The Promise (5 page)

'Are you for real? How did you do it?' Shambhavi questioned, almost shocked that her subordinate had been able to fix another meeting with Mr Datta, after she missed the first meeting the previous day, and even forgot to inform him about it in the panic of her father's health condition.

'I just got off the phone with his assistant. Apparently, 'he understands your situation and sends his best wishes for your father's health' or something of the same implication. Sounds like a good man.'

'Oh, Tutul! You are god-sent,' Shambhavi exhaled. DE had been her last hope and she needed to meet Mr Datta at the soonest. It was a good thing that he turned out to be a marshmallow at heart and understood where she was coming from. Old men always are like that-they put families and relationships before work. But she realized that if not for Tutul's persistence, his assistant would not have reconsidered the meeting herself in the first place, let alone ask Mr Datta about it. She wondered what she would do without Tutul.

Shambhavi had first met her about two years ago, when she was doing the interiors for Nakul Verma's suite. Tutul-a young, sharply dressed girl with a tight ponytail and nerdy specs -was a part of the firm doing the interiors of the Vermas' place. Since Shambhavi was working on the interiors of Nakul's suite, Tutul offered her assistance. Mrs Verma wanted Tutul to deal with the budget and other details of Nakul's suite too, as she was doing with the rest of the house. So, while Shambhavi handled the aesthetic front of designing, Tutul took care of the technical point of view-Nakul's suite was ready in two weeks' time.

As soon as Shambhavi got offered to do the Ahluwalia's mansion, the first thing she did was ring Tutul for help. Shambhavi had worked on the eleven projects in between, alone. That was how she had managed to come out with literally empty pockets, even though her assignments went through beautifully. Because her expertise was only in designing and not in the technicalities that go with it, she had never known how to make the most of her chances. Her quotes were always accurate, leaving no room for commissions. She left no room in the given budget for damage, and sometimes, she even had to pay from her own pocket to make up for the loss.

All in all, after working on eleven projects on her own, she still did not have anything worth showing in her pocket, and therefore, she called in Tutul for help. Tutul brought with her two juniors to help them through the job. Shambhavi figured that the job would pay her enough to take care of three people working under her, especially when the two others were just students working to gain some practical experience. Plus she knew that designing the entire mansion alone was an impossible job; she needed people who knew about these things to help her out.

'Yeah, yeah,' Tutul said. 'Listen-I'll meet you outside their factory at 1:45 pm, okay?'

'I dread those fifteen minutes before the meeting with you.'

'You should.'

'But I already know so many things about this man and his company,' Shambhavi groaned. She hated it when Tutul filled her up with technical details and other specifications of the company they were dealing with, before every meeting. But she grudgingly admitted to herself that those short sessions were necessary, if she did not want to make a complete fool of herself in front of other people. It is okay for customers to enter a plywood furniture store and ask for teak. But an interior decorator is expected to know such things.

'I decide whether or not you know enough,' Tutul said smugly.

'It's not in your job profile.'

'I know. And that's why you don't need to pay me for it. But I've made it my job to educate you. Not just because it is so much fun to find out how little you know, but also because I can see you being a serious success as an interior decorator, if only you knew a bit more about the details.'

'I have you to take care of details; you don't have to get all emotional,' Shambhavi laughed.

'You think everything is a joke? I'm not kidding. I've studied this subject all these years and have never seen anyone who has such an amazing aesthetic eye. You have no idea how many designers would kill to just get to assist you in this assignment.'

'Why are you getting so serious?'

'Because you are not serious enough,' Tutul exclaimed. 'You'll never take anything seriously. I have to think for both of us.'

'Okay, enough now. What is wrong? Why are you so worked up?' Shambhavi asked. She had never seen Tutul like that. Tutul was supposed to be a carefree child-just out of college, with a decent job and financial independence for the first time in life. She was supposed to go crazy shopping, not be a workaholic.

'It's nothing; Tutul mumbled.

'Tell me anyway.'

'Nothing is technically wrong, but it's just that ... I was thinking about where my life is going, and I realized that I do not have much of an issue with my day job, but in the long run, I do not want to be working in this company. Or any company.'

'So you don't like working for a company but you like working with me?' Shambhavi asked, wondering if it was what she thought it was.

'Most of all, I like not having to answer to anyone, you know? So, yes, I like working with you.'

'And that's why you've been trying to push me into getting all serious. Aha! Now I get your plan, you conniving businesswoman.'

'It's not like that,' Tutul said.

'It is. And you know what? From now on, I am going to make you work hard and when you fail to, you will have to answer to me. I think I've kept too loose a leash till now, eh?' Shambhavi said smugly.

'Oh, you won't do that. You need me.'

'That I do,' Shambhavi smiled, as she hung up.

They stood outside the factory of Datta Enterprises. Shambhavi found it weird that Mr Datta didn't have an office somewhere in the city; just one at his factory, in the outskirts of Indore. But then she found out that ever since he started working a long time ago, he had expanded his workplace from a small rundown garage to a full-blown factory on the exact same spot. Even though their business had flourished with a formidable reputation around the country as well as abroad, they still had just the one factory.

Shambhavi found that odd, but then she assumed it was Mr Datta's way of keeping stability. People usually do not like change. And maybe, over the years, he had developed some sort of extreme attachment to the place where he first started wood carving. It made sense.

She was excited to meet the man she had heard so much about. She was an artist, all right, but she was not particularly blessed in the writing area, otherwise she definitely would have liked to write a biography of the man.

