Devil in Pinstripes (2 page)

A
nervous twenty something was pacing up and down the corridor, outside lecture room number four, waiting for his turn. Dressed in a two-piece Louis Philippe suit, a Zodiac tie and impeccably polished shoes, he was looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable . . . a bit stiff and uptight as he went about his motions. Every three minutes, his hands would make their way down to the belt, hold them and pull up his ill-fitting trousers. His hands would then squeeze the lower portions of the shirt which would have made their way out of the clasp of the elastic on the trouser, and tuck them in firmly. A cursory walk past the reflective pillar, where he would strain his eyes a bit to see his reflection was next, after which, he would adjust his coat sleeve and tie length. This process would be repeated every few minutes. Clearly, he was not used to wearing formals too often, and this was made even more obvious by the oversized coat which seemed straight off the shelves.

He was going through one of those drills when a stern looking gentleman walked out of the lecture room and announced, ‘Amit Sharma. PGP–II, Roll No. 3’. When he heard his name being announced, Amit rushed towards the lecture room. His heart was pounding. A few fellow humans whispered ‘Best of luck’ into his ears, but he couldn’t hear them. He was too focused on what was going to come. He was finally standing next to the door . . . the door that would lead him to where he wanted to be. He pushed the door, and it creaked open. Taking a deep breath, he walked in.

‘Good morning gentlemen,’ he greeted the four men seated in the room. He had come across three of them earlier during the day. And now there was this fourth one. The moment he saw him, he felt charged. A feeling of elation took over. Wasn’t he the reason why he was there in the room, in front of all of them?

‘Good morning Amit,’ said one of them, ‘Welcome back.’ This was the third and final round of interviews for a management trainee’s (MT) position at New York International Bank. From an initial lot of 124 aspirants they had short-listed nine candidates and were rumoured to be closing out five MTs from IIM Bangalore.

‘Please take your seat.’ Amit was waiting for instructions before he sat down on the chair placed on his side of the table, facing the panel. A few pleasantries were exchanged.

‘Okay young man, I just have one question to ask of you.’ This time, it was the fourth person in the room who had spoken. ‘From your responses to the personality test questions, I can make out that you have strong views on almost everything – which is good, but doesn’t always work.’

‘It has worked for me thus far sir. I take my own time in forming an opinion, but once I form an opinion I have strong views and conviction about them.’

‘Good. Then let me ask you your view on the Indian government’s response to the Babri Masjid crisis. If you were the prime minister of India during the Babri Masjid crisis, what would you have done?’ and then he paused. ‘Take your time. Think through before you answer.’

Amit looked at him, admiration filling his eyes. He was a bit overawed by his presence. Aditya Bhatnagar was the reason why he aspired to be a part of New York International Bank (NYIB). Attending Aditya’s passionate pitch at the pre-placement talk had inspired him so much, that he had made up his mind the same night.
This was the place he wanted to be. Nowhere else. Any other organisation would be a compromise.

And here he was! After clearing the group discussion and three rounds of interviews, he was now in front of the final hurdle. The finishing line was in sight. He had to now breast the tape. In front of him was his idol, Aditya Bhatnagar, the new country head of retail banking for NYB. In banking circles, he was discussed as the biggest thing to have ever happened to retail banking.

‘Sir,’ he began.

‘Call me Aditya.’

‘Aditya, I am an extremely God-fearing and religious person. However, I believe in religious tolerance too. Humans should not play around with history or try to play God. The unfortunate incidents which took place in the case of Babri Masjid, were not because of religious activism or lack of tolerance. It was an act of a few Hindu fundamentalists and our then Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao just let that be. It happened because of inaction on the part of the government. . . . In life, success is about taking the right decisions and putting in a concerted effort at making it work for you. P.V.N. Rao just failed to take a decision – right or wrong comes much later. I would have taken a decision and converted the monument to an all community prayer home and forcefully executed the same. There would have been some hue and cry about it . . . but public memory is short-lived. The matter would have died down and peace would have reigned.

We are all aware of the rioting that followed. The entire nation was gripped by communal tension. Loss of life, property and more importantly, communal disharmony – all this could have been avoided if one person had acted decisively. If I was him, I would have acted and acted swiftly in the interest of the nation.’ He spoke passionately like a man possessed. He looked straight at the panel and not for a moment did he move his gaze away from them. There was a gleam in his eyes. A shine, a shimmer that arises when your eyes are moist . . . moist with tears which well up when you feel passionately about something. It was clear. He was not faking it. Every word of what he spoke came straight from his heart. He went on for another three minutes, outlining in detail the plan for what he stood for. And when he finished, there was silence in the room. The silence lasted for a while, till Aditya stood up, put his hands together and started clapping. Everyone else followed Aditya.

Aditya walked up to him and held out his hand. ‘Well said Amit! Well said!’

Amit too held out his hand, a bit nervous. He felt he had overstretched his brief, but it didn’t seem so. Aditya looked at others in the room, and then swung his gaze back towards Amit. ‘I am sure everybody here agrees that we need young passionate people like you in our team.’ All the others nodded in unison.

‘Welcome to NYB. I am quite happy to confirm that you have made it to our final list. I look forward to working with you young man,’ and he held out his hand once again. Unaware of his own movements, Amit robotically lifted his hand and held it out for Aditya to complete the shake. The others in the room stood up and a chorus of congratulations filled the air. Amit didn’t realise till after a few minutes, that he was the only person in the room who was still seated and hurriedly stood up.

A few pleasantries later, he walked out of the room an elated and proud man. He was all set to join NYB as a management trainee and oh boy! Wasn’t he proud?

Once out of the room, he did not go back to the hostel. He called Paresh, his roommate and both of them headed to the Meenakshi Sundareshwarar temple, a few kilometres from the IIM Bangalore campus, on the outskirts of the city. He wanted to thank God, for he believed that God had a huge role to play in getting him through to NYB. And what did Aditya end up asking him in the final interview . . . a question on God! It surely was result of a divine intervention.

On the way back, he stopped at the phone booth outside campus and called home. His parents were in Jamshedpur, where his father worked with Tata Steel. Though they belonged to Delhi, Amit’s formative years were all spent in Jamshedpur. If there was any place he could call home, it was the steel city – Jamshedpur.

After conveying the exciting news to his parents, he stepped out of the PCO, and looked up at the sky. His right hand instinctively went up to his chest. ‘Thanks Dad. For just being there for me.’ He traced his steps back to the hostel, stopping en route at the placement office to collect his appointment letter from NYB.

‘Hey Amit! Where have you been? We were hunting for you all over the place.’ It was Naveen, the placement coordinator for his batch, who called out for him when he was heading back to the hostel. Amit looked at him, a look that conveyed a thousand questions.

‘Anderson has short listed you for their final interview. They want to see you in another fifteen minutes. Good that I found you. Just freshen up and rush to Room 4.’

‘Can I avoid?’

‘Are you kidding?’

‘No. I don’t want to go to Anderson. I have decided to stick with the NYB offer.’

‘Have you seen the package? Anderson is offering 5.5 lakh. NYB’s at 3.75 lakh p.a.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why?’

‘You will never understand. Please decline Anderson,’ and he walked away without waiting to hear Naveen’s response.

‘They don’t have Aditya Bhatnagar,’ he said to himself as he walked back to the hostel. A new life was about to take shape for him.