After Rohan left, the office was covered in silence. Always up for some well-earned chivalry, he was clearly the most interesting character among us. His departure felt doubly bizarre since he was the strongest pillar of the brand.
The problem, I was told, was his drinking. He had taken some students to drink with him, and they had become his buddies. The dynamic between them was more informal than the office deemed suitable. Rohan didn't mind the first-name basis or other markers of informality, but when he came to class drunk on one occasion, all hell broke loose.
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To Rohan, life at the start-up-like CAT coaching centre was bliss. He looked up to the boss - they had known each other for years - and wasn't it the boss who often drank with him? When his drinking was blamed for his waywardness he grew defensive. When I spoke to him later, he was at pains to convince me that he did not have a drinking problem. He was just too fond of alcohol to give it up. What he found most disturbing was the boss' refusal to back him.
In the end it was a no go. Despite two warnings things had not improved. The math course for the 2103 batch had not been completed and there was one student in Vashi who was seriously bad-mouthing the organisation. Rohan was told to leave.
It was not the boss's decision though. It was Pooja's. She and Rohan had been the first people to associate with the boss when the latter left a well-known national player in the CAT coaching space to start his own outfit. Rohan was made a director, no less, with a partnership stake. He and Pooja were friends since the time they had prepared together for CAT at the boss's earlier place. They both hopped on to the new enterprise. That was 2010.
They worked for six months before getting into B-schools. While Pooja left, Rohan continued to work part time. Three years later, her MBA done and having worked as a trainer at a reputed information technology (IT) firm, Pooja decided to return. Well-wishers advised her not to leave a secure job for what was still a start-up. But the IT company wanted to post her to Chennai, while she would much rather be in Mumbai.
Now she was back, the equations in office changed. She had let go of a good profile to work at a place that was still finding its feet. She gained the upper hand in running things. In spite of the boss' goodwill in the market, the company had struggled to turn profits.
Pooja's brief was to tap into a new student base, drawn from the myriad colleges spread across Mumbai. The first thing she demanded was Rohan's head. The boss agreed.
I became the unwitting ping-pong ball in this game. Before he left, Rohan tried to ingratiate himself with the boss through me. He sat me down for hours and spoke repeatedly about what he should do to reoccupy the good books of someone who was like a father to him.
I thought it was not my place to do so, since I was the newest member of the team, but I did put in a word to the boss. Apparently, the decision had been made. Pooja was adamant. This topic resurfaced several weeks later when she and I were stuck together on a flight.
With nothing else to discuss, she bloviated: "It's not done. I wish him all the best, but how am I supposed to get new students if there are stories still circulating about Rohan?"
That was a bit excessive, if you ask me. Rohan continues to be very popular in Mumbai's math teaching circles (he has launched a new coaching centre of his own). Back then, I saw him suffer for, what I saw as essentially, pardonable behaviour. In those final conversations before he packed his bags, he spoke in a way that suggested everything was faraway, like he was having trouble reaching the heart of things.
After he left, he sought my help to launch his venture. He said he would call it "Numbers" since "they are the only thing that have not betrayed me". I helped him with content for his website, which he foresaw as the main source of addressing students. I wished I could do more, but my hands were tied. While I was on his side, it was also true that I had to show at least a semblance of agreement with those who employed me.
Out of sight, out of mind. With time, I thought less and less of Rohan. He, too, stopped messaging, perhaps thinking me an adversary.
I keep hearing about him from different sources. By all accounts, he is doing well. Sometimes, I feel like picking up the phone and talking, but I fear he would misconstrue. I might look to comfort him while he would only expect congratulations.
The author has switched too many jobs in the past and hopes he can hold down this one