Scene 23 – Delhi Dada Dhishkiaoon

Vikas chewed on his Havana cigar, as he sat in his office with his legs propped on the desk. A very content smiled draped is face. He still had a light hangover from the birthday party two days back. He took the cigar from his mouth and blew at the smoldering tip. Suddenly a fit of ‘cheekhna’ took over him, and his cheeks still felt sore from all the pecking that had come his way. He shifted himself more comfortably in his swivel chair.

From his mezzanine level office he watched the rows of sewing machines whirring away. He lazily gazed that new cloth samples that lie on his discussion table in the corner. He dragged deeply on his cigar again, and patted his stomach, reflectively. Middle age is when broadness of the mind and narrowness of the waist change places. For many people. Not for him anyway. He was glad he had remained fit and trim. Just a receding hairline and the beginnings of a ‘sunflowery’ view if someone looked at him from a higher floor. He took a deep drag and rolled the smoke around his tongue, and blew rings. As he watched one of the rings slowly drift towards his feet, he moved his right foot to break the fading ring.

He buzzed for his assistant, and waited. She came in, without uttering a word, and looked at him. Vikas turned his head towards the samples and moved his head towards the door. She understood him. She quietly picked up the samples and walked out as Vikas watched her and sucked on his cigar again. He was a man of very few words. He spoke only when it was needed, and the words were always carefully measured.

The red phone on his desk rang, and he eased his legs off the desk and picked up the phone.

Caller: VD?

Vikas: Haan.

Caller: Two foreign suits needed.

Vikas smiled happily. He had made one really awesome innovation that had helped him amass his riches. Here was another order coming through.

Vikas: Ok, the usual?

Caller: Yes. But personally deliver it at Bangalore.

Vikas: Bangalore?

He smiled again. Happily. He could meet up with some friends and also meet and bash that wannabe writer who was massacring his spotless reputation with some silly posts. He now grinned happily.

Caller: Yes. Deliver them to Musten

Vikas: MUSTEN????????????????

Caller: Yeah, by next week. Paisa wire ho jayega.

Vikas: Same cheese account, right?

Caller: Yes. No need to mention.

The call got disconnected.

He swung his legs on the table and reminisced. It was not going to be pleasant meeting Musten. He disliked him so much. But there was no avoiding him. He would have to drape him, and also give him clear instructions. He took a deep breath and reached for his phone again. He had to place an order for the raw material right-away. And get into the act of stitching the ‘foreign suit’. This was something he had to do all on his own. The money was worth it. He smiled happily again as he thought of his swelling Swiss account balance.

Around that time, PDSC and the CAT women scaled the walls of Merlin’s house and stealthily looked around. PDSC grinned happily and rubbed his hands with glee. Action time!!!