Amit stood smoking in the open area behind the confectionary he had opened in a busy mall in the city. From there, he could see his neighbouring restaurant, and felt a twinge of jealousy yet again. It was, as always, busy serving visitors while his team was still getting things ready. He went in and shouted, "Lazy fools! Be sharp!"
He entered his small kitchen behind the serving counter and found his chef and the cleaning lady giggling about something. "Is the food ready?" he asked sternly.
The chef, knowing how indispensible he was, asked him sharply, "What do your diners want?"
Amit grimaced. "They will have what is good," he replied to put the chef down and walked out before the other could respond.
His simmering anger poured on the poor waiter sitting behind the counter. "Have you cleaned the tables?" he barked at the young boy, who stood up smartly and nodded without thinking.
Just then, a couple walked in, clearly caring more for privacy than the nature of restaurant. Under the critical eye of the owner, the waiter guided them to a table and politely handed them a menu. He moved away, giving them time to decide. But as they ignored the menu card and continued to be wrapped up in each other, Amit glared at the boy, who apprehensively went near the couple and coughed politely. They looked at him surprised, asked him for a glass of juice. "Sorry, ma'am, we don't serve fresh juice here... However," he started but she waved him away. "We will decide and let you know."
He looked at Amit helplessly, who glared but waited, cursing his luck at having the only diners who did not want to order. Then, when he thought he had given them enough time to coochy-coo, he stepped out and said with a superior smile, "I hope you have had time to decide on your order...?"
The girl looked annoyed. "We have decided not to have anything," she got up, forcing her embarrassed boyfriend also to get up and follow her out.
Amit's cup of woes seemed to be brimming when a mother walked in with her cranky son. She quickly ordered and drummed the table impatiently as the chef got the order ready and it was served 10 minutes later. As the boy gulped the food down, the mother ordered a dish for herself. The two finished quickly and left with smiling faces. A couple of more diners, and Amit felt a bit more hopeful. But the contrast between his neighbour and his own restaurants remained stark, wondering what black magic the owner was doing to be so successful. Of course, the two served different types of food - won't do to offer the same cuisine. So while the other served Continental, he had chosen confectionary. The irony was that, even if during lunch his place did not fill up - which was expected, in the evenings too, traffic was low. There was another confectioner two floors above who seemed to be more popular than his Baker's Dozen.
Blaming his chef for being unable to bake aromatic dishes, he had already changed them twice. But that hadn't helped. Then he had sacked the waiters, thinking maybe they were not providing the right kind of service. But that had not worked either. He was paying higher than he had paid the earlier staff, but it hadn't brought him the necessary revenues.
After his team left for the day, he counted the meagre earnings for the day, calculated the cost versus revenues for the month, and sat with his head in his hands. Third month running, he was going to incur losses. "It takes a year at least to become successful," the business gurus say. But could he wait for a year?
That reminded him of the other question that he had been asked the moment he decided to quit his job and start a venture, "Can you do business? What do you know about it?"
He was determined to show them... But how!
His phone rang. "Yes, Maya," he asked in a sardonic tone reserved for his wife, one of his first detractors to starting the restaurant. Except on the day of the inauguration, she had not visited his confectionary. She loved to shop in this mall, but since his opening shop, she hadn't done that either!
"Are you still at the restaurant? Don't we have to attend the wedding? The barat is in an hour!"
"You go. I will be late," he said, trying to avoid going to the wedding where he was bound to be questioned about his business.
"Amit, I told you to come early," she said irritably.
"They are your family, Maya. You attend!" he snapped back.
She was silent for a moment. "Even after all these years, you still consider my family as outsiders," she said in a hurt tone.
He slapped his forehead. "Look, Maya, I have had a bad day. Don't go emotional on me!"
"When have you ever had a good day?" she demanded and cut the call before he could respond.
He wanted to fling his phone too, but restrained himself in time. He locked up the restaurant and walked briskly to the lift. The neighbouring restaurant owner, Bharat, was standing there. He smiled pleasantly, and Amit nodded curtly in response.