'All set?' Tutul asked.

'As set as I will ever be. I just hope he lets me complete my idea and doesn't think of us as a waste of his time,' Shambhavi replied.

'Actually, that is a probability. They get much bigger orders-hotels, offices, resorts. We have a budget of just four crore rupees.'

'Exactly. Plus we need something customized ...'

'Is it still worth giving a go?' Tutul mused.

'We don't have anything to lose.'

They shared a brief look and got into the building, which had an office section in front and manufacturing behind it. It was almost like they had entered another world. The environment inside was completely different from the one outside. As the cool, conditioned air hit their faces, they looked around themselves and ogled at the world-class furnishing. Whoever had done the interiors of this place must have been the best there was. They let every detail sink in, taking mental notes and learning. The building stood tall-easily over twenty stories-and that was when the ceilings were about fifteen feet high. The plush red carpet complemented the pale yellow furniture perfectly. There was a hint of gold at the edges, which gave the place an exquisite look. The warm lighting falling over the room from the ceiling and lamps brightened up the room, the glass reflecting it around, giving it a luminous glow. It looked like a royal palace, far different from the monotonous beige and grey furnishing they saw in every office around town. They felt like they could stay there and stare forever.

When they realized that they were going to get late, they finally made their way to the receptionist's desk. They asked the hyperactive receptionist for directions and minutes later, found themselves outside Mr Datta's office, face to face with his secretary.

'May I help you?' the secretary asked.

'We have a 2 o'clock appointment with Mr Datta?' Tutul said to the secretary, who-Shambhavi was amazed to find out-was a male. She had assumed that all rich people have hot female secretaries. Whom would he have an illicit affair with? she wondered briefly.

'Name, please?'

'Shambhavi Sen and Tutul Jain,' Tutul replied.

'I'm sorry-there's just one name registered with usShambhavi Sen.'

'So, what do we need to do to get her in?' Shambhavi asked, pointing towards Tutul. She was alarmed; she would not be able to handle it without Tutul's help.

'I'm afraid you would need to get another appointment,' the assistant said, with a fake-apologetic expression on his face.

'And how soon can we get that?'

'Well, I'm not sure how much you know about the way Mr Datta operates, but he does not agree to many personal meetings.'

'But we-' Tutul began, but Shambhavi stopped her.

'It's okay,' she whispered in her ear. 'We don't have much hope anyway. Let me see if I can convince him, but I don't think he is going to be that flexible.' She turned to the assistant, 'When can I go in?'

He spoke over the intercom briefly and showed her the way to his boss's office. As soon as she got inside the office and the assistant closed the door behind him, Shambhavi got confused. She was standing right in front of a man-a well-built one, slightly older to her in age and with a glum look on his face. She turned to look at the door she'd come in from and then back at the man.

'Ms Shambhavi Sen?' the man asked.

'Yes,' she smiled nervously. She had no reason to be nervous around a man she did not even know, but for some weird reason, she was. She wished Tutul was inside with her. 'Hi. You must be ... Mr Datta's ... son?'

'Technically, yes.'

'Oh, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you. Umm ... Where is your father? I have a meeting with him.'

'He died when I was seventeen,' the man replied curtly.

'What? I mean-I'm sorry ... for your loss.' She was shaking in her shoes. How had Tutul missed to fill her in about Mr Datta Senior's death and Mr Datta junior's succession?

'Don't be. It was a long time ago. Been twelve years.'

'Umm ... okay. So, I should discuss my proposal with ... you, right?' she asked.

'Yes. Sit.'

She looked around and sat down on one of the royal looking sofas placed across from where Mr Datta sat down. There was no revolving armchair and no teak desk with a glass top. The room looked like a king's living space, with green and silver curtains, complementing the silver carpet and bottle green furniture. She felt like she had entered a time machine and come right through to the eighteenth century, into a king's manor.

But she had no time to gawk at her surroundings, starryeyed. She looked at the man sitting in front of her and wondered if he always spoke so sternly and shortly. She calculated him to be twenty-nine years old. And if he was seventeen when his father died, then Mr Datta Senior could have been something around forty years old. That's an early death. She thought that maybe that's why Mr Datta Junior had reconsidered meeting her when he got to know about her own father's medical condition. But it still did not make sense- he did not seem to be the kind of marshmallow-ish person she had pictured. There was something off. All the small snippets of information she had gathered did not fit together to form a big, clear picture. She would have to wait for a while and ask Tutul about it when she got out.

'So?' Mr Datta asked.

Shambhavi put her business mode on. 'I have a clientowners of a mansion here at Indore, which we want to convert into a bed-and-breakfast. I need to get customized furniture for them. I have done my research-I know the quality, cost, kind of goods your company manufactures. And I am interested in offering you the sole contract for the interiors of the mansion in question. I will be giving you details about the kind of furnishing I have in mind and consider your suggestions, if any. If this was any other company, I would simply have talked to the employees working under you to get this done. But I have been told that at DE, you build the first sample of every design yourself and it is put into manufacturing phase at the factory only after that. So I wanted to meet you and talk to you personally about the possibility of us working together on this assignment. '

After she completed her monologue, she breathed out. That was it. It would be either a yes or a no. She also continuously kicked herself for telling him about how his own company works. What was she thinking?

'I see,' Mr Datta said slowly. 'And you are saying you will be designing the furniture yourself?'

'Yes. I mean-I and my team, which consists of one subordinate and two students who have signed up with us for training,' she blabbered.