Dark Horse Arts and Sciences

Don’t tell me anything now. I have a really important interview today. This is probably the most important interview of my life and I want it to go the best way possible as it will decide my career and maybe my life. Last month, I saw an advertisement in the newspaper about recruiting lecturers at Rama Devi Women’s College, the salary is 50,000 per month in the beginning, and someone unemployed for so long would love to just go and grab the opportunity. I also qualified for the entrance test which has given me a bit of confidence. Let’s see what happens. 

But I am still confused as to what I should wear to this interview. Should I wear jeans and tops or just a normal kurta or even a saree? No, no, saree would be too much. The last thing I want right now is to go overdressed into a very important job interview. So, finally, after a lot of mess and thinking, I choose the yellow kurta. It’s not like I love this outfit, it’s just that I don’t have anything else to wear. I have been living here in a rented room in Arunoday market, Cuttack for the last three months, preparing for competitive exams. So, I didn’t bring much of anything with me. My mother was suggesting that I take a lot of things, but I didn’t. Who would bring so much to such a small, compressed room? 

My room is so small that even three people can’t fit in or sit comfortably there. It’s just like an island whose shore is being slowly eaten up by an increasing level of the ocean, slowly swallowing the sand on the shore, making it hostile to visitors.

So, I started dressing up and combing my hair, attaching my favorite clips with it. Sometimes, I can be superstitious during such important occasions. I also put my favorite black bindi on my forehead. Bindi is love. It just adds another beautiful feature to my face. I put on very slight lipstick and mascara and almost no makeup. Then I see outside the window the rain pouring down. It gets me worried as it can really ruin my makeup, which I don’t want at this moment. It’s already 4:30 and the Mo bus will reach at 5:10 at Link Road. So, now I should probably get going.

I take my favorite pink umbrella with me and lock my room and get going. As I go out, I see a small river being already formed on the streets. Out of all places I have ever lived, Cuttack has the worst drainage system ever. So, I carefully keep walking through those tiny rivers. Still, the rain keeps sprinkling on me from sideways. The dress I am wearing keeps my arms bare, so you can understand how it must be feeling to have water directly falling on my side arms. It feels really cold. I don’t want to catch a cold now.

So, finally, I reach Link Road and stand at the bus stop, waiting for it to arrive. I don’t know why my heart starts throbbing a bit faster than usual. My inner state is kind of an amalgamation of nervousness and anxiety right now. But I calm myself down using a bit of breathing technique.

In the distance, I can see the red lights of the bus approaching in my direction. Then the bus stops right in front of me as I put both of my wet, muddy feet on it. I see some empty seats to my right and jump into one of those and seat myself comfortably. Level 1 of catching the bus is done. Now, I have to calm myself down so that the whole body and mind can relax. I can’t afford to have an anxiety or panic attack right now or during the journey. I have to stay calm. And I know what makes me calm. Reading. Yes, I should read something. And luckily, I have that Durjoy Datta book with me. So, I open the page where I last time left.

Rain pouring down outside the window with water sprinkling on the outer surface of the window, me reading a novel inside, just sitting there, it feels so soothing and relaxing. I don’t know why I can hear someone listening to some song, not on a loud note, maybe that person is listening to songs on a loud volume in the headphone and even I can hear it slightly. Whatever, I start reading the book and slowly getting transported into the fascinating world of imagination as the wheels of the bus keep rolling through the muddy, rusty roads of Cuttack, entrenched in the lingering memory of the past raindrops and making way for raindrops that will touch it in the next few moments.