"How's it going?" Bharat asked politely. To Amit, it was like a knife being twisted in a wound. "Could be better," he replied brusquely.
"Yes, happens. It took me a while to start getting customers. We just have to be at it..." Bharat said amiably.
Amit stared at Bharat. Just then the lift arrived, empty as it was time for the mall to close. The two stepped in. "How did you manage to make it a success?" Amit asked, leaving his pride aside for a few moments.
Bharat shrugged. "Just faith."
Amit looked at Bharat suspiciously. Obviously there was more to it than Bharat was letting on. Nothing runs on faith, not even temples these days, Amit concluded. When they got out of the lift, a smart lady walked up to Bharat with a broad smile. "Finally! I have been waiting for so long!" she pouted prettily.
"My wife, Shyama," Bharat introduced her to Amit. "Amit runs a confectionary next door."
She smiled politely and then turned to Bharat, "We are late darling. Uncle will be waiting for us!"
"The old man is used to my ways," Bharat laughed. He waved to Amit and the couple walked ahead. Amit followed discreetly and heard them without intending to. "Uncle was always a bully," Bharat was complaining.
"But he also loves you," Shyama murmured.
"It's because of you," Bharat smiled at his wife.
Amit felt nauseated. That's the way the man was, with his guests too, selling his soul to win them over. But to be like this with his wife!
Amit grimaced. Truth be told, he felt envious, cursing the man for his successful personal and professional life. All the bad luck seemed to have been assigned to his lot, it seemed to him. He was honest and believed solely on hardwork. He did not believe in licking boots or sucking upto anyone. Unlike Bharat, who knew how to massage egoes and please people to get his way. God knows what other compromises he made to get his way.
Why, why me! Amit's heart cried out as he thought of how no one around him seemed to understand him, his uprightness, his dedication and sincerity. Not his wife; not his friends or relatives; not even his parents.
Why were his righteousness, integrity, ethics not being rewarded!
He sat in his car, his frustrations taking him deep down. He could see Bharat's car right behind him as he exited the car park. Their eyes met briefly as he turned a corner and then his world spun around.
Click here for Part II
He entered his small kitchen behind the serving counter and found his chef and the cleaning lady giggling about something. "Is the food ready?" he asked sternly.
The chef, knowing how indispensible he was, asked him sharply, "What do your diners want?"
Amit grimaced. "They will have what is good," he replied to put the chef down and walked out before the other could respond.
His simmering anger poured on the poor waiter sitting behind the counter. "Have you cleaned the tables?" he barked at the young boy, who stood up smartly and nodded without thinking.
Just then, a couple walked in, clearly caring more for privacy than the nature of restaurant. Under the critical eye of the owner, the waiter guided them to a table and politely handed them a menu. He moved away, giving them time to decide. But as they ignored the menu card and continued to be wrapped up in each other, Amit glared at the boy, who apprehensively went near the couple and coughed politely. They looked at him surprised, asked him for a glass of juice. "Sorry, ma'am, we don't serve fresh juice here... However," he started but she waved him away. "We will decide and let you know."
He looked at Amit helplessly, who glared but waited, cursing his luck at having the only diners who did not want to order. Then, when he thought he had given them enough time to coochy-coo, he stepped out and said with a superior smile, "I hope you have had time to decide on your order...?"
The girl looked annoyed. "We have decided not to have anything," she got up, forcing her embarrassed boyfriend also to get up and follow her out.
Amit's cup of woes seemed to be brimming when a mother walked in with her cranky son. She quickly ordered and drummed the table impatiently as the chef got the order ready and it was served 10 minutes later. As the boy gulped the food down, the mother ordered a dish for herself. The two finished quickly and left with smiling faces. A couple of more diners, and Amit felt a bit more hopeful. But the contrast between his neighbour and his own restaurants remained stark, wondering what black magic the owner was doing to be so successful. Of course, the two served different types of food - won't do to offer the same cuisine. So while the other served Continental, he had chosen confectionary. The irony was that, even if during lunch his place did not fill up - which was expected, in the evenings too, traffic was low. There was another confectioner two floors above who seemed to be more popular than his Baker's Dozen.
