One Night at the Call Center

by Chetan Bhagat

  “At least sit down,” I said.

  “I want him to apologize to Esha. The idiot has to watch what he says.”

  Esha continued to cry as Radhika tried to console her.

  “What do you care about a job? You're getting married. Women have it easy,” Vroom said.

  “Don't you start that with me now,” Priyanka said. She had reached her seat but refused to sit down. “You think this is easy?” She pointed a finger at Esha and Radhika.

  Vroom kept quiet and looked down.

  “Radhika has found out her husband is cheating on her when she works for him and his family day and night, and Esha can't get a fair break unless she sleeps with creepy men. But they aren't breaking monitors and yelling curses, Vroom. Just because we don't make a noise doesn't mean it's easy,” she said at the top of her voice.

  “Can we not talk for two minutes. Don't take calls, but at least keep quiet,” I pleaded.

  Radhika gave Esha a glass of water and she stopped crying. Priyanka sat down and opened her handmade calendar. When he saw the shattered pieces of glass on his desk, Vroom went silent.

  The silence gave me a chance to reflect on Bakshi's meeting. If I lost my job, what would I do? Become an agent again? I could probably forget about being a team leader.

  “I'm sorry,” Vroom mumbled.

  “What?” Esha said.

  “I'm sorry, Esha,” Vroom said, clearing his throat. “I said horrible and hurtful things. I was upset about something. Please forgive me.”

  “It's OK, Vroom. It only hurts because there's some truth in it,” Esha said with a wry smile.

  “I meant to say those horrible things to myself. Because,” Vroom said and banged two fists simultaneously on the table, “because the real hooker is me, not you.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Yes, this salary has hooked me. Every night I come here and let people fuck me,” Vroom said and picked up the telephone headset. “The Americans fuck me with this, in my ears hundreds of times a night. Bakshi fucks me with his management theories, backstabbing, and threats to fire us. And the funny thing is, I let them do it. For money, for security, I let it happen. Come fuck me some more,” Vroom said and threw the headset on the table.

  “Do you want some water?” Radhika said and handed him a glass.

  Vroom took it and drank the contents in one gulp. I wondered if he would throw the empty glass on the floor and shatter it to pieces too. Luckily he just banged it on the table.

  “Thanks,” Vroom said. “I needed that. I need a break, otherwise I'll go mad. I can't take this right now.”

  “I need a break, too,” Priyanka said. “It's all right, Vroom. Only a few more hours left and the shift will be over.”

  “No. I want a break now. I want to go for a drive. C'mon people, let's all go for a drive. I'll get the Qualis,” Vroom said and stood up.

  “Now? It's close to 3:00 a.m.,” I said.

  “Yes, now. Who gives a damn about the calls? You may not even have a job soon. Let's go.”

  “Actually, if someone is going, can you please get some pills for me from the 24-hour chemist?” Radhika said.

  “No, all of us are going,” Vroom said. “Get out of your chair, Shyam. If you come, everyone will come.”

  “I'm game,” Esha said.

  “OK, I'll come, too. Just for a bit of fresh air,” Priyanka said.

  I paused for a second. “OK, let's go. But we have to be back soon,” I said.

  “Where are we going?” Esha said, “I heard the new lounge bar Bed is close by.”

  “No way, we're just going for a drive,” I said, but Vroom interrupted me.

  “Great idea. Let's go to Bed; it's a damn cool place.”

  “But I need a real bed,” Radhika said and stretched her arms.

  We all got up from our chairs, deciding to leave individually to prevent suspicion.

  “Come on, Military Uncle,” Vroom said as he went to his desk.

  “Huh?” Uncle said, getting up. Normally he would have scoffed at Vroom, but I guess he was in too much pain over his son's e-mail to give a conscious reaction.

  “We're all going for a drive. The others will tell you everything. I'll get the Qualis,” Vroom said and switched off Uncle's monitor.

  Chapter 26

  3:00 a.m.

  AT 3:00 A.M. SHARP, we were outside the main entrance of Connections when a white Qualis drove up and stopped beside us.

  “Get in,” Vroom said, reaching over to open the doors.

  “It's so cold. What took you so long?” Esha said, getting in the front.

