A Dose of Love

Chapter 1.

7 years ago

The thing about life is that it delights in surprising you. You might be walking on the street one day, planning your week or a particular day to the T, but voila, a surprise would spring up and ruin the careful calculations you had made to orderly categorize your plans.

And that is what life does. Ruin plans and order, and push you into the unknown abyss. But the condescension of humankind is so profound, that despite knowing such facts, we believe we hold control over our life. And perhaps we do, but I have not seen it. 

In a similarly condescending fashion, I had planned my life to the T. 

My goal: Chartered Accountancy in first attempt. 

My dream: a coveted job in the Big 4. 

No girlfriends. Only work. 

I couldn't afford distractions, because there was no room for a second chance. And there was no room for a second chance because there was no money for a second chance. It was quite simple, really. 

Until she stumbled into my life. Literally. 

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Tap, tap. Tap tap tappity tap. 

I was reading through the notes I had prepared for my articleship interview outside the office cabin of Shah and Partners, an accountancy and consultation firm, when I heard an incessant foot-tapping noise. I adjusted my folder, trying to drown the irritating sound. It stopped. 

And then began as abruptly as it had begun.

I raised my eyes from my files when they fell onto a pair of worn out cream-colored shoes, which were clearly the perpetrators since they were still tapping against the floor. This time I raised my head to see the wearer of those accused shoes to convey my displeasure, when she spoke, and I paused, because I had to. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous, and my legs do not listen to me when I'm nervous. Hi, I'm Naina," the possessor of the offending limb spoke, her voice seeped in cheeriness. Did she say anything? Oh yes, Naina.

"Ahem...umm...hi?" I cleared my throat awkwardly, subconsciously adjusting my shirt collar. Ahem hi? Who says that? An idiot, but of course. 

I looked at her, to see if I had offended her. I hadn't. She was still grinning. Not smiling, grinning. 

"Are you here for the articleship interview as well?" She asked after a bit of a pause. I belatedly noticed that the foot-tapping had ceased. I looked over to the notice hung over the wall, which had 'Articles Interview' written in bold, and then looked at her, puzzled. Her cheeks pinkened. 

Oh.

She didn't make any attempts at conversation after that. Pre-engagement terms of audit need to be complied with in order to accept the audit engagement. SA 210 states that...

Tap, tap. Tappity tap. 

I sighed. "Rishi," I croaked out, coughing a little. 

"Hmm?" She hummed, not catching it. 

"I...I am Rishi." She smiled. It was a very cute smile. What? 

"Are you interviewing for Audit department as well?" I asked, looking at her with caution. Her smile widened. 

"Yes, don't like the static tax work. You are too, right? What are you reading there?" Her questions burst out. I sighed internally. Really, this girl was quite tiresome. I discreetly tried to look over at the doorway, in hope that we shall be called in for the interview soon. 

"Some notes I had prepared," I said, ruffling through the sheets. 

"Oh! I didn't make any notes," she sounded worried. My sight fell on her hands, which she had begun wringing incessantly. Her feet seemed on the verge of starting their tappity dance once again. Really, was there any pause button to her continuous limb-moving?  

"It is just something that I need. I always prepare notes. It is just my thing," I hurried with my explanation. She still looked worried, but at least the tap dance didn't commence just then. Small victories. 

"Rishi Sharma," I jumped at the sound of my name, but composed myself just so. I too a deep breath, shuffled my documents and papers back into my folder and chucked them into my bag. If only I had water...

"Here, have this," a petite hand came into my view with a plastic bottle thrust in my direction. I stared at the bottle. "You're thirsty, right?" The feminine voice asked, the bottle still in her hand.

"Yes...yes, uh thank you," I said and took the bottle for a sip. 

"You had your hand on your throat, so I assumed you must be thirsty," Naina added helpfully as I handed back her the bottle. 

"Thank you," I said again, unable to find any other words. 

"All the best," she replied and smiled yet again. Who smiled so much? 

More importantly, why didn't people smile so much? 

With that last thought, I walked into the cabin with my shoulders pushed back, ready to finally take another step closer to my goals and dreams. 

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I came out of the room with a satisfied smile on my face. Really, it was a good interview. The chances of me getting the job were looking very good, indeed. However, as soon as I walked out of the cabin, my sight fell onto the strange woman who distributed smiles like free pamphlets. She still smiled at me, albeit nervously. We were the last two people in the place for the interview. That meant that it was her chance after me. 

I couldn't help but smile back at her while also secretly, oh-so selfishly wishing that may she not get the job. We weren't applying for the same job per se since there were many openings still available for articles in the firm, but the thought of working with her left me with a queasy feeling. Strange, and certainly asshole-y considering she had been anything but kind to me. 

But she was a whirlwind of enthusiasm and brightness and rainbows. It hurt to look at her. I could not imagine working with a person, at such a firmly pen-and-paper boring desk job, who clearly was unsuited for it. 

I gave her a final nod and strode out of the building, preparing myself for a jostling train ride in peak Mumbai hours. 

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Within the next five days, I got an e-mail from the firm with an acceptance letter and stipend details. I smiled. I had known then that this was my foray into the corporate world and a crucial milestone of my life. 

But what I hadn't known was that that e-mail had unknowingly changed my life. 

For better or for worse, that was yet to be seen. 

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