Desperate Measures
Ananya
I wasn’t sure if the phrase ‘money makes the world go round’ was true. But the promise of an extra hundred bucks, undiscovered backroads and praying sure made my world go round.
In exactly fifty-three minutes, I was walking into a grand colonial-era building with arched windows and brick walls.
The name ‘House of Advani’ gleamed in steel above the entrance doors.
The ground floor was their flagship store with sandstone flooring, carved wooden counters and soft lighting.
Racks displayed hand-woven lehengas and saris, and mannequins stood in jewel-toned silks.
An employee immediately approached me with a warm smile. ‘Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to House of Advani.’
‘I’m actually here for an interview. Where do I go?’
‘The entrance to the corporate office is on the side of the building,’ she said. ‘A flight of stairs will lead you to the first floor. You’ll find the reception there.’
‘Thank you!’ I said, already moving.
I followed her directions and found myself at a marble reception desk. I smiled politely at the woman seated behind it. ‘Hi, my name is Ananya Tripathi. I’m here to interview for the position of Suraina Mukherjee’s assistant.’
‘Ananya Tripathi …’ she repeated slowly, glancing at her screen. ‘You’re late,’ she said without looking up and then pointed at the lift. ‘Second floor, common area. Someone will call you.’
I nodded. Great first impression.
On the second floor, right outside the elevator, was an open space with a couple of couches, a long table and cushioned chairs around it. A large TV hung on one wall, and an oversized plant sat by the window. This had to be it.
A sharp click of heels echoed from the corridor to my left, drawing my attention.
A woman wearing a smart grey dress had her phone pressed to her ear.
‘… already got the job. Apparently, she is a friend of the Advanis. These nepo-kids make me so mad,’ she said.
‘They get the best education paid for by their mummies and daddies and then get a job handed to them on a silver platter. Who needs to work for it when you’ve got connections, right? ’
Such people made me angry, too. It was unfair for the people who had worked hard their entire lives to be elbowed out at the last moment by an entitled brat.
‘Yeah, and I’ve spent the entire morning taking interviews with truly deserving people who were never getting the job. It’s a waste of everyone’s time. And totally unfair.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘It’s almost time for the next interview. Speak to you later.’
Could she … could it be … ? No. No way. It must be for some other position. They wouldn’t conduct a second interview for a job that was already taken. No one would do that. This job was mine.
There were two women in the common area – one reading a magazine and the other glancing around.
I caught her eye, and she gave me a polite smile.
I took a seat beside her. ‘Are you here for an interview?’
She gave me a quick once-over. ‘Yup. You?’
‘Me too. I’m interviewing for the position of Suraina Mukherjee’s assistant. What about you?’
Her smile turned genuine. ‘For the COO’s assistant position. His assistant is going on maternity leave in a couple of weeks. The job is only for eight months, but there’s potential to transfer to another department.’
‘Sounds like a good opportunity.’ She seemed so sweet and passionate. It sucked that the job had already been given to a family friend.
The click-clack of heels made us both look towards the corridor. It was the woman I overheard on the call. ‘Ananya Tripathi,’ she said.
My heart stopped.
‘Please follow me.’
No. This can’t be happening.
‘Yes,’ I managed to choke out as I stood up on shaky legs and followed her.
I was supposed to be given a fair chance to interview.
This job was supposed to be mine. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding.
If I could somehow talk to Suraina ma’am and tell her what these people were doing, I was sure she would undo it.
She would never condone nepotism or play with innocent people’s hopes like this.
My head spun with a hundred ideas for what I could do or say to help me get a real opportunity.
I deserved at least that.
‘Please take a seat.’
I did, and she sat on the other side of the desk.
‘Good morning. I’m Lavisha, and I’ll be taking your interview for the position of Suraina Mukherjee’s assistant,’ she said in a tone that was half-friendly and half-professional.
My eyes stung.
What was the point of any of this? Suraina Mukherjee already had an assistant, and this woman was only conducting this interview because she had to. It was nothing but a sick joke.
‘Ms Tripathi? Ananya?’
I focused on the woman. She was watching me intently.
‘I just asked why we should give you this job.’
My eyes dropped to my lap, and my finger traced the embroidery on my sari.
I had spent three days travelling to numerous markets to find the perfect outfit and shelled out thousands of rupees for it.
