Chapter 3: One Mind, One Team

Kunal Mehra was humming to himself, pruning the money plant on his desk, completely at ease.

He snipped at the money plant, leaves falling on the polished surface, as if trimming away the useless bits of the company. Not a care in the world—the kind of arrogance that comes when you know you’re untouchable.

“Director Kunal, why did you suddenly transfer me? Did I do something wrong?”

I tried to keep my tone even, but my voice trembled. The words tasted sour, but I needed to ask, if only for my own peace.

He didn’t even look up. “I’m promoting you from M4 to M5. What more do you want?”

His indifference was sharper than any insult. The way he said it, you knew he thought the matter was already closed.

“Whether it’s a promotion or exile, you know best, Director Kunal.”

I folded my arms and met his gaze squarely. No more pretending.

*Snip.*

The scissors echoed in the silent office. Oddly symbolic—the thickest branch gone, just like that. A chill ran down my spine.

Kunal Mehra cut off the thickest branch of the plant.

He watched it fall, then flicked it into the dustbin, as if my fate was just as disposable.

“In my team, everyone must be of one mind. No room for dissenters or slackers.”

His words hung in the air. I remembered all those school assemblies about teamwork. But this wasn’t about teams—it was about obedience.

Suddenly, the morning meeting flashed before my eyes: rows of restless faces, the smell of fresh filter coffee, the director’s booming voice setting impossible targets.

Kunal Mehra had declared, full of confidence, that he’d made a military pledge to the chairman: within six months, Suryatech would unveil its first concept car, directly taking on Tata Motors.

The words sounded grand, but those of us who knew the ground reality exchanged uneasy glances. You can’t build a house overnight, even with bricks and cement.

I immediately objected. “How is that possible?”

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made myself a target. But some things must be said, even if it costs you.

The R&D cycle for a new car is usually two to three years.

I tried to explain, voice low but clear, “Sir, even Maruti and Tata take years for a new model, and they have bigger teams.”

From what I know about Suryatech, even at top speed, it would take at least a year and a half.

We were good, but not magicians. The team was already stretched, and we’d been patching up code with jugaad for months.

Kunal Mehra wanted a car in six months. That was just wishful thinking.

He didn’t care. His face had that stubborn set—ambition without reality.

My skepticism made Kunal Mehra very unhappy.

The temperature in the room dropped. I could feel everyone’s eyes darting between us, waiting for the explosion.

“Other people build cars from scratch, but not us. Suryatech has been working on autonomous driving for ten years, plus we have partnerships with established car companies, existing architecture, factories—all ready to go. Why can’t we build a car in six months?”

His voice rose, chest puffed out like a peacock at a wedding. He was selling a dream, but we all knew what happens when you try to run before you can walk.

He said with pride, “My style is to leave myself no way out. That’s why Rajeev chose me to lead this business.”

The mention of Rajeev—the chairman—was the trump card. In Indian offices, name-dropping works like magic. Suddenly, everyone goes silent, afraid to question the boss’s favourite.

Rajeev—the chairman. I’d heard Kunal Mehra and the chairman were classmates at IIM Ahmedabad.

That explained a lot. The IIM tag is a golden ticket. Doesn’t matter if you know the work; all that matters is who you know.

With that connection, he swaggered in on his first day, looking down on everyone.

His confidence wasn’t built on competence, but connections—a reality as old as our country. The office peons whispered about it, and even the security guard shook his head as Kunal’s fancy car rolled in.

My mind spun. A million curses ran through my head. I wanted to vent in my mother tongue, but I swallowed the words and just stood there, fists clenched and heart pounding like the drums during Ganpati Visarjan.