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The room was large, airy, with pale white walls and the colour grey dominated it; the lengthy grey curtains that flanked the large windows, the grey padding of the chairs around the desk and in the upholstery of the sofas that formed a slightly informal sitting area in one corner of the sizable office. The excess of grey should have turned the room into a depressing dull one; instead, the grey lent a subtle class to the room with the vibrant moss green accents by way of the cushions on the sofas and the tiny motifs in the curtains enhancing the effect. It was a room that was professional and at the same time, welcoming, despite there being no touch of decoration, no flower vase on the large wooden table or on the coffee table, no artwork on the wall. There was a single photo print on the wall facing the desk, which showed a young man in graduation robes, beside an elderly man, who beamed with visible pride.

Swara tried to sit still, quelling the excitement rising in her; she had been nervous too, especially when deciding on what to wear, unsure if she should be casually dressed, which for her would mean those cotton skirts and frilly blouse that could seem that she was frivolous. Or she could pick a formal outfit, which meant being uncomfortable. In the end, as usual she had taken her sister's advice and picked up a tight necked kurti in soft beige khadi silk that just ended below her knees and paired it with dull red lycra leggings. She had pulled her hair back into a low pony tail, wore tiny pearl drops in her ears and her feet were clad in black pumps with a modest heel. She hoped that she managed to project a professional air, despite being young and inexperienced.

Beside her sat Udayan Mitra, a seasoned reporter with The Kolkata Times. He was a man in his late thirties, a stocky bespectacled man; with his round face, flabby cheeks and receding hairline, he appeared to be a dull and boring. Few knew that his face and expression were misleading, a mask to hid an intellect that was sharp and subtle. It also helped that he had an eidetic memory and was loyal to their publishing house, or more specifically to Ragini. Despite his eidetic memory, he placed the two tape recorders on the glass coffee table; permission for which had been taken, and pulled out the files, handing one to Swara and keeping the other to himself. It contained the entire questionnaire, though Swara would decide the dozen or so questions she would ask.

Swara never understood why SNLRS has insisted that the interviews needed a second person from either side, but now sitting in the sophisticated office, she was glad that she was not alone, a feeling that intensified when they stepped inside.

Tanisha Nanda was not a very tall woman yet she had an imposing personality; slim and svelte, with iron grey hair cropped to an attractive pixie style. She was dressed surprisingly similar to Swara; in a long kurti with a chinese collar and straight pants, in muted pink and dull sandal, and the pair of stilletos that she wore lent both height and grace to her. The only sparkle on Tanisha, apart from her eyes, was the pair of solitaire ear studs that she wore. Swara was not deceived by the apparent simplicity of Tanisha's attire, years of watching Ragini had taught her that what she was seeing was understated elegance, an expensive elegance too. If Swara did not know better, she would be convinced that Ragini had learnt her wardrobe styling from Tanisha.

The man who followed Tanisha was the older version of the young man in the photograph. He was good looking, tall and lean, dressed in a formal suit of deep dark brown. 'An unusual shade,' thought Swara, few men could carried it off, though he did, with panache; especially with his mop of curly brown hair, cut close to the scalp to tame the curls. Everything about him was lean from his jawline to his hands and though he walked with an easy stride and spoke with absolute politeness, he was not a friendly person. 'No,' Swara corrected herself, 'he was not unfriendly, he was a guarded man, a man who sat and spoke with reserve'; for despite wearing glasses, she saw that his smiles, which while softening the harshness of his face, never reached his eyes.

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It was towards evening that Swara reached office and locked herself in the temporary cabin that had been assigned to her. She opened the file which was now contained the transcript and plugging in the earphones, started to listen to the interview as she read through the transcript, making notes of her observations against some of the questions.

Interview with Laksh Jindal

Interviewed by Swara Gadodia

August 7, 2017

Kolkata, India

Interview conducted in English

SG: At the outset, I would like to thank you, for agreeing to this interview.

LJ: [a polite nod acknowledging us].

SG: So, Mr Jindal, could you tell us a few words about yourself?

LJ: "Well, as you must be quite aware, I am a lawyer, dealing in corporate law."

