An Episode in the Attic…

A retired professional’s job search and his wife’s devil’s advocate role are explored in a captivating short story by Subramanian, exclusively for Different Truths.

The sun had not set on him… or so he thought.

It was a nebulous axiom that superannuation meant the end of the activity, pursuit or looking ahead because the curtains had fallen. Several voices will agree, and equally, several will disagree.

You look into a vacuous space at the end of a long road, losing your desire or intent for a toehold. Lest it sounds too cynical, you are balanced enough to feel that age has elbowed you out of your professional niche. Yes, your profession is far too crowded to allow a retired person to return to the saddle.

Doraiswamy was far too reflective and realistic to let pompous negative/positive thoughts cramp his mind. In short, he knew his moorings.

“It is not a rule I must always earn, even after 35 years of service. If I do, it is a lark; if I don’t, the sky won’t fall.”

It was even a matter of pride that his wife was equally a realist, though he never bandied about it to his friends.

“You have had enough…I don’t expect you to earn or look for a job.” She smiled.

In a significant organisation’s technical cadre, Advaita was still in service and was beginning to feel the breath of retirement four years away. But she was not scared and never let unsolicited and abrasive thoughts annoy her. 

“You have had long innings, and if you know how to make the rest of your life productive, it is enough. My only concern is that you must not let the thought eat into you. You must learn to live with it.”

Doraiswamy smiled in turn. “Advaita!  It is so refreshing to hear you say this. On the contrary, you would not be wrong if you had seized on this occasion to sound alarmist as several do and are well within their rights to do so. Of course, I will not let moss gather under my feet either.”

He didn’t have to say anything more because his eyes had a kind of mellowness and softness that she was so familiar with. She boisterously slapped his back, saying, “Come on…I know you won’t. That’s what kept us going for over three decades now, right? Also, with a daughter married and raising her own family!”

Doraiswamy nodded before she nudged him, saying, “You have a shopping list in your hand. Be on your feet right away.”

He laughed.

 ***

It was a bolt from the blue, as the adage goes.

Doraiswamy had seen months pass, and the day of his retirement was almost a shadow. One of his long-standing mates, who took care of his postal savings and kept getting fresh investments from him for mutual benefit, remarked casually, “You seem to have become busier since retirement.”

Doraiswamy spent much of his time on his laptop, his coveted better half since he quit service. Besides googling for light-hearted research and exploration of data concerning any issue of interest, he spent some time on professional job sites, especially LinkedIn, without expectations. He did apply for a few closely related to his profession but never expected to hear “from the dark”, as he put it.

Some of his friends had reordered their post-retirement lives without fanfare, assembled in the evenings in a hotel on cue and had a rewarding, lively time. Doraiswamy was also part of it but skipped a few meetings.

He was learning to be happy. Instead, a feeling of happiness came from within.

Then came the interview call over the phone. A young voice addressing him respectfully said, “Sir! You are expected to turn up for the interview tomorrow at 10.30 am. We have sent a message too.” The call went off.

Doraiswamy blinked. He checked his mobile for the message and saw it there.

It was an advertising firm, a start-up presumably on venture capital, wishing to create a content division with an ambitious chart. He checked its profile and found the names of two directors, probably father and son from Andhra, who had meticulously surveyed the marketing potential of the type of content they could offer with ads.

Their address could be traced to a posh and well-developed residential area in the city.

“So, it’s on.” He muttered and smiled. “It should be interesting anyway.”

             ***

Doraiswamy felt slightly dapper after he put on the dress of his choice and the shoes because it had been some time since he put on an elegant appearance. The shoes had long since gone into the attic. He had to polish it and bring back the shine. He was also tall, slim, and well-built for his age.

It was a big, fenced house with a lot of manicured, well-fed vegetation in the front and a spiralling staircase to the upper floor. The area was known for independent houses though the trend of matchbox apartments had set its indelible footprint long back.

When he climbed up and saw the interior, he sensed the upper floor was preparing for an office set-up. He saw a young guy, hardly in his mid-twenties with a trimmed moustache, looking over some files at the entrance. Presumably, the guy who spoke to him over the phone because the youngster recognised it when Doraiswamy gave his name.

