It was a rather cold Thursday afternoon and the shawl wrapped around my shoulders was doing a weak job of insulating my warmth. I held the phone close to my ear with my good hand, while the other sat numbly by my side. The house was virtually empty; the only sounds I heard came from the speaker tucked by my ear.
Father’s voice sounded urgent. “How are you?”
It had been a full month since I had last spoken to Mr. Molavi. He had been busy with a large business deal between a local steel manufacturer and his own. Tensions ran high and, eventually, father bought them out for nearly 1.3 billion Indian Rupees. That was, roughly, 17.6 million British Pounds or 27 million US Dollars. It was one of the largest transactions in India in the past year and it made some International newspapers, claiming that Molavi Industries had become a “Steel Giant.” However, with Malik Industries now closely collaborated with Molavi Industries, the two corporations soon became the “Metal Moguls” of the Eastern Hemisphere.
I wasn’t upset at his lack of concern over his daughter for the past month; I knew how stressed he was due to the transaction. “I’ve been fine, father.”
“How are the Maliks?”
I thought for a moment. “Fine, father.”
“You have been doing small work for Malik Industries, no?” His voice was mellow.
“Yes, but it’s nothing extensive.” I answered flatly. I wanted to do so much more than the crummy, occasional “jobs” I was assigned via Malik Industries. My Princeton degree and 4.0 G.P.A. enabled me a vital asset to any large business corporation. Well, all large business corporations besides my father’s and Malik Industries. My father had been head honcho of Molavi Industries from his father’s death. Blood had dictated the Presidents of Molavi Industries and, another source of my father’s stress was determining his heir. He only had one child and I was a female. In all technicalities, I could run Molavi Industries as well as my father was, if not better. His concerns made my skin boil; he was blatantly sexist, as was much of the world. Having a woman run one of the largest steel businesses in the world was a risk. My father was stressed out, in addition to all the other concerns he had to deal with daily, because of the prospect of determining a successor to the Industrial title. God knew he wouldn’t put my name down, but I was genuinely curious as to who he would select.
“How are things with you?” I asked, nonchalantly. I wasn’t entirely sure what answer I was expecting. Perhaps he would tell me who he had in mind for future successor of Molavi Industries.
“Besides the usual nonsense,” He mumbled, “Things are fine.”
“Have you-” I stopped abruptly, deciding that it was not appropriate to bluntly ask my father if he had thought about a successor. In addition to a lack of appropriateness, what kind of daughter would I be if I merely increased my own father’s blood pressure? “Never mind.”
“I have to go,” Father sounded very distant. I could almost picture his face; a few more wrinkles, a side-effect of the newfound stress, on his otherwise well-aged face.
“Very well,” I replied hesitantly, playing with my right hand fingers and ignoring the heavy bandaging. “Goodbye, father.”
I dropped the phone into my lap, ignoring the pain as the heavy object hit against the belt of my pants. I rolled onto my side, throwing the shawl over my head and hibernating beneath it as if it were a cave. Realization was a harsh feeling to deal with; I realized that I wanted to be the successor to Malik Industries more than anything else in the world. I had no idea where the sudden sensation arose from, as I had never really cared enough about the future of Malik Industries. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was the perfect contender for Malik Industries’ successor.