[Pause, as they wait for him to elaborate, they wanted him to share a few personal details, it had been mentioned in the questionnaire that they had sent]

LJ: "Okay, I am thirty five years old, my mother died when I was five years old and I have been bought by Mr Ram Prasad Maheshwari. I have lived all my life in this city"

SG: Tell me about the toughest decision you had to make in the last six months.

LJ: "Agreeing to this interview"

Swara had raised an eyebrow, she was sure that the contempt and sarcasm it hinted at was quite visible, but then Laksh did not rise to the bait. Gritting her teeth as she remembered the conditions, she had continued without voicing the smart comeback. It had not helped that Udayan had stiffened, for he expected her to say something while Tanisha had looked mildly surprised that she had not retorted.

SG: Tell me how you think other people would describe you.

LJ: "Quiet, reserved, keeps to himself"

SG: What do you do when not working?

LJ: "laze around"

Swara had wanted to hit him, he did not elaborate further and she wondered what exactly he meant by lazing around.

SG: What do you hate most about being rich and famous?

LJ: "Invalid question as I am neither rich nor famous."

SG: Of the many things you do, which one makes your heart beat the fastest?

LJ : "Running on the treadmill, it gets my heart rate up from the standard 75 to around 120."

It was at this point that Swara had realised that there would be no 'story building' answers from Laksh, they would only be receiving irrefutable facts.

SG: Where do you see yourself in the competition?

LJ: "In this organisation? I am the best. Elsewhere, I have no clue."

SG: Where do you think you will be after 25 years?

LJ: "Retired"

SG: What advice would you give your younger Self?

LJ: "Nothing, every person has to undergo what they did, to be where there are. You change your past, you change your future."

SG: What things in your life would you give up in an instant if it got you to an even better place than you are now?

LJ: "I am quite content, so the question is redundant."

SG: Is there anything you would like to share about the next person I would have to interview? -

LJ: "Siddharth Mehrotra, a guy who can never take anything seriously, but then it would be dangerous if you underestimated him and thought him to be a joker, even if he was the class clown."

Swara could not believe that this is what he would be saying about the person whom she would meet next and one who obviously was one of the 'S' of SNLRS. She was aghast that it could be thought that she would consider anyone of them to be a joker though she admitted she was curious as to how Laksh was convinced that it could be the most probable opinion. Shaking her head, she continued to read.

SG: Finally, this is something like a rapid fire round; most can be answered in a couple of words:

What would you change your name to? "I see no need to do so."

What's your biggest pet peeve? - "people who talk about things they have no clue about."

What's your annoying habit? - "Citing the law."

Who is your inspiration? "Mr Ram Prasad Maheshwari."

Where would you like to visit? - "the village where I was born."

Who is the messiest person you know? - "My niece."

What's the most interesting thing you've read or seen this week? -"the unveiling of the geographical indication logo and tagline in India."

What would you like remembered about you? - "Nothing."

What sports do you enjoy watching? -"Chess."

What is your biggest/weirdest fear? -"visiting the dentist."

What pet would you love to have? "None."

What is the best/worst purchase you've ever made? - "Best purchase is definitely my house. Worst, the shoes I am wearing."

Swara had wished she had paid attention to his shoes, she wanted to know why he thought them to be the worst purchase.

What's your biggest mistake in the kitchen? - "Stepping inside to cook, once."

What's the most useless talent you have? -"I can draw perfect circles, freehand."

Do you sing in the shower? - "rarely."

Where did you grow up? - "In this city."

What were you as a kid? - "Quiet."

What did you enjoy doing with your friends? - "Just being around them."

Were you a good student? -"Yes."

What did you want to be when you were a kid? -"nothing specific, just wanted to be a qualified professional."

Were your parents strict? - "Redundant, I am an orphan, technically."

What were your best/worst subjects in school? -"Best was English, worst is mathematics."

What is your favourite movie? - "My Cousin Vinny."

What is your favourite song? - "None comes to mind."

What's your favourite place to eat? - "Home."

What are your favourite clothes? - "Jeans."

What was your favourite game? - "Chess"

What was your favourite toy? - "trains."

Swara read the transcript and could see the lawyer in all the answers, as agreed Laksh answered every single question but none of the answers gave a clear insight into the man he was. She was still embarrassed that she had asked about his parents in the rapid fire round, she should have remembered that he had earlier mentioned that his mother had died young and he never knew his father.