“Ah, sir! Please wait for a few minutes. Our boss is having breakfast downstairs. He will be here soon.”

Doraiswamy saw a few workers engaged in refashioning the ceiling and the walls. “So, they are at the threshold of launching the set-up. But what is this youngster doing here with files and the bric-a-brac?”

“Three more persons are to take the interview, sir. You are there for the morning slot.”

“Oh! I see….” Doraiswamy acknowledged it with a smile.

It was a brief, tolerable wait for him before the interviewer turned up – a broad, suntanned young man of medium height with a spontaneous smile, well-trimmed beard, and pleasant countenance. He nodded to Doraiswamy and went inside. Five minutes later, Doraiswamy met him in his large cabin.

Sudhakar Reddy appeared to be slightly flummoxed though he was extremely polite.

“Sir! I went through your CV and should be doing an injustice to you if I ask to see your certificates or your trail of professional experience. Those days are a thing of the past. You have an admirable track record and have had your best moments. So, I will leave the talk to you.  Tell us what you can do and the areas where your competence will help.”

Doraiswamy was never at a loss for self-expression though it was years since he did an interview. He was rusty a bit, albeit due to age also.

“I sense your webzine is about to be launched. You must have done enough spadework on the ad component and worked out a list of advertisers already on the roll. Generally, ads on the web are known to be cheaper than print and electronic media. A team must be at work if you want to develop a content division in specialised areas related to the webzine, including technology. We must find a team of talented, reasonably trained guys. “

Doraiswamy paused. He was sure he organised his thoughts well based on his professional experience.

“Yeah…the team needs some energetic guys who could go on the field, meet the best-known persons in the respective areas and give informative and dynamic content. I know it will take time. A little bit of experience in gathering info will help while hiring these guys. But there must be regular compilation and updating of the data we collect from the net. We must draw up a schedule every weekend on the list of who’s who to be worked upon and fix meetings with them. Also, report on happenings strictly related to our specialised content, anything of interest.”

Sudhakar watched Doraiswamy closely. “It must be interactive also with the viewers, have a comments column where a chat room is set up and soliciting fresh ideas will help. We must peg the viewer at first sight of our web and draw him to it weekly.”

Doraiswamy agreed. “Absolutely, have regular brainstorming sessions indoors too. Also, have a picture gallery of the persons interviewed and highlight events and developments of interest. I feel your webzine is not merely on the economy, technology, and culture. Culture especially opens layers of avenues for writing, conversing and visuals.”

Doraiswamy halted for a while lest he should run away with his talk. But Sudhakar was listening intently and finally spoke.

Coffee cups were laid on the table, again by the same youth who looked sullen and almost glared at Doraiswamy before he left.

“Sir! Let me tell you about us. We spent much of our life in the US. My father, an electronics engineer, spent 20-plus years in a banking firm in California, made his fortune, and in his mid-fifties, wanted to set up shop here. We already have our office in the US.” He sipped his coffee and went on.

“This is my initiative. I am also an electronics engineer and am keen on moving this forward in the best way possible. My father may go back to the US once the shop is on its feet and to his satisfaction.”

He smiled and gave indications that something bothered him.  He seemed relaxed with some issues that needed to be patent or cognisable.

Finally, it came out. “Sir! We have no worries about paying for a candidate so long as he deserves it. What would you expect considering your CV?”

Doraiswamy knew that he could not peg it higher than he deserved, knowing his age and that he had retired. He said so clearly and reasonably.

Sudhakar measured his words. “Sir! It is cool with us, and we should have no problem. My father was keen on you for his reasons.” He finished his steaming coffee, put it on the plate, and continued. He clasped and unclasped his fingers for a few seconds.

“I felt embarrassed when I heard from Dad that you were there for the interview. You are the man for the job. But I want to start on a clean slate…. Just as I am redesigning the look of this place, everything has to be new and bring a fresh breeze and ideas to the firm. I have a young, qualified girl in her mid-twenties who is coming for the interview by noon. There are two more to be spoken to. I may sound like giving a monologue.”

He paused for a while which seemed interminable to Doraiswamy. He sensed the direction of the wind blowing and how long it would take for the wave to hit the shore.  

