CYBER

By GURRURAJ DHANKSS

Inside a tiny suburban apartment, Subby has decided to relocate to Delhi NCR to pursue his dream software job in the USA. Joy Mukherjee, a make-up artist, follows his sweetheart actress Mithali in the hope of eternal love. Vikram Pinroe – trained by life, flawless brain enters their lives as they all join BayBank – the world's largest bank.

Burt Quintana, head of India operations has to cut down costs by half. With job cuts en-masse, it happens to them too – take a lesser job or quit. Bouts of frustration, local bar alcohol sessions, and a looming despicable state compel Vikram to reveal his closely guarded master plan, a cyber-heist. Call it coincidence or a cosmic union of three great talents - perfect for the plan to work. But will it so?

With the foreign ministry involved, Heerain, an eccentric CBI officer must ensure faster results. A perky cyber-crime specialist and the veteran fraud prevention manager of BayBank will put their skills to test as they decipher complex codes. Can they succeed against brilliant minds?

A gripping, First Time Ever insider view of the real, strained existence in a contact center, a meticulously planned cyber heist challenging the investigators, a reluctant stockbroker, stocky Chinaman - All creating a perfect blend for a world-class suspense thriller.

500 pages of thrilling, fast-paced original worth every second of reading time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GURRURAJ DHANKSS
• Release date: Aug 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386502821

GURRURAJ DHANKSS

GURRURAJ DHANKSS Author | Optimistologist | Believer. The Writer - Creativity, imagination, structure, discipline, patience, long wait times, writes, rewrites, again rewrites, and then to see the last two words ‘The End’ makes it all worth it. Completed Works – One Completed Novel, 138000 words.  It’s currently with a Literary Agent in reading stages. Two completed screenplays which were shortlisted twice at Mumbai Mantra Sundance Screenwriting Contest. Also, one of the stories was shortlisted in the top 100 stories at Mumbai Mantra India Contest last year. Personal Brief - Born and brought up in Mumbai, he spent around 20+ years in the city of dreams; as a kid and then later as a working professional. Much later moved to Bangalore. Diversified experience in sales, marketing, operations management with high people interactions. Serious writing started in 2005 when he joined a new organization to lead a team and soon I was on the bench.  Has worked on his first work since then and finally completed the novel in the year 2015. It was tiring but relentless. Since then completed two screenplays and developed concepts on eight more novels. “Writing is surely rewarding. But can you keep at it till it does” – Gurruraj Dhankss

Book preview

PROLOGUE

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Server Room. 05.45AM.

His pace was fast, hurried and his hands trembled as he swiped his magnetic identification card on the access panel fitted next to the glass door. A faint beep emanating from the access panel turned the red indication to green and the door clicked open. As he stepped out, the door closed behind him, the magnetic lock connecting back in position. He turned and glanced back at the door - as if it was something new to him - the click sound of the door access panel. As he rushed through the corridors of the IT department, the sudden pain in the chest was getting worse. The fear was palpable. He had been an avid movie buff; but he’d never believed the things that happen on the celluloid could also be a reality. He knew, if heads would roll, his would be the first one to go.

The corridor was a long, never ending stretch. With glass partitions of the meeting rooms to both of the sides, he could see his own shadow follow him as he rushed ahead. He was scared to look at his own silhouette. He tried his best to focus on his destination – the GM’s office.

It had been three years since he’d joined this mammoth organization and there had been little to complain. The job change had almost doubled his remuneration and he had negotiated well, he thought.  He deserved every bit of the success, he felt. He had toiled his way up with sheer hard work. From being a field repair technician to server maintenance IT engineer, it had been a long journey. But now, what had happened, that too with him as the shift engineer, was unthinkable. But none could have envisaged it coming, he thought. It was not his fault.

He rushed through the last part of the IT floor, reaching the elevator lobby. While he stood there, awaiting the elevators to descend to his floor, he continued to stare blankly at the perimeter around his feet, still not able to comprehend how it could’ve happened.

