Devil in Pinstripes Read Online Free Page B

Mumbai – scared her. Vast, complex and confusing as to defy generalisation, Chanda feared getting lost in this jam-packed and maddening metropolis. Even after staying in the city for a while and trying to get used to its weird ways, things were not getting any simpler. As time went by, it only became worse. In the mornings, Chanda would hate seeing the receding back of Amit. She would dread the long day ahead. This state of mind didn’t take too much time in pushing Chanda towards mental depression. Day after day, Amit would be greeted by a tearful Chanda at the doorstep. This was not the woman he had married. Surely this was not PMS. He was concerned and decided to do something himself, and being a relationship manager was useful.
     
    One night when the entire rigour replayed itself, Amit called out to her.
    ‘Chanda . . .’
    ‘Hmm . . .’ Chanda had again withdrawn into a shell.
    ‘Come here,’ said Amit and gave a couple of pats to the seat next to him, gesturing her to come and sit next to him on the sofa in the drawing room. She was clearing up the table after dinner. Chanda ignored him and continued clearing the table. When she didn’t come, Amit switched off the TV, walked up to the table, pulled out a chair and sat on it.
    ‘Bored?’ Amit asked her.
    She didn’t respond. She gave a blank look that pierced right through Amit and rested on the wall behind him. It was as if he was invisible. Amit felt a slight pang of pain in the pit of his stomach. It was as if some sharp instrument had just given a twist to his insides. Loneliness can be dangerous and Amit knew that. Its deadly grips could sometimes push you strongly towards depression – at times too deep to be able to get out of. Chanda seemed to be hurtling towards those depths at a furious pace.
    ‘I met Shankar Raman today.’
    ‘Umm hunn . . .’ Again a minimalist response.
    ‘He is the MD of Biotech Scientific Research Institute Limited.’
    ‘Hmm . . .’ Though her facial expressions seemed to lighten up on hearing the word ‘biotech’, it was still not much of a reaction.
    ‘He is a club class customer of ours. He wants to meet you tomorrow. The office is in Bandra.’ Club class customers were the crème de la crème of all the customers of NYB. Rich customers who kept all their monies locked up in their bank accounts. These people, by virtue of their relationship size with the bank, demand and also get extremely high levels of service. All of them have a dedicated relationship manager, who is their single point of contact for all transactions at the NYB. Amit was the relationship manager managing Shankar Raman’s account. Over the years he had developed a rapport with the MD of Biotech Scientific Research Institute Limited. Their relationship had transcended the realms of professional association to become a more personal one. Amit had requested his help in finding Chanda a job.
    ‘For what?’ asked Chanda.
    ‘His is a biotech company and I spoke to him about a job for you. He wants to meet you to see if something can be worked out.’
    Chanda was a bright and intelligent girl and didn’t need Amit’s recommendation to find herself a job. The problem that she faced in those days was a peculiar one. In 1996, there weren’t too many biotechnology companies in India. While it was a sunrise industry in the west, it hadn’t really evolved as an industry in India. And whatever limited presence it had in India was in the garden city of Bangalore. Institutes like Biocon and Indian Institute of Science offered great research opportunities, but only in Bangalore. As a biotechnologist, being in Mumbai didn’t give many research options to explore.
    She did go and meet Shankar Raman the next day.
    ‘What happened?’ Amit asked her when he came back from work that night.
    ‘Nothing. It will not work out,’ said Chanda without looking at Amit. Her face had no expression. She had a blank look.
    ‘Why? He told me that he will hire