Mumbai

Swara

Years ago, Mehra and Sekhar used to work closely in Kolkata, before the Mehras moved to Mumbai. Swara vividly remembered coming to Mumbai during her summer holidays with her parents for visits at the Mehras'. Their family of 4 reminded Swara of her own, and they had been more than welcoming for her visit this time too. She ignored the little wave of homesickness, and the buffet of sadness. Sadness didn't become her, and that was why she was here. So she could live more, do more, be more. For that, she needed to be strong and independent.

And so despite, her beloved uncle's protests, Swara insisted on staying on her own. Having known her since she was a child, Mehra gave in finally with one stipulation: that she'd drop in and see them frequently. He helped her locate a nice 1BHK and settle down. It was close enough to her college, where she had enrolled for her Masters in Social Work. He decided to check in on her if she didn't, and wished he could take care of his closest friend's child better. Again, knowing her, he had to let it go for the moment.

She waved him off from the balcony of her new apartment, then stood there for a moment. She could see the college from here. And everything else she wanted to see was encompassed in the view. This place was perfect for the new start. Smiling, she turned to see her books.

Sanskaar

Maheswari Inc, Mumbai

One week was enough for everyone at Maheshwari Group to see the boy's potential. The rest of the month was certainly more than enough for them to see why DP wanted Sanskaar on the board of directors. Malhotra knew instinctively he was too big for the intern's shoe, and the position of team lead, which he was made in two months, was too small for him. And so at four months, Sanskaar was section head, PR wing, Marketing, and that would have to do for now.

Nobody questioned Malhotra. Because his protege had visions, and the skill and tact to have them realized. He was diplomatic, decisive and incisive as and when needed. The aura of power was cloaked by charm and manners, but there was no mistaking it. Sanskaar's business acumen and sharp mind had the tongues of even senior managers tied, at times.

But there was none of the weight of ego to add to this list. He might have been the heir apparent of Maheswari Inc, but everyone was treated with due respect, everyone was greeted with a smile. He was the epitome of professionalism. He was perfect. He was Sanskaar.

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DP's heart swelled with pride whenever he heard people talking about how Sanskaar was going to take Maheswari to places once he took over. Though he didn't create a fanfare, he made it a point to mention to Sanskaar at intervals how happy he was about the progress Sanskaar was making. Sometimes Sanskaar would accompany his dad to board meetings, sometimes they would discuss things on the dinner table before Annapurna intervened and soon issued a decree of no business discussion during dinner.

While his discussion with his dad was limited to business, Sanskaar always found a friend in his mom. She was his confidant, sounding board, staunch supporter, his pillar of strength.

With her, he would share snippets from office, amusing stories and distressing episodes alike.

He found it amusing, the extra smiles he garnered from the females, the story somebody gave him of a fan club in his name at the office, and he at times told her how he was tired of all the surplus attention on him, how some of the staff treated him like royalty. Not very ethical, he'd say. And that he had unknowingly made some enemies at the office over petty things such as being born with silver spoons, that he could do nothing about. He alternated between jokes about marriage proposals from elite Marwari families flying in for him and wondering if all of this was simply because he had the privilege of the Maheswari name.

Those times he wished he was "Simply Sanskaar", an ordinary boy who would prove himself and make his own way, and everything he'd do on his own.

Annapurna would listen to all this trying to gauge her son, what he truly wanted. Parties bored him, he attended those simply out of necessity. Networking was a necessary evil according to her son. Business meetings interested him, he liked strategies and thinking on his feet, dealing with people. He knew he was good with those things, excelled at them. He was satisfied with his professional life, it was going the way he always knew it would, but personally, he wasn't sure. He'd have these bouts of unrest that there was something missing...

Then he'd put it aside and think up the next storm for their various businesses. Life went on.

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Maheswari Inc - Meeting Room

"Well I thought we are here to discuss publicity strategies lekin yaha tho charity ki baat ho rahi hain great," said one quiet voice from the end of the table, albeit with a little bite to it.

Malhotra adjusted the rim of his glasses, surveyed the participants of the discussion. It was always interesting to sit back and watch his protege handle these sessions.

"What if I say we are discussing both?" said Sanskaar.

Malhotra smiled. He knew where this was going.

"How so?" came another question.

"Isn't it simple? You donate, do some good, you get your publicity."