***

General Manager’s Cabin.3.50AM

For Shantanu Moitra it was a shockingly small space for a General Manager’s cabin. He was from the hospitality business and General Managers always had sprawling offices to them. But Contact Centers were a different new breeds altogether.  SU, an acronym for Seat Utilization, was the most critical factor for any contact center to manage their operations and revenue. Being highly people intensive, every square feet of a BPO call center, as they were popularly called, had to be revenue generating for it to be competitive. So, barring few top leaders, most of the senior leaders at operations had to make peace with a regular desk on the operations floor. A consolation was that their desks were at a strategic corner of the floor with bigger space and a little more privacy. The designers ensured the maximum of space was utilized for the frontline call center agents - the revenue makers.

Shantanu had made sure his little small place had his personal touch. His wife and his five year old kid sat neatly on the desk inside a cute frame. A paper weight made of a vintage laptop hard drive held the documents firmly to the desk. His laptop – a slim design model, with all the latest configuration of hardware and software, ensured he was connected all day long. He went through his emails without blinking an eyelid as the Microsoft Outlook continued to spew incoming emails every second.  He was more than busy today. The service level targets had not been met for the third consecutive day; or night technically. Adding to his irritation at four a.m. in the morning was neither would his cell phone stop ringing, nor could he resist himself from calling people for updates. He was at it, this moment, his fingers on the laptop keypad, typing responses to senseless mails, although each were marked with an ‘urgent reply’ tag most times.

He also continued to speak over his mobile phone, wedged between his cheek and the shoulders, ‘I don’t know what you’re going to do. He barked, I want the service-level targets to be met today. Call me back with a plan."

The subtle knock on the glass door of the meeting room was unmistakable. He looked up while his slender fingers continued to type on the laptop keypad, his cell phone still miraculously lodged between his cheek and the shoulders joints. He could make out the familiar underweight figure outside the glass door. As he waved at him to walk in, he said loudly, instinctively, Come over.

Realizing, he again spoke on his mobile phone, Not you. You get me the plan for today! He yelled and disconnected the call. 

He scratched his chin and looked at the IT guy at his eyes length, his irritation was apparent. These technicians always walked up to him for the smallest of issues or decisions.

He spoke with disdain, What is it?  He said.

The pitiable IT engineer looked petrified but seemed in a hurry to blurt it out and be done with it.

His lips separated to speak but sadly enough, his misfortune was not yet to be over. Shantanu’s mobile phone rang again as he gestured him to wait. The young IT engineer could do nothing but had to wait with a growing lump in the stomach and a blasting bladder.

Meanwhile, Shantanu spoke calmly on the mobile phone, Yes Ram Singh. He said.

Ram Singh, the Head of Internal IT, did not call an operation General Manager all the time, Shantanu thought. He was curious and a little surprised.

As he listened attentively to Ram Singh, he gave a verbal nod, Hmm. Okay. Okay. He listened for a long minute in silence and then again, Okay. 

He glanced up to the IT technician who stood frightfully in front him.  As he continued to listen to Ram Singh, his glare at the technician intensified as he started to relate his presence in his office to the information being given by Ram Singh, the head of Information Technology.

Shantanu concluded the call, I get it. That’s fine. He’s standing in front of me. I’ll take the details from him. He said.

Shantanu was up on his feet by now, facing the technician. He too had similar thoughts similar to that of the technician – he could not believe it had happened in his building; with him at the helm - definitely not. He glared at the guy, his eyes indicting the pitiful soul of something he had not committed.

I just spoke to Ram Singh. He informed the technician and asked with incredulity to his voice, You mean the Cyber room server?

The IT engineer had turned pale and he sweat profusely. He silently nodded and slowly looked down - his blank eyes fixing its glare on his not so new sports shoes. His knees seemed to collapse under the stressful weight of his trembling torso.

Shantanu eased himself on a chair nearby. He knew his head would be the first one to roll.

***

THE PAST

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Mumbai. August 2007.

With the rains lashing out indiscriminately, the brave city of Mumbai was getting drenched happily, like it always did during this time of the year to the chagrin of its staunch dwellers. But they all loved it, and braved it, the incessant rains - each year. The city’s hundred million still were as spirited and fast paced like any other day; getting ready for a wet day ahead, leaving their carton-sized apartment units. It was a ritualistic reflexive phenomenon.

While the clouds burst relentlessly with no mercy, in one such tiny apartment, it was not just another day.