“She is starting on life to find her professional space where she could be anchored. So are the other two youngsters. Your life is made. You have nothing to lose or don’t expect the sky to fall if you miss out on anything. Sir! I have no competence and credentials to give you a piece of a sermon or stand on a pulpit to lecture. But please… please don’t get me wrong….”

His voice trailed. Sudhakar looked out of the window. Doraiswamy was initially stumped by a reaction, feeling the swelling resentment inside. He wanted to be curt, blunt, and perhaps biting.

“So, you mean to say that you had already decided who it should be….”

Sudhakar raised his hand in a palliative gesture.

“Sir!  I knew it was coming.  Please understand that I weighed my words sincerely out of genuine regard and respect for your CV, age, and experience. I need not have spoken in detail and instead left it with the usual message that we will get back to you.”

He was calm and smiling, but Doraiswamy was not.

“Shall I take my leave?”

He collected his folder and left without looking back.

                                                                     ***

Doraiswamy was not given to invective, but his equanimity was unsettled. It was all over his face as he reached home.

Advaita was engrossed in TV and appeared to have forgotten what her hubby had gone out for.

“Advaita! Could you get me hot coffee? I need it.”

“Sure…” Advaita had a close look at him before she went to make coffee. “What’s wrong? You look as if a wet fish has struck you.”

“Yes…almost. It looks like I have become a little rusty. I had no reason to sense anything sinister. Of course, I should have had the good sense not to have gone for it.”

Advaita extended the steaming cup to him, switched off the TV and said, smiling, “Come on! Don’t lose your cool. You sound a little petulant. For God’s sake, if it had not worked out, don’t bother.”

“No, not that, Advaita! Even If it had worked out, I would not jump up and down.  What beats me is the way it all turned out.”

He gave her a blow-by-blow account of the event as it unfolded.  An inordinate silence ensued for some time before Advaita broke it.

“Dorai… I don’t blame you for getting it wrong. You feel he fixed it and wanted to wriggle out with an alibi. But I feel he spoke to you remarkably well, with much discretion and balance. Nothing prevented him from giving a one-liner, “We will get back to you.”

Intrigued, Doraiswamy came out with a jerky query. “What are you getting at Advaita?”

“Precisely that he meant well and respected your professional track record. Only his priorities are different. Think Dorai, a young entrepreneur who wants to launch a firm with its headquarters in the US and get into stride with a team of young blood. His priorities are at variance with yours. Yet he didn’t want to be dismissive and dignified you with a balanced explanation. Those youngsters want to make a niche, find professional space, and have a leg to stand on. He is investing for a decade ahead…not be content with immediate kneejerk solutions.”

Doraiswamy found his instant bile had thinned down and slowly eased out. The thought that his wife was unwarrantedly magnanimous to Sudhakar Reddy was there. However, he felt a skein of reason and logic to what Advaita said. But his knee-jerk repugnance had not gone yet.

“Does that mean that I have no reason to feel anything sinister? Or pat him on the back for high wisdom?”

Advaita smiled tolerantly and shook her head.

“Dorai! Remember, over 30 years ago, you got into a prestigious steel firm in Mumbai for a single vacancy against 50 applicants who had turned up.  Those times were harder and different. And you told me that your selection after a rigorous and tough test was as surprising to you as anyone else?  Those who lost out also were from some firm or the other and had the experience while you were raw. How did they feel? Did you think about it? Remember Dorai. You are fancying a 100-meter sprint with people who are three generations younger than you. And grudge them for it? Is it fair?”

It was a hard knock to take, perhaps came at the right time, Doraiswamy felt. He remained silent as the right stream of words for a response could not be found. And the gathering realisation deep in him that he was slightly over the top in his initial reaction could not be wished away.

“Maybe you are right, Advaita.” The admission took a long time to come out of his mouth. 

“There is a stage, also the right age, for magnanimity…Dorai! Haven’t we reached that stage now?”

Doraiswamy knew any counter to that would amount to mocking his sense of rationale and maturity and hopeless self-flagellation.

A fortnight later, he casually spotted an ad in the coveted newspaper that a launch function would be held with a VIP gracing the occasion – a brief inevitable honeymoon with publicity.

He smiled and turned over the leaf. 

He had no ill will or hangover…another episode in the attic.

Picture design by Anumita Roy