Iyengar vs Aggarwal- a Gay Romance

 As part of its commitment to inclusivity, this blog will now occasionally feature stories of inter-caste Gay Romance.

Iyengar & Aggarwal were best friends at Sri Ram College of Commerce back in the late Seventies. After B.Com both joined the same Company. But, something had soured their intimacy. What was it? The answer is Caste. Iyengar was a Brahmin. Aggarwal came from the Mercantile Caste. 

Iyengar's father was a batch-mate of my Dad's. He thought his boy should do C.A. But Iyengar dreamed of becoming a genuine businessman- doing deals and opening up new markets. His hero was 'Lalaji'- who had come to Delhi as a penniless refugee but, over three decades, had built up a hundred crore conglomerate. Iyengar scored well in the Company's written test and was called for an interview. My father advised him not to get his hopes up. He knew for a fact that Income Tax Commissioner Gopalan's cretin of a son had been allotted a seat on the Management Training Program. These big Companies have to keep the bureaucrats and politicians sweet. They may call you for interview; you may even get an appointment letter; but then the thing will hang fire. The idiot sons and too ugly daughters of influential people will fill up the Training Program. After a couple of years of futile waiting, the meritorious candidates would realize that they had wasted their time. Better do C.A or pass the exam for one of the Nationalized Banks.

Iyengar replied, 'Uncle, what you say is true. But I have a strategy. You see, I've learnt a few Sindhi and Punjabi and Marwari proverbs. Moreover I've mugged up all relevant statistics and market reports. Thus I will shine at the interview. I will get appointment letter but- as you say- at the last moment I will be bumped from the program. But I have one card up my sleeve and this is where I need your help. I have written an article titled 'Lion of the Haat (Haat is the Hindi word for Market)' which traces the career of Lalaji. If you get it published in National Herald, the Personnel department will be scared to bump me from the program. They will think Lalaji will be upset.' 

My father was impressed by Iyengar's intelligence and resourcefulness. He read the article, made some corrections and then gave it to Prem Shankar Jha at T.o.I. The thing was too well written for the Herald. Jha promised to run it because he too was impressed by Iyengar's cogent writing.

Meanwhile Iyengar had given a brilliant interview. His mastery of facts and figures and bold suggestions re. business strategy impressed the panel. The Lalaji himself was present. He said 'You are smart. Why not join IAS?' This was a heaven sent opportunity for Iyengar to expatiate on the wonders of private enterprise and the wickedness of Bureaucratic Socialism. 

Iyengar, got his appointment letter- hand delivered mind you!- the very day after ToI published 'Lion of the Haat'. He was put on the first batch of the Training Program and excelled in everything. Sadly his first position was internal audit. His father mocked him saying 'you will be nothing but a glorified kannakapillai (book-keeper)! You should have taken C.A.' My father took a more sanguine view. Trainees are rotated between Departments. Knuckle down and work hard. You will get your chance.

Iyengar was happy enough till he went to see his old friend Aggarwal who had disappeared off to Bombay for a few months. It seems Aggarwal too had been selected but he had been immediately put to work under the Lalaji himself! If Aggarwal had shown joy, Iyengar would have swallowed his disappointment and taken delight in his friend's success. But, that hypocritical bania was pulling a long face and assuming a doleful tone as it to suggest he was too good for the sordid world of commerce!

Iyengar's father said to him 'What is wrong? Lalaji knows that Iyengars are Brahmins. Aggarwals are traders. They have business in their blood. Brahmins can be good Accountants- but that is all. You can still take C.A. It is not too late.' 

It so happened that, in 1982, I too applied to that same Company. Daddy advised me not to inform Iyengar of this because that fellow- like other Tambrams who had met me- considered me an utter cretin. But he mentioned Aggarwal as the rising star in that outfit. I decided 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' and went to see Aggarwal in his office. I had heard he liked poetry so I took a volume of Keki Daruwalla's poetry as a present. He agreed with me that it was dreck and invited me to dinner. I took the chance to pump him about what he had said at the interview which had so impressed the Lalaji that the tycoon took him under his wing.

Aggarwal's face lengthened. He explained that poetry was his passion but parents had forced him to do B.Com. At the interview, the panel asked him all the usual questions- chief export of Guatemala, chief import of Nicaragua etc. To each he gave poetic answers. Guatemala exports its bitterness. Nicaragua imports its own tears. Finally, one of the interviewers lost patience completely- 'Give a straight answer!' Aggarwal was stung. He replied in Urdu 'When the heart (of the beloved) is crooked, how can answer be straight?' The Lalaji seemed to wake up. Aggarwal then expatiated on this theme till he was bodily ejected from the room. 

