? She kept thinking of these thoughts and dozed off.
Rapidly she entered the dream state and found herself at the court of Catherine Braganza. She was brisked from the gardens into the palace of white elephants. Catherine herself was escorting Angelina and was smiling and gregarious. Catherine was so excited to welcome her and reminded her of the good days they both had in Lisbon. Angelina did not doubt a second in her dream of the close relationship and was holding catherine’s hand lightly.
Catherine led Angelina to the catacombs of the palace to the coffer of her dead lover below. Suddenly Catherine face turned into Angelina’s high school classmate she hated the most. The gravestone read the name of the boy Angelina had a crush for. Catherine became disturbed and started hurtling objects towards Angelina. Each hurtled object arrived and turned into a petal of marigold as it landed on her face.
“please when you go back to Lisbon please remember to tell others the beauty and the mystical land of Mumbai” Said Catherine.
Fermi did not mind the happenings and surroundings as he was simply excited to be with Angelina and nothing else mattered.
They woke at noon and made there way through the hotel to meet Anthony a dealer of fine art at the Kaala Ghoda complex six km away. Anthony was waiting at his shop the Gwalior art gallery. Fermi and Angelina got a cab and were on the way to meet Anthony.
The Taxi passed through a bustling street and Angelina saw a beautiful saree shop and asked for the taxi guy to stop/ the taxi guy refused because this street was called chor bazaar. Here anything and everything was acquired and sold. There was no concept of how it was acquired, but it was sold with full framework - of legality.
There was no guarantee, that the thing, would not be stolen right after the moment it was bought . It truly was an extreme case of a free market economy.
Fermi was supposed to meet Trish at the call center on Tuesday. Trish was quite whitewashed and the fact that she was going to meet Fermi on Tuesday, she was happy that is romantically happy. Trish imagined Fermi to be a Brad Pitt look alike. She stood in front of mirror and was aghast at the condition of her hair. She looked at the reflection of her face and she saw millions of unwanted hair follicles that no one else would ever see. What a horrible site she declared to herself. Her beauty was obvious but she saw only ugliness. She rushed to the parlor as it was an emergency and the ER beautician jumped on the misguided prospect.
She ointed her face and moistured her skin and dipped her hair in select oils and perfumes. She exuded confidence as her ugliness receded to the core and she rejoiced the resurrection of the beauty. She stayed hungry and denied herself any food to ensure not even a molecule of fat made it to her waistline.
Fermi arrived at 9am in the office and was received by the renewed Trish.
She offered Fermi a steaming cup of chai and some samosa’s. Fermi’s attention drifted to the long lines of Indian men and women neatly organized in the office floor. He could hear a chorus of pleasant words the callers spoke. It was a cacophony of caws and coons.
Trish guided Fermi into the War room. This is where all the gazillions of software coding teams were working away for the Omega Corp. On the wall hung the picture of Trotsky. A soft music was playing in the room it was playing raag Bhairavi at the moment. The program manager played the ragas upon request. Fermi was impressed by the noisy silence but was amazed at the quality of the software coded in the joint. Omega had repeatedly awarded this company with awards of excellence. Fermi heard a loud wail from the other room. One of the call attendant had a nervous breakdown. His name was Nimish. Nimish was carried to the common room and attended by a doctor. He was given a glass of lassi and after thirty minutes or so was put back in front of his monitor and phone. This was tenth time in a month Nimish had been carried to the common room.
Others too were carried in similar fashion. Nobody felt this was big deal. Since all were afraid of doing this the eleventh time as they may loose their job. Such were the policies of the call center. Omega paid hefty fees and it went to Mr Mittal the owner and managing director.
Chapter Seven
Bradford
’s Alhambra