The Bestseller She Wrote (6 page)

‘So did you manage to get the Chairman’s gold medal?’

Shreya smiled. ‘I have done my best. Hopefully it should come my way. There are three of us in contention, but my academic credentials are far ahead for any of them to match,’ she replied.

‘That’s wonderful. Congratulations,’ he paused. ‘Then why did you ask me about the wretched life of an author’s spouse?’

‘I want to become an author. So, I asked if it is really true that an author’s spouse leads a wretched life.’

‘Haha! No, it’s not that bad. It’s more the romance of saying such things that attracts people towards making such statements. In a public forum we have to say things which we may not necessarily agree with, just to sound cool. In reality, my wife doesn’t seem to be leading a wretched life at all. Yes, she doesn’t enjoy the limelight, but then, that’s okay. I think whoever said that must be going through a terrible marriage at the time,’ he laughed.

Shreya laughed too. His heart skipped a beat. She looked even more attractive when she laughed.

Strange feelings were going through Aditya’s mind. This was not the first time he was sitting next to an attractive looking reader who was so taken by him. But it was the first time that he was finding it difficult to keep his head straight. Shreya, meanwhile, seemed to have gotten over her initial nervousness and now looked extremely comfortable; far more comfortable than Aditya felt.

‘What kind of books do you read?’ Aditya asked. ‘Thrillers?’

‘No, I don’t read thrillers. I find them to be too casual. I haven’t read one in years,’ she smiled, ‘except yours.’

‘Really?’ he asked, feeling a strange thrill himself.

‘Yes, I prefer the ones that show rather than tell,’ Shreya continued. ‘I am a bit high-brow in my literary preferences. I’m not the kind who’ll quote Shakespeare, mind you, but I do like Murakami. I don’t know too many other Indians who love Mario Vargas Llosa as much as I do.’

Despite all his bravado, Aditya was a poor reader. He knew that if the conversation veered towards Murakami and Llosa, he would struggle. He had tried to show off his superficial knowledge by commenting on a statement made by Julian Barnes. Sanjay, a voracious reader himself, had mentioned it to him once, and Aditya had latched on to that quote. It was an impressive statement to quote in his lectures, and he had simply committed it to memory.

‘Nice, nice,’ he managed to say.

‘Have you read their work?’ She smiled as if she knew his answer.

He looked at her sheepishly. ‘Why do you ask?’ he questioned. He was quite amazed at her ability to read the other person’s mind.

‘Just . . .’ she giggled. Aditya’s cheeks went pink with embarrassment.

‘You know, it doesn’t matter. Many great authors don’t find time to read. They just have time to research and write. What matters is that you have written four massive . . . massive . . . bestsellers and you are the boss at a large organisation. That’s impressive enough!’

Despite her appreciation, Aditya felt a bit inadequate. He had nothing to prove to her, yet he felt incompetent.

‘You seem to read a lot. A book a night?’

‘Well, not exactly. If a book grips me, then a day and a half, or else I drop it like a hot potato.’

‘Do readers like you also dislike books?’ He made a sad attempt at sarcasm.

‘Of course. I don’t enjoy reading erotica. EL James’
Fifty Shades of Grey
. . . didn’t like it at all. Started reading it only because of peer pressure, but then couldn’t go on.’

Aditya didn’t have the courage to ask her why she didn’t like the most erotic book in recent times. That was the only book he had read recently, that too on his Kindle because it lent him privacy.

The driver honked. Aditya realised that thankfully they were at the gates of IIM Bengaluru. He didn’t want to carry on the conversation any further. The car came to a halt and they alighted.

‘Thanks, Aditya. It was wonderful meeting you. And thanks for the drive back.’

‘It was a pleasure. And I should be thanking you for the wonderful conversation.’

‘Will you help me write my first book, Aditya?’ Shreya asked without any warning.

‘For sure,’ was all he could mumble before she turned and walked away from him.

As she walked towards her hostel, Aditya stood there admiring her. She looked like an angel. He was floored by her intellect. She was clear in her thoughts and had an opinion on everything. She was one of the most well read readers that he had interacted with. He thanked his stars that Sanjay was only coming the next day, otherwise he would have been out with him and would not have been able to drop Shreya back to the hostel.

As he stood there, Aditya felt like an idiot who had all the chance in the world, yet did not ask her for her phone number. He did not even ask her what she wanted to write about. He didn’t even wish her good luck for her placement interviews the next day. That was the least he could have done. Aditya cursed himself.

12

I
T WAS THE
second day of the placement season. The atmosphere in and around the designated interview zone was tense. Students were running from one room to another attending job interviews. National Bank was one of the six companies recruiting that day. Of the forty-five students that it had shortlisted, six had already been placed the previous day and had been taken out of the placement process.

‘What’s our target, Sanjay?’ Aditya asked when they entered the interview room. Apart from Aditya and Sanjay there were two other corporate bankers. The four of them had split themselves into two interview panels.

‘Seven. If we find those many good hirable candidates,’ Sanjay looked at the pile of papers in front of him and said. ‘Let the pain begin. This fucking campus interview process makes life so miserable for me. First you hire them, then train them and then deal with their attitude. Wonder why people even hire management trainees,’ he complained. Sanjay was irritated that he had to spend the entire day interviewing smart-ass students and listening to their gastric outbursts.

‘So this is the list of candidates?’ Aditya asked and snatched the résumés from Sanjay and started going through them. He was hunting for one particular CV. It was the fourteenth in the pile. He picked up the top twenty CVs and kept the others back in the envelope and handed it to his colleagues in the second panel. ‘There you go,’ he said.

As they started interviewing the candidates, they found nothing substantial to separate the good ones from the bad. It was boiling down to a draw of lots.

The fourteenth candidate walked in.