  “You try shifting a sound-asleep driver to another Qualis,” Vroom said.

  Radhika, Priyanka and I took the middle row, while Military Uncle preferred to sit by himself at the back. He looked slightly dazed. Maybe we all did.

  Vroom drove past the executive parking area and we saw Bakshi's white Mitsubishi Lancer.

  “Bakshi's got a flash car,” Esha said.

  Vroom inched the Qualis forward and stopped close to the Lancer. He switched on the Qualis headlights. Bakshi's car shone bright.

  “Can I ask a question? What's the penalty for running someone over?” Vroom said.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “What if we ran this Qualis over Bakshi? We could do it when he comes to pick up his car in the morning. How many years in jail are we talking?” Vroom said.

  It was a silly conversation, but Priyanka led him on anyway.

  “It depends on how the court sees it. If they see it as an accident and not as homicide or murder, about two years,” she said.

  Vroom restarted the engine and turned toward the exit gate.

  “Two years is not a lot. Can we divide it among the six of us? Four months each?” Vroom said.

  “I don't know. Ask a lawyer,” Priyanka shrugged.

  “Four months is nothing if it means getting rid of Bakshi.” Esha blew away a strand of hair that had fallen against her lips.

  “Just sixteen weekends of sacrifice. Weekdays are like jail anyway,” Vroom said. “How about it, guys?”

  By now we were on the highway, which was empty apart from a few trucks. India has a billion people, but at night, 99 percent of them are fast asleep. Then this land belongs to a chosen few: truck drivers, late-shift workers, doctors, hotel staff, and call-center agents. We, the nocturnal, temporarily rule the roads and the country. Vroom accelerated the Qualis to eighty kilometers an hour.

  “I doubt you can split the sentence. The driver gets all of it,” Priyanka said, still on the stupid Bakshi-homicide topic. “And if they know it's premeditated, you're talking ten years plus.”

  “Hmmm. Now ten years is a totally different equation. How about it, Shyam, still not too bad to eliminate Bakshi?”

  “OK, enough of this stupidity,” I said. “I thought you were taking us out for a drink.”

  “I'm just…” Vroom said, raising one hand from the steering wheel.

  “Shut up and drive. I need a drink,” I said.

  “Chemist first, please,” Radhika requested, giving herself a head massage.

  We dropped the topic of taking out Bakshi, though if the law allowed me one free murder in my life, I am clear he would have been top of the list. No wait, I'm forgetting my ex-girlfriend's mum. I really wouldn't know who to kill first, that's the truth. Vroom took a sharp right turn onto a road that led to a 24-hour chemist.

  Radhika was quiet as she waited. I guess Payal occupied half her mind, while the other half had a migraine.

  “There it is,” Esha said as we sighted a neon red cross.

  “Trust me. I know this area,” Vroom said and accelerated the Qualis to a hundred kph. “Roads and girls are so much more fun at night.”

  “That's sick,” Priyanka said.

  “Sorry, couldn't help it,” Vroom said and grinned.

  He parked the Qualis near the chemist, where a sleep-deprived boy, no more than seventeen, manned the shop. A few medical entrance exa
m guides lay on the counter in front of him and a fly swatter served as a bookmark. He looked bored and grateful to see us.

  Vroom and Radhika got out of the Qualis. I stepped out to stretch my legs as well.

  Radhika walked up to the boy quickly.

  “What do you need, Radhika? Saridon?” Vroom said as we reached the counter.

  “No,” she shook her head. Turning to the boy, she said, “Three strips of fluoxetine, and five strips each of sertra-line and paroxetine. Urgently, please.” She began to tap on the counter anxiously, her red bangles jingling.

  The boy looked inquisitively at Radhika, then he turned around and started rifling through the shelves.

  Vroom and I moved a few steps away to escape the smell of medicine. Vroom lit a cigarette and we shared a few puffs.

  The boy returned with a stack of tablets and placed them on the counter. Radhika reached out to grab them, but he put his right hand on top of the pile of medicines and slid them away from her. “This is pretty strong stuff, madam. Do you have a prescription?” he asked.

