Written in the Stars Read online

  At the end of the last round, our team was tied with The Sherlock Homies and we were going into a tiebreak. Each team had to nominate one person to answer the question. My team sent me because I was the most sober, and could actually frame a response. The rest of them were wasted and could barely string together coherent sentences, leave alone comprehend a question. I sat down at the front of the makeshift stage, and George handed me a mic. The Sherlock Homies sent Oscar who ambled over and took the seat opposite me.

  ‘OK, here’s how this will work. You each have a buzzer. I will read out the question; whoever presses the buzzer first and gets the right answer wins,’ said George. ‘If it’s another tie, I’ll ask another question.’

  We tested our buzzers, and got ready.

  ‘To win today’s Thirsty Thursday Trivia, here’s a literature question . . . ’

  I held my breath. This was too good to be true. I had a winning streak with literature tiebreak questions.

  ‘Much of this book written in the 1980s consists of letters written by a character to God . . . . ’ George began. ‘It . . . ’

  BUZZ!

  I pressed the buzzer hard, nearly jumping out of my seat.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I confidently announced, ‘Are You There God? It’s me, Margaret by Judy Blume.’

  ‘That’s the wrong answer. I’ll now complete the question for the benefit of the other team. It won a Pulitzer Prize . . . ’

  BUZZ!

  Oh bloody hell.

  I watched miserably as Oscar picked up his mic. Now that George had mentioned the Pulitzer, I knew he would get this.

  He looked directly at me, grinned, and said, ‘The Colour Purple by Alice Walker.’ The pub erupted into hoots and cheers.

  ‘Of course, you’d be extremely remiss if you didn’t thank the lady for jumping the gun on the buzzer,’ George said, rubbing salt into my very large and extremely raw wound.

  ‘Are you there, God? Whiskeypedia needs you,’ Oscar heckled as the pub erupted into laughter at my expense for the second time that day.

  I hated the guy. He had made me the laughing stock, again. Of course, it was my fault for giving away the opportunity but there was no need for him to rub it in.

  What a dick! I thought as frustrated tears pricked my eyes.

  Suddenly, all the laughter and the buzzing in the pub stopped. The pub was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. I looked up and saw Oscar looking as though he had been punched squarely in the gut.

  Or worse.

  I looked around the room. Every single person was frozen. It was like looking at a sea of shocked statues. At The Sherlock Homies table, Zaina’s eyes were shooting daggers at me. Arnav was staring with his mouth open. Even the garrulous George seemed to be at a loss for words.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I had just accidentally called him a dick out loud.

  And my mic was on.

  I was mortified. I wished that the earth would open up so I could bury myself within and disappear. Of all the idiotic things I had done in my life, this was possibly the worst.

  ‘I didn’t mean . . . ’ I began as he walked away.

  George quickly began announcing the results. The Sherlock Homies went up to receive the voucher for their free drinks and pizza. As everyone began to leave, I ran outside to find Oscar and apologize. He was standing by the door, waving at an approaching Uber.

  ‘Hey,’ I started. ‘I’m really sorry about what I said. It’s . . . ’

  ‘This is what happens when someone whose head is stuck in the toilet is handed a mic,’ he said as he got into the cab and shut the door on my face.

  I stared.

  I was right.

  He really was a dick.

  2

  Venus Goes into Retrograde

  ‘Are you there, God? It’s me, Sitara,’ Shirin teased as I entered our bay the next morning.

  I ignored her as I walked to my desk. I placed my bag on the floor and raised my desk to standing level. I plugged in my laptop, hopped on my raised chair and started to check my email. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Starbucks coffee cup on my desk, with ‘STARA’ scrawled on it. I looked up to see Shirin grinning at me, with a second cup that said ‘SREEN’ in her hand. She’d brought me a chocolate macchiato with mint syrup. About a year ago, we’d discovered that convincing the baristas at Starbucks to substitute chocolate for caramel in a caramel macchiato and adding mint syrup created a drink that tasted a lot like our favourite mint chocolate cookies. Upasana insisted that we were drinking toothpaste. But what did she know about our elevated palettes? I picked up Shirin’s peace offering and took a sip.