‘Good morning, sir. Good morning, sir,’ she repeated twice, looking at the two men in front of her on the panel.

‘Good morning, Shreya. Please take your seat,’ Sanjay took the lead.

‘Thank you.’

As she sat down gracefully Aditya couldn’t help but notice how stunning she looked. He felt as if he were in a trance. Shreya was wearing a black and white dress, vertical white stripes on the sides and black in the centre. She had tied her hair up in a simple pony. Light pastel lipstick to go with the miniscule make-up and just the right dose of perfume. Chanel No. 5; Aditya knew the fragrance. Maya used the same perfume.

‘So, Shreya,’ Sanjay began the interview, ‘tell us about yourself.’

Shreya gave a brief introduction, concise and to the point. She was confident, and extremely articulate.

‘What do you want to do after your MBA?’

‘I want to make a difference to the world. I want to be remembered as someone who did something worthwhile. I want to do my bit to help the poor in the world—work towards improving the living conditions of households below poverty line. Rehabilitate slums. Ensure kids living in slums are not deprived of their right to be educated,’ Shreya said with conviction.

‘And you expect to be able to do all that in your role at National Bank?’ Sanjay queried.

‘And more. At some point in time, I would love to do a stint in the Corporate Social Responsibility division of National Bank, or for that matter any other organisation that I join. That apart, only if I have a good career and if I fight the demons within myself will I be able to help others. It is always difficult for a struggler to make a difference. How I am going to make a difference, at a personal level, different from the organisation that I join, I’m not too sure. I will figure that out. I have a few options in mind,’ Shreya stated.

‘Like?’

‘I want to become an author. Write meaningful and socially relevant books and leave a mark on the world. Hopefully I will be able to do that.’

‘Then why do you want a job?’ Sanjay was a bit surprised at her response. Her confidence was beginning to irritate him.

‘Writing is an expression of creativity, sir. I want to be independent—a woman who writes her own destiny. I don’t think that is possible without the confidence that a successful career will give you.’ All along Aditya was nodding his head. ‘And I am not sure if one can bank on writing for survival. In India at least, I have heard that one cannot make a living off writing alone,’ Shreya finished.

Sanjay asked her some questions about her strengths and weaknesses and a few other pointed questions about life at IIM-B and ended the interview.

‘Are we taking her?’ Aditya asked the moment she exited the room. ‘I think we should.’

‘Just because you are on the panel, she thinks she can play to your instincts and get the job. I didn’t like the way she had tuned her answers to your engine. She played to your instincts as an author. I am striking her from the list,’ Sanjay declared.

‘I think she was being honest. She came across as confident and credible. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, she was telling you the truth? It could well be possible that she really wants to become an author.’

‘Then why should we waste time on her?’

‘She gave you an answer for that too.’

‘Cock and bull story.’

‘Have you seen her grades? Besides, she is the top contender for the Chairman’s gold medal.’

Sanjay looked at him, surprised. ‘And how on earth do you know that, Mr Aditya Kapoor?’

Aditya realised his faux pas. Nowhere in her biodata was it mentioned that she was contending for the Chairman’s gold medal. She had casually brought it up during their conversation while driving to the IIM-B campus. ‘Well, with grades like this you are bound to be a topper,’ he managed. ‘Anyway, forget all that, I liked her.’

‘Hmm . . .’ Sanjay nodded, ‘I liked her too. She looked good. Cute and sexy.’

‘And, Sanjay, what’s life without a few cute management trainees around?’ Aditya joked.

‘Now I know why I am in HR while you are terrific in business roles. You spot an opportunity better than me,
and . . .’

‘And what?’

‘You guys move faster and are better at closing transactions than us HR types. History bears evidence to this, doesn’t it, Aditya?’ Sanjay’s eyes looked away, towards the door and moved all around the room and finally came back and rested on Aditya. ‘Don’t you think so?’ he asked again. There was a strange look in his eyes.

Aditya was not listening. He had turned selectively deaf. ‘Do it for me, Sanjay. I came all the way to Bengaluru for you, didn’t I?’ he pleaded.

‘Asshole,’ Sanjay smiled. ‘Fine but only on the condition that I reserve the right to keep her in HR.’

Aditya was jubilant. ‘As if I have a say in it!’

Shreya was hired as a management trainee, slated to join National Bank in May.

Just as they drove out of the campus that evening, Aditya wondered why he was so keen to have Shreya join National Bank. Was it just a surge of hormones at the sight of a cute young girl or was it a desire to reciprocate the belief in him that she had demonstrated by turning up for his book event the night before?

He didn’t have any answers.

13

L
ATE THAT EVENING
, Aditya was on his laptop busy plotting his next thriller, when Maya called out, ‘Adi, did you see the TOI in Bengaluru? Your EasyLib event has been featured there.’

How could he have not? For a long time now, he had a Google alert on his name which would send him the link to any mention of his name on the internet. The journalist had waxed eloquent about Aditya and also carried a picture taken at the event.

Aditya had however missed mentioning it to Maya. She liked reading press coverage about him and would have got upset had she known that Aditya didn’t tell her. So he feigned ignorance.

‘Oh is it?’ He walked up to her. ‘Show me.’

Maya turned the laptop screen towards him, ‘Here, see,’ she said. ‘Sanjay has tagged you on the post. It’s on your Facebook.’

‘Hmm . . . yes,’ Aditya agreed.

‘Nice pic too,’ Maya commented. ‘Who are the others?’

‘Folks from the Library I think,’ Aditya said. ‘Good people. They always do a good job of such events.’

He felt a touch guilty about the fact that he was lying to Maya that all of them were folks from EasyLib, especially when there was no reason to.

He did not tell her that Shreya, who was also in the photo, was an outsider.