Evolution of Love 2

My memoirs

I returned to my room, had a quick shower and settled down to read, listening to some music that helped soothe my still frayed nerves.
The next day, which happened to be April 1, or All Fools Day, I returned my uniform for good and then headed towards the accounts department to collect my dues. Somehow, word had got around about what had happened with me. “When God closes one door, He opens another,” the genial, soft-spoken accounts clerk said as I waited for him to calculate the dues payable to me.

I wanted to retort, but something held me back. “That happens in fairy tales Sir, not in real life,” I replied, as politely as possible, not wishing to offend him. Perhaps I should have waited a moment.

“Neel,” I heard Yvonne, the tall and attractive secretary of Mr Vikram Singh, the hotel’s General Manager, call out to me. I turned around, halfexpecting that by some miracle, my pride had been restored to me. She walked fast. “This just came in for you.” She handed me a buff-coloured envelope, with the initials O.I.G.S. stamped in blue over it.

The postal address of IHM Pusa was stamped at the bottom. I instinctively knew what it was. Suddenly though, I was overcome with superstition.
Prologue xxix “Given my luck, you better open this,” I held out the envelope to her. “Open it,” she commanded. It was at the second sentence of the letter that I finally let myself go, overcome with emotion. I gave Yvonne a hug. I still remember those words: “We are pleased to appoint you…” As I turned around to collect the dues, the accounts clerk, who had witnessed everything, smiled and said. “Uskey darbaar mein der hai, andher nahin!” (God may delay granting your wishes, but he will never deny them to you).

Words failed me, for probably the first time in my life, as I smiled weakly and nodded. My next stop was the office of Mr S. K. Jain, the Regional Head of Human Resources who reported directly to Mr Ajit Kerkar, the Managing Director, better known by his initials ABK. Mr Jain and I always got along well, since we were both outsiders in the system there. “Neel, I am sorry for what happened. I was away. Now give me a day to undo the damage and reinstate you” he began, as soon as I entered his office. It was true-Mr.Jain had been away for an outstation meeting on the 31st and returned only on the 1st morning. “Thank you Sir, but I don’t think that will be required” I said, and handed him the letter from IHM Pusa and the delight on his face was genuine.

“Congratulations, Neel,” he said, proffering his hand, which I gladly accepted. “I do have one request though, Sir,” I began, unsure if he would be willing to help out. “Tell me, anything I can do,” he replied. “When I join Pusa, they will verify my service record here. With this termination record I shall meet the same fate there. How can we tide over this?” “What if you were to resign of your own accord?” he said, sliding a sheet of A4 paper towards me. I was perplexed.

Was he suggesting what I thought he was?
Was that even kosher?
“Mr Singh, could you please come to my office, and bring along Neelakantan’s file?”

I heard Mr Jain say on the phone to his immediate subordinate, even as I was trying to make sense of the miracle happening before my eyes. As Singh - the same Mr Singh who had taken delight in handing my dismissal orders a
Prologuexxx day before closed the door on his way out. I saw Mr Jain take out the dismissal letter and tear it up. If at all I needed a cue, this was it! I hurriedly wrote down a simple resignation letter, handed it to Mr Jain, who filed it neatly in my file, along with a photocopy of the offer letter from IHM Pusa. He typed out my relieving letter, which I signed. “This calls for some tea and biscuits, don’t you think?” I could only nod at the generosity of this amazing human being.

I ran to meet Sabena, clutching the envelope like dear life. Seeing my face, she came out and we headed to our coffee shop. I didn’t have to say anything; I just handed over the envelope. Caring nothing about it, she reached out in the coffee shop to hug me and I relaxed, the adrenalin calming down. I had a fortnight to report at Pusa. We started planning our journey. I wanted to be early to look for accommodation that left a week in Jaipur. She took the day off and we walked to her residence. Her mother was ecstatic. Her younger sister also joined in for a treat. Lunch never tasted better. I sat down on the sofa only to be gently awoken by Sabena offering me tea & snacks. I had drifted off to sleep on the sofa, still seated. It was a long lovely evening as we went sauntering around Jaipur, finishing the day with dinner in style at Nero’s on MI Road. I walked her home, and both of us had mixed feelings.

The joy of justice rendered, was now enveloped by thoughts of separation from a dear friend. Sleep took time as I was torn with the career in teaching and of missing on a lovely friend. I left in a week, but we spent time together every day till I left. I noticed that she was not her normal self. I saw her the last time at the Bus Depot from my window seat of the bus before I left.

After joining Pusa, I delayed writing to her by a month. I was enveloped by a personal tragedy and was plunging into my new responsibilities. Failing to get a reply, I called her at office. She had told me that her sister had to come to Delhi for an NCC Camp, and I was to receive her and help her. Her reply was cold and brusque. The usually warm Sabena was missing. I agonized as fate had played its cards. It was apparent that she did not want to lose me, as was evident from her speech. The way she would hold my hand during our long walks – that seemed a distant memory.

Maybe because I treated her like a lady, unlike her earlier friend, with whom she had broken off. I had noticed two marks on her wrist, inflicted with a cigarette.

I was horrified. How could someone do this?
Nay, even think, of branding?
I was sure in my mind that I had no romantic thoughts of her, and all my interactions were purely platonic. We had agreed to it when we she kept saying, “You better have an arranged marriage.”