•  •  Dark Mode

Your Interests & Preferences

I am a...

law firm lawyer
in-house company lawyer
litigation lawyer
law student
aspiring student

Website Look & Feel

 •  •  Dark Mode
Blog Layout

Save preferences
An estimated 6-minute read
 Email  Facebook  Tweet  Linked-in
Disclaimer 1: The title for this post has nothing to do with Opal Mehta. Kaavya’s got the all the intellectual property for that one (snigger snigger!)

Disclaimer 2: This post was conceived a couple of months ago. Recent occurrences have no impact on its content. As stated earlier, resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Please take a minute and think of your worst nightmare.

I'd like you multiply that particular feeling by a million.

And then repeat the exercise.

That probably gets you some somewhere in the region of what I am currently feeling. Its 8 am this morning here in London and I have an absolutely raging hangover. I am typing out this post in an attempt to keep myself occupied and, to a certain extent, distracted to avoid thinking of what's in store for me.

I'd like to warn you at the very outset that this entry is not for the faint-hearted so if you have a weak ticker I strongly suggest that you stop reading right now.

This is the story of how Nandii Reywal got drunk, got wild and got fired.

This sh*t just got real.

You guys are the first to know. It probably hasn't been broadcast in the Bradbury & Laithrose office yet but these things have a way of getting around soon or later.

Here's a brief timeline of how things have unfolded over the last twenty-four (24) hours.


0800 hrs yesterday – Smelling the roses.
[Modern Bob : Biggest day of my life. The transaction consuming every waking hour for the past 6 months is about to sign. I am showered and suited-up. My coffee is in-hand. My taxi to the office is waiting.]

1100 hrs yesterday– Signing on.
[Modern Bob : I’ve been in the office twiddling my thumbs for the past 3 hours. Our lovely clients were supposed to show up at 9 am. No biggie (to borrow a turn of phrase from my good friend Kian)]

1500 hrs yesterday – Signing off.
[Modern Bob : After spending four (4) hours checking whether signatures have been put in the right places by both parties, I declare triumphantly that we have now signed. It amazes me how semi-educated adults earning seven figure salaries still require a Nandii Reywal (or equivalent) to tell them that “aal iz well” (with due apologies to Vindhu Vinod Chopra if he is reading this).]

1505 hrs yesterday– Pop! Goes the weasel!
[Modern Bob : My boss announces that party time has officially commenced- the first bottle of champagne is uncorked. 
Now you guys need to know a few things about my boss. Clients love him because he promises them six impossible things before breakfast. He works hard, but expects us to work harder. He comes in on Sunday, but it’s just to check which associates are having a lie-in on God’s own day. He tells me (more often than I’d like) that I’d do extremely well to get where he is. Sometimes he offers me a lift in his Bentley while I walk to the tube-station in the rain. Needless to say, he drives off when I’m about to get in. Make no mistake- he can be nice but it’s usually only when an exceptionally pretty female associate is involved. Charm personified- all in all, he is truly a Class A villain.]

1800 hrs yesterday – Opinions, to each his own
[Modern Bob: By this time, the deal team has moved to the friendly neighbourhood bar to celebrate. Heated arguments commence over the drafting on certain points related to the transaction. My boss chastises my process-management skills. He denounces my lack of application. He scorns the use of my poetic phraseology. I suffer in silence].

2000 hrs yesterday– The Dance of Nandii.
[Modern Bob: It’s been nearly five (5) hours since we started drinking. On an empty stomach. Inevitably, my two left feet began to shake shake-shake-shake-a-shake it.

(I believe there now are a few videos on YouTube. Try searching for “Drunk Indian Man dancing” – pretty similar to this actually, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_j7XSW1C138)]

2230 hrs yesterday- The Play.
[Modern Bob: I’d had my eye on this one since she was a trainee in our department last year. Rebecca was her name- nice-looking, very sweet, sharp intellect and great legs. She was the newly qualified associate on the deal. In my supremely lucid state, I decided it was time to get Becky drunk (call me a predator- I say 'whatevs').]

0030 hrs today : The Thumbs-down
[Modern Bob: Despite a concerted effort on my part to get Becks horrendously drunk while regaling her with stories of my heroic role on the transaction, she remains stone-cold sober. Some constitution that. When my second extremely subtle offer to drop her home is not-so-subtly turned down, I give up and resign myself to another night cradling my beloved transaction bible.

I turn back to what’s really important in life– whisky on the rocks and lots of it.]

0100 hrs today : The makings of a tragedy
[Modern Bob: I stagger out of the gents to find my colleagues sniggering. Becks left with my boss they say. Apparently he was giving her a lift home since her place was “on his way”.

Yeah, right.

Fleeting feeling of admiration for the man.

I go back to the bar with every intention of drinking it dry].

0245 hrs today – Disaster strikes
[Modern Bob: This bit is hazier than the rest considering by this time I’ve nearly drunk myself into oblivion.

I look at my last friend in the world, my BlackBerry and send my boss an email with the subject "YOU ARE A F&CKI%G BA$T@RD"(censored here only to keep LegallyIndia family-friendly).

Five (5) little words that are going to spell the end of a promising career at Bradbury & Laithrose.

Five (5) little words that are going to rock my world.

For some reason, I’m still a little proud that given the state I was in I managed to type those five words without any mis-spellings. I must have really meant it.]

0300 hrs today- Satisfaction
[Modern Bob: I sleep the sleep of the satisfied. Tomorrow is another day. Today I’ve won. Peace out.]

I woke up this morning with a splitting headache and vague feeling of unease. It took me a few minutes to realise what I had done.

I checked my BlackBerry in the fawn hope that I’d dreamt it all up. I look for that particular e-mail. And there it is –no mistaking it. And I had in a fit of alcohol-induced career suicide-ism sent it to my boss.

He couldn’t possibly take this as a joke. My career was over because of two missed meals, an overactive libido and a lack of control over the amount of alcohol I consume.

I wait for the call from HR telling me I’m fired. No call. This silence is unbearable.
My BlackBerry beeps. I figure it’s someone emailing me to tell me not to bother to turn up today and that my stuff will be shipped to my home address.

I check my e-mail.

The subject line of email from IT received says: "Re: YOU ARE A F&CKI%G BA$T@RD" ".

The text of the email, amongst other things, says: "Mail Undeliverable: Firewall Profanity Filter".

I read the bounce-back message again carefully.

It's funny how powerful five (5) little words can be.

Today’s hangover is a price I’m more than willing to pay.
Click to show 41 comments
at your own risk
By reading the comments you agree that they are the (often anonymous) personal views and opinions of readers, which may be biased and unreliable, and for which Legally India therefore has no liability. If you believe a comment is inappropriate, please click 'Report to LI' below the comment and we will review it as soon as practicable.