Three Marketeers Read online

  After ending her call to Karan, Sameera recalled she had to check with Paresh Menon on the resumes she had mailed him. She went to his cabin but he wasn’t there. She looked for Leena in her cabin. She too wasn’t there. Must be in the field, she thought. But the previous evening, Leena had told her she did not have any appointments. Is she on leave again?

  Sameera went to the far end of the floor where there was a tall water cooler. As she filled a disposable glass for herself, Paresh emerged from a washroom near the area.

  ‘Hi, Paresh,’ she greeted.

  ‘Hi,’ he said gruffly and walked past her.

  Sameera drank some water, threw her glass into a dustbin, and went to the washroom. Inside, she saw Leena standing in front of a wide washbasin. There was no one else.

  ‘Wazzup?’ asked Sameera, as Leena dabbed at her sweating forehead with a tissue paper.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she responded to Sameera’s reflection in the mirror.

  Sameera noticed her tousled hair. Her shirt did not seem to be as well pressed as usual. ‘Your hair is going everywhere,’ she said.

  ‘Oh.’ Leena took out a brush from her bag.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Customers are slipping away, Sameera,’ she said, brushing her hair. She did not realise that she was avoiding eye contact, but Sameera did.

  ‘I can understand.’

  ‘Gotta go. Meeting.’ Leena walked out of the washroom rather abruptly.

  9

  Their office was a different place now, with the wooden partitions and cubicles readjusted. At the centre was the reception area with a desk sans receptionist. An acrylic board on the wall behind read, ‘Freedom’. On its right was a meeting room spacious enough to accommodate a table, and on the other side, was a room for the three of them to sit together as colleagues.

  The meeting with Gul Manwani gave them a direction. Money had to be raised in three months.

  ‘Here’s an invite for a summit,’ announced Karan, hurling an invitation card at Rishi, which landed on his laptop.

  ‘The Eleventh Eurasian Business Summit, August 29–30,’ Rishi read aloud and questioningly glanced at Karan.

  ‘The theme is: “Building Synergies and Nurturing Business Partnerships”,’ read Vidu, peeking into the card. ‘Where’s it?’ he asked impatiently.

  ‘The Mayford Ritz Hotel. By invitation only,’ informed Karan. ‘Sameera smuggled one for us.’

  ‘Oh, Mayford,’ said Vidu inaudibly, and thoughts of Leena began a riot in his mind.

  ‘Are we attending it?’ asked Rishi.

  ‘What are we gonna do there?’ asked Vidu. ‘Flirt with the delegates?’

  ‘We are attending it. Can we afford to miss an event that’s attended by the likes of Richard Branson and Mukesh Ambani every year? You never know, our search may end here.’

  ‘You’re unnecessarily jubilant again,’ said Vidu. ‘Their curvy secretaries will only shoo us away if we even try to stand near them.’

  ‘Shoo us away? Hey, what do you think we are? Rabbits?’ snubbed Rishi.

  ‘All right, all right.’ Karan silenced them.

  The three discussed their approach. In the summit, they would have to meet as many prospects as possible. Finding an investor who appreciated entrepreneurial independence—the foundation of their company—was not going to be easy.

  Rishi’s phone rang when Karan was reading aloud about the summit from the organiser’s website. He answered the call.

  ‘I called Yuvika.’ It was Ira Bhat.

  ‘And?’ Rishi stared at a white board hung on the wall in front.

  ‘Jaggi Balraj can meet all of you day after at eleven in the morning,’ she informed.

  10

  Paresh Menon, the GM of the Mayford Ritz Hotel, was forty years old and a married philanderer. Adultery was his favourite pursuit and scheming his best skill. Tonight, he had parked himself at the residence of his latest conquest.

  He gasped ecstatically as he got off her lithe body and fell on his back.

  After putting on a tunic, she lit a Wills Classic Milds and propped herself on the bed, watching him amble into the washroom, all bare and pleased with himself.

  Inside the washroom, he glanced at his watch. It was 1.36 a.m. Not so late, he assured himself. He had stayed longer on such nights.

  Every time, before spending a night out of home for reasons unofficial, he ensured he had given an official reason to his wife, telling a believable story. ‘Unplanned video conference with an American prospect’, ‘Staying back in the office for a forthcoming event’, ‘Sudden rush of customers’ were some of them.