It screamed Suraina Mukherjee despite being very different from her work.
I was going to list similarities and draw contrasts to prove my point.
I wanted to showcase my eye for fashion and design.
Ever since I had learned of this vacancy, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else. I both prepared and prayed obsessively for this job. And when I got the email for the second and final interview … I started fantasising about this job being mine.
My nails dug half-moons into my palms. My chest rose and fell as my breath turned shallow. Emotions choked up my throat and didn’t let any words out. I felt so cheated, so angry, that I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d cry.
But I refused to humiliate myself any further by coming to this farce of an interview. So, I did the only thing I could – I left.
Somehow, I managed to hold it all in until I found the only place a girl could get some privacy. The bathroom.
I looked in the mirror. A distorted mix of weariness, disappointment and self-pity stared back. Redness rimmed her eyes. Blackened tears streamed down her cheeks. Her shoulders hung low.
I took in a deep, shuddering breath and called the only person who could help me feel better about myself.
‘How much did they love you?’
‘Rhea,’ I choked out.
‘What happened, babe? Are you okay? Was the interviewer a jackass? Give me a name so I know whose butt to kick.’
‘Everything is ruined.’ I swiped a hand over my damp cheek.
‘I don’t have a job. I’m almost out of my savings.
I can’t ask Papa or Bhaiyya for money without telling them that I got laid off.
Three months ago. They will make me feel guilty for hiding it, drag me home and marry me off to some boring, strait-laced guy or a rich jackass like the one who owns this company.
And I’ll hate him forever because people like him are the reason people like me lose everything. ’
‘You’re rambling. Slow down a bit. How did you go from what I’m assuming was a not-so-great interview to your life being ruined?’ she asked, her calming voice the anchor I needed.
I released a breath. ‘The job was already given to a friend of the company’s owner. The vacancy didn’t even exist.’
‘What the hell? They can’t do that. They can’t just—’ The sound of a lock turning drew my attention.
A woman in her fifties, wearing a rich, cream silk sari with straight, shoulder-length hair, walked out of one of the cubicles. She turned to glance at me.
My stomach dropped.
Rekha Advani.
I’d seen her face enough in magazines and during my research to recognise her in an instant. She gave me a quick skim, then began washing her hands as if a sobbing woman rambling on the phone was a part of the decor.
‘—sue them. You hear me? We will sue them.’
Humiliation tamped down my emotions. ‘Rhea, let me call you back.’
Of all the people to witness my meltdown, it had to be her.
Pressing my lips together, I grabbed a couple of tissues and began dabbing away at my damp cheeks.
‘Blaming others doesn’t help,’ she said, her tone light but laced with judgement. ‘We’re all responsible for our own success.’
I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have apologised and left.
But today, I didn’t have it in me. ‘With all due respect, Mrs Advani, I just lost a job today because it was given to your family friend. The interview was just a formality. So forgive me if I’m not feeling responsible for my success right now. ’
She studied me for a moment. Her gaze changed in a way I couldn’t quite place. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Ananya Tripathi.’
‘I’ll have a look into it.’
Hope rose, sudden and bright. ‘Really? Thank you.’
‘This is not the reputation I want my company to have, so if what you say is true, I will set it right.’ She paused, considering. ‘But I need to verify a few things first. Meet me near Americano in an hour.
I should have answers for you by then.’
Is this really happening? ‘Okay.’
Rekha left with a nod.
I cleaned up my face, fixing my smudged kajal as best I could. In the mirror, I looked like someone who’d just cried in a bathroom – which, fair enough, I had. But there was something else now, too. Hope.
I exited the HoA office and wandered the streets of Kala Ghoda, too restless to sit anywhere. An hour. She’d said an hour. What could she verify in an hour? Maybe she was looking at my application. Talking to Lavisha. Or even speaking to Suraina ma’am about giving me my position back.
Possibilities swarmed in my head as I checked my phone every five minutes, willing time to move faster.
When I reached Americano, I spotted a sleek black BMW waiting outside. The back window rolled down, revealing Rekha in oversized sunglasses. ‘Get in. Let’s go for a drive.’
I slipped into the back seat. The car smelled of perfume and leather, and the air conditioning was a welcome reprieve from the outside heat.