  ‘You have to talk to Harsh about your promotion today,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe . . . this afternoon, I’m doing a demo of Project Nightshade . . . ’

  ‘Is that the one that lets you match the lipstick shade to your skin tone? I can’t wait for it!’

  ‘Yeah, so, once the demo is done, I’m going to tell him that if he wants this launched, he better make sure I’m promoted. He’s been stringing me along for the past three cycles and I’m done waiting.’

  ‘It’s long overdue! Just make sure you don’t bomb the demo. Remember Harsh almost shut down your last project when he saw a page full of tampons . . . ’

  ‘Is it my fault that creep spends all day browsing through the lingerie section of the app? He got the exact recommendation his browsing behaviour should get. Anyway, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve now “fixed” the results for his profile,’ I winked.

  ‘Nice! Have you figured out what to say when he whines that we’re running out of money?’

  ‘I’ll gently remind him that itne paise main itna ich milega,’ I replied, using my best Bambaiyya accent as she giggled.

  ‘Still, expect he’ll say we can’t afford raises or promotions. That’s always the first line of defence from our bosses,’ she grinned.

  Shirin, Upasana and I worked for Glam, an online retailer for beauty, fashion and wellness products. Shirin was a data analyst, which made her our official data beautician. She could make data look so good that the rest of us could prove that anything we were about to launch would change the trajectory of the business. I was a product manager, which meant I was supposed to create a magical unicorn of an app that solved every beauty need arising from the random thoughts that my upper management, a group of clueless men, threw at me every day. Six years ago, as a fresh-faced business school graduate, I picked this start-up thinking this gig would help me create a trailblazing career. Now, after spending six years launching new features, including world-changing solutions to pick lipstick shades, it was time I was promoted. After all, success in the corporate world didn’t come from actually doing things, it came from being the ‘strategy’ person. My boss, Harsh, had been dangling this carrot under my nose for the past two years with no results. This time, I was determined to make it happen.

  ‘Good morning, Ms Srinivasan, Ms Wadia,’ said Ash, as he passed by our bay on his way to his office. Ash Bakshi was Glam’s business head, which meant both our bosses reported to him. He was known for being a business whiz; he’d worked at a Silicon Valley unicorn, a company valued at 1 billion dollars, before the venture capitalists convinced him to move to India. Like many US-returns, he had a weird twang, and the tendency to refer to himself with an abbreviated first name.

  Our team had a long-time bet going to find out what ‘Ash’ stood for. There was no way that was his name, especially since he was from a small town. So far, our money was on Ashwin, but we hadn’t managed to find any sources to confirm it. We had even tried bribing the admin assistants to find out what name he used in his official paperwork but everything from his passport to his Aadhar card only had the mysterious moniker, Ash.

  He had a terrible temper, the after-effects of which trickled downwards. We spent our time trying to gauge his mood as that defined our bosses’ behaviour for the day. Luckily, a good morning wish that included our surnames was one
of the signs of a good day.

  ‘You’re in luck,’ Shirin trilled, echoing my thoughts. I grinned and got to work.

  ‘And here’s the perfect shade for me, MAC’s O,’ I said, as I wrapped up my presentation.

  Our demo had gone well. Things had worked exactly as they were supposed to. I congratulated myself for creating a perfect script and bribing the engineering team with beer so they ‘fixed’ all the bugs. Whenever Harsh had brought up a tangential question, I had made sure to guide the conversation back to the specific paths we wanted to demonstrate.

  I had demonstrated the new feature by taking a photo of my hand, which I had uploaded on to the app. Once I’d done that, the app had recommended this particular shade as it suited my skin tone the best.

  ‘This is amazing,’ said Harsh. ‘Fantastic recommendation!’

  I grinned. I knew that making our algorithms prioritize a brand like MAC during the demo was the right call. Harsh was glad that we were recommending a lipstick at the premium price point. He believed that recommending luxury brands would ensure that our customers spent more money on Glam. He had no clue that I secretly thought this particular colour looked ghastly on me, and would’ve preferred the original recommendation, Scarlet Drill by Lakme, instead.

