The Delhi Chapter : Page 10

I’ve never been more silent in a phone conversation.

Guaranteed.

No, never.

By the time Bodhi’s monologue drew to a close, and I kept the heavy telephone down, I could actually feel heat steaming out of my face and my cheeks turn bloody (red).

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that embarrassed, even discomfited in my life.

I mean, what in the universe could I have been thinking?

I landed up asking (out of the billion people populating our country) that ONE person to design my CV for me, who was going to be my future boss! And to top it all, offering money for the same, and asking him to do it as a freelance job!

Good griefus!

Lordy lord!

[ I could almost hear this voice ringing inside my head (dangerously sounding like Bodhi’s):

"Designing your CV for you, huh? Seems like you’re going to have quite a rough time here, kid." ]

Felt like the most ridiculous thing that ever happened to me.

Why did life have to crack these sad jokes?

Why didn't I ask Mirna or someone else who knew him about his god forsaken profession? Once?

But hey, I remembered having asked him one time in passing (in one of our chat conversations), when he’d promptly replied with a: "I'm just a plain, inconspicuous writer ya.. Nothing really worth talking about.."

I’ve never felt more betrayed.

More stupid about myself.

I should've done my homework, I thought.

But a few moments later, when I finally gathered myself together..

I realised I’d actually landed that internship I’d been agonising about all this God-swearing time!

Without an interview!

Without a copy test!

Heck, without even meeting my next boss!

****

The next morning, my resignation was on my Editor’s table.

And by afternoon, my tickets to Gurgaon were done...