THE FINAL DECISION

I have always preferred bikes over cars primarily because of the great disparity in the feelings they evoke in the rider. A car invariably makes me feel boxed in and disconnected with reality. On a bike, unlike in an air-conditioned car, one tends to be more tolerant towards slower and smaller vehicles. You can even feel the slight difference in temperatures when you enter the greener areas of a city. I have also found bikers to be better able to see beggars as inherent parts of a flawed system, and not objects of pity or scorn.
Most importantly, I think bikes have had great influence on major decisions of my life.
A two years’ masters course in film-making from an elite institution had only helped me realise that I did not want to be a film-maker. Thus, when college ended, I applied for all kinds of jobs so as to be ‘on my feet.’
Now, disillusioned and drilled to believe in a necessary ‘struggle period’ for freshers, you can say I was a bit desperate as I sat outside the HR office of a real estate website for my first job interview. I sheepishly sent in my CV, a one-page document in font size 14. I cleared the written test and was sent inside a cabin for an interview with the MD, a stout middle-aged man wearing a horrendously thick gold chain and a condescending smile. He told me that my job involved writing and telling people how great their life would be if they bought the luxurious dwellings made by ‘us’. They could lazily play golf or lie in the Jacuzzi while the happy kids played with ice cubes taken out from designer wall-mounted refrigerators. I was informed about the important nature of the work being handed to me despite my inexperience, and that the work timings would thus be 9 to 9.
All this while, I wasn’t expected to butt in. But then, he asked me what my salary expectations were. The figure I quoted, now I think, was clearly a manifestation of my desperation to lose my unemployed status, and very small by any standard. Yet, on hearing it, Mr gold chain just laughed and laughed till he claimed his stomach ached. “But what do you need money for? You writers can just sit under a tree all day and write,” he said. He made his offer, only slightly lesser than my demand, and said I’d be told about the company’s final decision to take me would be communicated to me.
I had to start somewhere. I thought I’d act important for a day and accept their offer when the confirmation call came.
Slightly numb, I walked down to the parking lot, shoved the CV in the bike’s toolbox, and set out for home. Somewhere en route, the tucked-in shirt started feeling slightly uncomfortable, so I pulled it out. The tie now looked odd, so I put it in my pocket. I wondered why a tie is worn at all, when it neither helps cover one’s modesty nor keeps out the cold. I wondered if individuals exist for organisations or the other way round. I wondered if, during the interview, I’d known more about the company than they about me.
It started to drizzle and to make the most of the occasion, I took off the helmet and let myself get soaked. I wrung the throttle till the raindrops felt like icy needles and splashed through the puddles. Somehow in this seemingly mindless risk-taking, I experienced freedom and joy.
I suddenly realised my cellphone was vibrating. I parked the bike by the roadside and took the call, only to realize that the rain had busted the phone’s speakers. So I asked the unknown caller to text me his message. When I got the sms, I realized it was from Mr gold chain. It read, “Congratulations. You’ve been hired. Come in with the relevant documents tomorrow.”
I texted back, apologising for wasting his time. I thanked him for the offer, but told him that since his office had no trees, it would not be possible for me to work in his company. He told me I’d be blacklisted by the organisation. “My pleasure,” I replied.
Looking back, I still do not think I would’ve been so audacious if I wasn’t on the bike that day.
A week later, while on vacation to my hometown Lucknow, I got the kind of job I had been looking for. Well, I still get peanuts, but this time around, the peanuts are ‘branded’ and coated in corporate comforts, and that’s some solace. I get to learn. I work to ride and ride to work, and this, I think, helps me stay conscious of what I’m doing and what I ought to be doing. That’s important, and that’s what makes it all worthwhile.