  ‘Oh my god! Open a window or something or I’ll die of this smoke,’ complained Paresh coming out of the washroom, violently flapping his long and bony hands at the smoke.

  ‘There’s one on your side. Open it,’ ordered Leena Goswami, tapping some ash off her cigarette into an ashtray.

  Leena had been in an intense affair with Paresh for about two months. It started when she was in the last phase of her relationship with Vidu. One casual lunch with the boss while returning from a client meeting changed everything, and within weeks, her initial stiffness turned into acceptance. Things were not going anywhere with Vidu anyway. In less than a month, she pushed Vidu out of her mind … and heart, if he was there.

  The out-of-office lunches advanced into dinners at the best places. Soon, she and Paresh started spending nights together at her Gurgaon residence—an apartment for which she was paying more than thirty thousand rupees as monthly instalment.

  ‘Hell, it’s so humid outside,’ he complained again, pushing the side-window open.

  Leena created another cloud of smoke, reluctantly stubbed out the cigarette into the ashtray, and curled her well-waxed and shapely legs inside the white cover. Her reddish-brown and loosely tied hair looked jet black in the dim light, enhancing her dusky look. ‘By the way, don’t you ever risk breaking into the ladies’ room again,’ she said sharply.

  ‘What happened?’ Paresh threw his scrawny body—a flat chest, caved-in shoulders, and thin legs—next to hers.

  ‘What happened? Sameera caught me in a dishevelled state that day. Thank god, you were out before she came in. Imagine, she would have fainted seeing you there with me. I’m sure she has sensed what both of us are up to.’

  ‘You must have given her the hints. You can hardly keep a secret.’

  She grabbed a pillow and swung it at him.

  ‘Hey, easy, cowgirl!’ he protested, hiding his face between his knees. ‘Unless you told her, how would she know?’

  ‘The whole world will know one day if you don’t behave yourself.’

  ‘She’s your friend after all. She won’t bad-mouth us,’ he said, getting up.

  ‘Whatever. I don’t want her to know about us as of now.’

  The humid air coming in was affecting the air conditioning. She got off the bed and strutted to the window. Paresh marvelled at her figure. With that sensuous pout and open hair, she looks like an unruly Brazilian.

  She slammed the window shut. ‘I’ll get some coffee.’

  ‘So nice of you.’

  Minutes later, she returned with two mugs and handed one to Paresh.

  Once she had settled in bed again, he said, ‘There’s something I want to tell you.’ He patted his dark black, over-gelled hair that, Leena always thought, made him look cunning and slippery. ‘There’s an industrialist who has been increasing his stake in our hotel for the past two years. Recently, he gave a buyout offer to the company and ever since, Shigeru has been nothing but paranoid, as it’s a threat to his position.’

  ‘You mean he wants to carry out a takeover and be the chairman?’ she enquired, as he tasted his coffee.

  ‘Nice coffee,’ he complimented, toasting to her. ‘That reminds me. Last week, I hit this café called The Beans in Khan Market. They have those Guatemalan beans on their menu. Tranquil place and a delight for buffs like you.’

  ‘Thanks, Paresh, but I
don’t give a dang about coffee origins.’

  ‘Never mind. We’ll go there someday,’ he said weakly. ‘You were asking something.’

  ‘Could there be a takeover?’

  ‘Ah yes, the takeover.’ He stretched his body. ‘That’s quite possible if a resolution is passed in favour of the acquisition.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What’s scary is that most members on the company board may want that, because they’re concerned about the current operations, revenues, and irregular payments of dividends. If a majority of the board members vote for the buyout, it’s highly unlikely that our shareholders will vote against such a decision. Our unhappy creditors may also not oppose the move. The hotel would then go into the hands of a new management.’

  ‘Who’s he, by the way?’

  ‘Jaggi Balraj, the chairman of Balraj Infrastructure, which is the largest real estate company in this part of the country.’

  ‘Oh, Balraj … I watched his interview on TV once. Looks like an outlaw.’