  “It's three in the morning,” Radhika said in an irritated voice. “I ran out of pills at work. Where the hell do you expect me to find a prescription?”

  “Sorry, madam. It's just that sometimes young kids come here to pick up strange medicines before going to discos …”

  “Look at me,” Radhika said, pointing to her face, “do I look like a teenager in the mood to party?”

  Radhika did not look like a party-hard teenager to me—she looked ill, with dark circles under her eyes. I wished the boy would just give her the medicines.

  “But these are still very strong drugs, madam. What do you need them for? I mean, what's wrong with you?” the boy said.

  “Fuck you,” Radhika said and banged her fist hard on the glass counter. The glass shook but survived the impact. However, two of Radhika's red bangles shattered into a million pieces, scattering bits of bright glass along the counter.

  The noise scared the boy, who jumped back two steps. Vroom crushed his cigarette and we joined them at the counter.

  “Excuse me, madam,” the boy said.

  “Fuck you. You want to know what's wrong with me, you little punk? You want to know what's wrong with me?”

  “What's up, Radhika, everything OK?” Vroom said.

  “This dumbass wants to know what's wrong with me,” Radhika said, pointing her finger at the boy. “Who the hell is he? What does he know about me?”

  “Calm down, Radhika,” I said, but she didn't hear me. That's the story of my life: half the things I say go unnoticed.

  “What does he know about right and wrong? Everything is wrong with me, you moron. My husband is shagging some bitch while I slog my guts out. Happy now?” Radhika said, her face more red than her broken bangles. She held her head for a few seconds, then removed her hands from her head and grabbed the medicines. The boy at the counter didn't protest this time.

  “Water. Can I have some water?” Radhika said.

  The boy ran inside his shop and returned with a glass of water.

  Radhika tore a few pills out of her new stack. One, two, three—I think she popped in three of them. Some migraine cure this was, I thought.

  “Four hundred and sixty-three rupees, madam,” the boy said, his voice sounding a little fearful.

  “I am alive because of this stuff. I need it to survive, not to party,” Radhika said.

  She paid for the medicines and walked back to the Qualis. Vroom and I followed a few steps behind her.

  “What sort of medicine is it?” I said.

  “What the hell do I know? I'm not a doctor,” Vroom said.

  “You sure she has a prescription for those?” I said.

  “Ask her, if you have the guts,” Vroom said.

  “No way. Let's get to the lounge bar right now.”

  “Everything OK?” Esha said as we got into the Qualis. “We heard an argument.”

  “Nothing. As Bakshi would say, only a few communication issues. But now, let's get to Bed,” Vroom said as he turned the Qualis around.

  Radhika put the medicines in her bag, her face calming as the pills started to kick in.

  Vroom pushed the Qualis to one hundred and ten, the maximum it would do without the engine crying for mercy.

  “Slow down, Vroom,” Esha said.

  “Don't use the words slow and Vroom in one sentence,” Vroom said.

  “Dialogue,” I said, “should we clap?”

  A truck stuffed with bags of hay rumbled past us like an inelegant elephant. Our headlights made the huge bags glow in the dark.

  “See, even that truck is driving faster than us. I am a safe driver,” Vroom said.

  “Sorry, guys,” Radhika said, her voice becoming more normal as the drugs took effect. “I apologize for creating a scene back there.”

  “What did you buy, Radhika? Why did the chemist make such a fuss?” I said, unable to control my curiosity.

  “Antidepressants. Chemists ask questions because they're prescription drugs, but most of the time they don't care.”

  “Wow!” Vroom said. “You mean happy drugs like Prozac and stuff.”

  “Yes, fluoxetine is Prozac. Except it's the Indian version, so it's a lot cheaper.”

  “Like all of us,” Vroom said and laughed at his own joke.

  “But it's dangerous to take it without medical supervision,” Priyanka said. “Isn't it addictive?”

  “It's legal addiction. I can't live without it and, yes, it's really bad for you. But it's still better than having to deal with my life,” Radhika said.

  “Leave them, Radhika, they'll harm you,” Military Uncle spoke for the first time on our drive.

  “I have cut down, Uncle. But sometimes you need a bigger dose. Can we just talk about something else? How far is this Bed place?”

