Maan gulped. The collar of his shirt chafed his skin. Geet Ma'am ko kya sauna mein kaam karna pasand hai? He stood before his boss, fidgeting with his tie as his eyes flickered nervously between her and the papers on her desk. The few minutes he stood there stretched for an eternity, hardly helping his nerves. When the board meeting was over, he quickly stood up to follow Geet Ma'am out of the room, fearful that he might aggravate her again if he kept her waiting in any way.

"Kya Maan yaar? Apne aap ko sambhalo. Ma'am ne kaha na keh woh tujhe kha thodi jaaeygi. Bas thandi saans le aur focus kar," Maan coaxed himself out of his anxiety by observing the room around him.

Geet Ma'am's office was...white. White walls, white sofas, white pillows, white accent rug, white lamp, yahan tak ke files jo bookshelf pe the, woh bhi safed the. Kaale labels par safed ink mein likha hua file ka naam. MIndblowing. The only color in the room was the mahogany desk at which Geet Ma'am sat.

"Toh Mr. Maan Khurana, yeh rahi aapki contract. Humein umeed hai keh sab kuch Handa Industries ke taraf se aapko achcha lage. Yeh dekhiye, app pardh sakte jab tak Mr. Singhania should be here," Geet said straightening the papers with a final tap on the desk before handing them to Maan.

"Ji zuroor Ma'am, aap kehte hai toh main pardh leta hoon, magar jab aap ne pardha toh mere pardhne mein kya faida?" Maan gave Geet a nervous smile.

A pair of daggers met Maan's eyes before Geet answered, "Agar faida hai toh sirf aap ke liye, Mr. Khurana."

"Ji bilkul, aap bilkul sahi hai Ma'am," Maan shifted in his chair before dropping his eyes to the contract he held.

Silence encompassed the room as Maan willed his eyes to focus on the words before him. The task was easier in theory than in practice. Maan couldn't explain the myriad of emotions he felt being in the same room as Geet Ma'am alone. Attraction? Was he attracted to her? Of course she was beautiful, every man in the building could tell you that, you'd have to be blind not to be attracted to her. Fear? Did he fear her? Of course he feared her, the flicker in her eye was enough to turn stone into dust. And yet. And yet Maan couldn't help feel inextricably drawn to that flame.

"Abhe Maan, nayi naukri ke saath saath nayi shokh bhi mili. Masochistic shokh," Man thought to himself. "Koi din yeh shokh tumhe marvaega."

Maan gripped the papers in his hand until they warped with the sweat from his palms. The sound of Farouqi Sir's curt footfall before sweeping the glass door to Geet ma'am's office could not have been sweeter. Maan knew Farouqi Sir from his days of climbing the corporate ladder. Farouqi Sir had sharp features and gray hair, carefully slicked back with Brylcreem. He was not a tall man, but the look in his eye could make anyone forget their social security number and wonder if that red light they ran this morning was caught on tape. But Farouqi Sir was not naturally austere, his face was often adorned with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, both seemed to say, "I know more than you do" more often than not. He walked in, suited and booted, Pari in tow.

"Adaab ma'am. Khairiat hai?" said Mr. Farouqi, hi head bent in a salute.

"Haan, adaab Farouqi. Teek hoon, bas aap ka intezaar tha. Mr. Khurana ki kuch formalities karni thi. Phir hum Gurgaon wala file mein kuch review baaki hai. Aaiye, shuru karein?" Geet gestured toward the empty seat next to Maan. Pari placed a steaming cup of black coffee on Geet's desk before sitting on the sofa, neatly crossing her ankles, complete with notebook and pen at the ready.

"Aur haan, aap ki beti aur naya nawasa kaise hai?" Geet asked, her eyes glancing up at Mr. Farouqi, before settling once again on the papers before her.

Farouqi Sir leaned forward before answering, "Ji dono teek hai, bas aap ki dua hai."

"Achcha. Maine ek package bheji uss ke liye, woh mili thi?"

"Ji Ma'am mili, Samra ke ghar aane ke baad woh aap ko zuroor shukriya karne ke liye phone karegi,"

"Tsk. Koi zuroorat nahi. Bas usse woh package mili toh sahi hai. Uss mein kuch cheezein hai joh shayad uss ko kaam aaye."

Maan stared wide eyed at the exchange before him. Pehli ajeeb baat hai ke Farouqi Sir Geet Ma'am se itne bade hokar bhi Geet Ma'am ko 'Ma'am' keh rahe hai. Upar se yeh caring wali Geet Ma'am kahan se aayi? Jo unki subordinates ki itni parwah karti hai? Before Maan could work out his Geet Ma'am's puzzling character, he was called back to the present.

"Ji, Ma'am."

"Haan toh Farouqi, aap bas ek baar phir Mr. Khurana ke contract dekh sakte hai, toh phir hum iss kaam khatam karte hai. Mr. Khurana aap ko koi cheez add ya discuss karni thi?" Geet turned to Maan.

"Ji? Ji nahi, meri taraf se sab kuch sahi hai," Maan replied.

"Farouqi?"

"Ji Ma'am, sab kuch sahi hai. Bas aapki aur Mr. Khurana ki signature chahiye," Farouqi handed the file back to Geet.

After signing his contract, finalizing his position on the board of directors of Handa Industries, Maan felt the apprehension sweep from his body. It was done. It was official.

"Once again, congratulations Mr. Khurana," Geet stood, offering Maan her hand in a more personal congratulation. Maan stood on shaking legs, gulping down his fear and praying to his Babaji before forwarding his own hand to meet hers. Magar Maan ke Babaji ne kuch aur hi soncha. In an effort to overcome the weakness he felt in his knees, Maan propelled himself with more force than necessary, causing him to tumble, almost double over Geet's desk. As he struggled with his newfound aerodynamics, he took Geet's cup of coffee down with him. The cup whirled off the desk, its contents splaying in a magnificent fountain before disbursing on Geet Ma'am's white carpet. Maan looked on in horror as the scene played out in slow motion before his eyes. Before he knew it he was stuttering incoherently between feeble attempts to rectify the situation.

