two That’s the Intern? #2
So when I sat down next to him after lunch, I had my game face on. ‘Hey, are you done with those images?’ I asked, keeping my tone casual but firm.
He took his right elbow behind his neck and stretched his triceps, as if he were getting ready for a workout, before turning to look at me. ‘Almost,’ he said, his voice lazy, like the task was more of an option than a priority. ‘Isn’t there an AI tool that resizes all these images, like in one go?’
‘Yes,’ I said, unimpressed. ‘You are the tool.’
Neil grinned, leaning back in his chair like I’d just paid him a compliment. His nonchalance was beginning to piss me off.
‘Listen, Neil. I don’t know why you’ve signed up for this internship, but please take me seriously when I say this: If you’re here to just get by and collect a fancy brand name for your resume, I can ask Varun to move you to another team, where there isn’t already a shortage of team members,’ I said, pausing to take a breath.
‘But if you want to work with me, you’re going to have to contribute. Properly.’
He straightened in his chair slowly as I spoke. He met my eyes and nodded, but there was a flicker of amusement there that made me question whether he was taking me seriously. ‘Got it, boss,’ he said with a straight face, and I had to bite back the impulse to challenge him further.
I straightened my back and took on an imposing stance. ‘I need those images back in an hour,’ I said after a moment.
‘Sure. Is it cool if I start on it after the meeting?’ he asked sincerely.
I frowned, mentally checking my calendar. ‘What meeting?’
He motioned to the conference room, where the founder, Rajat Arora, was sitting with his assistant. ‘Rajat has been waiting to meet us both,’ he said.
I sprang up from my seat, a wave of panic rising in my throat. ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’
He shrugged and I had to resist the urge to throw something at him.
Rajat Arora came to the office every alternate day, but our paths rarely ever crossed.
In fact, the only one-on-one I’d had with him was during my final round of interviews at Jharokha three and a half years ago.
He always personally interviewed every single person he hired, to check if they were a good ‘personality fit’ for the brand—basically, whether they came from the right circles or not.
I collected my notebook and pen from my desk, and darted for the conference room, not bothering to check if Neil was following me. I had to knock twice before I caught Rajat’s attention. He motioned for me to enter.
‘Hi Rajat, so sorry to keep you waiting,’ I said, stepping inside, Neil hot on my tail.
He smiled at us, handing a file to his assistant, Gayatri, who took it without so much as a glance in our direction. ‘Come, come, sit,’ he said in the friendliest tone I’d ever heard him use.
Rajat was in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair that was starting to thin at the crown.
His smile was warm but didn’t quite reach his eyes.
There was something about him that made me feel like he was always assessing, always evaluating—even in casual conversations.
And he was certainly not the kind of man who was used to waiting for people.
‘Long lunch, huh?’ he asked coolly.
Embarrassed, I looked away and mumbled an apology. He waved a hand at me, like it was not a big deal. ‘Welcome, Neil. How’s the first day going?’ He turned to face my intern.
Neil slid into the seat next to me. ‘Fantastic, uncle. I’m already learning so much,’ he chirped.
I shot him a sideways glance. Uncle? And where had this newfound enthusiasm come from?
‘I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn from you as well,’ Rajat said, then looked at me. ‘He’s a good one, Kavya. He’ll be a huge asset for us.’
Was the founder of my company buttering up an intern?
‘You’re too kind,’ Neil said, making a show of blushing. ‘But really, thank you for this opportunity.’
‘Of course, Neil. Your dad and I go way back. And he’s always talking so highly of you.’
At the mention of his dad, Neil’s thick brows scrunched briefly into a frown. It was gone so quick that I almost thought I had imagined it.
Rajat continued, glancing at me occasionally to include me in the conversation. ‘He owes me a game of golf. You know how it is, the course is where the real business happens.’
I nodded, even though I had no idea how it was. I’d never been to a golf course in my life. How did they manage to fit one in this cramped city anyway?
‘Well, I think you two will get along well,’ Rajat said, scribbling something on a paper that Gayatri handed him. ‘You both went to NYU, after all.’
My stomach dropped.
Neil turned to me, genuine interest flickering in his gaze. ‘Oh no way!’
I nodded politely at him.
‘When did you graduate?’
I felt my brain buffering. ‘Uh …’ I began, quickly trying to do the math. ‘... 2019?’
‘That’s crazy! I’m from the 2018 batch. What was your major?’ he asked, leaning forward.
I swallowed, trying not to panic. A scene from three and a half years ago flashed in my mind.
I had been sitting across from Rajat in this very room, trying my best to answer his rapid-fire questions.
But I knew I was coming up short. Instead of testing my design skills and knowledge, he drilled me on where I lived, what my father did and, of course, my alma mater.
I could feel the interview slipping away from me.
So, in a desperate attempt to impress him, I had done what I had to do. I had lied.
Just a tiny white lie.
‘Visual communication,’ I finally managed.
His face lit up. ‘A bunch of my friends studied visual com! Do you remember a guy named Kenzo? Same batch as you.’
‘Oh, uh …’ I forced a breezy smile, reaching for a glass of water. ‘Feels like a lifetime ago.’
Neil continued to look at me expectantly, waiting for my memory to kick in.
But I stayed mum.
Because the truth was, I had no clue who Kenzo was. How would I, when I had never set foot on that campus?