Have they noticed?'' wondered Sandeep Sehgal, Marketing Director, Isbelladona India, even as he felt a bead of sweat collect under his left eyebrow. ''So,'' he said, in his most business-like tone, ''R&D's given us a cracker. The USP's in place, all we've got to do is sell the idea to Toledo.''

It worked. The three other managers at the presentation prep meeting looked down at their launch data sheets, which were grid-choked with numbers they'd been crunching for weeks. Sehgal's mind was on Shakorika Bose, the sprightly young data-entry operator he had recently made his pa, but theirs had to be on Hush, the wonder soap they'd developed with little cooperation from the firm's Toledo, Ohio-based headquarters.

Hush was to be India's first chain-effervescing soap. At Rs 15 for a 75-gm bar, it would be premium, but still foamy enough to target third-year sales of 10,000 tonnes. That would be enough to amortise the Rs 25-crore r&d cost (like with pharma formulations, the variable costs were low) and contribute Rs 200 crore to the Indian subsidiary's topline.

''It's soap in action,'' exulted Sehgal. ''Sshhhh!'' responded the affable Group Marketing Manager T. Ranganathan, whose tension-easing move was rewarded with a round of gentle laughter. He had cited the brand's sound mnemonic-devised to mimic the soap's in-use sound. This was also the origin of the brand name, Hush, chosen over options such as Jhaago and Eff (for foam).

Prateek Gupta, Chief Coordinator (Sales & Distribution), spoke next: ''You guys turn the market into a giant vacuum hose, and watch how fast my boys push tonnage.'' Ranganathan waved to Chart No 3, ''See this big gap? It's our rivals' blind spot. Even if they come after us, it'll be too late. We have the patents sealed up, and we'll have consumer recall blocked.'' Pratap Singh, the 30-ish Senior Executive (Sales & Marketing), went, ''Poor sshhh-uckers!''

Sehgal sneaked the opportunity to glance over his colleagues' heads. He felt his teeth clench. She still hadn't turned up, dammit! And she was hardly the kind to shirk responsibility. He was only dimly engaged by Pratap's Cornell-given half-drawl, as the young executive flipped open his laptop to rehearse the Hush AV show.

Hush was Sehgal's launch. He was staking his career out here, and nobody even cared... he brooded. Nobody? Well, Shakorika, particularly. Some nerve she had, holding him to ransom like this. Now, of all times. He re-scrolled her last email through his mind: ''if u no how, take yr call, if not, u no the deal''.

When Shakorika did show up, finally, Sehgal darted off to confront her, leaving the rest to eye one another with knowing sighs.

It wasn't what they thought. The 'call' to be made, Sehgal knew, would make or break Hush. It concerned the launch advertising. The Indian soap market had evolved well beyond functional-attribute play, and Hush had no option but to grab the Urban Sophisticate first. With all the noise out there, what the brand was saying would determine its fate more than any of the actual bubble-bath stuff.

The team's Jhaago test run had had only yawns to report. Eff was deemed best as a dotcom or dotorg venture. Hush, however, was a potential category-buster. And, unknown to anybody else, it was Shakorika's daily briefings, her emails peppered with cues, that had guided Sehgal down this path. To him, it was as good as Greek or Latin, but her 'soap/water-love/music' analogy had sure sent the ad agency's creative types into whoops of excitement. They had come back with a background score to go with the 'Sshhhh', and needed his approval by afternoon to make the Toledo deadline. Would the soundtrack click? Only Shakorika could tell.

''Now be fair,'' Sehgal told her. This was the first time he had made such a show of her importance-and he wanted the issue settled. ''It's a terrific team I've got in there...'' he spoke crisply, ''Ranga's great at market mapping. Gupta's got the sales force aligned, and Pratap's got the Americans wowed.''

She breathed hard, and then responded. ''I'm not trying to edge in-I just... I can't go on like this. It's not money. I just want...'' she paused, ''this thing legitimised.''

''Oh fantastic!'' Sehgal burst out. ''Marketing honcho. BA second class, whatever, from who-knows-where. Welcome to Isabelladona, from each according to his abilities and to each according to the boss' whim. Are you out of your mind?''

Shakorika was stung. ''Whim?'' she asked, softly, in disbelief that he could brush aside her role in the last two launch successes. ''Who do you think I am? And what team? The real partnership is us. How long do you want to... with this façade?'' Her voice was skipping words, as her eyes moistened.

Partner indeed, thought Sehgal. And thought some more, trying to prevent his anger from clouding the facts-so crucial to any intellectual relationship.

And the facts were plain too. Yes, he'd given her less than her share of credit in his own success. Yes, her influence had made him see what being customer-centric really means. And losing her now could jeopardise his own career.

But an out-of-the-system appointment would be a tough ask. The firm's policies were clear. Management recruits had to have B-school qualifications, and corporate ascendancy was an hr function, done on the basis of 360-degree reviews. Besides, the operating structure was firm, with every slot occupied.

Of course, all this suited him just fine. He was the marketing hero, and he alone. And why not? It was he who had to brave Toledo, after all. Moreover, he couldn't afford to have anybody wondering about his deal with Shakorika Bose. His wife and colleagues were already raising their eyebrows-and maybe that's why he'd been treating her so shabbily in public, despite having expressed his gratitude in so many other ways (he'd even passed on his Disneyland bonus to her). It wasn't enough for young Ms Bose. She'd grown ambitious.

The question: what should Sandeep Sehgal do?

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