Life’s Hidden Changes
He tossed the report at his face, “you call this a report, our peon could write a better one than this, this is absolute garbage”, the boss yelled at him, and he had to feign embarrassment, even though he wasn’t sorry. He knew this was going to be the outcome, and no excuses would have worked, for when the boss wanted something, there were no extensions and no ways to avoid it.
“Are you listening to me or am I talking to the wall?” the boss yelled again, appalled by his absolute lack of reaction, and amid all the shouting, he lost track of time again.
20 minutes later, he stepped out of boss’ cabin, and all heads were turned to face him, everyone had the sympathetic look on their face, for they knew how demanding and demeaning the boss could be at times. And they also knew that Arjun was capable of more, of better, but making reports was not what he excelled at, give the man a pen and paper, and you’d find him doodling on it, and anyone who had been to his place, had seen him in action, where the computer screen was replaced by canvas, and mouse and keyboard by paints and brushes, and his works adorned the walls of his place, or sometimes the canvas was the wall itself.
Yet they all struggled to understand, as to why a person who could spend every instant of his life painting and drawing, forced himself to do a typical 9-5 job. And it was not that he wasn’t educated enough for the job, the man was an IIM graduate, so yes, he did know his work. They had tried to ask him about it, and his interest in paintings, but there was a wall that interrupted the question each time, for he’d never tell anyone why.
Arjun, returned to his seat and immediately started doodling, for that is what helped him keep calm after such sessions with the boss, he really couldn’t blame the boss, he hadn’t even listened to the guy shout at him, for his mind had wandered off, stuck in the canvas of the painting he was going to complete that day.
He knew everyone would be coming after a while to talk to him, but he knew he had to put up the strong front, for they couldn’t possibly know, that his happiness was a facade, and he drew to lessen his pain, for years had passed since his parents had passed away in a terrible accident with him being the only survivor, and he still had those nightmares, the kind that leave you terrified and sweating in the middle of night.
Pain, pain had changed him, and all he did, was to fulfil the dreams of his parents, for even if could draw, it was his parents who had wanted him to pursue MBA, and so he had, from the best institute of the country, but only if they could have been there to see it. “Maa, Paa, I’ll make you proud”, is what made him do it, and he looked above, for he knew there they were, proud of him.