"Heyy Babaji, yeh maine kya kar diya? So-sorry Ma'am. Main abhi saaf karta hoon-abhi, abhi karta hoon."

His tirade of apologies lead him to futily dab at the blotchy carpet with his tie.

"Mr. Khurana-"

"Ji sorry Ma'am, main abhi-yeh mera matlab, sorry. Mujhe jaane kya-"

"Mr. Khurana," Geet Ma'am's voice was deathly low.

"Sorry Ma'am. I'm so sorry. Woh aapko handshake karne jaa raha tha aur phir yeh cup, yeh cup jaane kahan se aaya-"

"Mr. Khurana!" Geet raised her voice in exasperation. Until now Pari and Farouqi Sir had jumped to their feet and watched in apall and mild amusement respectively. Their attention had been fully captured by the man on his knees dabbing furiously at the carpet, until Geet raised her voice. All attention was now on Geet.

Maan looked meekly from below the corner of Geet's desk to meet his boss's eyes.

"Mr. Khurana, please. Koi zuroorat nahi hai, ab aapka kaam khatam ho gaya hai, tum jaa sakte ho," Geet's voice had turned to ice.

Realizing the ludicrous position he now stood, no, kneeled in, Maan slowly straightened his tie before standing up. "Woh main, actually Ma'am-"

Geet raised a hand to silence him, barely concealing the roll of her eyes. "Mr. Khurana, jaise maine kaha, tumhara kaam ab khatam hai, tum jaa sakte ho."

"Ji magar Ma'am, yeh stain-"

"Tum uski fikr mat karo, hum sambhalenge."

"Ji Ma'am," Maan gathered his wits before retreating to the door. As he opened the door he stopped, turned, and said, "Sorry Ma'am." He would have waited a moment longer to throw in a sorry face to match had Geet not taken a menacing step toward him causing him to scuttle out of the office fearing the fire in her eyes.

"Babaji aap mere saath aisa kyun karte ho?" Maan said forlornly as he stirred his tea.

"Arre yaar, joh hogaya so hogaya. Bhool jaao usse, waise kaunsi naukri gayi tumhari joh tum aise pareshaan ho?" Adi handed Maan a donut. The two sat at a table in the canteen having an early lunch.

"Kya bataun yaar, main jab bhi Geet Ma'am ke paas hoon toh main zuroor koi na koi gadbad karta hoon. Babaji jaane mere dimagh ko kya hota hai jab woh mere saamne hoti hai."

"Maan, relax yaar. Hum sab Geet Ma'am se darte hai, aur aise ulte seedhe kaam toh karte rehte hai," Adi took a bite of his donut before adding, "Tum toh bas thoda zyada utla seedha kaam karne lagte ho."

This elicited a groan and a whiny 'I know' from Maan as he dropped his head into his hands.

"Chalo yeh sab chod yaar, batao tumhara naya office kaisa raha?"

"Pata nahi yaar," came the muffled reply.

"Kya? Pata nahi matlab kya? Tum board of directors pe baite hue ho aur tumne apna naya office nahi dekhi?" Adi sounded personally affronted that Maan had shown such disinterest in his new vocational digs.

"Pata nahi matlab pata nahi. Bas itni gadbad karne ke baad mujhe kuch samajh mein nahi aaya. Main coffee gira kar hi to aa raha tha jab tum mile. Office ka khayal toh door ki baat, maine Dadima ko bhi phone nahi kiya."

"Uff Maan, chal, utt. Office jaake wahin se Dadimaa ko phone karte. Chal yaar!" Adi was on his feet, snapping his fingers in Maan's ear. "Chaloo!"

Maan slumped in his high back swiveling leather chair. Sitting in his new office, he tried wrapping his head around the events of this morning. So far he suffered a bout of verbal diarrhea and embarrassed himself in front of the entire board of directors plus Daarji and his boss, then his antics in his boss's office lead him to ruin her personal effects in the presence of her, her lawyer, and her secretary. A deep groan erupted from his chest.

"Kyun Babaji, kyun?" Maan whined to himself. "Ugh. Ab mujhe jaane kya kya karna padega Ma'am ko yeh ehsaas dilane ke liye ke main bilkul bekaar ka aadmi nahi hoon?"

Neither Adi roaming about his new spacious office with its city view and stylish furniture nor Daadima's raptures and aashirvaad telephonically delivered worked to help Maan forget the gaffes of the day. Alas, Maan wasn't even given the opportunity to properly wallow over his stupidity as he received a call from Pari stating he was required in Geet Ma'am's office in twenty minutes.

"Lagta hai Ma'am ko bhi pata chal gaya ke mera bewaqoofi ki quota aaj ke liye nahi bhara," Maan sighed. Before he could enter another rant with his Babaji, Maan's phone rang again.

"Haan Pari, bolo."

"Maan?"

Maan felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't heard that voice in over five years. Surely he was imagining it.

"Ji, sorry, main aapko nahi pehchana. Aap ki taarif?"

"Maan, main Naintara bol rahi hoon. Maan, please, phone mat katiye. Mujhe tumse ek baat kehni thi, ek chheh saal purani baat. Maan tum sun rahe ho na?"

Any words that Maan had rehearsed to say in this situation fell dry in his throat. He managed to grunt out a feeble 'hm,' allowing the woman on the phone to continue.

"Maan, chheh saal pehle, tumse milne ke baad, main ma bani-tumhare bachche ki ma."