The phone rang only once.
"Barun, sir, It's me, Anirban. I am not coming in today."
"Meaning? It's already 10. Not one copy has been sorted. I am doing that myself.
"This is highly irresponsible...And how can you not come today? The PM is already in Darjeeling...."
"I am quitting, Barun, sir."
There was silence for some seconds at the other end.
"Tui ki pagol hoye geli? You gone crazy? Drunk in the morning? What's the matter?"
Barun-da, his chief sub, sounded shocked. And concerned.
"I am quitting, Barun-da." Anirban repeated. "How do I send the letter? I don't want to go to office. Should I post it? Or, may be, could you ask somebody to pick it up from home?"
He did not want to prolong the conversation. But Barun, sir was not convinced.
"What's happened? Gawd! If you quit like this...What about your dues? And what about the notice period? Erom bhabhey hoye na! It does not work like this. This is not done, Ani..." Barun-da's voice trailed off.
"I should have done this long back," was all that he said, before hanging up.
As Anirban, his hand grasping his pocket, began walking back home after paying half a rupee to the medicine shop owner for the call, it started to rain. Heavily.
The money carpet, Anirban realised in horror, was getting wet.