Blaming his chef for being unable to bake aromatic dishes, he had already changed them twice. But that hadn't helped. Then he had sacked the waiters, thinking maybe they were not providing the right kind of service. But that had not worked either. He was paying higher than he had paid the earlier staff, but it hadn't brought him the necessary revenues.
After his team left for the day, he counted the meagre earnings for the day, calculated the cost versus revenues for the month, and sat with his head in his hands. Third month running, he was going to incur losses. "It takes a year at least to become successful," the business gurus say. But could he wait for a year?
That reminded him of the other question that he had been asked the moment he decided to quit his job and start a venture, "Can you do business? What do you know about it?"
He was determined to show them... But how!
His phone rang. "Yes, Maya," he asked in a sardonic tone reserved for his wife, one of his first detractors to starting the restaurant. Except on the day of the inauguration, she had not visited his confectionary. She loved to shop in this mall, but since his opening shop, she hadn't done that either!
"Are you still at the restaurant? Don't we have to attend the wedding? The barat is in an hour!"
"You go. I will be late," he said, trying to avoid going to the wedding where he was bound to be questioned about his business.
"Amit, I told you to come early," she said irritably.
"They are your family, Maya. You attend!" he snapped back.
She was silent for a moment. "Even after all these years, you still consider my family as outsiders," she said in a hurt tone.
He slapped his forehead. "Look, Maya, I have had a bad day. Don't go emotional on me!"
"When have you ever had a good day?" she demanded and cut the call before he could respond.
He wanted to fling his phone too, but restrained himself in time. He locked up the restaurant and walked briskly to the lift. The neighbouring restaurant owner, Bharat, was standing there. He smiled pleasantly, and Amit nodded curtly in response.
"How's it going?" Bharat asked politely. To Amit, it was like a knife being twisted in a wound. "Could be better," he replied brusquely.
"Yes, happens. It took me a while to start getting customers. We just have to be at it..." Bharat said amiably.
Amit stared at Bharat. Just then the lift arrived, empty as it was time for the mall to close. The two stepped in. "How did you manage to make it a success?" Amit asked, leaving his pride aside for a few moments.
Bharat shrugged. "Just faith."
Amit looked at Bharat suspiciously. Obviously there was more to it than Bharat was letting on. Nothing runs on faith, not even temples these days, Amit concluded. When they got out of the lift, a smart lady walked up to Bharat with a broad smile. "Finally! I have been waiting for so long!" she pouted prettily.
"My wife, Shyama," Bharat introduced her to Amit. "Amit runs a confectionary next door."
She smiled politely and then turned to Bharat, "We are late darling. Uncle will be waiting for us!"
"The old man is used to my ways," Bharat laughed. He waved to Amit and the couple walked ahead. Amit followed discreetly and heard them without intending to. "Uncle was always a bully," Bharat was complaining.
"But he also loves you," Shyama murmured.
"It's because of you," Bharat smiled at his wife.
Amit felt nauseated. That's the way the man was, with his guests too, selling his soul to win them over. But to be like this with his wife!
Amit grimaced. Truth be told, he felt envious, cursing the man for his successful personal and professional life. All the bad luck seemed to have been assigned to his lot, it seemed to him. He was honest and believed solely on hardwork. He did not believe in licking boots or sucking upto anyone. Unlike Bharat, who knew how to massage egoes and please people to get his way. God knows what other compromises he made to get his way.
Why, why me! Amit's heart cried out as he thought of how no one around him seemed to understand him, his uprightness, his dedication and sincerity. Not his wife; not his friends or relatives; not even his parents.
Why were his righteousness, integrity, ethics not being rewarded!
He sat in his car, his frustrations taking him deep down. He could see Bharat's car right behind him as he exited the car park. Their eyes met briefly as he turned a corner and then his world spun around.
Click here for Part II
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