Page 24 of 12 Years: My Messed-up Love Story

MUMBAI

‘You didn’t have to come to the airport yourself, Neeraj,’

I said.

‘that too so late.’

Mudit and I were in Neeraj’s BMW on our way from the Mumbai airport to the St. Regis Hotel in Lower Parel.

‘That’s not a problem, guys,’

Neeraj said.

‘We’re all so excited for the closing night. The Crayon Club idea was a real winner. Everyone loved it.’

‘I just felt it would be different,’

Mudit said.

‘Yes, in fact, we’ve merged our annual Blackwater Family Day with the event,’

Neeraj said.

‘Family day?’

I said, watching the road outside as the car zipped through the Western Express Highway in the middle of the night.

‘Yes, we have an annual bring-your-family-to-work day at Blackwater. CloudX has it as well. We just combined it with this event.’

‘Okay,’

I said. ‘So?’

‘So, we thought why not have some people from Blackwater and CloudX bring their families to this dinner? They’ll have fun and also see what a deal closing looks like.’

‘Families? At a deal closing?’

Mudit said.

‘Only a few select senior people from Blackwater and CloudX can bring them. You see, it’ll help with the press,’

Neeraj said.

‘How?’

I said.

‘And why do you even need the press?’

‘Blackwater and other private equity firms have this negative, cold, capitalist image. We don’t want that when the public, media or the government thinks of us. We want to show everyone that the people who work in firms like ours are humans too.’

‘Are you though?’

Mudit said.

Neeraj laughed. The car turned onto the Bandra–Worli Sea Link.

‘What about confidential information?’ I said.

‘There’s none. The deal is public. We’re mainly inviting business media. As I told you earlier, it’s a PR event,’

Neeraj said.

‘But you sound concerned. All okay?’

‘Yeah, am fine,’

I said.

‘I just thought I’ll do a little stand-up act. Now with families coming in, I don’t know …’

‘Why? Please do it,’

Neeraj said.

‘It’ll be a hit. We also have a music band performing later. It’ll be a chill evening, trust me. Just come and have fun.’

‘Let me think about it,’

I said, looking out of the window.

‘Wow, Mumbai has changed. What’s that bridge?’

‘That’s the new connector to the coastal road. It can take you to South Mumbai in minutes,’

Neeraj said.

‘Why were you getting so hassled, bro?’

Mudit said to me in the lift as he and I went up to our rooms at the St. Regis.

‘About what?’

‘About the dinner.’

‘What’s with this family-day business they’ve combined the event with?’

‘It’s okay. Our deal is the most high-profile one they’ve ever done. They want to flex a little. Anyway, so what if some families are there? We’re just here to have fun, right?’

‘I’d finally decided to do a small comedy set. Prepared for it also.’

‘So? Do it. Who cares?’

‘You do know who’ll be there, right?’

‘Who?’

Mudit said.

‘Payal’s parents.’

Mudit looked at me and burst out laughing. Even after the lift door opened on the thirtieth floor and both of us walked down the corridor towards our adjacent rooms, he continued to laugh.

‘What’s so funny, Mudit?’

‘That you still care about those uptight Ghatkopar people. Gosh, what a night that was no? Ending at the police station. Anyway, so what? Say whatever you want to. Make the most inappropriate jokes.’

‘I can’t. It’s a formal deal-closing dinner anyway.’

‘Dude, you’re the hero of the dinner. You did a multi-billion-dollar deal. They’re just there as guests. Stop getting intimidated by them.’

I sighed.

‘It’s three in the morning,’

Mudit said as we reached our rooms.

‘I’m going to crash. How about you?’

‘I’ll stay up a bit. May have to modify my act.’

‘At this hour?’

‘Yes.’

‘Seriously? For those old fogeys? Why? And who knows, maybe Payal won’t even bring them. You should just sleep, and take it easy.’

‘I can’t. You’re the one who got me into this in the first place.’

‘Watching you nervous is the best comedy. Good night, bro,’

Mudit chuckled as he closed the door on my face.

‘Cake? What’s this? A birthday party?’

I said to Mudit.

‘Everything is to create visuals for the media. Helps with PR, you see,’

Mudit said.

We stood in the Crayon Club bar area, which had been transformed for the dinner. The bar stools and chairs had all been removed, creating a large, open space. A small stage had been set up for the cake-cutting ceremony. Around fifty guests had already arrived, and more were trickling in.

The mini stage had a backdrop of the Blackwater, CloudX and SecurityNet logos. The cake itself was in the shape of the CloudX and SecurityNet logos, fused into one.

‘Congratulations again,’

Neeraj said, walking up to us.

Waiters carried trays with glasses filled with champagne. Neeraj passed a glass to Mudit and me.

One of the auditorium doors connected to the bar was open. I could see the seats and the performance stage inside. I would be performing here after more than a decade. My heart began to beat fast.

‘Money reached the bank?’

