Monsoon Clouds - 6. First Job
Chapter 6: First Job
6.1 Under the Weight of Silent Judgments
It was 6 p.m. on a Sunday. I sat quietly in my room, dressed in a copper sulphate–blue Mysore silk saree with a navy-blue border. I wore my mother’s ruby necklace, a long chain, and a pair of bangles. Makeup had never appealed to me—just a touch of Fair & Lovely, a light dusting of Pond’s talc, a red bindi, and a line of kumkum beneath it. That was all.
My heart, however, was far from simple. It was restless and tense.
Mom was busy in the kitchen, arranging things for the guests. With nothing else to do, I flipped through a weekly magazine, though I wasn’t really reading. Aunty walked in, gently adjusted my saree pleats, fixed my bindi, straightened my hair, and set the flowers properly. She smiled reassuringly and told me to stay calm and confident—everything would be fine. Time, however, seemed frozen. Each second felt heavier than the last.
Soon, I heard the sounds of autos stopping and footsteps approaching. Guests had arrived. I wasn’t supposed to get up or peek through the window. In moments like these, I missed Sandhya deeply—she would have been my strength, my shield. Voices floated in from the hall, mixed with occasional laughter, but I couldn’t make out the words. Mom stayed busy in the kitchen, not once coming to check on me.
Aunty came in again and said softly, “They’ve come. Be ready.”
Though I had witnessed such meetings many times for my cousins, facing it myself felt entirely different. The awareness made me uncomfortable, almost breathless. Just then, Mom entered. Seeing her gave me instant relief. I rushed to her, but she stayed focused, scanning me carefully, making a few final adjustments. Satisfied, she told me to wait—Aunty would come to take me—and left without waiting for a response.
I returned to the edge of the cot and sat there, hands folded, eyes lowered. When Aunty came, she reminded me to keep my head down and walk slowly. She guided me into the hall—a space I walked through every day, yet that evening it felt unfamiliar, almost new. Conversations about traffic and roads stopped the moment I entered. Silence filled the room.
I folded my hands and said “Namaste,” unsure of who all were present. Thankfully, snacks and tea had already been served. In my nervous state, even holding a cup would have been a challenge. I was led to a chair slightly away from the rest. I sat on the edge, unsure of what posture was expected. Aunty stepped away, as though her responsibility had ended, leaving me alone among eight or ten people—judging by the voices and footsteps around me.
Questions began. A strong female voice, probably in her fifties, asked my name, my education, my college. I answered softly, increasing my volume only when asked. Most questions came from her—I guessed she was the boy’s mother. A few curious voices belonged to teenage girls, likely his sisters. Apart from my father and Rama Rao Uncle offering justifications and praise, there were hardly any questions from the men.
The session went on for nearly half an hour. I waited for it to end.
Then came a moment that made my heart race. Someone asked if the boy wanted to speak to me privately. Panic surged through me. The thought terrified me. Relief followed immediately when he declined.
Another voice suggested I look up, as I had kept my head down throughout. To encourage me, Aunty gently lifted my chin. Laughter rippled through the hall. I saw feet, then navy-blue trousers, and a white, full-sleeved shirt with blue checks, neatly tucked in. A darker complexion, neatly combed hair—and before I could take it all in, I lowered my eyes again. He was looking straight at me.
Someone asked the boy if he liked the girl. I couldn’t hear his reply, but the laughter that followed told me enough—perhaps a nod, perhaps a smile. The conversation quickly shifted to “the rest of the matters.” No one thought to ask me what I felt.
Aunty helped me stand. I folded my hands once more, said Namaste, and walked slowly back to my room. Behind me, I heard someone joking, “Look at her properly now, or you’ll only see her again at the engagement,” followed by laughter.
Inside my room, I felt as though a fifty-kilo weight had been lifted from my head. Relief washed over me. I wanted to change immediately. When there was a knock, I opened the door. Aunty came in and sat beside me, explaining everything calmly.
The boy’s name was Aakash. He had completed his engineering in Karnataka and working as a software engineer at TCS. He had two sisters—one in degree, the other in intermediate. His father had passed away a few years earlier, and the entire family responsibility rested on him, including his sisters’ marriages.
Then she asked me the one question I hadn’t
expected—but secretly hoped for.
“Do you like the boy?”
It felt good—being asked, being considered. Still, all I could say was, “My parents know what is best for me.” Aunty smiled gently and left the door open as she walked out.
From the hall, voices grew louder. I could
clearly hear Aakash’s mother speaking sharply.
“We cannot reduce even a single rupee. Aakash is a very good boy, with a strong
job and onsite opportunities. There is another family ready to give whatever we
ask, but the girl is dark—so we are reconsidering. Let us know if you agree to
our conditions.”
Her tone was harsh, demanding.
After that, the voices dropped. A few minutes later came the sounds of farewell and autos driving away.
I changed into a simple dress and went to the hall. Mom and Aunty were cleaning up—collecting plates and cups. Dad and Rama Rao Uncle sat quietly. Dad’s face looked drained, his eyes dry and tired. He turned to Rama Rao Uncle, asking what should be done next. The boy and his job were good, but the demands were unreasonable.