Today was his first step forward in achieving his ultimate goal, to go to the United States of America and take the world by storm. The genius he believed he was, Subby had always known that he would work with the world’s best companies and develop the best of software.

Subramaniyan Chetti, a young man of twenty three years, had been a Mumbaite from his very first breath. Although born into a Chetti family, he was anything but a southerner – the south Indians as they were called for people with ethnicity from the southern part of India. He called himself the fiery Mumbaite like so many others did who were the second or third generation Mumbai citizens.

The demography was definitely changing with the massive exodus of people across cities, towns and villages. Considering the few thousand languages and multiple religions in the largest democracy of world, and then with languages and dialect centric cities, towns, villages, this was a profound statement. Subby was a complete Mumbai citizen.

Their apartment was a small two bedroom structure with a petite kitchen, and a common living room like area, all of it nested in just about five hundred squares of space. It was early morning and the household had all the trappings of an early morning, going to work, no time to talk environment. His father, a government employee at the Central Telecom office, was at the washbasin wearing a vest and an ill-fitting trouser. For Mumbaites brushing of teeth was more of a daily ritual than a hygiene task at this time. With the onset of rains, he would need another additional hour more to reach his office today. It took an hour and a half on a normal day.

Subby, oblivious to the rush hour scene around him was inside one of the tiny rooms packing his stuff. There was merely anything he had to pack though. He had managed to put all of his meager belongings in one shoulder bag. While he was at it, his mother walked in and handed him the oval shaped steel box filled with homemade delicacies. Most characteristic of an ageing mother, typical of most traditional households, was centered on their children and their welfare. Today she was worried for the wellbeing of her second son.

She spoke in her native Tamil as she handed the box, I am so worried about you. She said and asked, Why can’t you take a job here in Mumbai and stay with us? Delhi is so far off. Who will take care of your needs? And then without waiting for a reply she turned to her husband – who was still at the washbasin, shaving this time, Ramesh why don’t you tell him! You’re his father for God sake!

His father, in his non-committal tone responded, What is there for me to say Aruna? Let him go and find his way. You need to let him free, my dear.

Subby smiled inwardly and thought what a lovely couple they made and said aloud, Mama, don’t you worry for me. I’ll be fine. I shall attend this interview, get the job and fly to the US of A. And then all of you will be joining me there, okay?

A mother is never convinced of her son moving away from her nest. She insisted, But then you can do the software job here too!

As Subby turned to respond, his five year old niece merrily ran inside the room and jumped on him. He lifted her and lovingly kissed on her forehead while he pulled out a large milky bar chocolate, giving it to her discreetly, as if hiding it from others. The little girl’s mother, his brother wife, walked in giving a warmly disapproving stare for the chocolate.

Subby smiled and exclaimed, ‘Oh come on. You know I won’t see her for a longtime. He said, One bar of chocolate won’t do any harm. Would it?"

He saw the deepened wrinkles of worry on his mother and he shouted to his brother, who was hastening to leave for his work, "Mani, how come you’re so silent? Why don’t you tell mama? He rattled off in fluent native Marathi language.

What can I say? His elder brother replied while he continued to tie his shoes, You know mom’s what she is. Don’t you worry little brother, I’ll manage it here. You go and get your job and then let’s party! When is your train going to depart?

In three hours from now. Subby replied looking at his wrist watch.

Then you better leave now. His brother commented, You will need more hours than that to reach the railway station, that’s if you’re lucky enough. With this rain, you better leave now.

Aye Aye brother. I am on my way. He screamed, Delhi, here I come!

***

Kolkata, Year 2008 March.

She was tall, beautiful, and gracious with brown eyes. Her long silky hairs bounced off her back as she glided past him all the time; she was what he had dreamt of, but also someone who seemed too far off for him. Joydeep Mukherjee was in love. While he sat there on the makeshift chair, watching her deliver her dialogues for the television series they had been shooting for; he wondered if he would ever be able to convey his love to her. But then, he had finally made up his mind that he would let Mithali know about his feelings today. They were at this small film studio, with a small set up, shooting for one of those never ending family drama series.