Neeraj said, clinking his glass against mine.

‘It did,’

I said.

‘Three days ago. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’

Neeraj said.

We were still talking when I noticed Payal arrive. She wore a navy-blue fitted dress with a white-gold necklace and matching earrings. She looked feminine yet formal at the same time. She stopped at the entrance and looked back, as if waiting for someone. A second later, her parents joined her as well. They looked considerably older, although just as uptight. I watched as they refused the various snacks the waiters offered them. Nothing Jain-friendly, you see.

Good, let them go home hungry.

I shifted a little, wanting to avoid making eye contact with Payal, and particularly her parents. Keeping my back towards the Jains, I forced myself to engage in a boring conversation with Neeraj about India’s expected GDP growth rate and its impact on cloud server space demand.

‘Hi Saket,’

Payal said, startling me as she came up behind me.

‘Oh hey, hi,’

I said, turning around.

‘Mom, Dad, this is Saket. He founded SecurityNet, the company CloudX just bought,’

Payal said, reintroducing me to her parents.

Her parents looked dumbfounded.

Okay, she hadn’t told them I would be here. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have come.

‘Hello,’

Payal’s father said in a meek, mouse-like voice.

Payal’s mother just did a namaste.

‘That’s Mudit. And you’ve met Neeraj, my boss, before,’

Payal said to her parents.

‘The way Payal is cracking deals, Mr Jain, she’ll soon be my boss,’

Neeraj said and laughed at his own joke.

Payal’s parents didn’t react. They seemed to be in complete shock, wondering what to do next. Neither the food, nor the people, were to their liking. Yet, it was their daughter’s workplace event.

‘Remember me, Uncle? We met once, at your house. Outside your house, rather,’

Mudit said, with the sole intention of needling Payal’s father.

‘Hello, Mudit,’

Payal’s father said, his voice subdued.

‘You guys know each other?’

Neeraj said.

‘Not really,’

I said quickly to ride over the awkwardness.

‘Well, Mr and Mrs Jain, Saket Khurana is the man of the night. He’s the founder of the company we just bought, for three and a half billion dollars.’

I hate showing off. However, that flabbergasted look on Payal’s parents’

faces made my day. It made all the hard work that had gone into creating SecurityNet worth it.

‘Congratulations,’

Anand said, coughing a little.

‘Did you eat anything?’

Neeraj said to Payal’s parents.

‘They are Jain. We’ll need some special snacks for them,’ I said.

Payal’s father looked at me, surprised.

‘I’ll go arrange that,’

Neeraj said.

‘Meanwhile, Mudit and Saket, can you guys make your way to the stage, please? Let’s cut the cake.’

‘Relax, bro,’

Mudit said.

‘You’re palpitating over a seven-minute act? You just sold a multi-billion-dollar company.’

I took deep breaths. Mudit and I were backstage, in the tiny area where I’d waited a hundred times during my stand-up days. I peeped out. The small auditorium was filling up with people.

We had finished all the formalities. We had cut the cake, made a toast, done a few media interviews and taken group photographs with the senior management of Blackwater, CloudX and SecurityNet. After that, Neeraj had asked everyone to move to the auditorium fo.

‘the founder of SecurityNet to showcase his other hidden talent—stand-up comedy’. Except that my ‘hidden talent’

had rusted.

‘Bro, now it’s just for fun. It’s not your career anymore,’

Mudit said.

‘It’s a flex. A unicorn founder doing stand-up comedy. The media will love it. You’ll get famous.’

‘I don’t want to be famous.’

‘Too late for that,’

Mudit said.

‘All the business papers will carry your picture tomorrow.’

‘Oh dear.’

I exhaled.

‘Kill it,’

said Mudit.

As I walked onto the stage, the crowd burst into applause.

The spotlight shone in my eyes.

A flood of memories came rushing back. My stand-up days, the nervousness before my first act and the noise my heart made. For a moment, it felt like another Saturday night from twelve years ago.

I scanned the crowd.

Blackwater employees sat with their families, mostly their spouses or parents, and some teenage kids.

A few people from CloudX and SecurityNet were there as well. I spotted Payal sitting in the fourth row, along with her parents.

‘Hello everyone, how’s it going?’ I said.

‘Great,’

two young people said in unison from the front row.

‘I’m doing great too. Thanks to you guys at Blackwater and CloudX. You guys sent me so much money, I don’t have to do any real work anymore. That’s why am here, doing comedy,’ I said.

A few people sniggered in the audience.

‘But seriously, my friend Mudit here, he told me, we’re rich now. We must do some rich-people things. I have no idea what rich people do. I asked him, what can we do? And he’s like, let’s go to the spa. So, this morning, the two of us went to the spa, in the St. Regis Hotel, where we’re staying, to get a Kerala Ayurvedic massage. Anybody here who’s done that?’

A few people in the audience raised their hands.

‘I’d never done it before,’

I said.