Well, I got the job ... A new job. I am now the assistant of the one, the only Omkara Singh Oberoi. The artist. I know he is an artist. Internet Chachi says he does paintings and carvings and sculptures but I have not looked into much of his work ... As a person I really like art and artefacts and I have an artistic instinct also but I don't have much knowledge about Omkara. I am assuming the agency feels I can handle the incredibly mind-wobbling responsibility of this job: keep a check that he wakes up on time in the morning, make him coffee, pick up his dry-cleaning, and, more importantly, pay his bills and run his errands. I feel he needs a wife more than an assistant but anyway you can envy me now, girls!
This is by no means my dream job. I was hoping to become a designer. I want my career to be based in Mumbai because this city has immense potential just like me, but instead of doing menial work for an artist I absolutely do not know, I was hoping to sketch my thoughts, to sew my thoughts and accessorize them as well. It is my dream to design Indian wear for the international runway, whether it be something casual like Kurtis, something comfortable like salwar kameez ... something all rounder like Sarees and something celebrated like lehengas ... I have studied for it too and have had a bachelor's degree for a year now, but I have not been able to find a job in that field.
My friend, Vrinda, was the one who told me about this job. Well I have an idea how she knew about an opening for the artist's assistant. She is a huge Omkara fan well she says his fandom has given him many names like ArtistKara and ZulfiKara. Vrinda talking about Mr. Omkara in such a way actually made me interested in this job opportunity. She insisted that I should send a rsum to the agency. Trust me if she would not have had her work and home to take care of ... she would have bribed the agency people to make her what she is apparently calling SecretaryKara. Well I gave it a shot and after several interviews I got hired.
I am tired of doing jobs that do not appeal to me. Ever since I graduated from the university, I have had one dull job after another and no choice along with it. From where I have come and to where I am going ... I know I am living in this expensive place like Mumbai away from my mom in Bareilly ... I had to take care of my own self ... I had to be independent. I did a part time service on the Mc Donalds counter during my college days after and because of which I became the receptionist in a five star hotel, I was the librarian in the library located near the market , then a customer service representative for a teleshopping channel and now, Omkara Singh Oberoi's assistant. At least this new job sounds a bit more interesting than the previous ones. Nevertheless, it is not good enough. I know that I am more than good enough for these jobs ... and I also know that I deserve better.
I guess I should be excited about meeting Omkara. But right now the most exciting part of my life is that I am watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S ! There is Ross and Rachel and Monica for Chandler and Joey and Phoebe too ... its my favorite show and I love all the characters but MonDler is my favorite ... Sometimes I feel that even I am living with them ... like I am baking some cookies with Monica when Joey is preparing for a new role and Chandler almost broke the new tea set , the pieces of which ross compares to a fossil and about Rachel and Phoebe ... they are at work... Perhaps I should have been a cast member, but no, I am not attractive enough. All of the stars of the sitcom are drop-dead gorgeous, by the way.
What I do not understand about the show is that the characters live in unrealistically large apartments that would cost the average person so much of rent a month to live in such a space. In sitcom world, however, a waitress and a secretary and even if anyone gets unemployed ... they could afford it. And about me, even with a job ... I live in a tiny rent-controlled studio apartment in Mumbai that costs seven thousand rupees a monthrent-stabilized, of course. The studio consists of a living room-slash-bedroom, a small kitchen and a bathroom. My living room-slash-bedroom is decorated with a lamps, books, CDs, movies, TV, stereo, and a night table. It's all crammed but I like it that way ... its my own little world.
After making sure I don't have a criminal record, the agency made me take an oath: that I, Gauri Kumari Sharma , will never steal, lie, harm Mr. Oberoi, or sell any information to the press ,the agency insists that celebrities should have trustworthy people working for them. Actually, I was forced to sign a rather legally binding contract. If I break any of the terms and conditions See listed in the aforementioned contract, I would lose my job or possibly go to jail, depending on the crime. You would think that I am going to be working for the Prime Minister of the India or something. I am feeling super awkward for not knowing such an important male living somewhere on the same earth as mine.
I'm going to meet The Artist on Monday. Today is Friday. Girl Friday.
I agreed to meet my friends, Parth and Vrinda tonight at Caf Coffee Day. They can't wait to hear the wonderful news about my new and pseudo-exciting job
.
It's 8:25 p.m. Vrinda and Parth still have not arrived. I'm on my third Latte.