Joy, in his early twenties, was in his third year of graduation. While he had aspired to be a filmmaker someday, a basic graduation was binding as per his maternal uncle’s dictum and he had to complete it. His maternal uncle was a make-up artist in the film industry with great acclaim, although sometimes he did work for the television too. Joy had accompanied him to the studios from the time he was a ten year old kid and had been with him since. Joy had learned the trade and was a natural. While he had only assisted his uncle until now, many felt he was much better with his magical hands and was flawless with his execution.

At this moment he had accompanied his uncle, like he would, every day. While he lovingly watched Mithali perform, he had his uncle’s laptop on his lap, a girl’s image covering half of the screen with some weird make-up experiments being carried out on the JPEG file. He had returned back to his masterpiece on the laptop and got engrossed in its transformation. He had not heard the Director call ‘CUT’ and the actress of the miniseries, Mithali; walk up and sit next to him on the chair with the word ‘ACTRESS’ written on its back.

Joy, where is Das babu? This make-up needs to be removed. She spoke in English with a strong native Bengali accent.

He looked up, as he suddenly found Mithali staring at him. He couldn’t be sure - he never was - but at that moment, he felt it was a sensuous, loving look she had for him. As he continued to marvel at her beauty, he suddenly realized she had asked him something, He’s gone to the restroom Mithali...I mean Mithali ma’am. I’ll do it for you.

She looked at him for a moment and then decided to go for it. Okay fine.

Joy wondered for a moment if those eyes really conveyed love for him or it was just a friendly look. Nonetheless, he started on his job with a big ball of cotton in one hand and a bottle of color remover in the other.

She broke the silence after a long minute and said, You know, I am going to Delhi, very soon. She revealed and added, Actually, it would be sometime this week.

Joy had skipped a heartbeat. His hands had stopped working on her facials.

Mithali, oblivious to the impact her news had on him, continued, I am planning to settle down there. Join an acting course and then give it a shot in Bollywood.

There sat there silently for some time.  Then with a twitch of reality, Joy again started to work on her face. While the hands worked on her make-up, his mind was busy planning his next steps.

When are you planning leave? asked Joy indifferently. He had already made up his mind he would follow suit.

***

The apartment complex was a spacious three room unit in the suburbs of Kolkata. Joy had moved in here with his mother when he was five; from the time his musician father had gotten delusional with the industry and had stopped working. His mother never told him his father had never tried hard enough. His mother, an elementary school teacher, had thought it was best for Joy and had moved in with her unmarried old brother.

Joy wore a denim trousers and a t-shirt; a backpack hung over his right shoulders. There had been an hour of discussion about his sudden and abrupt decision. As he walked into the hallway, his mother and uncle stood there helplessly. 

Joy spoke in Bengali as he opened the front door, I have to go. Don’t you worry about me dear mother. He said, I will do just fine.

But what really did happen that you have decided to go so abruptly? His mother pleaded.

I cannot tell you anything right now. I shall call you from Delhi. Don’t worry and you take good care of yourself, will you? He said, closing the door behind him. And he was gone.

***

CHAPTER ONE

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Gurgaon, New Delhi. Year 2010

The tollgate was the entry point for the city of Gurgaon and was bursting with serpentine vehicular traffic at all of its ten toll booths. But it was only on one side - the right side of the expressway. The evening rush hour piled up on this side as tired souls who shuttled between Delhi and Gurgaon would return back home, to Delhi. In contrast, vehicles entering Gurgaon, on the other side - left side of the expressway, during at this time of the evening was relatively low.

For a keen eye, a person would see that most of the vehicles which passed through the tollgate, entering the city of Gurgaon were mostly the eight and ten passenger SUVs, rushing through and seemingly in urgency to reach their respective destinations in time. For them it was a time bound trip and the drivers had to ensure the employees they ferried, reached the office premises not less than half an hour prior to the contact center agent’s login time. The first shift would usually start by four in the evening.

This was the new Gurgaon, a town expanding exponentially and growing into a city overnight. There are but few cities which were called ‘the city that never sleeps’. While most others shutdown as the night fell, there were those unique few, which mostly slept at the daytime and then worked the whole night till dawn. Gurgaon had become one such place.

