“Your voice is too discordant for this process and your grammar is not up to the mark”. The interview consultant provided me the feedback impassively. It was almost half a month, since I arrived in Delhi to get a job in a call centre in order to improve my communicative English and to prove a point to my father primarily. Is it really necessary, for every child to prove a point to the society in general and to their parents in particular? I still wonder. The clouds were dark and my near future seemed to be darker. The thunderous sound of lightning reminded me of the harsh words my father used the night I ran out of my attendance in a professional course. “You will be cutting grass in your future. I will not be giving you any pocket money till you resume your classes in the next session.” He continued, “Making both ends meet is not that easy son.”
But I felt otherwise. I thought it would be a cake walk for me to fetch a job, at least in a call centre. I had no inkling that the harsh realities of uncertain future were waiting for me. The pressure of rent, mobile bills, food and commutation expenses seem like the venomous fangs of octopus. I didn’t realise that experience would have helped make things easy – and that is what my father wanted me to learn ten years back in 2006.
The tiny, black small Motorola mobile handed over to me by my mother urging me to call daily at least twice was ringing incessantly. It was my mom’s call flashing on the phone. I picked up and realised how mothers can understand even a silent pause.