Our first job interview is always a memorable one. We are nervous, a little cocky (think we can answer it all), worry a little too much about what to wear, check a million times if our certificates and portfolio are in order and so on. My brother was going through the same set of emotions when he – as newly certified Chemical Engineer in 1986 – got his first interview call. The call was from Tata Chemicals and he had to go to a place called Mithapur in Gujarat.
The first thing we did was pull out a map of India to figure out where is Mithapur. It does not feature in the map. However we did find out that it is a place virtually on the western tip of India. Just 30 kms from Dwaraka on one side and 50 kms from Okha on the other side (where there is an Indian naval base). The Arabian sea cradles its shores and if we attempt to swim in the sea we might inadvertently find ourselves in Pakistan! There are no direct trains to Mithapur from Chennai. One has to go either via Ahmedabad (followed by an 8 hour car drive or via Bombay and then catch an onward Okha train. My brother opted for the Bombay route (BTW it was still called Bombay those days).
Our father was instantly full of ‘valuable’ tips of how to attend an interview. My brother spent the pre-departure period rolling his eyes at all the advice. His bag was packed with two new formal pants, two crisp formal shirts and a terribly garish tie that my mother had lovingly picked for him. A thick file was bought and all his certificates were neatly filed in. His newly acquired engineer’s degree included. It all went into a little suitcase (also new – mind you). We put him in Dadar express with a forehead full of Vibhuti, all kinds of Prasad and instructions to apply/swallow it all before he went for the interview.
He landed in Bombay and stayed over with a relative. He was to travel the next evening. As luck would have it – next day was some kind of bandh in Bombay. The entire city came to a standstill. Trains were cancelled. Luckily my brother’s train was at 7 pm (and the bandh officially got over at 6 pm). Somehow he made his way to the station – virtually walking all the way with his bag and all that. The station was horribly crowded and there was plenty of chaos because a lot of trains had been cancelled. Mercifully, he got into the train just minutes before it was to start. He had got the side berth right next to the door. He deposited his bag under the seat and decided to get water. The poor boy had walked all the way to the station and was terribly thirsty. So he told his neighbour to look after his bag, got off, filled water from a tap just outside (remember those days we still trusted tap water – no mineral water) and got back to his seat. All of this took less than a minute. The train started. My brother felt for his bag below the seat. It was missing! He thought perhaps he had made a mistake – he checked again. No luck. In fact he checked the entire compartment as the train chugged on. No one knew where his bag was and how it had disappeared. My brother got so nervous that he developed high temperature. He had lost his certificates, his interview call letter and not to mention his entire set of clothes. Plus some money.
So he traveled burning with fever and fear. Not knowing what to expect and certain that he would be kicked out of the interview hall – without anything to prove his identity or his qualifications.
The next day afternoon he reached Mithapur. A little town where he knew no one. Except one name - that of Mr Mani. He checked into his room and went burning with fever to find Mr. Mani’s house. After asking around he found Mr Mani at a South Indian gathering in one Mr Ganapathy’s residence. To my brother’s surprise everyone was instantly empathetic to his condition. He was lovingly served hot idlis and given pills to pop in. And while the aunties fussed over him the uncles – Mr Mani, Mr Ganapathy, Mr. Neelakanthan and others planned his agenda. Mr. Mani was almost the same size as my brother so it was decided that he would lend his trousers and shirt to my brother.
The next morning – dressed in (slightly ill-fitting) clothes given by Mani uncle and landed up at the interview venue. When he went into the room his jaw dropped open. Sitting there as interview panelists were Mr. Mani, Mr. Ganapathy and Mr. Neelakanthan!
Well, he go the job. Not out of any bias, but because he performed very well (as Mani uncle keeps affirming). He spent six glorious years there.
It’s amazing how strangers became his instant well wishers to this day – they all love him and keep in touch. And Incidentally – it was over a mountain of hot idlis and sambar that Sarada aunty (that is Mrs Ganapathy) and my brother flippantly decided that I would marry her son. My life was sealed over love and hot idlis. Hmmm…more on this later!