They finally arrive. Vrinda looks as beautiful as always, with her hair tied in a beautiful waterfall braid. She's wearing a nice dress and canvas shoes. Parth is wearing a dark green shirt, tie, and black trousers. He must have just gotten out of work.
"Sorry we are late," Vrinda says while sitting, "but I had to wait for Parth."
The waiter arrives and they both order Coffees and sandwiches.
I have to introduce these two people of my life to you ... All three of us are friends ... and we have been through every stage of friendship together. We used to take the same bus to go to the university and that's how we met. We were students from different faculties but from the same university. We used to sit in the library together, eat our Tiffin's together, drink so many cups of coffee together ... complete each other's assignments and we used to spend the whole nights talking about our families, our lives, our plans and our dreams ... these two became anchors when a girl in the city was struggling to adjust in this fast life. I love them and they love me too.
Vrinda is an english literature graduate and owns an independent bookstore around my neighborhood that she inherited from her father. She gives me books for free, which is why I own hundreds of books. Parth is a tall, wheatish and handsome man who got a placement in some office of the Oberoi industries right after completing his BBA. We are all the same age. But they, unlike me, have successful careers. I sometimes hate them because of this.
"So? Let's hear it!" Parth says.
"I got the job," I say dully.
"You are so lucky," says Vrinda enthusiastically. "You'll be working for Omkara Singh Oberoi. How Fortunate!"
"Fortunate? As if! And yeah, I'm very lucky. I am so lucky. I get to be an artist's maid."
"Lighten up! This could be a great opportunity for you. You become friends with this guy and he might hook you up with some connections," Parth says, switching off his phone.
"I'm not counting on it," I say.
"I agree with Parth. This job will give you an inside look into the life of a person of celebrity status. You can even start learning from him, trust me he is a good man ... you know the Oberoi industries in which I work ... Omkara sir has got a chance to own it but he does not want to because he loves his art ... when you will be with him you can even tell him about your ideas and designs. Sort of like an undercover designer assignment."
"Omkara has not hired a designer ... he has hired an assistant ... I don't want to look stupidly over smart in front of an artist you are continuously chanting praises for." Does parth think I want an under cover designer assignment? I know he is trying to drill some sense in my head but my frustration level is going to reach the stars and I am going to become a moon baby.
"This is how it works Gauri ... Its not just about one degree ... as a professional you have to learn and practice everyday" Parth says matter-of-factly. "And when you meet the right people ... you have got to make effort to make every time the right time and every place the right palce. Always remember that."
This conversation is upsetting me. I thought it would cheer me up to get together with my two best friends. Instead, they are reminding me of how much of a failure I am. I tell them this.
"You're not a failure!" says Parth. "God, you've just finished college. Give it time."
"Gauri, you know we love you, right?" says Vrinda. "We just want to help you, that's all. This job is a big opportunity for you, and if you don't take advantage of this, then you are going to regret it."
"Okay. Whatever. Let's change the subject," I say bitterly. "So Vrinda, how's your boyfriend?
Parth chokes on his Coffee.
"Fine," she mumbles.
"Excuse me?" Parth says with his eyes wide open. "How come neither of you told me about Vrinda having a boyfriend?"
"I thought Vrinda already told you," I lie. Vrinda had made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone. Yeah we three are best friends and we share every little detail of our lives with each other and it was not that Vrinda did not want to tell Parth about it... She wanted to give this new relationship one chance and until then it was supposed to be girl's talk.
Vrinda is silent. She's just sitting there, glaring at me. She's upset. Okay! I know I am a blunder queen and many a times I unknowingly and unintentionally hurt my friends but I feel it is how a human being functions and I have promised myself that I will make it up to Vrinda.
"Hello!" Parth says impatiently. Now he wants to know everything.
I know I messed it up right now. I don't know why I blurted Vrinda's secret. Maybe deep down inside I sometimes become uncomfortable because of the fact that life has been easier for her. She has never had to struggle in life. She has a two storey house which has five bedrooms ... inherited. A bookstore. Inherited. Seven figure bank balance. Inherited. All for herself given to her by her late father. But apart from being the diva that she is ... I know that she is too emotional ... I should leave the caf before she bursts into tears or something. I don't want to see her crying ... that too because of me.
At home, I check my messages on my answering machine. The first message is from my mother; the second one is from my ex-boyfriend, Ajay. Uggh ... This moron still exists.
Gauri, it's me, Ajay. I want to know if you would like to go out with me next Friday to a party. My company's throwing a soiree and I'm supposed to bring a date with me but since I'm not seeing anybody . . . I thought I might call you. Please call soon and let me know if you're interested. Bye.
