The Boss Beside Him

Aditya was genuinely delayed in traffic. This should have been enough. Unfortunately, he believed a plain explanation sometimes needed production values.

He sat in the back of a cab near Bellandur, wearing a shirt chosen to suggest readiness. His driver, Jacob, had been calm throughout the slow journey. The road ahead was full. There was no useful manoeuvre being withheld from Aditya out of personal malice.

His manager, Kavitha, called.

“Where have you reached?”

Aditya gave the location. “Very bad traffic, ma’am. Barely moving.”

This was accurate. He could have stopped there.

Instead, as though narrating a live documentary, he added a small vocal imitation of a struggling engine. Then he sighed heavily. The cab itself was quiet enough that Jacob glanced in the mirror while safely stopped, apparently checking whether a passenger had developed a mechanical fault.

Kavitha said, “Yes. I know.”

Aditya assumed she meant she understood the general condition of Bengaluru. He repeated that the jam was particularly difficult.

“I can see,” she said.

At that moment, the rear window of the car beside them lowered. Kavitha sat in its back seat, holding her phone and looking directly at him.

Aditya’s artificial engine stopped immediately.

She raised one eyebrow.

He lowered his own window slightly, still safely seated. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Aditya. Your cab sounds better from outside.”

Jacob looked straight ahead with admirable discipline. His shoulders suggested the effort was substantial.

Kavitha was also a passenger. Her driver concentrated on the road. She explained that she had been trying to tell Aditya the morning meeting would begin online because several people were delayed. He only needed to join quietly from the back seat or send a written update if conditions made a call inconvenient.

“No dramatic reconstruction required,” she added.

Aditya nodded. “Understood.”

They ended the call, closed the windows and continued waiting like everyone else. A small gap opened, then closed. Neither car attempted to stay beside the other for the sake of completing the joke.

Jacob waited until they were safely stopped again before speaking.

“Everything okay, sir?”

“Yes. My reporting has become more accurate.”

“Good.”

Aditya joined the meeting with headphones, kept his microphone muted when not speaking, and posted his update in the chat. Kavitha thanked him. Nobody mentioned the engine. This was considerably more kindness than he felt entitled to receive before breakfast.

At the office, he apologised briefly when he saw her near reception. She waved away the larger embarrassment and explained that accurate information helped her adjust plans. Extra drama made the same information harder to use.

“I wasn’t lying about the traffic,” he said.

“I know. I was in it.”

There was no useful reply beyond a nod.

Kavitha also said he did not need to send photographs proving the queue. A clear update was enough. Aditya appreciated this, especially because it prevented his production instincts from expanding into cinematography. He promised that future reporting would remain within the limits of ordinary sentences.

During lunch, his teammate Surya asked why Kavitha had looked amused in the morning call. Aditya considered inventing a smaller version of the story, then recognised the opportunity to stop improving things unnecessarily.

He told the truth. Surya laughed until his water nearly entered the wrong department.

“You did sound effects?”

“Briefly.”

“For traffic she was sitting beside?”

“Yes. We have established the geography.”

The following week, Aditya was delayed again. He sent a simple message with a realistic estimate and a plan for joining remotely if needed. Kavitha replied that it was fine.

Jacob, driving him again, asked whether he needed to call the office.

“Message is enough,” Aditya said.

The cab remained pleasantly quiet.

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.