Aggarwal was in ecstasy. He had found the 'mot theme' of his vatic genius. He immediately set out for Bombay with all his manuscripts. After a couple of months, he was finally able to waylay Gulzar. 

'Your poetry is utter shit,' the great man said. 'However if you adopt a sonorous voice and melancholy expression, your auditor may not immediately realize that it is shit. But if you ever publish your shit everybody will know it is utter shit. Only an I.P.S officer- like Keki Daruwalla- can get away with publishing utter shit. This is because people assume that the police officer uses his poetry to torture suspects.' 

Aggarwal left Bombay. On returning to Delhi he decided he must get a job with the Company. After all, the divine afflatus had first struck him in the presence of Lalaji. He hoped for a second such miracle under the same circumstances. He went to Lalaji's Jyotish and paid him all he had. Thus, he came under Lalaji's wing only because of astrological advise. The 'Lion of the Haat' wanted to test the astrologer's one unequivocal prediction. So he sent Aggarwal on a fruitless mission to Sethji- an Oxford educated elitist who was his sworn enemy.

Sethji was intrigued. Why had the wily Lala sent him this cretin? 'Look here,' he said to the lugubrious Aggarwal, 'is this about the cement cartel? Give me a straight answer'.

'When heart is crooked', Aggarwal immediately replied, 'how Truth can be straight?' He started to recite, and spontaneously translate, all his worthless poetry in a sonorous but melancholy tone.

The Seth was astonished. Either this fellow was a moon-calf...or...OMG! The Lala is saying 'we are enemies. If we gang up on our friends, nobody will see it coming. This is a way to break the cement cartel.' 

The Seth said, 'Okay, Okay. I get it. Tell me your proposal.'

Immediately Aggarwal started babbling about how, when heart is crooked, proposal is poisoned by its own promise.

The Seth had the fellow bodily ejected. Clearly, Aggarwal was too clever to say anything which might implicate himself and thus get him in trouble with the MRTP Commission.

 Still, it was clear that the Seth himself must come up with a proposal otherwise the Lala would dictate terms. Only by seeing what stipulations of his own the Lala would reject could the Seth get a clearer idea of his enemy's strategy.

Thus, a few days later the Seth contacted Aggarwal and gave him his proposal. But Aggarwal kept saying 'Heart is crooked' in more and more lugubrious tones till the Seth kicked him out.

Still, the Lala got the Seth's proposal by a circuitous route. The one thing the Seth insisted on was that Aggarwal be kept out of the business. He hated the very sight of that cunning hypocrite.

The Lalaji was astonished. Aggarwal was clearly a complete cretin. But he was a business genius! Lakshmi had blessed him- as she often blesses those whom Saraswati rejects. The boy may talk  nonsense but he does it with 'kshanasampatti'- wealth creating kairos.

 The Lala called the lad in and congratulated him. He was getting a promotion and a big bungalow and a chauffer driven car. Aggarwal started moaning about Heart's crookedness. 'All right, you rascal, put in a couple of years here and then you can have the London office. That's the only way you could ever get a seat on the board. Now get the fuck out of here.'

A few years later- by which time I too had returned to England- Aggarwal arrived in London. His staff were extremely unhappy with him. The fellow wasn't just a cretin. He was a fucking emotional vampire. He sucked all the joy out of a room with his incessant whining about heart's crookedness. 

It so happened that my parents, while in London, had grown alarmed by my own deeply depressing style of conversation. They arranged 'Gay Conversation Therapy' for me. I suggested that Aggarwal be sent for something similar. Sadly, because of some misunderstanding, the fellow turned into an out and out bender. However his conversation remained as lugubrious as ever. Iyengar rang me from Delhi- 'Listen you fucking cretin, either fix the problem you have created or I will tell everybody you put garlic in the sambar.' 

Thus I tried my own version of Gay Conversation Therapy on Aggarwal. It didn't work. The fellow insisted on babbling about the crookedness of the heart. In utter despair, I prayed to Lord Muruga. Suddenly Aggarwal became popular and brought joy wherever he went. True he still jabbered on about crookedness of the heart, but he now did so in a hilarious Madrasi accent while waggling his buttocks like in the 'lungi dance'. True, he may have picked up both habits from me but I think we must give credit for this miracle to Lord Muruga alone.

Here ends this Gay Romance. The moral of the story is 'Heart may be crooked, but Haat can straighten out anything, or if it can't, at least it can make it totally Gay.'