"But Maheswari group has already carved up a nice chunk of the market, and we have a solid brand value," this voice had less of bite, more of good sense. "Do we really need to shell out more money for additional publicity, and for charity?"

Sanskaar smiled. "Adding a little more goodwill wouldn't hurt us, Mr Verma," he paused to meet the eyes of others as well. "I feel we have always focused on publicizing our products, adverts, billboards, brand ambassadors. It is time we did something new, that which would give Maheshwari Industries a holistic image," he turned to Verma again. "It wouldn't hurt the budget much," he said amiably.

"What is it that you are suggesting?" Though sceptic, Verma was considering new avenues now.

"NGOs. We can do our share for the society, and the additional publicity won't hurt either."

"What if it is brushed off as just a publicity stunt by media? That we just forayed into the charity realm?" Another one of the frosty tones.

Sanskaar's answer to this had Malhotra smiling, for this was exactly where he saw the discussion ends.

"It has a very nice, self-explanatory name, you know," he said conversationally. "Corporate Social Responsibility."

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The rest of the session was a buzz of activity. Lists were drawn up, teams were made, tasks allotted. After which, they all scurried away, much like a hive of journalists running off to make deadlines.

Sanskaar remained seated, as his core team had yet to leave. Malhotra nodded in farewell and went to attend to the rest of his day's agenda.

Sanskaar briefed them about keeping DP as the face of the CSR activities. He vetoed their suggestion that he be the face. His idea was to get them closer to the public, but not by seemingly uprooting the organizational structure. He didn't want to hog the limelight.

As they were walking out, he spoke to his assistant about something else. He wanted to help an organization that didn't have big recognizable names, one hardly anyone knew existed. It was to stay off their other lists which they made. Kunal nodded, understanding. He mentioned this orphanage attached to his Church, a little known children's home in an old building. Every Sunday he attended mass there, and more often than not he'd wish it had a benefactor, with a good heart and money to spare. His own contributions were nothing compared to what the place needed, and so he suggested the orphanage.

Sanskaar seemed to like the idea, making Kunal's day.

"What's it called?" he asked Kunal as he buttoned his blazer. They were coming down the steps of the front entrance, and his BMW was driven up for him.

"Little Flower Angels' Home," he supplied, opening the car door for his boss. "I can give you the address tomorrow Sir, ya jab bhi aap free ho."

Sanskaar thought for a moment, then gave his phone to Kunal. "Key in the address, I'll use GPS. Am going now," he started to get in the car when something else occurred to him. "Kunal--"

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As soon as he drove up beside Little Flower Angels' Home, he knew the little Hyundai Eon was the right choice. His BMW would have been so out of place beside the modest little church and outbuilding, the dusty playground and sturdy little building where the children were probably housed. They were playing in front of it, in a storm of dust and joy and laughter. He felt a twinge of guilt as well, looking down at his own Guccis as he got out. Should have changed to something less formal, he said to himself as he locked up. While Versace was okay for the boardroom, it was ostentatious for social work. He walked away, sighing. At least he had the foresight of borrowing his assistant's Eon. Less conspicuous. He thanked God for small mercies.

And then he thought, thank God for small mercies, again, as a cricket ball whizzed past the car. Replacing the glass was easy, but that would mean he couldn't take care of a borrowed vehicle. That would be less than perfect.

He sighed again as he watched the kids playing. It wouldn't be nice to barge in and tell them not to bat that way, seeing as he had parked in their ground without asking first. The batsman had to be pretty good, the way the ball was winged. Was taller too, than the rest of the grubby pack. And had a swinging ponytail of hair and a pretty blouse and what looked like formal slacks. He slipped his aviator sunglasses off for a better look. It was a girl, much older than the children, and dressed in smart formals. As he watched, they were having a lively debate about a call by the umpire.

The girl's team won the debate, obviously as she jumped and slapped high-fives with her partner, another kid who half as tall as she was. Amused, he watched their game for a few more minutes. She was good, the way her bat swung and the ball cracked, and she sent it winging. He smiled at their enthusiasm, it sure was catching even halfway across the field. And not just their enthusiasm, but the ball as well, which was coming straight at him. Uh-oh... He dodged, and it missed his face narrowly. And smacked into his left shoulder!

And Sanskaar Maheswari, heir apparent of Maheswari group, found himself dumped unceremoniously on the dusty ground, in his nice Versace suit and Gucci shoes, rubbing his sore shoulder wondering what hit him...the ball or the girl?

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