As I entered the room, I saw
three heavy men waiting for me curiously. They were sitting in a row facing the
chair where I was supposed to sit. But they did not tell me to sit. I did as a
friend had suggested me to. I did namaste
to them and asked politely, indicating the chair in front of me, ‘May I sit
here, sir?’
One of them smiled and said,
‘Yes, of course! Sit down.’
My whole body was shaking. I was
nervous, but I was trying to hide my nervousness from them. Now, I hoped for
their questions. I hoped they would ask me easy questions and I would get the
job I had so much craved for. I was in dire need of a job that would support in
my college study and livelihood.
As soon as I sat on the chair,
the men started firing questions, one after the other. The first man wanted to
have my introduction.
‘I am Parshu Ram Shrestha. I live
in Dharan-7, Sunsari. I am 19 years old and unmarried. I have passed School
Leaving Certificate Examination with first division…’
‘Do you have any previous experience?’
the second man interrupted me.
‘No sir. This is my first ever attempt
to find a job.’
The man smiled at me ironically,
and fired another question at me ‘If you get this job how will you do it?’
‘If I get this job, I will do my
best and try to satisfy you with my performance.’
Perhaps my hasty raw answer amused him. Or,
maybe he could not be assured of the honesty in my words.
‘Why do you want this job?’ the
man shot at me before I was ready for another question.
‘I want to be a great person.’
I saw them twitch the muscles in
their face violently. They looked at each other in amusement. Their eyes smiled
at each other. Perhaps they were shocked to hear my childish answer.
‘How can you be a great person?’
the third man, in a bit agitated tone, asked me again.
I felt sweat on my forehead, but
could not wipe it off out of fear that they might know I had been nervous.
Almost all my body parts- my armpits, my chest, my backbone, my palms and the
lower part of my feet- were sweaty and sticky. Nevertheless, I tried to show my
composure as much as possible.
‘If I get this job, I will have
money to pay my college fees and to buy books. Then, I will study seriously and
become a great person in my future.’ I gasped while I was trying to explain my
answer.
I answered all the questions honestly,
without hiding my real intention. I was lost in the flashback memory of my long
struggle.
I was in pressure to find a job
as soon as possible due to my filial responsibilities toward my single mother.
She had already suffered much pain for so many years to bring me up. Now, she
was hopeful that I would get a job and help her manage financial affairs. She
had no money to send me to college. Her fruit shop fetched her a little profit
or sometimes no profit at all. That was just enough for paying rent and other things
for our survival. Therefore, I had hardly any chance to get higher education
and make my future bright.
My poverty always played a
villainous role in my life. I did not lack capacity, but I had no money. So,
the word ‘money’ always disturbed me. I was actually fighting for the present
job unwillingly hoping to be self-dependent and help my mother. But who would
provide me a job at that time? What would be a suitable job for an SLC (School
Leaving Certificate) graduate? Getting a job was my dream, just a dream.
One day one of my mother’s
distant relatives, who was among a few millionaires of the city, called me.
Earlier, my mother had narrated to him a long saga of our struggle for the survival
in the city. So, being a kind-hearted man, he had thought of helping us by
providing a job to me. I was so happy when I reached his house the early
morning next day. After waiting him for two hours, while he took bath and ate
his breakfast, he told me to follow him. I followed him like a goat follows
green grass. He led me to a nearby newly
established restaurant that belonged to his relatives.
I was excited because I was going
to get a job, but I did not know what I was going to do. He led me into the
restaurant. I thought he was going to provide me some snacks. I was overjoyed
meeting such a generous man. He met his relative, the restaurant owner, and
showing me said, ‘Do you like the boy?’
He was not going to feed me any
snacks there. He had, in fact, seen a potential busboy in me. It badly hurt my
dignity of being an educated boy. I wanted to cry. When I understood what
I was supposed to do, I said politely, ‘No, thanks,’ and returned home with foggy
face.
Another millionaire relative also
wanted to help us. He lived in his big castle just beside the city square, Bhanuchowk,
the downtown, of Dharan. I used to visit him frequently with the hope that he
would help me find a job. One day, he took me to a place nearby Bhanuchowk and
said, ‘You can sell your fruits here.’ I did not need much time to understand
that my mother had requested him to provide a space for selling fruits in front
of his house on rent.
‘What shall I do if the
municipality policemen chase me away?’
‘It’s very simple. Run away
whenever you see them,’ he said smiling sneeringly, ‘You must be ready to do
anything to earn money.’
I could not agree with him and
returned deciding to stop visiting his house from that day.
Contrary to my great expectation that
I would be able to collect the interviewers’ sympathy for my struggle so far, the
room was filled with their roars. I was puzzled. Were my answers so funny?
‘Then, how will you serve this
institution? It needs workers, not any future great man,’ the man sitting in
the middle chair concluded the interview, ‘You can go now.’
‘Next,’ I heard them yelling when
I got up to go. They were laughing behind me as I rose up and came out.