Mom, overwhelmed, said she was ready to give her gold and even the land gifted by her mother. Dad refused outright. Rama Rao Uncle and Aunty shared their concern about the mother’s attitude—it wouldn’t stop with marriage, especially with two daughters yet to be married.
After weighing everything, the decision was made.
The match with Aakash was dropped.
And once again, Dad took up his quiet, heavy responsibility—searching for a new match.
* * *
6.2 Unsaid Things Between Familiar Walls
On Sunday evening, I went to Aunty’s house with a box of food—exchanging dishes was a ritual we never skipped. As I opened the gate, my eyes did what they always did, almost without my permission. They searched first for Rahul’s bike… and then for him. It had become an involuntary habit.
He was there.
Rahul stood by his bike, cleaning it, his back to the gate. He wore a blue round-neck T-shirt and black shorts. Even without turning around, he sensed my presence. My anklets announced me before I ever spoke.
“How are you doing, Rekha?” he asked casually.
“I’m doing well. How are you?” I replied.
“Nice fish curry smell,” he said, finally turning toward me and leaning on the bike.
I nodded. He had never been a fan of fish—chicken was always his favorite.
“How’s your computer course going?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“I wish I get a job in an MNC and fly to the US,” he said, almost dreaming aloud. Then, with a half-smile, he added, “For girls, it’s not a big deal. They just marry someone working in an MNC or an NRI and fly off—like Sandhya.”
He even mimicked an airplane with his hand, making a soft flying sound.
Then, suddenly, “By the way… what happened to that TCS guy’s match?”
“We dropped it,” I said simply.
“Why? Did he ask for more dowry?” Rahul said sharply. “Actually, they should give reverse dowry to get a girl like you.”
I stood there silently, listening. Compliments always sounded better when they came from someone like him.
I heard footsteps and turned. Rama Rao Uncle was coming down the steps—perhaps he had overheard us. I greeted him, and he asked about my parents and how everyone was doing.
“What are you doing at home these days?” Rahul asked, curious.
“Helping Mom and watching TV,” I replied.
“Why don’t you take up a job?” he suggested. “You’re intelligent, hardworking, and sincere.”
“Job and me? No way,” I said quickly. “Who will even give me a job?”
He wasn’t ready to drop the idea. “You do everything so perfectly. You’ll make a good employee,” he said, turning to Rama Rao Uncle for support.
Even Uncle agreed and encouraged me to look for work.
The conversation left me confused. I wanted to end it before my thoughts tangled any further.
“I’ll try,” I said.
I handed over the dish to Uncle and prepared to leave. He asked me to come upstairs and spend some time, but I wasn’t in the mood anymore.
The idea of a job had already planted itself in my mind—quietly, stubbornly, refusing to leave.
* * *
6.3 A Thought That Wasn’t Ready Yet
Mom was surprised to see me return so early. Usually, I stayed at Aunty’s house until either Mom or Dad called Rama Rao Uncle to send me back.
Looking at my face, she asked with concern,
“Is everything okay? What happened?”
“I want to look for a job,” I said.
My words caught her off guard. She hurried to the
hall and announced loudly to Dad,
“It seems your daughter wants to take up a job.”
Dad froze mid-page. He folded the newspaper slowly, as if he needed a moment to process what he had just heard. I followed Mom into the hall, knowing I had to explain myself.
“I’m getting bored at home,” I said quietly. “That’s why I want to work.”
Dad looked at me, trying to understand.
“But Rekha, what kind of job will you do? Will you be able to manage it?” he
asked, his concern evident.
Mom added gently but firmly,
“In our family, girls have never worked outside.”
“We’ll think about it later,” Dad said, ending the conversation.
Since neither Mom nor Dad seemed interested in the idea, I let it go. The thought of a job slowly faded away, and I returned to my usual routine—pretending that nothing had changed, even though something inside me had stirred and gone silent.
* * *
6.4 A Door Opens Quietly
The next Sunday evening, Rahul and Rama Rao Uncle came to our house while Dad, Mom, and I were engaged in our usual discussion—the topic that seemed to dominate our home these days: my marriage.
Over the past few months, I had noticed that no matter what the conversation began with, it somehow always circled back to marriage. It had become an unavoidable destination for every discussion.
As Rahul and Uncle settled in the hall, Mom and I started to move towards the kitchen, but Rama Rao Uncle asked me to stay back.
Rahul gave Uncle a subtle signal to begin, knowing that Dad would never interrupt him easily.
“Agarwal’s friend is running a company that needs an accountant,” Uncle said. “Rekha is a commerce graduate. Why doesn’t she try for it?”
Dad expressed his concern immediately.
“But Ram, she doesn’t have any experience.”
“And we are planning to get her married soon,” Mom added. “If she starts working now, it may become complicated.”
“It can actually help,” Uncle replied calmly. “If someone is looking for a working girl, this will be an advantage. If not, she can always leave the job after marriage—or even continue, if everyone is comfortable.”
He paused and then added firmly,
“Don’t discourage her. Children always look young to us, and we often fail to
see their real capabilities. Let us give her a chance.”