But not so very long ago this was a small sleepy town, around forty miles north of Delhi, technically in the state of Haryana, with a normal biological clock to itself. And then when in the year two thousand call centers came to India, Gurgaon seemed ideal to house most of the global call centers due to its proximity to an already overcrowded India’s capital, Delhi. It was now second only to the IT capital, Bengaluru. And so the mushrooming of these call centers changed Gurgaon to a nocturnal city, its biological clock going wild.

With a significant section of the populace working in the global contact centers, people started for work in the afternoons, supporting the European countries like the United Kingdom, Ireland and then in the early and late evenings as per the United States and Canadian time zones. With work shifts starting at every hour, the daily process of young call center executives being picked up in the cabs and dropped to offices went on till late in the night seven days of the week. Now this city swanked of some of the biggest multinational companies, having their obscenely huge contact centers operating from there.

TechnoNet IT, one of the mid-sized companies, having its largest call center operations in Gurgaon, outside of Unites States, provided technical support operations to one of its clients. Occupying one of the tall, glass walled structures in the SEZ location – an area earmarked for the Information Technology and BPO companies - TechnoNet India now had an employee strength of more than two thousand; providing offshore support to one of its major US clients.

Their business operations started early evenings and then went on till early morning the next day, an eighteen hour schedule every day. This comprised of one day of operations for TechnoNet and its employees. 

The interiors were sublime with an elaborate reception desk at ground zero and then the three floors above having its business operations. The call center business occurred here.

Each of the floors was enormous with a seating capacity of 600-800 executives per floor. When the call center executives started to trickle in as per their varied shifts, the floor would eventually be at full capacity of eight hundred seats in no time. It was an incredible sight with eight hundred young heads on one single floor; each attending to support calls coming from someone thousands of miles away.

It was late evening and there was frenzied activity just like any other day across the floor. Most of them had put on their high quality, Plantronics headsets with the mouthpiece in position. They continued to rattle away technical support instructions to their customers, many seas away. And then when it came to conversing in the enviable American accented English, each one had their own intonation and style.

Sometimes it did sound funny though, but you could see there was a sincere effort to get it right. After all, everyone wanted to sound American.

Subramaniyan Chetti was on a call, talking to an American home customer. He was restless and he stood at his desk, the computer monitor in the front. He would lean over frequently and click onto some files and icons on the screen. Subby, as he was affectionately nicknamed, seemed a little agitated and was walking around his desk as he spoke into the mouthpiece. He would repeatedly hold the juncture where the mouthpiece connected to the headset, in an effort to make his voice more audible to the customer on the other end.

Subby spoke into his mouthpiece, Sir, please Click on start, then click Control Panel He instructed the third time, No sir. Control Panel! On the left side of your screen will be a ‘START’ icon, and then you’ll find Control Panel?  His frustration was evident. He mechanically pressed the mute button of his headset adapter hanging on the desk and spoke loudly, looking at the guy next to him, What the fuck. He blurted, I don’t understand why these senior citizens buy computers just when they are about to hit their graves. He again pressed the mute button off and was back on line with the customer, Sir. Do you see the Start button? Sir? My name is Subby. He replied, Sir? Subby? He started to spell it phonetically. S as in Sam, U as in Utah...

It had been two years since the fateful rainy day when he had chosen to come to Delhi to attend an interview for a software company. He was not selected. No specific reasons were given. He had the option to go back home but he again chose not to. He had made up his mind that he would go back home only with a job offer letter from an IT company in the United States of America. He kept interviewing and each time he got to hear similar responses except once, when he actually got selected. The company got closed even before he could reply back to them with an acceptance of the offer.

He had eventually taken up the basic technical support job with TechnoNet contact center after his first few debacles. He had to support himself. His parents continued to believe that he was working for some software firm in Delhi.

Initially, the world of contact centers was a shocker for him, and then slowly he got used to the new life, a new biological clock, and a wacked out work environment. But his struggle continued with his weekly job interviews for a software company. He had not lost hope for a single day and thus his desktop computer at work would always have the online job portals like the Monster website opened up while he kept talking to his overseas customers. He would apply, go for the interviews, get rejected and then apply again. He had made few friends in TechnoNet, mostly all acquaintances, except for Joydeep Chatterjee, his closest companion, roommate and punch bag. He was sitting right next to him now.

