I Was, I Am.

-THE INTERVIEW-

EDITED CHAPTER#6

"We'll leave tomorrow, Aditi." Ma informed me over the phone. Since I had my interview, I had had to leave Kolkata two days before the original plan.

But Ma and Papa were following the original itinerary.

"Cool." I replied as I cradled the phone on my right shoulder and continued rummaging through my entire wardrobe to find this new light cream coloured top that I'd bought about six months ago to wear for an important presentation in office but due to some stupid white shirt dress code couldn't wear it.

"Please eat properly, don't skip your breakfast before the interview and if there's anything; you know...."

"....I know that you're a phone call away..." I completed, "...I know Ma. I can take care of myself. Please don't stress out."

It was ironic, my asking Ma not to stress out when my own stomach was in knots from all the anxiety.

"When you'll be a mother, you'll know."

I laughed a little and continued, "...let me be the Assistant Design Head first."

As my palm went deep into the closet which was now out of my visual proximity, my fingers felt this piece of fabric that felt very familiar and I gripped it tight trying to pull it out.

But to my dismay, it refused to budge.

"Ma...I'll call you after the interview okay?" I said and quickly hung up shifting my focus to that familiar piece of fabric that I suspected was the shirt I was looking for.

I tugged at it with all my might and at last, it popped out of the closet.

The beautiful cream coloured top.

I hurried with dressing up after that, pairing that top which covered three fourths of my arm and hugged my body appropriately with my regular office going dark grey trousers.

Making myself breakfast would be stupid because the nervousness that would soon build in me would not allow me to consume anything and so I tossed some dry fruits into the pocket of my trousers and with all the confidence I could gather, walked out of the house.

The taxi driver drove through the famous stretch of Marine Drive as I quickly rolled up the window, to prevent my hair from getting spoiled by the blowing winds.

Yes, I still didn't own a car.

Since I lived with Ma and Papa the need never arose and even if it did, there was always the bus or the taxi for travelling.

But for some reason, cabs made me anxious. Maybe because at a subconscious level, I always linked cabs with important meetings and interviews. Having just about two years of experience in the consultancy domain in Finance, I didn't make a lot of money. So I prefered the bus to a cab, unless it were absolutely unavoidable.

Occasions like such interviews or Partner reviews were days I would book a cab for myself.

My nervousness started to get the better of me just a couple of minutes after I had seated myself in the taxi. I could feel bile rise to my throat. The nausea was killing me.

Breathe Aditi.

How could I breathe? What the hell was I thinking? Applying for SENSES? They'd probably called me to humiliate me in front of everyone just to tell the world how absurd my dream was!

Get a grip. You're smart and you're confident and way more qualified than a good chunk of the Indian population.

Heck I'm probably OVER-qualified for an assistant's post!