Ha! I cannot believe this. I dated Ajay for two months, and all he ever did was cheat on me. I caught him in the acthe was having sex with my former friend Richa at his apartment. He has the nerve to call me after six months, inviting me to some party like it's no big deal. What is wrong with this pig? And he is not just any pig ... He is a Male Chauvinistic Pig but only today I realize that this man can stand without a spine too.
I have had my share of a bad relationship. Ajay was my boyfriend. I met him when I worked at the call center ... he worked there too but now. We went for dinners and movies and drives and shopping too but what disturbed me the most was his dictating decision that we should get married and I should be a housewife that is when I realized that never has he supported my work or my dream. He was a bad chapter in my life. I have decided to concentrate on my career before I become involved with someone again. Concentrating on my career is a good excuse not to date. Every time someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, my usual response is this: "All men do is distract you. When people fall in love, they become needy and forget about everything else that should be more important in their lives. Why waste my time that way? I would much rather work for my dreams than waste my time with some guy."
I don't think I am fooling anyone with that self-righteous nonsense. The truth of the matter is that sometimes I wish I had a boyfriend. But I do believe in what I sayalthough sometimes loneliness creeps in as if from nowhere. Sometimes I feel even I deserve some pampering and attention of a man with whom I can talk on the phone without any reason ... who will surprisingly kiss me when I am winning an argument ... someone who will cook something delicious for me after I have a hard day at work ... or someone who will buy me kampat whenever I am sad. I also have an honest confession to make. I haven't been kissed before ... and such intimacy intrigues me, I want to know how it feels to be kissed by a man ... to be touched by him.
I know I am asking too much of a qualitative man and I also know that all such polite, well mannered and good looking men are either taken or fictional but that cannot change my idea of a good man. See this is how books, reading and literature can spoil you. Leaving all that I will hold on to my "career before love" philosophy for now. It seems like the right thing to do since my career prospects are in a state of coma and I should at least try to bring them back to life. This is what I have dreamt of since I was a child. I always told my mom that I am not going to be like other girls ... I do not want to get married at a young age and take up familial responsibilities. I want to become a career woman. What if time just became difficult ... that is what I am going to do.
My mother's message was the usual one: Why haven't you called? It's been two days since you have called me. Why are you so distant? My two other girls are as distant as you are. None of you love me! Do you have a boyfriend yet? I want you to come over and visit me this weekend. Please call me back.
I am the worst daughter in the world if I don't call her every single day, according to Ma. She is too melodramatic ... an exaggeration to how sensitive she is. Often, she cries too easily. It may be annoying but I understand that for a woman who is staying alone and taking care of herself ... she is playing her part well. My mom and dad separated because of several compatibility issues when I was eleven years old ... I did not really know what went wrong until one night my mom told me about how dad had fallen in love with another woman and she let him go ... we talked about various things related to dad until four in the morning.
My parents even if not a couple are a very good team ... They have worked very hard to raise three daughters ... Geetanjali Didu, Garima Didu and me. Dad had always been there as a dad ... Geetanjali Didu used to be very angry with him and looking at her Garima Didu did the same thing but My equation with my father has always been different. We are very close ... like friends. He guided me through my troubled puberty stricken period and even gave me money from his fixed deposit to pay my college fee but I must tell you he is overprotective. Sometimes when I walk around my city Bareilly with my father, he holds my hand whenever we cross a street. I tell him, "Dad, don't hold my hand! I'm not a kid anymore!" He then looks at me dreamily and says, "You will always be a little girl in my eyes." I want to gag every time he gets sentimental on me and the conclusion of this dialogue comes with an end statement "I am not going to marry you off until that man will hold your hand like I do. And that really makes me emotional because I know no one is going to love me like my dad does.
I also hate it when my mother comes over to visit. That is the annoying part I was telling you about. She would look around the apartment and run her fingers on the furniture, checking for dust. Although I clean the place thoroughly before she arrives, she always finds dust. She would search the whole place until she finds it. I swear the woman detects dirt from a mile away. She always nags about my empty refrigerator. She would say, "Why is your refrigerator empty? You're twenty-four years old and you can't cook. Your two sisters learned to cook when they were fifteen years old." I often reply: "Why cook? It is so much easier to order take-out." She would then shake her head as if to say, "What did I do to deserve such a lazy child?" "No one is going to marry you Gauri!!! She always warns me in a threatening tone ... "Someone would desperately pray to Shankarji to make me a part of their lives. Is my favorite answer. "And then your Mother In Law will curse you saying your mother did not teach you anything! Good lord My Mom has so much to worry about.