  ‘In the past eleven years, his company has grown into a powerhouse. Back in the eighties, his father, an ordinary landowner that time, had started with small home projects in Haryana. Today, the company owns housing societies and projects in more than fifteen cities in north India. Lately, he has been hungering for Mayford, as he wants to diversify into hospitality. If he succeeds in his ambition, he’ll want only his people in key positions.’

  ‘Is your position secure, Paresh?’ She snuggled up to his shoulder, showing genuine concern.

  Paresh Menon had been with the hotel for more than ten years and had done a heroic job in building a strong image of the property in India. His contribution was unmatched and exemplary. During peak days, he would work from seven in the morning and often not go home, to see to it that quality service was extended to customers. Shigeru Yamazaki, the chairman of the hotel and Paresh’s boss, always rewarded him for his hard work and loyalty and gave him a free hand.

  ‘I can’t say. It’s premature to predict things but I want to find an answer to the question. You can help me here. In a way, you’ll be helping Shigeru also.’

  Leena placed her mug on the bedside table and slid herself close to him. Placing her blemish-free leg on his bony thigh, and her hand on his smooth, hairless, and skeletal chest, she asked, ‘How do you think I can be of help here?’

  ‘I have to find out—’

  ‘Where does my role fit in?’

  ‘Oh, hear me first.’ He closed his eyes. Recollecting his thoughts, he continued, ‘I have to find out how far Balraj has gone and who, in the hotel, are conniving with him. Not that I am unaware, but I need evidence. If he succeeds in throwing Shigeru off his chair, will he change the entire team here? As the GM of the only Mayford hotel in India and the only person Shigeru can trust, I want to know.’

  Leena resisted repeating her question.

  Sensing her confusion, the scheming GM stroked her thigh gently. ‘Balraj is a womaniser. Not a nice man, he is.’ He wrinkled up his nose as if he were exposed to a repulsive smell. ‘His liaisons last less than a fortnight, and then he is on the prowl for a new one. Recently, he has married a woman twenty years his junior, the heiress of a rich brassware exporter. Anyway, that has nothing to do with what I intend to tell you.’

  Leena was losing her patience. ‘How do I fit in here, Paresh?’

  He coughed unnecessarily, peeped into his coffee mug, drained what was left of it, and placed it under the bed. ‘Balraj is attending the Eurasian Summit. His objective, I’m told, is not to meet the participants but to sniff about in the hotel. From various sources, I have learnt that he never parts with his money for something he hasn’t seen and tasted himself.’

  Leena yawned.

  Hiding his embarrassment, Paresh quickly added, ‘In the summit, Leena, you have to … uh … hang around him.’ Now she was listening. ‘Once you get chatting with him, my bubble, ask him if he’d like to see our special suites.’ She did not react. Encouraged, he continued, ‘Escort him to one of them and see how you can take care of his drooling—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I mean, you—’

  ‘What do you think I look like, Paresh?’ she shouted.

  ‘Hey, why’re you getting mad at me? Did I say you perform a striptease somewhere?’

  She very well understood what he meant, and kneed his frail pelvis forcefully. He moaned. She pulled the cover over herself and turned to the other side. Paresh glanced at the wall clock—2.30 a.m. He decided against speaking more on the sensitive topic. He would take it up later. As far as creating a background was concerned, he was done. He curled up against her and thought of doing good things.

  11

  ‘Sir, three men from a company called Freedom Marketing want to meet you. They say they have an appointment and the reference of Madam Yuvika,’ a charming secretary spoke on the intercom as Karan, Rishi, and Vidu waited.

  ‘Send them in.’

  ‘Right, sir.’ She hung up. ‘You can go inside. That’s his office,’ she said to them.

  They thanked her and opened a tall oak-wood door to the builder’s office, which was on the fifth floor of the fourteen-floor Balraj Tower on Barakhamba Road.

  Despite the room freshener, the smell of cigar lingered inside the office, which could easily accommodate a hundred people. On one side stood, like a liner, a long teak-wood conference table. On the other, Jaggi Balraj sat like a sultan, on a high-backed leather armchair.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Balraj,’ they greeted him together.

  The builder, in a gaudy purple suit, was in his late forties, had a triangular face and bronze skin. ‘Sit,’ he commanded without averting his eyes from his laptop. His thick silver kara clanked on the glass-top desk as he typed.

