Happiness Guarantee

“One day, we shall meet again when we are in our mid 30s. I shall come driving in my latest dark green Jaguar and you will come in a silver…..”

“BMW Z series!” Raam completed it for Soumesh.


That was in 1999, when the two friends were excitedly chatting into the late evening about their plans for their future. There was no detail of how to produce the copious amounts of wealth though. They had received their BBA degrees that afternoon, successfully completed with distinction after three years. Both young men were heirs to family businesses, small yet flourishing. It rested on their delicate shoulders to carry the burden and come out with flying colours. There was a mutual unspoken feeling among them that this would be the last time they would see each other and if and when they did see each other, it would have to be in the grand manner of their respective modern chariots.

** *

The air conditioning of the car was ineffective. There patches of sweat on his shirt just above the stomach that remained despite the fact that he wore a baniyan. The sun’s rays seem to converge on him through the windshield, burning him like the ant that was the victim of the curious, sadistic child’s microscope. A bead of sweat dripped down his nose from his forehead.

‘Bloody Global Warming’ he said to himself.

He finally reached his fully air conditioned office.

He banged the door of the car shut. A little of bit frustration but not large enough that it showed. The talk with his friend in 1999 just flashed in his mind when he shut the door. A wry smile appeared on his face as he walked into the building. His car certainly wasn’t the Jaguar he thought he would have by now. At least he owned one of the horses (working mule rather) from the stable of the company that bought Jaguar. Now who would have ever thought of that?

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