Halfway through the visit, Ma would then begin her usual criticism of me: the fact that I don't have a boyfriend. I tell her my career before love speech. She doesn't buy it. "Nonsense," she often says. "You're not even close to having a career." I would thank her for reminding me of this. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad, Ri . We both know it's an excuse. You're unhappy and lonely. I would love to see you settle down already. I know that if you were in a relationship, you would be happy and therefore feel motivated enough to go for your dreams."
My mother is a recklessly optimistic person and she always tells me that on the right path love will come to find me and then it will heal and give me a lot of happiness. I feel one reason she keeps talking in such a way is her addiction for television shows but it feels good when she does the love talk ... the question remaining should I believe it from a woman who was supposed to have a love life but did not get anything more than a divorce. Once we start discussing this point ... out of no where it becomes a script of both my sister's life story and I don't have the energy to endure that absurd interaction again. I will not call her back. At least not tonight.
My apartment is surprisingly clean despite the tiny space. Books neatly on the shelves, CDs on their racks, movies and DVDs inside the cabinets, and the futon closed. The kitchen is also clean. The refrigerator, as Ma often points out, is always empty. The only thing I have in the fridge is a gallon of water. I think a bowl of Maggi with a fried egg would do good for dinner. Then I will change the bedsheet and read something Jane Austen-Ish. I will watch some TV, have my dinner, make my bed and then read till my eyes are tired and sleeping. This is the part of my life which I love the most. Solace. The place is small, but comfortable enough to fit just one person. Even though I would love to have a bigger place, this would do for now.
I just called Vrinda and apologized for my behavior at the caf. She reluctantly accepted my apology. Today, she was sad because of me but I know she would understand why I behaved like a crazy person. She is my best friend and I know a tub of ice cream on Sunday afternoon would help me make her smile.
I feel I should get her a present ... a pair of earrings or a nice necklace is a good idea, after all it was because of her that I got a new job. The countdown has begun and honestly I have no idea what to expect at my new job. I am pretty sure I am going to be exposed to the celebrity lifestyle. I wonder if Parth and Vrinda are right about doing an undercover designer assignment on Omkara. I could watch him closely and take notes. I should also keep a journal. If he turns out to be the typical rich and famous brat, it would make me feel less guilty. I have no energy to think about it now. I will just have to wait and see how things unfold once I start on Monday. It is not just about me ... He will be the one working with me and so he has to deal with me. You better be a good man Omkara.
I should be thinking about the money that I am going to be making with this new job. I will be making lots of money, meaning I will be able to rent a bigger apartment, finally buy myself a two wheeler and start saving money to get a new health insurance policy for my mom. I also plan to decorate my new apartment with beautiful antique furniture. I have always been fascinated with artI will decorate my walls with beautiful antique paintings. I can't wait. At least about the money part ... life is going to be better.
I study my reflection in the mirror. I know I am pretty, thanks to genetics but will Omkara find me attractive? Can we have a Hollywood like Secretary and boss fling? Very doubtful. There is not much about him in the newspapers and he is not active on social media ... so I did not get to know much about his personality ... maybe he is dating some actress or supermodel. A rich man like him will settle for no less. About being the secretary I will be a good secretary. I have what you may call conventional beauty with brains. I have light brown, waist-length straight hair, fair skin, hazel eyes, and am petite, only five feet, two inches tall. I weigh about 51 kgs. I've been told that I'm attractive, but I'm not sure I believe it.
My only hope is that I won't be self-conscious around Omkara. I have seen his photograph. He is absolutely gorgeous! He's got the most beautiful dark brown eyes I have ever seen. He has long hair ... Not so common amongst the men of today but his look suits him. He is almost six feet tall with an athletic build. He is twenty nine years old. I have been told he is very charming, that women often fall for his charm and wit. I have also been told that he is quite eccentric. It doesn't matter, I already know he's off-limits, not only is he my boss, he is alsooff-limits. He won't look at me twice. That's okay, though. I am not one of those stupid women who fall for the first pretty face she sees. I have never been that weak or you can say easy to catch.
As I continue to contemplate myself in the mirror, the ringing phone startles me. Unfortunately it's my mother.
"Hello, sweets. If I don't call you, you don't call me."
"We talk on the phone almost every day, Ma."
"Yeah, if I call you. You're too distant. How come you don't call me?" Here we go. "If I die, you're going to be the last to know."
