It's all about the money

(Apologies for the long-ish post. The happening meant a lot to me. Hence the long-winded post)

The 3^rd of July in 2006 was the day I entered the Indian workforce. For the first time.

It was a symbol of growing up of sorts.

I would be staying in a PG then on. I would wear a tag with my photo and name on it. I would start using Outlook and use email for non-forward purposes. I would be dining ‘outside’ every single meal. Mostly at one of the dharshinis that gave idly-vada for 15 bucks in the mornings, and roti-curry for 15 at nights. I would have a CUG sim, with a postpaid connection. And a credit card, very soon.

It was a symbol of growing up of sorts.

That was the overwhelming feeling amongst most of my roommates. There were 4 of us sharing a room in a PG. All of us were from PSG, and for at least 3 of us, the prospects of getting more than 3 digits of money at one time seemed supernatural. It was something that had never happened to us in the past. Something we could never bring ourselves to believe for the future too. Yet it was real. As real as the appointment letter in our hands.

After all the settling down during the first week of orientation, and the PG hunting then on, we got into a groove. Slowly things began to look normal. What seemed to be too much of a privilege earlier, soon became regular stuff. The ID card went into the shirt pocket – it had become a nuisance that got in one’s way when bending to wash hands at the food court. Outlook was just a tool to check mail and keep reminders, and wasn’t anywhere near gmail in being cool. And dining ‘outside’ did not carry the same sense of exhilaration one had in college or in school days; it was everyday stuff. Three-times-everyday stuff, actually.

But the prospects of earning money – one’s own money – still seemed supernatural. Payday was still a few weeks away.

Every time we met some project manager or business leader, we used to guesstimate their salaries and wonder when we would reach that level. So also every time we saw someone drive out in a car. Any car.

As the month went by, we slowly got more and more excited about payday. We diligently logged into our ICICI web accounts every day, even if only to stare at zero balance. As days passed, the zero seemed to become more valuable.

As that happened, our pockets got slimmer too. We had all got some grace money from home to manage during the first month of working. Despite choosing the smallest of dharshinis, and avoiding snacks of all sorts, and using the bus and only the bus for travel, the bounty seemed to be getting thin rather fast. And the advance amount for the PG dealt a big blow very early on. So as the end-of-month drew closer, we were witness to a very spirited race – between the emptying of our pockets, and the filling up of our accounts with money as we had never known before. And we wouldn’t hear of asking for money from home. We were employed after all. It was just a matter of managing the month.

We learnt from some friends who had joined earlier that salary was unfailingly delivered to the account on the last working day of the month. July 31^st was a Monday. Drats! If the calendar had been earlier by a day, I would have received my pay on Friday itself. Now one would have to coast across the weekend to see the non-zero account balance. For the first ever time in one’s life.

Monday the 31^st found us trio very pensive. (The 4^th guy being an NRI offspring, was well endowed and wasn’t bothered so much about it all. And he would have helped us had we asked. But for some reason, we didn’t). Anyway, the whole of that Monday, all three of us needed no excuses to login into the online account, and to rush to the ATM (just in case the online database was slightly outdated). We had gathered that one would receive an SMS when ‘it’ happened. But who knows how trustworthy the connections were. Maybe ‘it’ had happened, but the system was slow on sending out SMSes? Who knows.

So we kept checking our accounts eleventy-eleven times that day. Soon it was time for the buses to start back from office. And still no signs of money. Or an SMS. We went home in silence that day. How could they be wrong? They have been drawing salaries for so many months now. How could they not know?

We reached our room and changed by 7. And were about to start for dinner, when LSK came to me and said “டேய் நண்பா.. காப்பாத்து டா.. என் கிட்ட பத்து ரூவா தான் இருக்கு.. உன் கிட்ட extra அஞ்சு ரூபா இருக்கு ல?”

“அஞ்சு ரூபாயா? திடீர்னு அவ்ளோ காசு கேட்டா நா எங்க போறது? என்கிட்டயே மூணு ரூபா தான் இருக்கு.. நானே உன்ன நம்பி ல இருந்தேன்?”

We both then slowly turned to look at EV, apprehensive about his response..

“என்னங்க டா முழிக்குறீங்க?”

