The Call

It began with a phone call. Somehow it always does.
I was sitting in a conference on ‘Economic Dynamics of Southeast Asia: The Way Forward.’ The speaker had been informing us on International Maritime Laws on Cargo Transport, Subsection 316A- really scintillating. The room was shrouded in pin drop silence (I think you can guess why,) when my phone decided to blare out Marlyn Manson song.

Babble babble bitch bitch
Rebel rebel party party
********* and don't forget the "violence"
Blah blah blah got your lovey-dovey sad-and-lonely

My phone does that.
The whole room stared at me while I made my half-apologetic-grinning-nod exit. Outside I looked at my imbecile phone. It was my old college professor- Aditi Nath Sarkar.
“Hello?”
“What the hell are you up to?” the phone asked me questioningly.
“Uh…nothing,” I replied as my mind raced to the possibilities of things he could have been talking about. May be he figured out it was me who stole that scotch bottle from his desk in third year, or he read that article I wrote in support of Afghanistan War (he is very very left.) Or may be its just Monday.
“Well, if you are done wasting your time in New Delhi, how about coming to Gandhinagar and actually doing something worthwhile?” he barked.
“Uh…huh,” trust my professor to summarize my one year of back breaking work into half a sentence. “What would you have me do, sir?”
“Well, Mallika Sarabhai is filing her nomination right now, from Gandhinagar, against L K Advani. I think you should come and work for her campaign.”
“Hmm..that sounds interesting.”
“So what date will you be here?”
“Wow, can I get some time to think?”
“OK, I will call you after fifteen minutes.” Sarkar gives a whole new definition to last minute calls.
I immediately hung up and started calling my advisory board. Couldn't reach dad's phone. Girlfriend was in a meeting. Best friend was giving me silent treatment for some stunt I pulled last week. Other friend was in US, too expensive to call. So I ended up with the unenviable position of making the decision myself.
Going to work in an election campaign will not doubt be fun. But my boss was unlikely to give me a month-long vacation without any notice. So, I will have to quit. I will also have to give up my house in Delhi (it was part of the job perks.) Not to mention cancel all my part-time activities including the adventure sports magazine I was writing for and the birthday party of a friend that was planned at my house.
As I calculated the pros and cons of the situation my phone blared Manson again.
“So, you coming?” is all Sarkar said.
“Well, I was thinking...” I lamely began an explanation.
“Why don't you talk to Sarabhai? She sitting right here,” he handed the phone to Mallika Sarabhai. “Sandeep,” the voice said. “We are reclaiming the nation here. Would you like to come?”
“Yes, ma'am. I would like to be a part of that,” my mouth was leading its own life.
“Good.” She hung up.
Hmm...homeless and jobless in ten minutes. And the worst part is Gujarat sucks in summer.