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His Old Maruti 800
In 99, a small car like Maruti 800 was still a legend. Manpreet’s aunt’s same old car came in handy for him when Sexy Devee, TD Suraj and I drove in his car to the Satyam Technology Center at Badourpally to attend the last day of the annual seminar of our division of roaming. The return journey, in particular, became an unforgettable experience for all of us.
I didn’t want to miss spending a good time in STC it was quite natural for us to be excited, and to be at the seminar – which was well attended by customers and led by our old boss named GG Howdy – where lip. -a smacking lunch was organized at the pool side of the Club House was another icing on the cake of our extraordinary Satyam life.
I clicked many pictures of our customers enjoying snacks by the pool with my Canon SLR Junior camera. (No question of fashionable “selfies” or wasting time on Facebook in those days). When I think of those days now, I can’t help but be completely overwhelmed by the kind of dedication we brought to our work and the sense of great bonhomie we had.
Customers were happy and optimistic about the type of computing we provided; they made sure they recognized it at the annual seminar we held at our Satyam Club House, a specialty retreat for IT professionals to meet, talk business and have fun. It was all such a great deal! Satyam offered them everything from scratch service to finishing. A finished product, with all its essential delights, is what customers always love to talk about and appreciate. We were all one big happy house of professionals partaking in a delicious meal here on the well-mown green lawns.
Driving my Manpreet, the little trophy of a car was his best travel companion. He evidently enjoyed driving his car back to town that day along the old beaten and neglected highway. As we got closer to the signal point at the 8-point intersection near the old airport terminal, he hit the brake pedal so hard and the sound that came from the hot tires below gave to all one of us in the car a vicious jolt and we toss forward and then back like Daisies on a wind! I was sitting in the front with Manpreet behind the wheel and TD Suraj and Sexy Devee were in the back, with our hearts in our mouths! After we hit a stop, tires screeching and rubber burning, Manpreet looked at us one by one and said: “Which one?” before maliciously adding, “Kaisa laga?” His smile like a Laughing Buddha flashed across his face which majestically widened to expose his well-arranged oral piano, his ivory teeth, all shining together!
I quickly turned to look at Sexy Devee and TD Suraj and saw them both laughing at the glory! I couldn’t resist giggling like a child either.
Pillion Rider for the first time!
Obviously, he was comfortably sitting on his big bum and he felt very funny about himself. He was a good sport no doubt. I, in turn, found it very difficult to control my silly amusement at seeing him flounder in sheer discomfort and fought very hard not to burst out laughing! It somehow controlled me.
My bike was not moving forward. It wouldn’t move at all; the engine cried out in an almighty growl as if traumatized by this sudden enormous overload on its back; the unexpected misery of it! I was shocked at the unfolding scene thinking: why doesn’t the bike move? If Manpreet stops making fun of himself and stops being shaky and all then maybe we can make a move. And thank God I was still able to stifle my laughter in my equally frightened pair of lungs. We knew we were late for the movie!
Manpreet’s broad abdomen atop his powerful legs spread eagle on the passenger seat kept me totally amused! It was very troublesome for him to adjust and readjust himself in the small stretched seat of my Splendor. But, luckily, nothing seemed to bother me anymore once he found himself perched on my bike in a state of delightful debauchery. He soon settled into the back seat as a colossal pygmy with a brown pugree he often wore to the office draped around his head. I thought it would be really funny if someone took a picture of the two of us riding down the Raj Bhavan Road without a care in the world!
I knew that his misfortune was not going to deter him in any way from enjoying the ride up to Skyline. On the contrary, I had to be extra cautious riding the two of us folks; giving a wide berth whenever possible to the sudden movement of traffic on the roads as we merrily made our way through the 5 point crossing via Raj Bhavan road. It was so much fun. We passed the Nizam’s Club on the left and were on the approach road to the Stadium on the right and taking a fast road that was next to an under-construction flyover we reached the famous Skyline cinema where the new English. movies were a staple. Thanks to Manpreet and my riding skills, the journey so far has been really fun. I knew that one day I would count this outing like those sets of memories that can never be forgotten.
It was the first and only time we went to a movie together during our long and wonderful years of working in one of the unforgettable and truly great branches of Satyam’s office: Tesser Tower.
A good memory
Skyline is not very far from the place where Arinvan had first met his lucky mascot Shruti T., his charming person from his college years. A little far from the place where he came to watch a movie with his colleague Manpreet is where he had his short but precious dining experience with Shruti and her friend at the acclaimed Alex’s Kitchen.
Alex’s Kitchen, the place was never forgotten after the first and only fascinating meeting that Shruti and I ever had. Forgotten in the sense that I never again felt able to dine there nor did I tell anyone about our little rendezvous, after she left. Never before, never after, but until now. That little paradise of a place had been sanctified to the dazzling memory of Arinvan’s love with Shruti. To speak of her to anyone, as Arinvan had believed, would have spoiled the sanctity of the one memory he still had of her. He was very special – his voice, his smile, his eyes, his laugh that I had heard on the phone was special. He didn’t want to share his love story with anyone; it may be that it was the only way he wanted to keep himself private from any unwanted scrutiny. During those days, she was everything Arinvan had dreamed of her to be. He nurtured Shruti in his heart like a precious gem lest anyone steal it from him. And these days, his voice still rings in his ears and those old sepia memories come flooding back ever so often.
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