After completing my studies, I joined the rat race of job-hunting. Dad had already retired. Electricity Department no longer needed him for kindling lights here and there. Samir, my brother, was just sixteen. It was not sweet sixteen, but blood-boiling restless perplex adolescence. And being an elder sister it was my responsibility to lead him to a good career. I started preparing for competitive exams, from grass root to mandarins. Dipesh was from an affluent family and as Mohon uncle took the steer at his hands, he was at a secure shore.
Dipesh completed his PhD in physics from Bengal. Then Mohon uncle sent him to Mumbai for his post-doctorate and I started my rendezvous with the employment bureau here. Finally, after 2 years of treadmill, I got a job in the Education Department of the Secondary Section. It was about twelve km. from Asutoshnagar, the nearby city, and forty-one km. from my home town Chandrapur. So I decided to stay there and come home at the weekend. I did not prefer to enlist a long journey in my daily routine.
I was in a celebrity mood being a new member of the service census. Dipesh came for three days to celebrate the occasion and our family embarked on our wedding plan. Maybe the idea was sowed in their mind from our childhood and there was no objection or controversy in any respect. Both families were too liberal in thought and upbringing. So it was as natural as the blowing of air and flowing of water.
It was all fixed with great exuberance and gait that Dipesh would complete his course and come back to be happily married to Miss Nandini.
The story should have ended here as it happened in every fairy tale, –
“…then the princess was married to the prince and they live happily ever after.” The Cinderella story I always liked when I was a kid and perhaps now also.
But real-life story differs.
Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.