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Wasantha Weerasekera’s Review of One Night at the Call Center

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Wasantha Weerasekera is sharing here with all of you the review of the novel One Night at the Call Center written by Chetan Bhagat. This novel has influenced me a lot and this is the reason why I am sharing it with you through slideshare.

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Wasantha Weerasekera’s Review of One Night at the Call Center

  1. 1. Wasantha Weerasekera’s Review of One Night at the Call CenterHello friends, myself is Wasantha Weerasekera and I love reading English literaturebooks. I have so far read plenty of literature books, but the book that fascinated me a lotis One Night at the Call Center written by Chetan Bhagat.One Night at the Call Center is the book that is counted amidst one of the bestsellers andhas enjoyed volume of appreciations from its readers including me (WasanthaWeerasekera).The novel published in 2005 revolves around a group of six call center employeesworking in Connexions call center in Gurgaon, Haryana.The main theme of the novel entails the anxieties and insecurities that rising Indianmiddle class people have. Career, marriage, and family conflicts in a changing India arejust a few to name. I, Wasantha Weerasekera, feel that the theme of the novel is reallyheart touching.The main characters of this novel are Shyam, Priyanka, Esha, Vroom, Radhika, andMilitary uncle. I, Wasantha Weerasekera, am impressed with each character of thebook and believe you too will like the characters.The novel begins with a frame story which tells about a train journey from Kanpur toDelhi. In course of the train journey, the author meets with a girl. On the condition thatthe author will write a book on the story narrated by the girl, she narrates the story to theauthor.Wasantha Weerasekera says that the book recounts the events that take place one nightat a Gurgoan based Call Center, which is on the verge of being closed due to economicslowdown. The characters of the call center have several problems in their lives;nevertheless they try to appear happy. One day God makes a call to the call center thathelps them to stand them on their feet. After the call, they feel a bit energetic and worktogether to get rid of the problem and finally their all problems get resolved. I, WasanthaWeerasekera, feel the story is quite inspirational.
  2. 2. I, Wasantha Weerasekera, have communicated with plenty of people who have read thebook and would like to share their views with you that will help you understand whatpeople think about the book-Anu from Bangalore says- I consider this to be one of the best books that recently I havegot through….The story of the novel holds you till the end.Murli from Chennai says to me(Wasantha Weerasekera) - The book really fascinatedme. When I was reading the book, I was feeling as a movie was going on. I could feel thecharacters and their emotions. Again, I will say marvelous book.I, Wasantha Weerasekera, feel if you have not read this book so far, you shouldpromptly move to read it. Since, I don’t want you to waste your precious time insearching for the book, so I am giving you the first chapter of the book below in thearticle in order to decide whether this should be read or not. And if the book interestsyou, you can put the web address http://www.slideshare.net/krupashukla/chetan-bhagat-onenightatthecallcenterallchapters in the address bar for reading all chapters.I, Wasantha Weerasekera, would like to inform you that the story of the chapter one isas following- I was splashing my hands in the water pointlessly in the sea. I can’t evenswim in a pond, let alone in the Indian Ocean. I was in the water while my boss Bakshiwas in a boat next tome. He was pushing my head down in the water. I saw Priyankadrifting away in a life boat. I screamed even as Bakshi used both his hands to keep myhead submerged. Salt water filled my mouth and nostrils as I heard loud beep sat adistance. My nightmare ended as my cellphone alarm rang hard in my left ear and I wokeup to its Last Christmas ring tone. The ring tone was a gift from Shefali, my new semi-girlfriend. I squinted through a half-shut eye and lifted on the screen. ‘Damn,’ I said andjumped out of bed. I would have loved to analyze my dream and its significance in my insignificant life, but I had to get dressed for work. ‘Man, the Qualis will be here in twentyminutes,’ I thought, digging matter out of my eye. I was still tired, but scared to sleepmore because I was getting late. Besides, there was a serious risk of Bakshi making acome back in my dreams. By the way, hi. I am Shyam Mehra, or Sam Marcy as they callme at my work place, the Connexions call center in Gurgaon. (American tongue shavetrouble saying my real name and prefer Sam. If you want, you can give mean other nametoo. I really don’t care.) Anyway, I am a call center agent. There was hundred ofthousands, probably millions of agents like me. But this total pain-in-the neck authorchose me, of all the agents in the country. He met me and told me to help with his secondbook. In fact, he near as well wanted me to write the book for him. I declined, saying Ican’t even write my resume or even other simple things in life, there is no way I can writea whole damn book. Wasantha Weerasekera informs that in the story the characterexplained to him how my promotion to the position of team leader had been put off foron eye ar because my manager Bakshi had told me I don’t have the ‘required skill-set’syet. In my review, Bakshi wrote that I was ‘not a go-getter’. (I don’t even know what ‘go-getter’ means, so I guess I’m not one for sure.) But this author said he didn’t care—he