Subby had finished his call with the overzealous senior citizen he was talking to and had pulled back his chair, relaxed, his palms supporting his head. He slowly rocked his swivel chair while he stared at the monitor screen with the monster.com opened up. Joydeep, who sat next to him was on a call with a customer and had a Bollywood movie magazine in his lap.

Joy, as he was nicknamed, turned his focus from his monitor screen, leaned over and reached out and tapped on Subby. He appeared confused and panicky, Hey Subby! Need help.

Subby opened his eyes and turned in his chair, What do you want now? You dumb ass. It was early in the morning by the US time zone and his extension had not received the next customer call.

Joy gave a wicked smile, This customer says his computer is not booting up, what you want me to do now?

Subby continued to scroll the job options on the online portal and said, I honestly don’t get it. He said, Who the fuck hired you for a technical support job? He thought for a moment and replied, If his system is not turning on ask him to swallow a Viagra pill.

Joy pressed the ‘mute off’ button on the headset adapter and was connected back to the customer, Can I place you on hold for a minute? Yes sir. Sure. He pressed the button again to mute the call and went back to Subby. Hey come on buddy, customer is waiting for me. I’ve asked him to remove all the cables. What next?

Subby cursed to himself, This shameless bastard will never learn. He then turned to Joy, Let me take the call.

He took the headset from Joy and moved over to his desk to access the customer information. Subby was already talking to the customer through the microphone as he moved towards Joy’s desk. Mr. Rogers, have you removed all the cables?

At Joy’s computer, Subby struggled to search the customer details as the screen had the Facebook website opened up.  He glanced at his friend furiously, closing the Facebook page, much to Joy’s disappointment. He pulled up the customer information page on the desktop monitor, as he settled down on Joy’s swivel chair and got immersed in fixing the customer issue.

Joy had eased on the chair next to him and pulled the keyboard, typing the Facebook web address, opening the website again. He had always been a two-finger typist on the keypad and had preferred using the touchpad or the mouse - his work involving designs and creative work on images as a technology savvy make-up artist.

A quick search on the Facebook and he found what he had been searching for. He clicked on the name and the profile named ‘Myth’ opened up. He had been searching for her for the last two years. It was only last week that he had found Mithali finally on the Facebook. She had used a pseudonym, ‘Myth’, considering the secrecy she needed to maintain as an actress. It had been fortunate for Joy to have got this job in TechnoNet as a Level-1 technical support agent. He had been surprised at his own selection after the multiple rounds of selection processes he had passed through. Most call centers were practically conducting hiring round the clock. Most of these companies had requirements in thousands. Attrition was exponentially high and more often youngsters like Joy with good English language skills but with no technical experience passed through the selection process and were offered frontline technical support roles.

His search for his love was had been relentless from the day he had landed in Delhi. Then when he had finally found her on the social media, he knew she had gone out of reach for him now.

Subby had finished resolving the customer issue when Joy got up and moved to his desk where Subby had just finished his call.

Subby pressed the mute button, removed the headset and gave it back to Joy.

He said, Here, take this. The issue is resolved. He said, Customer is restarting the computer. Now the least you can do is close the call with him once he’s done.

Joy cheerfully took his headset, turned off the mute and spoke to the customer, Thank you for being on hold Mr. Rogers. Is there anything else we can help you with? Yes sir? Definitely. Just a moment, I’ll be right back Mr. Rogers. He removed the headset and looked around for the floor supervisor.

Meanwhile Subby looked at him amused. Joy had seen the floor supervisor and waved at him.

As the supervisor walked up to his desk, Joy said, Hey Raks, the customer would like to speak to a supervisor.

Supervisor Rakesh looked at Joy with a frown, Another escalation Joy? Not Again. He said, Ok give it to me, fast. He took over the headset and started speaking to the customer.

While Joy and Subby looked on, the conversation went on for another minute and Rakesh finally removed the headset and turned to face the team in the surrounding bay. He clapped over his head to get everyone’s attention. Listen up guys. Joy just got an appreciation from the customer for a speedy resolution of the issue. And a roar of applause resonated all across the floor from the nearby agents. This was a customary recognition for every appreciation an agent received from the customer on a call.

Subby who had been watching all of this silently till now got up from his desk shaking his head in disbelief and looked at Joy who winked at him.

