Devil in Pinstripes Read Online Free

Something had gone awfully wrong. The normally composed Amit was stressed, worried and undoubtedly hassled. He had never encountered anything like this. He was supposed to be the senior vice president at NYB and here he was, being treated like a terrorist!
    He was not even allowed to change clothes. One look at him and it was obvious. As he walked into the police station, the clatter of the police boots clearly overshadowed the feeble clap of his hawai chappals. His polished boots were left behind on the shoe rack, as he was hurriedly jostled into the police jeep.
    A feeling of nausea took over as he walked into the police station. In the past, whenever he had walked into a police station, it was with a purpose. Stepping out of the place was in his control. Not today though. The entire hall was repulsive. The same pair of hands that held him steadily shoved him onto an empty bench. ‘Wait there,’ said a stern voice. He didn’t recognise the face behind the voice. All looked the same. Two policemen stood guard, to ensure that he didn’t run away. Srivastav left them and walked into the adjacent room, leaving him to wonder why all this was being done.
    Chanda! What will she do? How will she manage without him? They had old parents living in Jamshedpur. If they get to know how would they react? How will Chanda explain the situation to them? For that, he had to know what was going on.

September 1996
Jamshedpur/Mumbai
    I n the autumn of 1996, Amit and Chanda solemnised their marriage with a very simple ceremony in Jamshedpur. Both hailed from the same city; their parents worked in Tata Steel (TISCO in those days). The common streak ended there. Their marriage was a perfect example of obedience to the Indian tradition. Like most other Indian marriages in the twentieth century, theirs too was a traditionally arranged marriage. No romance, no courtship. Their parents had met at a colleague’s son’s wedding and the ‘deal’ had been struck.
    Amit and Chanda were complete opposites. If one was chalk the other was cheese. However, just like all other Indian families where people of different attitudes, opinions, beliefs and judgements stick together and make a life out of nothing, Amit and Chanda were thrown into the quagmire of life.
    Chanda was a biotechnologist. She had done her postgraduation in biotechnology and had no interest in corporate boardroom politics. Her aspirations for a doctorate degree were nipped in the bud by her entry into wedlock. Though she had never held Amit accountable for it, somewhere in a dark corner of her heart, she regretted her circumstantial inability to pursue further studies. A career in research was something she had looked forward to and to be successful in that line, a doctoral degree was essential. Not that Amit did not want her to or did not let her study further. It was just that once she got deeply involved in her marital life, she just didn’t get the time or the drive to pursue it. After marriage, Chanda moved with Amit to Mumbai.
    Chanda’s parents had been very impressed with Amit’s credentials – an MBA from IIM Bangalore . . . working with NYB . . . decent salary . . . Amit’s candidature was a winner from day one. A relationship manager for a son-in-law sounded very happening those days. It upped their prestige quotient by a few leaping notches.
    ‘My son-in-law is a PRO in a foreign bank,’ Chanda’s mother would show off at social gatherings. Not knowing that there was a world of difference between a PRO (public relations officer) and a relationship manager. Chanda tried correcting her a few times but all her efforts proved to be in vain, an obvious consequence of which was quitting the attempts at correction. She couldn’t change her. But one thing was sure – her parents were completely in awe of Amit.
    It was no different for Amit’s parents. Their pride in their daughter-in-law was very obvious. The first biotechnologist in the family . . . and more