Dad and Mom were not completely convinced, but they were not against it either. Finally, they agreed that I could give it a try.
Rahul then shared the details—about the company, whom to meet, and when.
For the first time in a long while, the conversation in the hall didn’t end with marriage alone. It ended with a possibility.
* * *
6.5 First Step into the Unknown
Dad wanted to accompany me for the interview, but I insisted on handling it alone. After all, the administrative office was just next to my college, easy enough to locate.
I reached the office around 10 a.m., as per schedule. Rahul’s computer institute was in the building next door. I caught sight of him as I entered—talking to his friends, yet sneaking glances at me. A subtle thumbs-up from him, hidden from his friends, silently said, “All the best.” I quickly turned away, but that small gesture gave me a quiet boost of confidence.
The receptionist was striking—modern, composed, and effortlessly intimidating. I felt my nerves tighten for a moment. Glancing down at my simple orange saree, bare of makeup or extra grooming, I reminded myself firmly: I was here for an accountant’s job, not to impress anyone at the reception.
After noting my details, she asked me to wait in the lobby and made a few phone calls that sounded like Greek and Latin to me. My heart raced as the unfamiliar environment and new faces overwhelmed me, occasionally making me question if this was really necessary. But then, a stronger thought emerged: I needed to prove myself.
A few minutes later, a man in his mid-40s called my name. I stood, greeting him politely. He introduced himself as Subba Rao, Senior Accounts Manager, and led me to his cabin. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, following him with shaky steps.
He examined my certificates and asked a few basic accounting questions. Nothing difficult—I answered with ease. After a short wait, he returned and informed me that the MD wanted to speak with me. My heart skipped a beat. Meeting someone at that level was entirely new to me. Subba Rao’s calm reassurances helped me steady myself.
The MD’s chamber was rich in decor, reflecting status in every corner. I greeted him and sat at the edge of the chair, nerves still fluttering. A man in his 50s, he began with light conversation—how I knew Agarwal Uncle, some casual family questions. The relief was immediate; I started to feel comfortable.
He mentioned that he had heard many good things about me from both Agarwal and Rahul. My ears perked up at Rahul’s name. Then he explained that Rahul and his son were like family, which made me realize who had orchestrated this entire process. It was reassuring—familiar faces behind unfamiliar walls.
The MD smiled but reminded me firmly: work is always the priority. Excuses would not be tolerated. I assured him of my commitment. Subba Rao returned with an offer letter in hand, asking me to join immediately, pending my parents’ approval.
Holding that offer letter filled me with exhilaration—a tangible symbol that I could indeed achieve something on my own. I wanted to rush home and shout my excitement.
Mom and Dad were genuinely happy for me, though unaware of Rahul’s subtle role in this success. They still assumed I might not continue long-term, so they suggested I start on a good day, expecting that I might eventually quit. I, however, silently smiled—determined to prove them wrong.
* * *
6.6 First Steps in My Career
The first day of my job was complete, and I began with prayers to all the Gods, seeking blessings from my parents, and visiting temples. Dad had offered to drop me at work, but I felt confident enough to go on my own. They were pleasantly surprised, proud to see the faith I had in myself.
The company is a manufacturing firm, and I joined the accounting department, which has a staff of five—making me the sixth member. Subba Rao garu is the Senior Accounts Manager, with Sunil and Raja as his assistants. Sunil is married with a six-year-old son, while Raja is in the process of getting married. Sunitha and Saritha, both married with children, complete the team.
After formal introductions and a tour of the office facilities, I settled at my desk next to Sunitha and Saritha aunty. They were warm and welcoming, patiently explaining the basic do’s and don’ts at work. It felt comforting to have friendly lady colleagues by my side.
Raja tried to get close to me initially, but I met his attempts with firm looks and cold answers. Soon, he realized his limits, especially after hearing from Subba Rao garu that I am well-known to MD Sir’s family friend. From that moment, his interactions were strictly professional, which was rare but welcome.
Most of my initial training was under Sunitha and Saritha aunty, sometimes with guidance from Subba Rao garu. Their patience and support gave me a comfortable and confident start to my work life. Though Sunitha and Saritha have their own internal issues, they were entirely supportive when it came to teaching me the ropes, for which I felt deeply grateful.
Rahul’s institute is in the next building, so I occasionally noticed him outside, and sometimes he visited our office to check on me. I could see subtle reactions—Sunitha and Saritha aunty’s expressions changing when Rahul came around, even Raja blushing a little. Subba Rao garu and Sunil, however, treated it normally. I tried to keep distance from Rahul at work, and it seemed he understood, as he didn’t visit the office as much these days. Still, he always noticed my arrival and departure, sometimes offering coffee, which I politely refused, saying Mom would be waiting at home.
Receiving my first salary was a memorable moment. I bought a dress for Dad and Ravi, sarees for Mom and myself. The amount was modest, but the confidence it instilled in me was immense.
Every day was filled with learning and new experiences, keeping me engaged and motivated. Looking back, I felt proud and happy—my first job had become a space where I was learning, growing, and taking my first real steps toward independence.
* * *
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