He on the other hand, had not even blinked; instead he had answered it with a straight face, as he had for all the other questions. She shook her head in frustration and admiration, Laksh must be a great lawyer, she thought and wondered how he would have fared as a criminal lawyer. She knew the answer, he would do very well, there would be very few who would win against him.

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Laksh stared at the copy of the interview, which had been acknowledged by Swara and returned to him the next day; his attention drawn to a few questions to which he had given factual answers, which were as far from the truth as possible, but then he could not, rather would not give the truth, it was too shameful and revealing to tell them.

What would you change your name to?

He never knew who his father was; his mother had died when he was five years old so there was no one to ask either. His mother had come seeking work in Ram Prasad's house and Anu Ma, Ram's sister, had taken one look at the eighteen year old, heavily pregnant girl and decided that she needed help more than work but also realised that the girl, though destitute, was too proud to accept charity. So Anu Ma had hired the girl to help her in the kitchen, mostly to chop vegetables and perform other mundane tasks, which would keep her busy and yet not strain her. When he had been born, he had been named Laksh Jindal as per her wishes, though none could glean any details as to who she was and who his father could be.

After his mother died, Ram had stepped in as his guardian, and since they stayed in the same house, it was easy on him, for he and Sanskaar were almost like brothers. It was then that he would wish that he was truly Ram's son and had once even asked Ram if he could also be a Maheshwari. Ram had smiled and said, "I would like it, but your mother was firm that you stay a Jindal, so I will promise you one thing. Once you turn eighteen you can legally change your name without anybody's consent and I will not object. Can you wait till then?"

As he grew older and could make out the sneering in the rumours, he realised that his mother had an astute grasp of society and how it would perceive Ram's fondness for him; once that realisation struck him he was grateful that he had not changed his name to Maheshwari, it would have lent credence to the snide rumours that he was Ram's bastard son. However, there were times when he did wish he was Ram's son, and he now regretted them, especially when he recalled that particular incident.

They had waited for Sanskaar to recover but after six days, Anu Maa and the others insisted that they could not wait any longer and since Ram did consider Laksh as his son, it was fitting that he perform the final rites. As Laksh had walked round the funeral pyre, he was on auto pilot, he followed the directions of the priest and performed all the requisite motions yet his heart burned fiercer than the flames from the pyre; he could not shake away the guilt that tore his heart nor could he stop his mind from berating him; he was doing what was the privilege of a son and he was not one, he had stolen it from Sanskaar. He hated himself then, if only he had not wished to be Ram's son, it would not be fulfilled in such a manner.

Shame and anger still pulsed in his veins when he reached the hospital, later in the day, only to see Ragini raging in grief and anger. He had reciprocated in kind. But the worst was yet to come.

A week later, he called her to deliver his scathing verdict. Today, eight years later, it was shame the filled him when he remembered; he had punished her because she had acted in anger caused by grief and the irony was that he had reacted in wrath born of despair. He was worse than her for he had not told her the complete truth.

He continued to read, though his head started to ache as the repressed emotions fought to breach the calm facade he had donned.

What advice would you give your younger Self?

When you have the love of a good woman, never let ego or hurt intervene; and never let her go.

What things in your life would you give up in an instant if it got you to an even better place than you are now?

Anything, if it meant having the only woman he loved by his side. Everything, for she was the only woman who had loved him for who he was, his name or rather lack of it, his qualifications, his ability, nothing had made a difference to her. And even though she had walked away, trampling his fragile heart to pieces, she would always be the woman he had never stopped loving from the minute he had set eyes on her, Ragini Gadodia.

However, that was not the entire truth, she had walked away but then what he had done subsequently, ensured that there was no way she could ever come back. His younger self should be punched in the nose and have his knees broken, which would ensure that he crawled to ask forgiveness.

Instead, he was now alone; unsure as to how he could ever seek her forgiveness though he suspected that he might never be forgiven.

And here ends Chapter 5, another longish one, which again I hope did not bore you much. By now you would have a fair idea as to who the people behind SNLRS are and also get a glimpse into Ragini and Laksh. Tell me how you found this update, you could simply press the star and even better write a comment. Do share your views for I welcome all feedback, good or bad.

Next update - Circumvention, when we get to meet Siddharth Mehrotra.

love,
Nyna