by Alok Chawla
Time heals everything, give time some time.’ It was partly a sense of conviction and majorly an illusion to the self that rooted from the need to self motivate to keep going. It were those days when you bestow an untampered belief in God and experience miniature against his might. And having no option is not that bad, it lets you keep your mind straight and you always know what you are up to. And this has been all the positive that played the trick all these years.
Sunday morning it was, the one of a kind, 17 January 2016. A Sunday never told me about its capacity to carry as much pressure like it did that day. I had only cursed weekdays all my life. A distinction was all set to happen. A yet another aspirant was to get the initials before his name. The letters so jumbled up that it took me five years to get them straight. The sun woke up early that day, so did I. Later the clock did tell me it was just me, and a daily affair for the sun. Leaving bed early was an easy escape from the chain of thoughts that casted the loop which ended on the not-so-fond-memories of earlier Sundays with such pressure.
Felt the urge within to pen down the memories when a sudden glimpse in the hind sight took me to the view of the dwelling place. The place that saw an article grow into a chartered accountant as closely like non other. It was one of those things that deserve a bold plus italics in your story and you pride telling about to your grand children. Not because of its built, but only because of its built. If not smaller than a bath area, I doubt not bigger too. That beloved cubicle gave me its most important three years and its contribution to our partnership was immense. It was never nervous of being able to sustain me for three long years, no kitchen-no problem, no cupboard-no problem, no wash area-no problem, no space-no problem, no nothing-no problem. It was such a kind heart of a room, never lets you down, after hitting the bottom.
It happened one odd day when other colleagues in the flat had left and I had to shift on a short notice. I walked the surrounding areas of the office, on a special leave, to arrange accommodation the very next day. Lajpat Nagar it was. Too expensive for a Laxmi Nagar guy. Strolled past the streets loaded with luxury vehicles, making eye contact with the security guard, being firm at the bark of a dog, being gentle at the stop of a rickshaw puller, trying so hard to look as if I belonged to the place. Not all in vain, the long walk finally took me to this pavilion that rested on the edge of the entire building for a hefty monthly rental. Each day would see me walking to and back from office in balloon trouser and loafers on some days, and unwashed trouser and loafers on the other. Money unspent is money earned. It all went so strong unto me that I skipped breakfast on at least seven days a week. It was not a financial condition, just the lack of it that I stuck to not taking coaching classes for the Finals. Quite a time felt the thin line between being brave and being foolish for the decision but stayed adamant.
(To be continued…