Short Story - I

HR people have the toughest job nowadays. With the economy bouncing back, attrition rates are expected to rise. Retaining your employees in such a scenario is an arduous task. Recently, my employers have organised a story-writing competition targeted towards this objective.

This is a short story that I submitted based on the picture theme. Only three people outside my organisation have read it and their response was that it is too esoteric. Surprisingly, it got selected and now I have to submit another story which is also to be narrated.

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Theme: I interpreted the theme as the flame which is the closest blinds us to those which burn equally (if not more) brightly but are farther. I have tried to relate this perceptive phenomenon to the cerebral one. In our quotidian exchanges, we tend to overlook the brilliance of those who aren’t close to us in favour of familiar faces. Although such indulgences are fine and dandy in our personal life, it is imperative that as a professional we are objective, delimited and inclusive.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Road Not Taken

“There comes a time in the life of every nation when it stands at the cross-roads of history and must choose which way to go” – Lal Bahadur Shastri

27 December, 2010. 12:45 p.m.

“We picked wrong” said the guttural voice over the phone.

“The other one wouldn’t have listened to us” the woman replied.

“Bah! Admit it. You’re out of your depth.”

“I’ll prevail as always.”

“I’ve been asked to testify against you and I intend to. Unless you have something for me….”

“You’ve always made me laugh. Testify if you want to. But remember, if I’m acquitted, you’d be hearing from me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a caution” she answered menacingly.

“How did we end up in this mess….” he wondered.

19 January, 2006. 2:00 a.m.

The occupant of the sedan was as nondescript as his ride. Having seen a multitude of movies where chauffeurs turned against their employees, he preferred to drive himself. The woman whose services he wished to engage came highly recommended in matters of such urgency.

A lesser man might have been intimidated by her mansion, but he was unimpressed. Such garish display of wealth was for the benefit of corporate big shots. Politics, he liked to believe, was a subtler process where patience held as much water as acumen.

An elderly butler showed him to the office, where seated behind a grand mahogany desk, was the woman who would determine the future of the nation. Though not beautiful, she had a magnetic personality that could have persuaded Bhishma to break his vow. From her expression, it seemed his visit was expected.

“Who?”

The abruptness of the enquiry took him aback.

After recollecting his thoughts, he replied “The son.”

“No” she snapped irreverently.

“He has the sympathy of the electorate.”

“He reads Nietzsche and quotes Beckett.”

“So?”

“He’s a philosopher, not a politician. Do you really want a leader who believes God is dead and thinks there is nothing to do but wait for the end?”

“Who then?”

“The Foreign Minister”

“He’s hardly been in the country since taking oath. I don’t trust him.”

“He’ll do our bidding. That’s all you care for.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s my job.”

“What about the step-daughter?”

“She’s an imbecile sycophant. Besides I have other plans for her.”

“What?”

“We pitch her against the minister. Dynastic politics are passé. The family is divided over her. The people would think of her as a sympathy piranha. She will lose and our guy will be in office, empowered with the trust of the voters.”

“Who’d convince her to run?”

She flashed him knowing smile and he immediately regretted asking.

7 July, 2009. 4:00 p.m.

“He’s gone rogue. Abusing the power of his office! I’ll not have it.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll not step outside the law. I have him under control.”

“The funds belong to the country, not you or him. Stop him while you can.”

“You are as much a part of this as I!”

“And not a day goes by that I regret it.”

4 May, 2011. 10:00 a.m.

“It’s over. He’s been impeached. I’m putting her in office.”

“The people would never support your dynastic….” she started coldly.

“This has nothing to do with dynasties or my methods. She’s perfect. You’ve always known that. She won’t bend to anyone’s will and govern with an iron-fist.” he said, cutting her off.

“She’ll be hearing about our deal.”

“She already knows. I have her forgiveness. You should pray for it.”

“You double-crossing old fool. How dare you?!!!”

“Don’t be melodramatic. This is MY job.”