Subby said wryly, Welcome to the corporate world. He said, No wonder we get to see the assholes reach the top. He then turned to Joy, If your celebration is over, can we now go for the much needed break?

***

CHAPTER TWO

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For the new township of Gurgaon, the influx of contact centers meant there was a huge need for accommodation for all the youngsters who flocked the city from different States of India.  Thus sprang up real estate across the city at staggering pace. A lot of apartments, mostly single room studio units had come up in proximity to the technology parks catering to the need of these young bachelors.

Theirs was a trifling, single room, bachelor pad in an apartment complex. It was a compact unit, but all they needed the place was for to sleep over. Most of their time was either spent in office or in the cab, travelling to office. The weekends usually went in catching up with the much needed sleep with a weeklong reverse biology applied to their bodies. The so called biological clock was running anti-clockwise for them for five days of the week and then suddenly changed to a regular one for the weekends and again it was the nights they worked for the next five days. This would go on till a person either got elevated to the highest of echelons of the hierarchy or if one decided to quit the job and take up a regular day work with almost one-fourth of the salary the person would earn in a call center. With the ongoing recession environment, either of two happening to anyone was bleak prospect. 

It was early morning with mist forming across the township; characteristic of Gurgaon during this time of the year.

Subby lay on the naked floor, half bent on the day’s newspaper spread across. He turned the first page and then another and then another.

He cursed, Why don’t they put the Jobs section on the front page? He complained, This is really frustrating; searching for the Jobs section, skipping through the news pages which has nothing but garbage anyways. He closed the newspaper, slid it aside and straightened up. Joy has been lying on the single bed they had in their tiny studio apartment.

Subby reached out and jostled Joy, Hey, I have got two interviews lined up today. He announced, Both for US based organizations. Would you like to accompany me out today?

Joy murmured from his sleeping position on the bed, What the hell will I do there? He said and added, And then I’ve been seeing this for two years now. Every Saturday you have to attend some or the other interview which results in nothing but sunstroke.

Subby looked irritated, And you can go to hell.

Yeah hell is what it is. Joy countered, I don’t understand why the HELL are you wasting your time giving these senseless interviews. It’s not going to happen. They’re not going hire you. What makes you believe what has not happened in the last two years will show results today?

Subby was silent for a moment. He eyed the Filmfare magazine which lay in the corner, half read. He said, What about your lovely diva, Mithali? Did you find her? After roaming the streets of Delhi for two years, where do you happen to find her of all places, on the Facebook? And what’s that profile name ‘Myths’. He paused and continued.  Yes Myths. Now what the hell is that?"

There was an eerie silence for a long minute. Joy sat on the bed and spoke with a sigh, She’s got a boyfriend and moreover she’s not in Delhi now.  He said and added, She has moved to Paris. Modeling assignments, I believe.

What? You never told me.

I found out on Facebook yesterday. He said and added with aplomb, I guess its fine. It’s over now. No more of Delhi streets, social media researches... It was not meant to be.

Subby was silent, thoughtful. He realized the conversation had to be changed. He said, Okay good. So you’re coming with me right?

Joy was again his gleeful best, What? Oh no. Not in this lifetime. You can carry on with your interviews. I’d rather catch up with the week’s sleep. Remember we came back from work at 4am? May God... I mean, may Bill Gates bless you with a software job.

Either its Mithali or sleep. Subby chided him, Don’t you have anything else to think of? Subby said and continued, For a girl you left a good life, a great profession and just packed up your bags and came here? I give up on you my dear friend. He turned to walk out of the place and then on second thoughts came back to Joy, facing him. I think people like you should spend at least few years of your life in Mumbai. You’ll realize what life is and what a struggle for bare existence is."

Joy had closed his eyes, pulling over the blanket and snored sardonically.

Subby was at the door, I have an intuition I will get selected in one of the interviews today. I’ll see you in the evening.

***

A software job was considered the most coveted one in India where every parent wished to boast their son was a software engineer. Unfortunately not all the eligible graduates would get one. With every household churning out at- least one IT job aspirant, the demand-supply gap had widened than ever.