  ‘Sridhar, let’s launch this ASAP,’ he said addressing our chief technology officer (CTO), who looked positively delighted. ‘Sitara, get this added to the dashboard for our weekly business review with Ash,’ he added.

  He left the meeting room and headed to his office. I followed him. He looked startled when I entered, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Harsh, I wanted to chat . . . ’ I began.

  ‘Make it quick, I only have fifteen minutes till my next meeting,’ he said.

  That tiny opening was enough. Immediately, I launched into my prepared speech without giving him a moment to get a word in edgewise.

  ‘As you know, I’m a key member of the team. I’ve been part of the app redesign and I’ve since launched multiple features, including the one we just demoed. My launches have resulted in a two-fold increase in acquisitions as well as driven customer engagement. It’s time we discussed a promotion,’ I said.

  Harsh sat with his eyes closed, hunched over his desk, massaging his temples. This was his ‘thinking’ stance. I waited. Just as I was wondering if I’d have to say something more, he looked up.

  ‘Do you know what’s going on with the company?’ He continued to press his temples as if I were giving him a headache.

  I knew he was going to talk about how the business was strapped for cash, and how it was nearly impossible to manage raises. But this time, I was prepared.

  ‘Harsh, we’re fine. The last quarter results were in line with investor expectations. Besides, at this point in my career, I need to see growth. Otherwise, I’ll have to make some hard career decisions.’

  ‘Sitara, everyone knows that we got great results last quarter because we ran our end-of-season sale . . . ’

  Of course, I thought angrily. If things go well, it’s because of the end-of-season sale. If they don’t, then it’s all my fault. These jackasses will never, ever give us any credit!

  ‘ . . . and we’ve seen a steady decline in revenues since then,’ he continued. ‘We are number two in our category and have been at that position for three months. None of your launches have changed our market share. If you want a promotion, come up with an idea that will take us to number one in the two months. If not, forget being promoted, you and I will both be out of jobs because our investors will recommend layoffs as we will be running out of money.’

  ‘But Harsh, this lipstick matching . . . ’ I began, determined to argue this one out.

  ‘Isn’t the launch that will get you promoted,’ he summed up. ‘If you want to be a senior leader, think like one. Give me a launch that takes us to number one and keeps us there. Then we’ll talk.’

  I was seething. Harsh had never launched anything in the five years I’d known him. He was clearly counting on me to come up with something that he would present to Ash, and use to his own advantage.

  ‘Harsh . . . ’ I began.

  ‘I’m late for my next meeting,’ he said as he walked to the door.

  Our conversation was over.

  I was in a foul mood when I got to the cafeteria. Even the fact that my friends were sitting at a table in the open-air section, which I normally loved, didn’t cheer me up.

  ‘It went nowhere,’ I announced, slamming my plate on the table.

  ‘Did he say Glam is running out of cash?’ asked Upasana, as she took a mouthful of her salad. ‘When will they realize that we’ve all worked here long enough to see the pattern of evasion they practise every year.’

  ‘Things have escalated. Apparently, the investors are putting a lot of pressure because we’ve been stuck at number two. Harsh wants an idea that’ll take us to number one within two months, to stop mass layoffs.’

  ‘Sounds like a case for his promotion,’ replied Upasana. ‘And what is this new story . . . ’

  ‘Actually,’ Shirin cut in, ‘when Ash last spoke with the investors, they gave him an ultimatum. We need to get our numbers up, otherwise they said they’ll take a hard look at costs because we’re close to running out of money.’

  Upasana and I lapsed into silence. Shirin had a prime seat right outside Ash’s office. It was a great location because Ash was loud. Consequently, Shirin always knew what was going on. If she said there was a chance our company could get shut down, she was right. I realized that Harsh was serious.

  I was about to ask Shirin if she’d overheard anything about appraisals, when I saw Dhruv and his ever-present shadow Aakash walk up to our table. Aakash was the slimiest member of Harsh’s team and Dhruv was in marketing like Upasana. I subtly checked to make sure my hair and clothes were in place. I was wearing an off-white dress, which meant the chances of my having spilled some food on myself were high. Just last week I’d managed to get chocolate on the sleeves of my salmon pink shirt, and while I had convinced myself it was inconspicuous, that slimeball Aakash had drawn everyone’s attention to it. I’ve had a crush on Dhruv for a while, and I didn’t want him to realize what a klutz I was.

