Swati stared at her laptop and waited for the time to display 18:30 before calling it a day. She was preoccupied today, and didn’t work much, but leaving the swanky office even a minute before the official closing time would be considered a cardinal sin.
“Swati,” a voice called from behind.
She straightened in her chair without turning to face Shikhar, her Manager, who asked, “What’s the status of the KBK proposal?”
Swati took a deep breath, turned and uttered,
“I haven’t started
There’s time yet
Why ask before the due date
And give me a headache?”
“When it comes to me, you speak in poetry and write in economy,” he thundered. “Earlier, I was shocked to see that your project report comprised two pages of text! How will we justify twenty lakhs of billing with that report? I am not going to take a chance with this important proposal and have emailed my thoughts beforehand. Please open my email.”
“Clients look for solutions
Not beautiful presentations
Why add frills and fares
To give them nightmares?
We want them to read our report
Not consign it to a canister.”
“I am the one who is ultimately answerable to the Client. Kindly do as I say and open my email.”
“I am human
Not a robot
I have a brain
Which is in pain
At such a place
Where all work is a race.”
By now, others in the vicinity had paused their work to follow the conversation between the two.
Shikhar looked exasperated. “Seems I made a mistake six months ago in hiring you. I was impressed by your knowledge and confidence, not knowing you are a poet in consultant’s disguise.”
“What do I do!
From the day we met
I lost my heart to you
Every time our souls connect
A melody reflects.”
Shikhar opened and then closed his mouth.
“Tell me you are mine
For my heart to resume its flow
Tell me you love me too
For the melody to grow.”
He cleared his throat. “There was no need to exert so much of your poetic abilities. You only had to open the email I sent.”
For once, Swati was tongue-tied. She turned towards her monitor and opened Shikar’s email.
“I have neither the poetic talents
Nor your charming good looks
But if you were to come to me
I will love you more than my books.
Dare I ask if you will be mine
Dare I hope that you agree to be my wife?”
Swati could feel Shikhar breathing down her neck beside her chair. Holding the hand that he offered, Swati got up and buried her face into his chest.
The office reverberated with uncharacteristic claps and whistles.
“Will you continue to speak in verses even after our marriage?” Shikhar whispered.
Swati gazed into his eyes and responded,
“Why speak in sentences
When one can rhyme?
Why bother about the literary device,
When the story has won the prize?”
Connect with Penmancy:
Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!