‘Do you even know who all are coming to our event on 5 January?’ he was seething. ‘Nobel laureate Samuel Price, an American physicist, will address a gathering of top scientists, including from the Bharat Atomic Science and Research Centre, and our students. If anything goes wrong, God forbid, I will be sacked and this renowned institution will lose face in the scientific community and among peer institutions around the world,’ he thundered. ‘I can’t do anything for you. Stop dropping in every day to plead. You have no case.’

Siddhant was speechless and was fumbling for words. ‘No ma’am – sorry, sir … sir – yes, you are right. I have great respect for you and IIS&T … But just one chance I am asking for,’ he blurted out.

Then, gathering his courage, he continued, ‘I won’t take any profit for our deal if I get the contract. Just pay for the raw materials, food and beverages. I will do it on a no-loss-no-profit basis. Instead, give us the contract for the students’ canteen, which is due for renewal.’

‘What free? You will hike the rates for the food and the beverages to get your cut, you bugger, I know your type,’ Dias said, not impressed.

After roasting Siddhant, he now warmed up to him, as if he had done his due diligence to test the former’s catering capabilities. In any case, Siddhant was now offering a better deal. Dias decided he would take it. He was now in a mood to give him a slice of the pie. If all went well with the event on 5 January, he would even consider awarding Siddhant the lucrative students’ canteen contract, he thought.

‘Do one thing; leave your proposal and the rate list there. There will be a high tea and a lunch for the guests at the Convention Centre on 5 January,’ Dias said, his tone now businesslike. ‘I will see if you can get the high tea contract; let me talk to the boss.’ Breaking into a smile, he wrapped up the meeting, rising from his chair as he said: ‘Wait for my call tomorrow. But remember one thing, Siddhant, if you screw us on 5 January, I will destroy your career.’

The call came two hours later, in fact. ‘Congrats, Siddhant, we have accepted your proposal for the high tea part of the event. Meet my team tomorrow to understand what all you need to do, and how.’ Dias sounded happy on the phone.

‘Thank you, sir, I will be there tomorrow,’ Siddhant said, sounding overjoyed. ‘You gave me a chance, you made my life.’

Siddhant was having cutting chai at the Marina Restaurant and Bar. It was barely 300 metres from IIS&T’s main gate and abutted the Mata Amritabai Rahiwasi Sangh, a crowded slum that housed hundreds of underprivileged and lower-middle-class families.

After finishing his tea and ordering another cup, Siddhant fished out a second mobile phone from his trouser pocket.