The Indomitable Heart - S1 E1
The Matador van ride
by Himayath Khan
5 min read
Hailing from a generation brought up around fairness cream advertisements and glued to the television, ogling Pamela every time Baywatch was telecast, were enough reasons for Arhan to set his plans of making it big in the film industry aside and go to work at unearthly hours in the company of women and men, some among them foreign, sporting hair in all colours and hues and with American accents like the ones he heard on the telly.
4 AM, on an early Monday morning in July of 2001– A Bajaj Tempo Matador van, the kind we saw being driven by villains kidnapping heroines in Amitabh's angry young man action movies, but filled with sleepy men and women, pulls up to the gate—the vehicle's squeaking breaks, enough to wake up the entire neighbourhood, jumpstarted Arhan to life.
Still wet from a head-and-face-only dunk in a cold tub of water, which continued dripping over his shirt, and with a backpack slung over his right shoulder, Arhan jumped into the van to the grumbly and sleepy-eyed welcome of fellow commuters. He had made them wait.
"Sheesh! Er… kebabs!" exclaimed Arhan.
The passengers could only afford mild smirks at Arhan's pedestrian pun before dropping their heads back to mid-air, head-swaying slumber. They wanted the vehicle's cabin light turned off so they could get enough snooze before their early work shift. The light kept shifting from bright to dim and back to bright with every rev of the engine, and the irritation showed on their sleep-deprived faces.
Now, at one of the sparkling restrooms of his new office, Arhan quickly brushed his teeth, generously sprayed himself with a deodorant he swore by for any social situation, and changed into the spare set of ironed clothes he carried in his nifty backpack. This office was his entry into corporate culture, far from 'sir' and 'madam' to referring to everyone in the company on a first-name basis. A plastic comb helped complete his tidying up.
It was only about two weeks ago while visiting his parents on a short break from his work as an extra in the Hindi Television Industry in Mumbai, that a friend requested Arhan to accompany him to an interview in an industry that was all the craze at the moment for its pay and curiously discussed over tea among the retirees in the city for its odd work hours.
When they arrived at the company's gates on the interview day, Arhan stared dumbstruck at the scenic nature of the facilities. A sprawling lawn that could well have accommodated his entire residence block. Selectively fitted with buildings as far as eyes could trace, all in a reflective tinted glass. Even more astounding was that the lawns were dotted with people visiting from nearby towns and within the city. The only requisites to applying for the job were a bachelor's degree, knowledge of and command over written and spoken English, and an advantage if the applicant could speak with a neutral or American accent.
The first round was a half-hour session to test aptitude and written English skills. Arhan sat in front of his friend in an angle conducive to his friend peeping into his paper without much intrusion. His love for the English language and his constant acquisition of it from billboards, from the paper cuttings that street vendors packed delicious greasy and oily Samosas and Pakoras in, to the brilliant reporting in The Hindu newspaper, to the daily soaps on satellite television platforms like Star TV, and Star World, and music videos he tried singing along to on MTV.
"I'm sure I'll secure a hundred per cent result in this test," Arhan shared with his friend Arun, who, raising his hands for a hi-five, quipped in,
"We'll secure!" correcting Arhan.
The next round was a one-to-one with a Human Resources department representative. A few questions between "Why do you want to work here?" and "How much do you expect to be paid?" and explaining the add-ons like pick-up and drop facilities from the prospective employees' homes, Provident Fund chip-ins by the company, and training for a month before you are ready to hit the floor running, the HR popped a question—"Can you put on an accent?"
Minding his p's and q's all the while the person spoke, Arhan put his best foot forward with a, "Yes, I can sorta pudon-an accent!"
The representative beamed ear to ear, saying, "Wait in the lobby area. We'll give you an offer of employment letter before you leave." He stood up to signal the end of the interview.
Arun was to go in for his second round soon.
"Well, how was it?" he asked.
"Easy peasy!" replied Arhan, in his newfound fake mixture of an accent.
Arun tapped him on his shoulder, "Give me the questions they asked you. It's not you looking for a job; it's me."
"I think I'm going to stick around and see what this place is all about," Arhan said, explaining the questions Arun should expect.
"Yes, that'll be fun if we both can get in," Arun added.
Walking towards the training room, he bumped into another person of similar build and stature.
"Sorry," the man said.
Arhan was surprised by the way he said it.
"I'm sorry, but have you travelled? Er, where are you from?
"Don't be taken in by my accent, machaṅ," the man smiled. I'm as Bengalurean as you are. I'm alright with accents, though, erm, and perhaps you are too?"
"Er, yes, I guess. Erm, I'm, I'm Arhan."
"I'm Avaneesh," he replied, reaching out to shake Arhan's hand.
"Today's my first day here," Arhan continued.
"Mine too," replied Avaneesh.
"Pleasure making your acquaintance, Avaneesh," said Arhan. "Shall we go in together?"
"Sure, let's."
"I was sceptical about the whole thing because a friend I accompanied to the interview couldn't get into the company," continued Arhan, "but I think I'm going to be okay," he told Avaneesh, smiling.
"It's a cakewalk, machaṅ. We'll be okay," Avaneesh replied, putting his arm over Arhan's shoulder as they walked into the training room.
If you liked what you read, please consider buying me a coffee. :)
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