  ‘What are you ladies discussing?’ Aakash said, as he and Dhruv pulled up chairs. I groaned mentally. I didn’t want to tell them what we were talking about.

  Shirin opened her mouth and I kicked her under the table, hoping to stop her. She grimaced but didn’t get the message and ploughed on thoughtlessly.

  ‘Appraisals,’ she said. ‘Have you guys had the talk yet?’

  ‘You know Harsh. Hasn’t brought it up,’ said Aakash.

  ‘He won’t,’ said Dhruv. ‘You’ll have to, if you want it. Like I am. It’s almost in the bag.’

  ‘Really?’ I said.

  ‘This one has been Ash’s go-to guy in marketing since Azhar left,’ said Aakash knowingly. ‘He’s got Ash wrapped around his little finger.’

  ‘Yeah, and the big boss didn’t say no when I hinted that I’m ready,’ said Dhruv smugly.

  ‘He didn’t say yes either . . . ’ Shirin pointed out.

  ‘With Ash, not saying no is a big deal. That’s his favourite word and his first response to any question,’ laughed Dhruv as everyone joined in.

  I laughed along but my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was racing. Was Dhruv going to beat me to a promotion?

  ‘So, Dhruv and Sitara are in the running,’ said Upasana.

  ‘Are you?’ Dhruv said, smiling at me.

  ‘I’ve started sowing the seeds . . . ’ I said.

  ‘You know only one of you can get it, right?’ Aakash interjected. ‘Harsh told me that Ash said only the top-rated performer at every level will get a promotion. So there’s no way both of you can get it.’

  ‘Sitara is tough competition,’ Dhruv said with a wide grin. The grin threw me off. I expected trash talk, but instead he was being weirdly nice. I could feel the blood rush to my face as I wondered what
he was hinting at.

  ‘Yeah, my money’s on Sitara,’ said Shirin confidently.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. The last launch would’ve gone nowhere without that clutter-breaking marketing campaign,’ Aakash argued on Dhruv’s behalf.

  ‘As though products don’t matter, and marketing will sell anything,’ Shirin said hotly.

  ‘Please! If it wasn’t for marketing, people wouldn’t even know about half of the features on Glam!’

  As our friends bickered over who was likely to get the promotion, I decided it was time to change the subject.

  ‘How come you guys are eating outside?’ I asked. Aakash and Dhruv didn’t usually sit in this section of the cafeteria. I suspected that Aakash didn’t like sitting outdoors because the slightest wind could mess up his hair, which was held up in gravity-defying spikes with what appeared to be one kilo of gel.

  ‘It’s match day,’ Dhruv said, gesturing to the giant projector that was set up on one side of the terrace. I had been so wrapped up in thoughts of my discussion with Harsh that I hadn’t noticed that the projector was set to Star Sports.

  ‘Oh God,’ Upasana groaned. ‘Do we really have to watch this match?’

  ‘Come on, where’s your sense of pride?’ Aakash asked. ‘It’s India vs England and we’re likely to win!’

  He stood up and walked towards the projector. Dhruv followed. They were soon joined by a group of people, all of whom were peering at the screen as if something earth- shattering were about to take place. There was a lot of posturing and preening, and some people were giving long speeches with a knowledgeable air. I disliked cricket with a passion, so I focused on my food.

  ‘Do you think Dhruv has really managed to convince Ash about his promotion?’ I asked my friends but I was cut off by a loud cheer.

  I looked up, annoyed. Couldn’t these people watch their match without yelling and disturbing everyone else?

  The projector was displaying the cricket pitch in all its bright green glory as the commentators chit-chatted. Just as I decided it was time to leave the cafeteria, Aakash and Dhruv ambled back to the table. They ended up sitting on either side of me, effectively boxing me in on the long bench. I had no way to leave without asking them to get up.