“The next ninety seconds are very critical,” Santosh Kumar told his friend as he waited for the green to turn amber and then red at Ejipura signal in Bangalore. As soon as the green turned to amber, he stood up with his wares and had a quick look at the three bikers who were nearing the signal.
“At least two of them will have to stop,” he prepared his friend. “Time for business,” he leaped to his feet as soon as the signal flashed red.
Manish had seen this man almost every day for the past two weeks on his ride to his office. He pressed the brakes and got his bike to a halt on seeing red. From under his helmet, when he saw the man jump to his feet, he thought, “There he is again..” When he stopped at the signal. he turned his neck to the other side to avoid eye contact with Santosh Kumar.
“Mobile charger, Batteries, Sir,” Santosh Kumar said twice, coming close to Manish.
Manish shook his head. “This, Sir,” Santosh Kumar then displayed a toy in his hand and twisted a key in it. The toy bike started whirring like a real motorcycle.
The sound caught Manish’s attention, as it was new. But he was still not interested in buying it. He tolerated Santosh Kumar for lack of any other option.
“Normally 199 rupees, but special offer for you. Only for 99 today for you,” Santosh Kumar offered. “Take Sir. Only 99. Tell how much you pay?” He then put his hand on his mouth and stomach and repeated it to indicate that this sale will satisfy his hunger.
“No, I don’t want,” Manish replied in the local language. “Don’t trouble me,” he curtly brushed him aside. “Only one minute, Sir,” Santosh Kumar pleaded of Manish, showing him the wares again.
Santosh Kumar’s friend joined him selling plastic flowers and books, stealing a glance at the signal. “Just one minute, Sir,” both of them implored in unison. Chargers, batteries, toys, flowers, and books were on display. Manish just had to show some interest and they were ready to pounce.
Manish turned his gaze to the road. He had a quick look at the red signal. There were ten seconds left for it to turn green. He had to endure them only for that much. He heaved a sigh of relief.
He kicked his bike into life and adjusted the helmet on his head and office bag on his shoulders, preparing to take off. They knew this was it and went to the corner to wait for the next red signal.
The signal turned green soon after, and Manish zoomed past it.
**
He reached his office in about twenty minutes. He had time to pick up a cup of coffee and rushed to his desk. It was 9 am sharp. He started his desktop, put on his headphone, and switched on the dialling device. He was ready to start.
His client for the day was an NGO. He checked his list for today. It had the names and contact numbers of all his assigned targets for the day. It also had a ready script for him to use.
“Good morning Sir,” Manish wished when his very first call of the morning was picked up after the second ring. “Am I talking to Mr. Sourav ?”
“Yes, this is Sourav. Who is this?” the voice at the other end asked.
“Sir, I am calling from the Give Age.. err.. Give Sage India Trust….,” Manish started. “We run a school for Destitute Blind Girls.. umm.. and….,” he continued, till he was interrupted.
“Look, whoever you are.. I don’t know how you got my number. Please get me off your list. I am not interested in donating…,” the other voice said.
“Sir, I just need one minute of your time right now. It is for a six-year-old blind, orphan girl who has to be….,”Manish persisted.
“See, I am driving right now and stuck in the middle of traffic…,” the man on the other side said.
“Sorry Sir. Shall I call you later?” Manish asked.
“Umm… I have exhausted all my payments this month. I think you can call me after two months,” Sourav said, brushing Manish aside.
“Ok Sir, I will call you in two months. Meanwhile, can I give you some background on our trust? It will take just one minute.. only one minute!” he implored Sourav one final time.
“Sorry, now is not the right time. Don’t call me again,” Manish heard, and the line disconnected.
Manish had a gulp of water, wrote his call notes, put a follow up call reminder note after two months, and went down his list. There were seventy-nine more calls to go for the day.
**
Meanwhile, Sourav saw the traffic clear at the gate of his Tech Park and entered his office after a gruelling seventy-minute drive from home. He met a few colleagues in the lift and wished them a good morning. Not many returned it.
As he settled at his cubicle, he opened his laptop and remembered that the new quarter had started last week. His previous project had got over and it was time to hunt for a new one. Without client billable work, he knew there was no job for him. He went through his emails and replied to the ones from his clients and his boss one by one. In about thirty minutes, he was done with most of them.
He went through his Rolodex of business cards which had the list of the major clients of his company. He mused over which one would be most apt to sell new software projects now.
