Empathy

Loveable people listen to their hearts

It was a hot summer afternoon. I was on my way to the final round of an interview. The blaring horns — rumbling engines — screeching breaks — bumper-to-bumper standstill vehicles, the traffic chaos of the Delhi roads were at their peak on that day.

“Could you take another route? It is getting late,” I insisted my cab driver.

“No, ma’am, it’s not possible,” he responded, rather rudely.

I blamed my luck and left things to their destiny. After some time, stuck in painfully slow-moving traffic, we found ourselves sandwiched in a busy road laced with tall buildings.

“Mam, we have almost reached. Would you get down here and walk through that opposite narrow lane to reach your school?”, he asked as he swerved the cab towards the corner.

“Mam, please get down quickly,” he hurried to open the door for me.

In what looked like the only option to cross the road, I followed suit and blended with the swarms of people who were skilfully slipping in between slow-moving vehicles, wasting no time. My umbrella failed to shield me from the scorching heat of the sun but I managed to snake through the shops on the pavements as fast as I could. At the end of the lane was a wider road that leads to the public school.

The greenish-yellow school building with its highlighted brick red arches looked magnificent under the blue sky. The antique wooden fringes on the windows and doors added its charm. The array of bougainvillea that bordered the fencing, justified the beauty of its lush green lawn. It was one of the most prestigious institutions in Delhi. I could feel the excitement mounting in me when I was walking through its wood-paneled corridor, fringed with colourful indoor plants. At the end of the passage was a heavy wooden door that opened into a spacious visitors hall.

When I approached the reception, a tall woman greeted me with a smile.

“You have also come for the interview, right?” she guessed. Probably another candidate like me who’s here for the interview, I figured.

“Oh yes,” I responded promptly and turned to the receptionist for details.

“Sorry, You may have to wait, mam. I am afraid our Managing director is not here due to unexpected reason, please make yourself comfortable as it may take more than half-an-hour”.

After retiring on a sofa I took the water bottle out of my bag to quench my thirst.

“Is it cold?” it was the same woman who I met in the reception, starting a conversation.

“Yes, of course, do you need some?” I asked formally lending the bottle to her.

“I am Anamika Punit from Noida,” she said as we shook hands.

In that dark blue cotton saree and the matching long-sleeved blouse, she looked elegant. Her simplicity and receptiveness were inviting. Time just slipped away as we had a lot of things to share.

She elaborated on how her husband, after having lost his job in the recession, was now actively looking for one, not leaving even a single stone unturned. Her two girls were studying in high school and she has been struggling with heavy monthly bills for more than six months. We talked about many things, teaching, family, home interiors and kids, etc.

“How long it would take?” a sweet female voice drew our attention. A young woman probably in her early thirties was talking intently to the receptionist. She was on pointed heels, draped in pale pink chiffon saree and holding a file in her left hand. She drew a broad smile on her face and approached us.

“Hi! Nice meeting you, I am Rupali Sudhakar from Goa, here for the interview as well”.

Her earrings dangled frequently as she spoke. She was bold, dynamic, and infectious with her smile. We introduced ourselves and the conversation went on so naturally that we felt we were no longer strangers to each other.

Rupali has done a doctorate in English and had worked in Musket for four years. Her teaching experience exceeds ours and I could tell that she’d be the most desired amongst us.

“Isn’t it interesting that they have called three of us for the two teaching posts? And today’s interview is just a formality to finalize and we would be given our appointment orders”, she gleamed as she revealed the information she had gathered.

“Please be ready”, the attendee alerted us, “ You’ll be called any time now”.

Before I could remove my file from the bag, “Mrs. Malvika Singh, can you please come inside?” it was the PA from the principal’s office at the door.

I sprang up to my feet gathering my file and hurried towards the door when someone pulled me from behind. I turned back hastily only to find my saree get stuck in the sofa handle as Rupali rushed to unhook it in time to prevent a tear. She cheered me up to proceed with a smile. When I came out with my offer letter, Rupali hugged and rejoiced with me.

Later on, it was Rupali who was selected and not Anamika. We both felt sorry for her and parted after a brief conversation, wishing her good luck.

It was a day of celebration for me and my family. But soon I began to ponder and worry about Anamika. What she would be doing now? Telling her husband that she could not make it? her daughters disappointed? Anamika was looking much disturbed and tired when we left her at the bus stop.

It was Sunday and I had enough time to browse through the newspaper before breakfast.

“ Mom, it’s a call for you”, my son called me holding the telephone receiver.

“ Hello! guess who?” it was Rupali at the other end.

“ Oh, nice to hear from you, and where are you calling from?”

“From the hotel reception, and I will be checking out now to catch my flight. And I have a request, could you please inform Anamika to contact the principal and get her offer letter? She continued, I spoke to the principal yesterday evening and declined my offer to allow Anamika to fill that position. I have realized that Anamika really needs the job now. I can try for another job and wait for some more time. So, just convey my wishes to her, Bye,” she hung up. Indeed the news heartened me and took me by surprise knowing how much this would mean to Anamika.

I only sympathized with Anamika but it was Rupali who sacrificed her opportunity to help her. The beautiful face of Rupali occupied my mind the whole day and needless to say, she stayed in my pleasant memories as one of the most lovable people I have met in my life.

The most lovable people in this world are those who listen to their hearts.