A SEA-FACING ROOM FOR THE BOSS

Mr Niyogi loved the good things in life – rich food, fine clothes, a game of golf, and the like (which implies a lot). Whenever he visited Bombay (It was in the 1970's, not Mumbai yet), the epicurean wanted to stay at the five-star Taj. And he wanted a sea-facing room which had premium rates.

According to his service conditions, he was not entitled to a room of that category or hotel, but he would ask Mr Borker, the Manager of the local branch, to arrange a room of his choice. Mr Borker could not afford to incur the wrath of the boss. If he did not oblige the boss, he would find himself posted in Cochin or Calcutta, Hyderabad or Ahmedabad. A transfer from Bombay was the last thing he wanted. So he somehow obliged the boss by accommodating this requirement.

I do not know how Mr Borker met the difference between the bill and the amount the boss was entitled to, but that is not one of our concerns for the present. Let us assume that it was by some sleight of hand which I am not privy to, but the fact is that Mr Borker kept the boss happy.

Mr Borker was at his wit’s end when the boss announced a visit at short notice. It was a Wednesday and boss was arriving on Friday. The test match was on and the Aussies and the English team were in town. The hotel was booked. Not a room to spare even in the neighbouring Hotel Diplomat, leave alone the upmarket Taj.

With no choice left, Mr Borker booked him in another hotel, I think, The Classic or The Paradise Hotel, beside the Diplomat. He persuaded the reservation clerk to earmark a sea-facing room for the boss.

Come Friday, Mr Borker felt jittery as he received the boss in the airport. During the small talk, he brought up the topic of the Test match and prepared the boss for his stay in a hotel other than The Taj. The boss was not too pleased and made no secret of his displeasure.

‘But sir, it is a sea-facing room,’ Mr Borker tried to assuage the hurt.

Once inside the hotel, he followed the boss who followed the bellboy who led the way, hauling the luggage. The room was on the third floor.

After the bellboy left, the boss growled at Mr Borker, ‘Where is the sea, Mr Borker?’

Whereupon Mr Borker opened the door to the toilet, climbed on to the throne, and, twisting his neck at an awkward angle, peered through the gap between the leaves of the exhaust fan. Craning his neck further, he spotted a small patch of blue, and with a sense of victory, he announced, ‘There, Sir, the sea is there!’