“Good morning, Mr Nagarajan,” he called the Operations Head of his favourite client al Pavilion. Sourav had delivered a number of software projects for this client over the past few years.
“Hello, Mr ,” Mr Nagarajan replied. “How did you remember me this morning?” he asked.
“Oh, well Sir, I just called to check how you are doing and how are things at the al Pavilion Hotel,” replied. “I hope I can take just a minute or two of your valuable time,” he added.
“Well, I just hope you haven’t called to scout for another new project!!” Nagarajan said and broke into a loud guffaw.
“Oh, no, not at all, Sir. We go much beyond business, isn’t it?” asked, taken aback a bit.
“Yes, of course, absolutely,” Nagarajan replied. “Things are, umm.. kind of, ok here. We are all hit by the economic downturn. Drawing up curtailed budgets for the next quarter,” Nagarajan replied.
got the hint and decided that there was no point in going any further in pursuit of a new project.
“Right. It has been a tough time for everyone. Let us hope things turn around soon,” he said.
“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Nagarajan said. “This year is all about survival.”
“Alright Sir. Wish you all the best. I am sure al Pavilion will see through it,” affirmed.
“I will visit you sometime this month. I would request a few minutes from your busy schedule then,” he said, realising that a new project is going to take more than just a call with his favourite client.
“Look forward to it. Any time, but let me know a few days in advance,” Nagarajan said and hung up. moved on to the next client in his list and decided to try his luck with others.
**
When the call ended, Nagarajan heaved a sigh of relief. “Good riddance,” he thought to himself. “Anyway I have to go to a low-cost project vendor this year,” he told himself. That reminded him.
He had to meet his boss to get approval for the budget. Without a low-cost vendor, there was no way he could run the hotel. And if hotel operations had a problem, his job was in jeopardy.
He had to convince the boss to approve at least this much. How much tightening was the boss going to do? He reported to the Director who owned the al Pavilion hotel.
Nagarajan walked stealthily to the cabin that read Amit Goenka, Director.
“May I come in, Sir?” Nagarajan knocked on the door. There was no response. Goenka’s secretary was seated just outside the cabin. Nagarajan signalled to her asking if he was inside. She nodded.
“Is he busy with someone?” he whispered. She shook her head. Nagarajan knocked again. This time he heard some movement from inside.
“Yes? Come in,” he heard.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” Nagarajan said with his sincerest fake smile.
“Tell me Nagarajan, any problem? Please be quick. I am leaving for a meeting,” Goenka said. He got up from his chair and put on his coat and walked across his cabin to pick up a file of papers.
“Sir, no problem. But.. umm.. I wanted to…err.. seek your approval…,” Nagarajan started.
“What approval? For what? I am not going to spend anything this year. Get some customers first,” Goenka brushed aside his head of operations.
“Sir, yes, I understand, Sir. But I have identified a.. umm.. low-cost software vendor for our hotel operations. It will cut cost by 40% for the year…,” Nagarajan pushed his case.
“Low cost? I don’t want low cost.. I want only no cost.. Don’t just cut costs. Eliminate them,” Goenka said. He reprimanded Nagarajan and started preparing to go for his next meeting. He was looking for an envelope containing some cash that he had kept aside a while back.
“Sir, just one minute sir. If you could spare just a minute to take a look at the proposal, only a minute,” Nagarajan implored Goenka but he had already started buttoning his coat up.
“No, I don’t want to look at any proposals. You figure out another way.. Or I know how to eliminate costs,” he said with a sly smile. Nagarajan remained silent hanging his head down. “Now if you could excuse me. I am getting late for my meeting,” Goenka said and walked out of his cabin. Nagarajan slouched out of the office in disappointment wondering what to do next.
**
Amit Goenka stepped out of his office and sat in his car. He asked the driver to take him to the residence of Basava Gowda. He just wished that this meeting with the local corporator went off well.
He had got a notice from the city corporation that the terrace of the al Pavilion Hotel was not sanctioned to host parties. Unfortunately in these times, nobody wanted to have gatherings indoors. He just hoped that this Gowda did not cause issues and amicably sorted it out.
The security guard at Basava Gowda’s residence stopped Goenka’s Mercedes from entering. Goenka gave him his card and said he had an appointment.
