The Corner Office

Ragheb pulled the scooter's rear view mirror so that he could observe the raggedness of his beard over the “objects are closer than they appear” text and being content each hair was in its place, he drew the curtains in and latched the door of room 13 on his way out. He involuntarily fixed his crumpled suit as he skipped down the flight of stairs deciding to walk to work on a pleasant Bangalore morning. There was a spring in his step, after all it was not another regular day but his first day of his promotion. He stopped at Narayana's blue cart that doubled up as “UK Fast Food” in the evening for roadside Indo Chinese fare. Ragheb picked up a bread omlette to eat on his way to work. As he unwrapped the newspaper from the omlette, he noticed a small piece on how the board room in India was growing younger and younger every day. Stuffing the bread omlette into his mouth, he uncrumpled the soiled paper to read the article. The article made perfect sense to him. He too had to break through a glass ceiling to get to his present position. He did have an advantage that he started earlier than most of his peers, but he too had toiled long hours as everyone else, and he had converted opportunities where there were none and helped in the firm reaching its top line revenue targets year after year.There was a streak of optimism that any bystander would notice when they first saw Ragheb. Yet like every other conservative firm which was steeped in tradition and heritage, hierarchy almost always got the top draw over meritocracy. All the plum posts usually went to the senior folks. Ragheb remembered how his friend Damu cribbed that the only skill that mattered was having white hair to get you into the board. Ragheb crumbled the paper and threw it into a pile of garbage at the corner of the lane narrowly missing a stray dog that had finally decided to call it a day after a wild night out of karaoke singing, skirt chasing and drag racing. The firm had been kind enough to add him on their payroll when his father had died in a horrendous car accident , an unfortunate case of a hit and run. His thought bubble of his greenhorn days being pushed around to do menial jobs was burst by a blaring horn. An auto rickshaw veered in dangerously close to him missing him by an inch but not the splash of water on his heels from the pot hole the auto couldn't have missed. He spat on his shoes and rubbed it against the back of his pants but all he could get his shoes to be were designer not cleaner. It was a happy day and such events barely mattered in the scheme of grander things. As his uncle said, “Its not who will let you, but who will stop you (from achieving what you want) “ that should be his worry in life and he had loads of those to get here. For a change, it wasn't religion that kept him back but it was his youth. His detractors felt he was too young for this job and was better utilized elsewhere in the enterprise. Those indifferent felt that signs of age and wisdom would be better suited on his personality for him to be most impactful in his client facing role. But Ragheb had proved them all wrong, he had against all odds continued to deliver on firm targets come rain or sun. He agreed it came easier to the older folks with their decades of experience and he felt people were partial to the women at times, but those were his battles and not anyone else s. He picked up his pace as he realized rush hour would be dawning soon on the city as those IT and BPO wallahs made their way to their ivory towers. He soon spotted familiar faces as he reached Sony World signal with the trademark KFC and Taco bell signage at the junction. He then set eyes on his spot, the most coveted corner office that he had fought tooth and nail for and earned. It woke up his nerves as he suddenly realized the magnitude of his promotion and the expectations that came with those. The envious eyes of his colleagues soon seemed to weigh heavy on him and he felt a limp as he dragged his feet across . One pair of eyes had genuine warmth in them, which put him at ease. Sanskruti's. Though she always shied away from interacting with him , he knew she believed in his capability. Or maybe she liked supporting the odd underdog. His line of thought was interrupted again by the Car Horn Orchestra performing the 10 o'clock symphony. His day had officially begun. He settled into his corner, cleared his throat and shouted “ Allah ke naam pe dede baba!”