  3. 3. had promised some one he’ d do this story so I’d better cooperate, otherwise he wouldkeep pestering me. I tried my bestow riggle out of it, but he wouldn’t let go of me. Ifinally relented and that’s why I’m stuck with this assignment, while you are stuck withme. I also want to give you one more warning. My English is not that great—actually,nothing about me is great. So, if you are looking for something posh and high brow, thenI’d suggest you read another book which has some big many-syllabus words. I know onlyone big, many-syllable word, and I hate that word—‘management’. But we’ll get to thatlater. I told the author about my limited English. However, the pain-in-the-neck authorsaid big emotions do not come from big words. So, I had no choice but to do the job. Ihate authors. For now, let us go back to the story. If you remember, I had just wok en upat my home. There were noises in the living room. So me relatives were into wn’t toattend a family wedding. My neighbor was getting married to his cousin…er sorry, I wastoo groggy to figure this out—no, my cousin was getting married to his neighbor. But Ihad to work, so I could not get other wedding. It doesn’t matter, all marriages are thesame, more or less. I reached the bathroom still half-a sleep, it was already occupied. Thebathroom door was open. I saw five of my aunts scrambling to get a few square-inches ofthe wash-basin mirror. One aunt was cursing her daughter for leaving the matching bindisat home. Another aunt had lost the little screw of her gold earring and was flipping out.‘It is pure gold, where is it? ’ she screamed into my face. ‘Has the maid stolen it?’ likethe maid had nothing better to do then steal one tiny screw. Wouldn’t she steal the wholeset? I thought. ‘Auntie, can I use the bathroom for five minutes. Ineed to get ready foroffice,’ I said. ‘Oh hello, Shyam. Woke up finally?’ my mother’s sister said. ‘Office?You are not coming for the wedding?’ ‘No, I have to work. Can I have the bath…’ ‘Lookhow big Shyam has become,’ my maternal aunt said. ‘We need to find a girl for himsoon.’ Everyone burst into giggles. It was their biggest joke of the day. ‘Can I please…’ Isaid. ‘Shyam, leave the ladies alone,’ one of my older cousins interrupted. ‘What are youdoing here with the women? We are already so late for the wedding’ ‘But I have to go towork. I need to get dressed,’ I protested, trying to elbow my way to the bathroom tap.‘You work in a call center, right? My cousin said. ‘Yes.’ ‘Your work is through thephone. Why do you need to dress up? Who is going to see you?’ I didn’t answer. ‘Use thekitchen sink,’ an aunt suggested and handed me my toothbrush. I gave them all a dirtylook. Nobody noticed. I passed by the living room on my way to the kitchen. The uncleswere outside, on their second whiskey and soda. One uncle said something about how itwould be better if my father were still alive and around this evening. I reached thekitchen. The floor was so cold I felt I had stepped on an ice tray. I realized I had forgottensoap. I went back but the bathroom door was bolted. There was no hot water in thekitchen, and my face froze as I washed it with cold water. Winter in Delhi is a bitch. Ibrushed my teeth and used the steel plates as a mirror to comb my hair. Shyam had turnedinto Sam and Sam’s day had just begun. I was hungry, but there was nothing to eat in thehouse. Because they’d be getting food at the wedding, my mother had felt there was noneed to cook at home. The Qualis horn screamed at 8.55p.m. As I was about to leave, Irealized I had forgotten my ID. I went to my room, but could not find it. I tried to find mymother instead. She was in her bedroom, lost in more aunties, saris and jewellery sets.She and my aunts were doing some major weight comparisons of which aunt’s set washeaviest. Usually the heaviest aunt had the heaviest set. ‘Mom, have you seen my ID?’ Isaid. Everyone ignored me. I went back to my room as the Qualis honked for the fourth
  4. 4. time. ‘Damn, there it is,’ I said as I finally located the ID under my bed. I pulled it out byits strap and strung it around my neck. I waved a goodbye to everyone, but no oneacknowledged me. It wasn’t surprising, I am only cared for so much. Every cousin ofmine is becoming doctor or engineer. You can say I am the black sheep of my family.Though I do not think that I expression is correct. After all, what’s wrong with blacksheep— don’t people wear black sweaters? But you get an idea of my status in my clan.Infact, the only reason people some what talk to me is I have a job and get a salary at theend of the month. You see, I used to work in the website department to fan ad agencybefore this call center job. However, the ad agency paid horrible money. Also, all thepeople there were pseudos, more interested in office politics than websites. I quit, and allhell broke loose at home. That is when the black sheep term was tagged on to me. I savedmyself by joining Connexions, as with money in your wallet the world gives you somerespect and lets Priyanka worked there. Of course, that reason was no longer relevant. Myaunt finally found the gold screw tapped in her fake hair bun. The Qualis horn screamedagain, this time in an agency tone. ‘I’m coming,’ I shouted as I ran out of the house. I,Wasantha Weerasekera, would like to inform you that the story has been taken from thewebsite- http://www.slideshare.net/krupashukla/chetan-bhagat-onenightatthecallcenterallchapters.I, Wasantha Weerasekera, am sure that the story of the chapter one would have beenliked by you and you would move ahead to read the full story with the help of webaddress that I, Wasantha Weerasekera, have given you in the review.

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