Chapter 1: The Summons

Early in the morning, HR summoned me for the usual dose of corporate drama.

Under the soft, flickering tube lights, the peon shuffled by with his tray of cutting chai, ringing his bell for anyone wanting a refill. My phone buzzed—a message from Priya in HR. She was the no-nonsense sort, always in a perfectly pleated saree, hair pulled so tight you’d think it was a challenge to the universe. Even before my first sip of tea, she’d called me in, her voice as crisp as her Monday saree.

"Arjun, there are some concerns about your performance. You need to pull up your socks, yaar."

Her voice had that HR speciality—half-caring, half-accusatory, like she was reading a script but enjoyed it a bit too much. She didn’t even offer a seat, just waved at the chair. I sat down, pretending her coldness didn’t bother me.

"But my performance has always been top in the department."

I kept my tone steady, but inside, I fiddled with the ring Amma gave me, wishing I could just disappear under the table. I could almost hear her saying, "Beta, never let them walk over you."

"Good performance could just be luck, Arjun."

I drummed my fingers on the armrest, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. The ceiling fan whirred lazily overhead, while outside the office boy’s transistor crackled out a faint Kishore Kumar tune.

"For five straight months, I’ve been number one."

Five months of late nights, cold coffee, and bargaining with clients who’d haggle over every rupee. Five months missing family dinners, picturing my son’s half-eaten roti left on the table, cold by the time I got home.

"But your numbers haven’t increased in those five months. Always stuck at fifty lakhs."

As if holding steady at fifty lakhs in this market was some kind of joke. Only in our offices, I thought, can consistency become a problem.

"This is a down market. Everyone else’s numbers are dropping. The fact that I’ve maintained mine without a dip is rare, Priya."

From outside, an auto honked and vendors shouted. Priya paused, rolling her eyes. She took a slow, dramatic sip from her steel bottle, as if buying time.

"Even if your work ability is fine, your attitude is a big problem."

I bit my tongue, jaw clenched. The urge to unleash a string of gaalis was strong. Instead, I mumbled under my breath, "Arrey yaar, to hell with you."

I stared at my reflection in the glass door as I left, wondering if tomorrow I’d still have a chair to sit on.