Unsaid, Undone.

-THE CITY OF DREAMS-

When Mihir had turned fifteen, his life had taken an unexpected turn. Up until now, he'd been comfortable in his surroundings, a working Father, a housewife Mother and a joint family, with pretty much the same drill practiced by every generation. After observing his elder cousins he'd learned that he too, like them, would be joining and taking care of the family business once he was out of school. This would go on till he was of marriageable age.

Sometime around his twenty fifth birthday, he'd have his Mother discuss 'pretty, single girls', dropping hints and asking for his opinion. He would go meet a couple of such women over the next year, and approximately at twenty six and a half years, he would shrug at one particular prospective bride. His Mother would squeal with enthusiasm, his Father would have no say; it being outside of his parents' clearly demarcated departments and within the next few months, he would be a married man.

His wife would belong to the same social standing as his family, she would be modern in the sense that she'd be fluent in English and most likely a BA first division; presentable in parties; but on the inside, her Hindu values would be alarming and breath-taking. She'd lay out his office clothes for him every day, she'd make him bed tea every morning...and every once in a while, she'd make sweet, passionate love to him, which would then produce children. Fair and handsome; not that his family was against daughters but preferably fair and handsome sons, two sons was the socially acceptable number. But no one pointed fingers if the number went up to three. After all, it only declared a happily married couple.

His future had been pre-decided. He'd known, that like any other boy from their quaint locality on the outskirts of Chandigarh, he too would have the same life.

This was until his first day at his Father's furniture shop. 'Supreme Furnitures' specialised in wooden furniture designs. They had fourteen carpenters working for them, who also worked on a contract basis with four other similar furniture shops in their gali and all these furniture shops shared a common factory space for the special bulk orders.

It had taken Mihir a total of one week to realize that this was not his future.

Where he saw a Designer Furniture Show Room, his Father envisioned a local Furniture Shop, where he saw franchisees all over the country, his Father envisioned their gali and their four hundred square feet, two generations old dukaan, where he imagined sophisticated clientele; from movie stars to the biggest industrialists, his Father....his Father settled for the usual lower middle class buyers they'd catered to for years.

FIXED PRICE. NO BARGAINING.

He loathed that sign that hung in their shop.

So middle class!

Every time a slightly classy looking customer came for bigger orders, looking for a complete furniture range for their entire house, he'd be thrilled, scribbling in their requirements, sketching a layout and reasoning the prices with them. He'd almost bagged two such clients, but his Father had stubbed him right away.

"Hum yeh sab kaam nahi karte! Tell them we have fixed designs....and NO bargaining."

Mihir would feel disappointed, his resolve deflating every time his Father would find a way to stub any potential for growth that he would spot for their business.

"Kisse poochke yeh designs banaye tune?" His Father had yelled once. "Do you even know how the carpenters work? How the woodwork is dealt with?"

His next two days were spent in the factory in conversation with the carpenters, where he'd understood every single angle of the design work.

"What were you doing in the factory?" His Father had yelled after that. "Apne bhaiyo se kuch seekh Mihir, they mind their own business."

"Par Papa, kaam nahi samjhunga toh, orders kaise lunga?" He'd finally argued, now irritated beyond compare.

"Tera kaam dukaan sambhalna hai, the shop owner's son does NOT go to the factory. You hear me?"

Mihir had gazed at his Mother helplessly, who'd been widening her eyes at him the entire time, obviously asking him to shut it. She'd obviously have to bear his Father's anger after this heated argument.

"Voh profitable orders the Papa." For his Mother's sake, the volume of his voice had lowered, and where there had been confidence and conviction moments ago, there was hesitation and doubt. "If only we tried something new, something that the other shops aren't do-"

"-Profits ki baat toh tu kar hi mat! I've been taking care of this shop for the past twenty six years. This is our work and I don't want any further discussions on this. Are we clear?"

At the age of fifteen years, three months and fourteen days, Mihir had decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted to have nothing to do with 'Supreme Furnitures' anymore.

He was going to leave his home the day he was done with school.

***

By the time school had ended, Mihir was already prepared with three colleges that he wanted to apply for; far from home. He needed his space to work on his ambitions, and he could not do that with his Father disapproving every decision he ever made.

The shouting and disagreements had reached a stage at one point where his Father had ended up delivering a slap across his face too. A part of him was furious with him, but another part of him didn't blame his Father for his outburst. The man had grown up a certain way, and didn't even know that another way of life existed.

Too bad for him to have a son like Mihir.

After a month long debate and several unpleasant discussions, with his Mother's help, Mihir managed to convince his Father to let him go out for his bachelor's, with the condition that he would return home after his degree. He agreed reluctantly, already thinking of ways he could tweak his promise to his parents.

Mihir's college had been a dream, he learnt not just the art of designing, but even the art of selling his designs to prospective customers. He made acquaintances; he was much too jovial and attractive to be a loner; but he had only one friend; one senior he could confide in.

Dev Ahuja.

Dev had been in his final year when Mihir had started college, but in that one year, they'd gotten closer than either of the two had ever thought was possible.

Imagine Mihir's surprise when two years later, fresh out of college and desperately looking for ways to avoid moving back home, he received an email. It was an email from the Design Head of SENSES Pvt. Ltd, it was from Dev.

He'd read about the company in the newspapers often, and the training Dev talked about only seemed as inviting as ever! But he had no experience dealing with such posh clients. In fact, he didn't even have enough money to move to Mumbai for good.

This is when Dev came into the picture again.

Carefully planning his savings and his move, with Dev's help, Mihir shifted to Mumbai. Albeit sceptical, there was something about Dev's quiet support that gave him the confidence that he would be able to survive in an unknown city by himself.

"In time..." Dev had smiled; four days before his training was to commence, "...you'll realize SENSES needs you, more than YOU need it."

Mihir had been confused and gazed at him in disbelief. Dev had either developed a sense of humour, or he'd altogether imagined that part of the conversation. What could a company like SENSES want from a small town, inexperienced and amateur boy like him? What could he offer to the company that other thorough-bred professionals applying for posts in the company couldn't?

He'd decided to keep his thoughts to himself. 

And that was how his career begun, as a trainee...a simple trainee, in SENSES Pvt. Ltd. The same company, which was going to become India's best Home Décor Company in the next four years.