Delhi or Dilli-bustling streets, endless chai tapris, and a city where dreams are both made and broken. In this chaos, Anchal is focused on her career, dodging her parents' shaadi ki baatein, while Varshith, a perfectionist set to inherit his father...
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| Dheere Dheere Se|
I had met Sanket around almost 4 years ago.
I was sitting on a table in the boardroom listening to my mentor go on and on about financial models, bored out of my mind, when the door to the boardroom had opened and Sanket Bansal had walked in. I remember the boardroom going utterly silent whereas he, the ever confident, composed and precise young man had stood before us without a hint of nervousness or hesitation.
When my mentor, Aakash Kumar had introduced the man as our new CFO, he had barely reacted to the praises and with a nod had slid himself on the chair beside mine. I had looked over at him and smiled at him out of ethics, he had barely given me a nod and had looked straight ahead. I was amused.
I had met a number of tough guys, but this one was...different.
His silence didn't sit well with me so I had decided to play. "Welcome, Sanket. I hope you're not planning to bore us with balance sheets all day."
Instead, he met my gaze head-on and had smiled forcefully, "I don't do small talk."
I had blinked. That was new. "Good," I had said after a pause, smirking. "Neither do I."
My mentor had chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you two will have to get along, seeing as you'll be working closely together."
And boy, we did.
If you read Sanket's dictionary, then we did.
Sanket was a broody, no-nonsense workaholic who kept to himself, diving deep into financial reports like they were ancient manuscripts. He barely acknowledged anyone beyond professional necessity. Personal conversations were absolutely off-limits with him. Almost like a locked vault with no password.
Then one night in the office, when only the most stubborn employees remained, Sanket was buried in his laptop, whereas I was reviewing some contracts across him. I had heard him sigh and had looked up to see his eyes drooping and had decided to drag him with me to grab a bite to eat. I was starving and was damn sure, so was he. He didn't give in at first, of course, but if he was one tough son of a bitch, then so was I. He finally gave in and from that night, something shifted.
I realized that behind the cold exterior, Sanketwasn't just silent, he was guarded.
We didn't start having deep conversations, but we understood each other's work ethics. If Sanket was buried in reports, I didn't disturb him. If I was strategizing, he let me be.
Then once I invited him over to our house, my Dad's, not the apartment, to hangout. It was one of my many initiative to crack his walls and let him loose if we were going to work together in the future. Here, a game of Call Of Duty changed everything. Classic, I know.
Sanket eventually let himself loosen up, shouting at the players, glaring at me when I accidentally killed his player, up until I decided to make it more fun.