  Obediently, they sat down in front of his cluttered desk, which had half a dozen telephones of different shades, a polished wooden tray with many untidily arranged papers, a pen stand holding various ornate pens—most of them gifted by suppliers—and a small standing calendar showing a picture of one of the many home projects of the company.

  Eagerly, they waited for him to raise his head. Having a meeting scheduled with the man was in itself a feat.

  Karan gave Balraj a long look—coarse and grey upswept hair; a horseshoe moustache that covered his big, dark, chapped lips; and ears with square-shaped diamond studs.

  Vidu noticed the man’s gold and silver rings with precious stones of different hues embedded in them, each for a different talismanic purpose.

  After wasting their three minutes, Balraj looked up. ‘What do you want?’ He had a croaky and heavy voice. His reddish eyes confirmed his nights were nothing but drunken revelries.

  ‘We are from Freedom,’ said Karan. They handed their business cards to him.

  Without glancing at the cards, Balraj slid them back. ‘Freedom? What kind of name’s that?’

  Vidu felt like taking him through how the name was derived.

  After giving a brief introduction about their company and themselves, Karan came to the point. ‘Mr Balraj, we plan to come into an Exclusive Sales and Marketing Rights Agreement for Yodel—three carbonated drinks manufactured by Manwani Beverages in Okhla, Delhi. Principally, the promoter, Mr Gul Manwani, has agreed to our business plan. We are now looking for an investor who can fund our purchase of the rights. That’s the reason we are here. We—’

  ‘Question,’ interrupted Balraj, raising a finger. ‘What’s your marketing budget for these drinks?’

  Rishi handed a set of documents to Balraj.

  ‘Since, in the beginning, we’ll play in the local field, our marketing investment won’t be very high in the first phase,’ replied Karan. ‘The vision, however, is to make Yodel a national brand in the future. That’s when we will have to breathe in more oxygen, as we’ll be up against the big two, Festi and—’

  ‘Are you even aware what it means to deal with the big daddies, especially when you’re a nobody?’ Balraj’s long earlobes q
uivered.

  ‘There’s no denying it’s going to be difficult,’ responded Karan to the insulting remark. In brief, he repeated some relevant parts of his presentation to Manwani. Balraj behaved like an uninterested buyer. He adjusted his rings and read messages on his phone while Karan spoke about the changing trends, mindsets, and attitudes of the youth in India.

  ‘Stop,’ said Balraj, looking up. ‘I have your plan,’ he said, picking up their set of documents and waving it to them ‘Will get back if interested. Thanks for coming.’

  The meeting ended abruptly in less than ten minutes. They thanked the mighty builder and exited his office quietly.

  ‘I seriously doubt if the lord of the rings is gonna read a word of our papers,’ said Vidu, spreading a leg on the rear seat of Rishi’s Pajero.

  ‘Don’t you understand, Vidu? He’s not interested. Period,’ said Rishi. What a waste of time the builder was, he thought, as he slowed down to turn into Tolstoy Road.

  Vidu looked through the window. This is worse than selling soaps.

  ‘We have three months,’ said Karan. ‘We’ll meet more people. Just because one person rejects us, doesn’t mean everyone else will. The world is full of different people.’

  Vidu did not care about the motivation.

  ‘And shave that goat-beard off,’ said Rishi. ‘It doesn’t help much.’

  ‘Retro man, women find goatees very sexy,’ said Vidu.

  ‘Oh yeah? Leena too?’

  Karan intervened, as Vidu fumed at Rishi’s comment. ‘My able men, let’s prepare ourselves for the next thing, the Eurasian Summit.’

  12

  The Eleventh Eurasian Business Summit was going to be a two-day affair at the Mayford Ritz Hotel, New Delhi. Participants from more than seventy countries in Asia and Europe attended the summit every year, taking away new ideas and fostering new ties. This year, more than two thousand participants had registered for the event, the highest number so far.

  The theme, ‘Building Synergies and Nurturing Business Partnerships’, was chosen in the wake of the growing importance of interdependence in the global market. Financial newspapers and television channels forecasted the outcomes of the summit even before it began. For most foreign investors and firms, India was a destination they could not afford to ignore. On the other hand, addressing the investor sentiment was on the agenda of every Indian industrialist. The industry experts predicted good representation from developed nations.