Upendra Namburi - 60 Minutes

westland ltd.

60 MINUTES

Upendra Namburi is a sales & marketing professional who has launched over twenty new products and participated in setting up three new businesses. He is an engineer by accident and an MBA by design.

He has contributed to leading newspapers and online publications and is an evolving blogger. He has written on a wide array of subjects including payments, loyalty and marketing. He has also been invited by several management schools across India to speak and interact with students.

Having realized that we are all in a constant rush, set up against timelines and deadlines in this often transactional life, he has captured that essence in a new genre of contemporary Indian life thrillers.

He is on the passionate voyage of writing the numbers triumvirate of novels titled , 60 Minutes and His novels touch upon the various facets of urban India, including corporate life, obsessions, love and relationships. His debut novel , was a bestseller and also on the longlist for the Tata First Book award.

He currently resides in Gurgaon with his wife and The Prince, his mischievous son.

60
Minutes

westland ltd

61, Silverline Building, Alapakkam Main Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600 095

No. 38/10 (New No.5), Raghava Nagar, New Timber Yard Layout, Bangalore 560026

93, 1st Floor, Sham Lal Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110 002

First published in India by westland ltd 2014

First ebook edition: 2014

Copyright Upendra Namburi 2014

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-93-84030-24-7

Typeset: PrePSol Enterprises Pvt. Ltd.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, circulated, and no reproduction in any form, in whole or in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews) may be made without written permission of the publishers.

Believe in your passions.

Follow your passions.

Live your passions.

Never let go.

Relationships are not defined by their outcome. Friends are not defined by their utility. People are not defined by their actions. Motives are not defined by choices. Identities are not defined by designations. Love is not defined by rationality. Right is not defined by wrong. Black is not defined by white. Reality is not defined by facts. Victories are not defined by defeats. Truth is not defined by lies. Suffering is not defined by pain. Morals are not defined by the rights. Guilt is not defined by punishment. Journeys are not defined by maps.

The truth lies in the shades of grey.

Contents

Acknowledgements

To

My prince and son, Yashvardhan, my window to innocence and truth.

My wife Nirupama, for being beside me unconditionally .

My brother Pradyumna, for his sheer conviction in my writing.

Mom, who understands me like no other.

Dad, who defines friendship.

&

Those who have been with me through this wonderful journey. Amruta Dongray, for her insane passion and brilliant original verses.

Niranjan Mendonca, who convinced me that I was on the right path.

Payal Mathur, my lodestar and rock of support.

Prasanth Mohanachandran, for his sheer effervescent presence.

Rashi Mendes for her unbounding enthusiasm.

Rupali Mehta for her refreshing perspectives.

Sridhar Kuchibhottlla, for the insightful conversations and views.

Umesh Kotwani, who embodies persistence and courage.

Gautam Padmanabhan, Paul Vinay Kumar, Krishnakumar, Sanghamitra and the entire team at Westland who always give it their all.

Sharvani for the intense debates.

And Anuj Bahri, who can inspire like no other

And countless others who have inspired and blessed me with their sheer presence in my life.

Chapter One

the
previous
day

I had torched them

one by one

will I have to burn

to be left alone

It was the last cigarette. Maithili tugged at it repeatedly, but it refused to budge from the safe confines of its white box. She huffed, exasperated, and turned the pack around and shook it till the cigarette fell.

Damn! she yelled and bent over to pick up the nicotine stick that had landed next to her feet, on the ledge. It was a calm evening and the rays of the setting sun lit up her hand. As she grabbed the cigarette and hoisted herself up, the heel on her left shoe gave away. She clung on to the pole behind her with her right hand and heaved her body back towards the terrace, away from the steep drop that lay in front of her.

With one foot angling for space on the ledge and the other suspended dangerously in mid-air, she let out a manic laugh, realizing that she had dropped the cigarette. One more, in a long, endless series of mishaps. She watched the cigarette descend rapidly, teasing hundreds of patients in their hospital beds; that fleeting resplendent sin that could not be theirs, as it whizzed past them.

The cigarette eventually landed on a black and yellow, twenty floors below. She pulled her left leg back and let it rest on the ledge, two feet away from the right leg and straightened her back. With no nicotine fix in sight and the sweet swing of tequila receding, the pain was unbearable.

Her grip around the pole slackened and she urged herself to walk down the ledge towards the far corner. Her feet moved forward, though nervously at first and her hands spontaneously extended themselves above her shoulders, balancing her lean frame. The warm breeze brushed against her cheeks and she gently tilted her head and raised it towards the sky. Her feet continued in their path forward, unmindful of the steep fall.

She had expected to be nervous, but the walk was far smoother than she had hoped. She felt numb. What did she want up here? Did she want to feel fear or didnt she? Did she want to complete this walk or not? Did she really want to just jump? Did she want to make love to him or did she just want to slice him slowly with a sharp blade? She felt this intense disdain and spite for men, specifically the men who had meant anything to her. They had all hurt her. None of them ever understood her, or had even tried to understand her. They were so susceptible to her faadea mask that shrouded her real identitythat she ended up fooling even herself. It had all blurred.

Her heartbeat picked up pace. The trembling had started and a wave of nervousness swept through her body. She was experiencing fear again. This was good. She felt alive. But did she want to be alive?

Her feet toed the corner of the ledge. Now she needed to make a choice. Move to the left and follow the ledge, or turn around and move back towards the pole. And then it struck her. She didnt have to wait for a strong breeze or even a passing bird to nudge her off the ledge. She was just one step away from flinging her body into the air. One last flight! One last plunge and she would be away from it all. Nothing to look back on. No more decisions. No more contradictions. No more flaws. No more regrets.

She was feeling confident again. Or was it false bravado? She was always a little uncomfortable whenever she felt confident. Fear and nervousness were welcome allies. She just couldnt figure out happiness. It unsettled hernot knowing how long it would last. She couldnt grasp the dizzying extremes of joy and fear that were sweeping her today. How could she even feel happy? Was she pretending to feel happy? She couldnt make out the difference anymore. Could even the gentle breeze and the setting sun trigger such emotions in her? This was strange. Was this all that it would take? Was she losing it?

She yearned to experience true, authentic joy and the passionate embrace of a loved one. Her heart yearned to be shattered again. Her body longed for the warmth of another, someone she could cling on to without fear or demands. Another body, just a body, that could be by her side. She just needed to be assured that there was indeed blood running through her veins and that she was alive. Nothing morenothing less. She wanted to just feel human. But not too human, of course. She couldnt afford to make that mistake.