Debutant author Brinda S Narayan's book 'Bangalore Calling' is a story about the employees at the Callus call centre in Bangalore, juggling with false identities, dealing with abusive customers, and the coping with the tugs of family and community. Using fiction as a filter, it offers a unique glimpse into the lives of the individuals who have made India the world's BPO capital. Here's an excerpt from the novel:
Over Curry Dinner
The cafeteria jibber-jabber dwindled into a classroom hush when agents streamed in after a tea break. Yvette Pereira leaned on the trainer’s desk in Room #3 and scanned a list of names to link with the approaching faces. When she looked up, they were shuffling to the desk chairs.
It was only the second session but she could spot them already – the two or three likely to cross over, adopt tedious Americanisms shrugged off even by emigrants to the US. The Bengali chap for sure, the one with the annoying bangs, the pockmarked Tamil boy, and that woman – she couldn’t tell if she was Malayali or Tamilian– yes, the rabbity woman would soon acquire the talons of a bald eagle.
Yvette was in some ways spawning this falseness, this abject wanting to be them, but she tried to check excesses.
At least this group was on time. The rest retained a disregard for trainer instructions and class times, an Indian trait she’d gladly stamp out. She launched into the American idioms session without waiting for stragglers. Her voice, like her appearance – starched salwar, tightly braided hair, carefully centred bindi – was stiff: ‘Class, I’ve told you this earlier. You guys have to be on time, always. Remember, for Americans, time is money. This afternoon we’ll work with American idioms. I’ll call out some expressions and sign you up now?” I need a volunteer to read out this paragraph with italicized American expressions.’
The Tamil boy, eager and unaware of native cadences in his speech, pitched into the passage. ‘I just got canned from my job so I really need to cut corners. I think I just got carried away, you know with the internet, cable TV, etc. Then, I bought myself some new wheels last year. I guess I just got in over my head and tried to bite off more than I can chew.’
‘Good. Now I’d like all of you to start using these phrases. Will two of you volunteer to role-play using out of the question and come through?’
Two agents, both boys, shaving nicks visible on their thrust-out chins, moved to the white board.
First agent: ‘I don’t want to join the call centre.’
Second agent: ‘Why are you simply out of the question?’
The cafeteria jibber-jabber dwindled into a classroom hush when agents streamed in after a tea break. Yvette Pereira leaned on the trainer’s desk in Room #3 and scanned a list of names to link with the approaching faces. When she looked up, they were shuffling to the desk chairs.
It was only the second session but she could spot them already – the two or three likely to cross over, adopt tedious Americanisms shrugged off even by emigrants to the US. The Bengali chap for sure, the one with the annoying bangs, the pockmarked Tamil boy, and that woman – she couldn’t tell if she was Malayali or Tamilian– yes, the rabbity woman would soon acquire the talons of a bald eagle.
Yvette was in some ways spawning this falseness, this abject wanting to be them, but she tried to check excesses.
At least this group was on time. The rest retained a disregard for trainer instructions and class times, an Indian trait she’d gladly stamp out. She launched into the American idioms session without waiting for stragglers. Her voice, like her appearance – starched salwar, tightly braided hair, carefully centred bindi – was stiff: ‘Class, I’ve told you this earlier. You guys have to be on time, always. Remember, for Americans, time is money. This afternoon we’ll work with American idioms. I’ll call out some expressions and I’d like you to guess the meanings. Let’s start with off and on.’
Many hands shot up amidst cocksure ‘Me, Ma’am’s’. Yvette picked the rabbity woman, her hand uncertainly angled behind another agent. Thrust into the spotlight, the campus recruit lurched forward. Yvette hoped she had the right answer.
‘That’s like when a switch is turned off and on?’
‘No, that’s not right. The whole point of an idiom is you don’t interpret the words literally. Off and on means now and then. Next, read between the lines?’
This time, Yvette chose the pushy Bengali know-it-all in the last bench. In distinct Bong tones, his hair flopping over his face in uncombed waves, he surprised Yvette with his response.
‘To understand what is not said?’
‘Yes, that’s excellent. It means to grasp what is not directly stated. Class, you must learn these idioms or you’ll mess up on calls. With one of our earlier agents, a customer said, “I’ll take a rain check on that” when an agent offered a new package. You know what that means, right? The American wanted to postpone the decision. And the agent responded, “Great, can I go ahead and sign you up now?” I need a volunteer to read out this paragraph with italicized American expressions.’
The Tamil boy, eager and unaware of native cadences in his speech, pitched into the passage. ‘I just got canned from my job so I really need to cut corners. I think I just got carried away, you know with the internet, cable TV, etc. Then, I bought myself some new wheels last year. I guess I just got in over my head and tried to bite off more than I can chew.’
‘Good. Now I’d like all of you to start using these phrases. Will two of you volunteer to role-play using out of the question and come through?’
Two agents, both boys, shaving nicks visible on their thrust-out chins, moved to the white board.
First agent: ‘I don’t want to join the call centre.’
Second agent: ‘Why are you simply out of the question?’
First agent: ‘Call centre job doesn’t come through for me anyway.’
Yvette sighed. She had miles to cross with this group. But syntax could be taught. She was more worried about the Bengali-English and Tamil-English. Accents were harder to reform. She knew: this was her twelfth training batch and it hadn’t become any easier.
The publisher is also running a review contest that ends on July 31st. Do submit your entries at www.bangalorecalling.in
Have a look at the trailer of the book.
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