“Sir is in a meeting,” the guard confirmed after calling inside. He asked Goenka to wait. After about thirty minutes of waiting, Basava Gowda himself walked outside and invited Goenka inside.
“Hello Sir,” Goenka said with folded hands to the white khadi-clad corporator.
“I should call you Sir, Amit-ji,” Basava Gowda put a hand over the businessman’s shoulder and pulled him inside. “I am at your service. Now tell me how can I help you?” he said with a smile that showed his betelnut-stained teeth.
“Sir, thank you for the appointment. I went to the corporation office when I got this notice, and someone from your office asked me to….,” Goenka started.
“I am sorry Amit-ji to interrupt, but you have caught me at a very wrong time. The corporation elections are close, and this is a terribly busy time for us,” Basava Gowda cut Goenka short. “You will have to be quick, I am extremely sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile, setting his oily hair right.
Amit Goenka shifted uneasily in his seat. He wasn’t used to this but realised that he had no option.
“Yes, Sir, it will take just a minute of your time. If you could help my business operate smoothly without any hiccups, it will be a big favour,” he said.
“No question of any favours. It is our duty. We are at the service of businessmen like you. My assistant will help solve your problems,” Basava Gowda said. He called another gentleman who was standing in silence so far. He broke into an unexpected smile at Goenka when called by Gowda.
“Sir, but it will take just a minute.. I will not disturb you any further,” Goenka insisted talking to Gowda, and made the envelope conspicuous, fearing that his job was getting side-tracked.
“Don’t worry, Amit-ji. My assistant will help you with all the formalities. Rules are rules for everyone, even for me, isn’t it?” Gowda said and walked away in a flash to his car waiting outside.
Goenka wondered if he had got himself into a fix when the assistant asked him to come up with a set of documents on the following Tuesday. He walked out of Basava Gowda’s residence thinking if he should try someone else more amenable for this job.
**
Basava Gowda sat in his SUV and asked the driver to switch on the air conditioner. He knew that he had to switch it off and get out of the car at least a few meters away from his electoral ward. That would ensure that it would look like he was one among the masses.
“Ejipura,” he told his driver who drove straight to the set of hutments next to the Ejipura signal.
Gowda mentally rehearsed his list of offers for the voters. A water connection was on top of the list. A tanker full of water daily to the residents in those shanties till the elections got over was a done deal. Next on the list was free rice. Next was a sewerage canal so that the filth does not enter their hutments. He didn’t go through the rest. He hoped these would be enough.
With his assistant clearing the way, he walked through the thin lanes with hands folded, sometimes waving, and sometimes shaking a hand, but always with a wide, slimy grin on his face.
He reached the Ejipura signal, where he saw a bunch of men huddled together sitting with their wares. It was 4.30 PM, and they were waiting for the evening traffic to build up.
He approached the bunch with folded hands. They all stood up on seeing him.
“Good evening. Had lunch?” Basava Gowda asked the bunch in the local language. None of them nodded. Nor did they shake their heads. They remained silent watching him smile.
“I know that you will vote for me, but I will do my duty,” he started. “Tomorrow onwards, I will send daily water supply and rice provided to your houses. It is a token of my love,” he said.
None of the men reacted. Some women joined them from behind peeping in to listen.
“We are all one big family here,” he said. The men and women stared at each other.
“I will look after my family. I request you to give me one minute of your time on the day of voting and give me an opportunity to serve you again,” he added. “Just one minute.”
Santosh Kumar saw a surge of vehicles at a distance. He guessed that the morning shift of the offices in the Tech Park had finished. He saw many two-wheelers approaching. He nudged his friend with his elbow and adjusted his bag of mobile chargers, getting it ready.
“The next ninety seconds are very critical,” he whispered.
Basava Gowda focused on his promises. “Just one minute is what I need. Remember. A lifetime of good water supply and rice will be ours after that,” he said. “And I am also asking the authorities to build a sewerage canal for us in Ejipura,” he continued.
When the signal turned from green to amber, Santosh Kumar stood up and walked away with his colleague, ready for business as soon as it turned green. Basava Gowda saw the crowd disperse.
“All of this is within reach for us with just one minute of your time,” he howled.
Santosh Kumar approached the first biker that stopped at the signal.
“Mobile chargers, batteries, Sir?” he asked. When the biker didn’t pay any attention and looked the other way, he pleaded, “Just one minute, Sir.”
***