  “Just two kilometers from here. Ninety seconds if I'm driving, a lot more if Shyam is,” Vroom said. I ignored his comment, as I preferred him to keep his eyes on the road. Some inebriated truckies drove past, and Vroom dodged them.

  “I heard the Bed is really snooty,” Priyanka said. “I'm not dressed up at all.” She adjusted her salwar kameez. I noticed the border of glittering stone-work on her dark green chiffon dupatta.

  “You look fine,” Esha reassured her, “the chiffon look is really in. I should be worried. I look so grungy.”

  “Don't worry, Esha. No one with a navel ring is ever denied entry to a disco,” Vroom said.

  “Well, if you girls are in doubt, they definitely won't allow in a boring housewife like me,” Radhika said.

  “Don't worry. As long as we've got cash to spend, we'll all be welcome. Plus, the DJ at Bed is my classmate from school,” Vroom said.

  “All your school classmates have such funky jobs,” I said.

  “Well, that's the problem: They all have rich dads. I have to work hard to match their lifestyle. If only my dad hadn't walked out on us,” Vroom said. “Anyway, guys, welcome to Bed. And courtesy of your humble driver, it's just 3:23 a.m.” He flashed the headlights at a sign. It said “Bed Lounge and Bar: Your Personal Space.”

  “Oh no, I didn't realize we were here already,” Esha said. She fished out a mirror from her purse and examined her lips. How did women manage before mirrors were invented?

  “How is my hair? Is it as horrible as usual?” Priyanka said to Radhika.

  I looked at her long curly hair. Priyanka always said how she had the “most boring hair in the world,” and how she could “do nothing with it.” I never understood it as I liked her hair, loved it actually. I felt the urge to run my fingers through it just as I had done a hundred times before. But I couldn't, as someone called Ganesh would be doing it for me in a few weeks' time. The oil for the McDonald's French fries started simmering again in my gut.

  “Your hair is beautiful. Anyway, it'll be dark inside. Let's go,” Radhika said. “C'mon, Military Uncle, we're going inside.”

  Chapter 27

  3:30 a.
m.

  WE FOLLOWED VROOM TOWARD the huge black door that was the entrance to Bed. It was painted black so that it blended with the wall, and an ultra-beefy bouncer and a skinny woman stood beside it.

  “Are you a member, sir?” the underfed woman addressed Vroom. She was the hostess—or door-bitch, as Priyanka called them—and she wore a black dress. She was about 5' 4,” but looked way taller because of her thin frame and heels the size of Coke bottles.

  “No, we've just come for a quick drink,” Vroom said and took out his credit card. “Here, you can open the tab on this.”

  “I'm sorry, sir, tonight is for members only,” she replied. The bouncer looked at us with a blank, daft glare.

  “How do you become a member?” I said.

  “You have to fill in a form and pay the annual membership fee of fifty thousand,” the hostess said, as calmly as if she'd asked us for small change.

  “What? Fifty grand for this place in the middle of nowhere?” Priyanka said and pointed her finger to the door. She had draped her dupatta in reverse, in an attempt to look hip.

  “I suggest you go somewhere else then,” the hostess said. She looked at Priyanka scornfully. A fully clad female is a no-no at discos.

  “Don't you look at me like that,” Priyanka said.

  “Hey cool it, Priyanka,” Vroom said and turned to the bouncer. “What's the deal? Is DJ Jas inside? I know him.” The bouncer looked at us anxiously. It was obviously the most challenging question anyone had asked him in months.

  “You know Jas?” the hostess said, her voice warmer now.

  “School buddy of seven years. Tell him Vroom is here,” Vroom said.

  “Cool. Why didn't you tell me that before, Vroom?” the hostess said and flashed him a flirtatious smile. She leaned over to release the velvet ropes, revealing the skeletal structure of her upper torso. There would be no need of an X-ray, if she broke a bone.

  “Can we go in now?” Esha asked the hostess in a monotone.

  “Yes. Though, Vroom, next time, please tell your friends to dress up for Bed,” the hostess said and glanced meaningfully at Priyanka and Radhika.

  “I could wring her tiny neck. One twist and it would snap like a chicken bone,” Priyanka said.