I sigh. "Okay, Ma. I'm sorry but I've been busy."
She continues: "Any boyfriends?"
"No," I say, annoyed.
"That's too bad. So, tell me, Gauri, when was the last time you got a date?"
"Ma!"
I can't believe the way she talks to me sometimes. I didn't know mothers were even allowed to talk that way to their children. But that's my mother, unpredictable. She never fails to surprise me. Her philosophy is, you have to be straightforward with your children because that's how they learn. Tell it like it is, she would say. She's a Freudian nightmare.
"Tell me. When was the last time you got date?" she repeats.
I sigh.
She laughs.
"You know, I'm fifty-five years old. If you don't give me a grandchild soon, it will be too late."
I make no response.
She changes the subject. "So, when do you start this new job?"
"Monday."
"Good. You know, this might be a good opportunity for you. You'll be able to know this man on a personal level. You say you want to become a designer, or a stylist, or whatever, you should take advantage of this."
I sigh again. "Parth and Vrinda already gave me this lecture."
"Well, there you go."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you should listen to them."
"Well, I don't see it that way. Besides, for all I know, this man could be incredibly dull."
"No life of a famous artist is dull." She sounds so matter-of-fact about this.
"You don't know that," I say defensively.
"All I'm saying is, don't shut down this opportunity. Think of your career, your dreams. Sweets, this could be a big opportunity for you. Please don't ruin it. Don't disappoint me."
"I won't," I murmur.
She continues her nagging: "Keep in mind that you're lonely. If only you had a boyfriend, you would feel motivated and happy. I don't care what you modern girls say. Love equals happiness, period. Oh, and, sweetie, I want you to spend the weekend here with me."
"Ma, I"
"I won't take no for an answer. I know you're free this weekend, not having a boyfriend and all. You come here tomorrow. I'll make you a nice dinner. And I want you to spend the night here, I was hoping we could go shopping together on Sunday"
"Fine."
"Good," I suddenly hear voices in the background. It's the TV. She's watching the romance channel. "Okay, sweets, I'm going to watch my soapie now. Bye!"
She hangs up before I can say "bye" to her.
I feel my mother is a soul from an alternative universe, how easily can she advice me about love being a good thing for me. I know it is very important and it should become the foundation of two people wanting to have sex and bearing an off spring but all my life I have seen people struggling for what they call love. My mother really loved my father but he was in love with someone else. You know she always curses my Mamaji for arranging mom and dad's wedding. My Geetanjali Didu, she is a good person ... a career person too but she fell in love with a married man to which my mom and dad were totally unsupportive and she left her family for her love. My Garima Didu, She was a college student when she met her now husband Gopal ... who was the watch man of the college gate ... we did not have the slightest idea of her affair and she eloped with him. She left her education for her love. Love has ruined my people.
I should have not picked up that phone call. It has become stressful. I can't believe the pressure everyone is putting me in. I think that is what you get after being the university gold medalist. I don't think I have the courage to take advantage of this so-called opportunity. I mean, the agent specifically told me that if I do anything to betray Omkara''s confidence or trust, I would lose my job. Even if I could write a good story on this man or tell him about my interest in colors and fabrics and textures ... what is the point? I am unknown to the glamorous artistic world.
I know my mother will be bugging me this whole entire weekend. I wish I could disappear. I have been very gloomy because of my lack of resourcefulness career-wise. I don't need people constantly reminding me that I'm a failure.
My two sisters have disappointed my parents. Geetanjali Didu is a nutritionist and she earns well but she does not stay with mom neither she talks to her ... and my other sister is a housewife with two kids to take care of. My mother is a retired insurance underwriter who now works part-time at a school cafeteria in Bareilly. My father is a civil engineer and he is working in Rajasthan. He has another family of his own with a wife and two children. Lately life has been complicated for all of us ... I stay rather survive in a city like Mumbai on an everyday basis which none of my family members have the slightest idea about, they hope for the best for me but why do they have these expectations of me? It's not fair!
I often hear my father say such wonderful things about me. "My daughter, Gauri, is going to be a successful designer," he often says. "She is talented and she has vision. She is very intelligent. She attended the university. She will make it. She will be the first one out of my five children to make it."
The sad reality is that they do have high expectations and there's nothing I can do to change that. I can only pray that things work out at this new job. I don't know if I'm going to play the undercover designer game and watch Omkara Singh Oberoi like a hawk. All I know is that I start this new job on Monday and I want to be as stress-free about it as possible.
Edited by Cinnamon_Kisses - 6 years ago
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