“மச்சி.. உன் கிட்ட எவ்ளோ காசு இருக்கு?”

“கம்மியா தான் டா இருக்கு..”

“எவ்ளோ னு சொல்லு டா மூதேவி”

He opened his purse and started counting a few notes and coins..

“நாப்பத்து அஞ்சு ரூபா இருக்கு”

“Yabbbaaaaadiii.. நண்பன் போட்ட சோறு.. நிதமும் தின்பேன் பாரு!”

“என்னங்க டா பாடுறீங்க? என்ன விஷயம்?”

"ஒண்ணும் இல்ல மச்சி.. வா போலாம்..”

Thus, he sponsored our dinner that night which was promptly entered in our common book of accounts..

On the way back, one of us spotted an ATM.

“மச்சீ.. அங்க பாருங்க டா.. ATMu..”

We rushed there.. I reached first, and put in my card..

And punched in my PIN..

Selected Balance Enquiry..

Then Savings..

And waited with bated breath..

In a couple of seconds, the machine said “0.00”, followed by an unhelpful and humiliating “Do you want to continue?”..

Deflated totally, we went back to the room and crashed for the night hoping for a better tomorrow..

The next morning, all of us kept checking our phones for any SMS every 10 minutes as we got ready.. Soon it was time for the bus.. We travelled in silence the whole 20 minutes it took to reach our office on Mysore Road.. We were quite grumpy in mood.. So much when someone stomped on a friend’s foot in the pathway, he started with “ஓத்..”

Only to be silenced by the other 2 of us “Shhh.. மூட்றா மயிராண்டி.. இன்னும் சம்பளம் வராம இருந்தா அவன் கிட்ட தான் கடன் கேக்கணும்.. மூடிட்டு வா.. அய்யாவுக்கு ஒரு good morning சொல்லி வை”..

“Hmmm.. நம்ம கிட்ட எவ்ளோ டா இருக்கு இப்போ?”

“உன் கிட்ட பத்து.. என் கிட்ட மூணு.. இவன் கிட்ட சூன்யம்.. மொத்தம் பதிமூணு.. நீதான் இருக்குறதுலே பணக்காரன்”

“மூணு வடை வாங்குறதுக்கு கூட ரெண்டு ரூபா கொறயுதே..”

“…”

Soon we were in office.. we got down in pin drop silence and moved towards the ATM without sharing a word.. As we entered, LSK said “இரு டா.. இந்த வாட்டி நா check பண்ணி பாக்குறேன்”.. I moved aside..

He put in his card..

Punched in his pin..

Selected Balance Enquiry..

Then Savings..

The machine took a second to process, before displaying

“Rs. 13,129”

In big bold letters.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!! We were rich.

Or at least, we could afford our next meal ourselves!!

“Daiiiiii.. விடுங்க டா.. என் காலை மிதிச்ச அந்த நாய தேடி புடிச்சு நாக்கு புடுங்கிட்டு வர்றேன்.. யாரு கிட்ட!”

“அத விடு மச்சி.. மொதல்ல withdraw பண்ணு.. போய் சாப்டுவோம்..”

“டேய் அந்த பில்டிங் என்ன வெலை?? இந்த கார் என்ன வெலை?? Road-aa போட்டுருக்கானுங்க? தூ.. புதுசா போடா சொல்லு, காசு நான் தர்றேன்..”

Yapping our way to glory, we rushed to the food court with money. Our money.

And ate one vada more than usual.

While the happiness of earning one’s money was orgasmic, I had to keep my emotions under control. I saw myself more as a guardian of all that money. I had to save up for MBA. If in case I did succeed in getting into one of the IIMs, preferably IIMB, I would need that money. All of it. And more.

Two years later, IIMB decided to let me in.

Two years later, IIMB decided to let me out.

Sometime last week, I called up the missus one evening.

Me: “Hi..”

Missus: “Hi..”

“என்ன secret-aa பேசுறே? எங்க இருக்கே?”

“Hospital ல.. Navaneeth-க்கு அடி பட்டுருச்சு.. பாக்க வந்துருக்கோம்”

“Ohh.. எந்த hospital?”

“Ramakrishna”

“Hospital என்ன வெலை?”