Subby was at the first technology firm for the interview. While many looked nervous with the prospect of rejection, Subby stood there in the long queue of candidates with a smile. With more than a hundred interviews to his credit, he was a veteran to this treatment. It was after an hour that his turn came at the hiring desk. He handed over his resume and awaited instructions for the interview. But things had changed over the past year and the ever increasing aspirants list made it impossible for the firms to interview each of them like the old days. The petite young girl at the helpdesk took the resume and informed him that he would be called if his profile is short-listed.

This was the first time for him, not being at the interview table, he said, But the advertisement said it was a walk-in interview. He said.

The HR lady smiled and said, It was, but as you can see we have more than two hundred candidates walking in for five open positions. We cannot possibly interview all of you, can we?

Subby chose not to respond. He knew better. It was a lost case. He left the place with little regret. He had one more to go today. It’s strange how human expectations change and adjust according to the environment. He hoped the next one would definitely work out. But now his expectations had changed. He hoped he would at least get to the interview table.

***

The city of Gurgaon which would be burning hot during the day always had this uncanny ability to get chilly by late evening. Joy lazed on the bed, reading some publication. He looked renewed after a warm shower which stretched for more than an hour on most weekends. The entrance door to their bachelor pad was ajar. He heard the door being pushed and saw Subby standing at the entrance. He seemed exhausted; with the tie loosened, he dragged himself inside the living room.

Joy looked at him and spoke in taunted expression, Hey I was about to go down to the apartment owner to inform him we would be vacating this place soon.

Subby asked him, looking surprised, What? Why? What happened?

Joy smiled mischievously, I thought you would be flying off to United States of America, so I’d rather take up a smaller place. What do you suggest?

Subby’s realized the context of his failure again, Forget it. He said, Everyone wants to see those magical numbers in my graduation papers. The moment they see the fifty percent aggregate scores, the response is the same, ‘We’ll get back to you shortly’.

He paused a moment and turned to face Joy, You know all of these purportedly experienced software developers – what they would accomplish by writing eighty to hundred lines of algorithm codes, I can do it in just eight.

He had moved to the nearby desk and then with sudden fit of rage hit it hard. He shouted, But where do I get those scores from?  He mellowed down and said, Anyways let’s forget it. Now I am convinced I won’t get the job. Let’s go for a drink.

Joy looked at him and said, What do you think of Bengaluru?

Bangalore?? Subby asked incredulously. I said lets go for a drink. You want to go to Bangalore for a drink?"

I was at the internet parlor, in chat with a consultant; the same one who helped me get the job with TechnoNet too.  Joy said and asked, Have you heard of BayBank?

Subby could not comprehend the context of their discussion, What are you trying to imply? He asked, How can we decide to go to Bangalore just like that? I mean...  He then murmured, Let’s go to Bangalore...huh.

Joy was insisting and said, The way I look at it, you are not getting your software job and I am not getting my girl, here, in this city. He explained, We don’t have our families here either. So what difference does it make whether it’s Gurgaon, Delhi or Bengaluru?

Subby studied his friend for a moment, contemplatively, Yeah! He said convinced, How does it matter, isn’t it?  It’s done. Let’s give a new challenge to our zodiacs with Bengaluru this time. He then asked his friend with finality. Now, are we going for that drink?

Joy grinned and said, ‘a’ drink?

Well, you know, a few would do. Yeah let’s get drunk.

CHAPTER THREE

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The early morning sunrays passed through the mist, pleasantly illuminating the Bengaluru City railway station this winter Sunday. The railway station had nine platforms with each of them having its own train arrival and departure schedules. The platforms had few travellers except for those where the early morning inter-city trains were to depart.

Platform numbers one and two typically received the long distance trains coming from far off states into the Bengaluru city.  The overhead speakers repeatedly played the train arrival and departure announcements at regular intervals.

Platform number one had an announcement coming up, Dear passengers, Delhi to Bangalore, Nizamuddin Express, Train No. 6630 will arrive shortly on platform number one. And then it was repeated in the local language, Kannada and the national language, Hindi.

A little ahead on the rail tracks, the queen of trains, the Deccan queen came into view, slowly entering the station, its squeaking deafening sirens making the heart skip a beat every time it roared. The train slowly came to a standstill with passengers alighting simultaneously from all the compartments.

There was a