Free Will She Be Mine by Subir Banerjee Page A

away. It would have been lucrative, I thought ruefully. Would they rehire me if I went back? It seemed unlikely.
    Somehow I’d botched up my career prospects royally and it didn't look like I’d ever earn big in this life, while she was all set to roll in money, armed with an MBA degree from a premier management institute reputed the world over. She’d soon mingle in her own circle of similarly employed people, earning equally fabulously, and forget me completely. I had to fix the situation urgently and discussed with father about undergoing a couple of software trainings, something the market termed as certificate courses.
    “Are those courses any good?” he asked doubtfully.
    I had no idea. The newspapers were full of advertisements about certificate courses in software programming and networking tools, promising placements to all course participants in software companies. I needed the money and the self respect it would bring. I could always think about the appropriateness of the job later, as long as it was an honest means of earning a livelihood. Shalini’s comment about my joblessness weighed heavily on my mind. It was important to please her first. That was the top priority of the moment. Maybe she was just waiting for me to land a job before saying yes to my marriage proposal? I couldn't wait to reach the milestone.
    “We like to think of the placements promised by such courses as high paying jobs in big branded companies,” father said.
    I nodded eagerly. It seemed he was finally catching on and ready to look at prospects my way.
    “But for all you know, they might well be insignificant jobs at unknown workplaces,” he pointed out dryly, crashing my hopes. “How can you be sure of the value of such courses?”
    I frankly had no idea and looked at him hopefully.
    “Anyway,” he relented finally, since his son's future at stake. “You've wasted almost three years since graduation. Let's see if such a course works out for you. Go ahead and enroll in one. I'll pay the fees.”
    The institute I joined taught the C programming language to start with. The course instructor was faintly surprised to find an MSIT graduate, jobless for 3 years, seeking a paltry certificate course to bail himself out. I didn’t care what he thought as long as he delivered value and I got a job to please my Shalini. The course promised a brief training in the C++ programming language later along with a primer on networking fundamentals as well, but I never made it that far.
    Well before we even started on the more advanced concepts of the C programming language, the government agency that had interviewed me over a year ago, responded. A thick letter arrived by courier one afternoon, within a month of my joining the computer programming course.
    “They certainly send rejection letters in style,” I remarked disdainfully, noting the sender’s address as I grappled with the thick stapler pins to open the envelope.
    Surprise! It was not a rejection slip, but my appointment letter! I’d given up the interview as a failure and my prospective employer as inefficient and discourteous, who didn't bother to keep candidates posted on the developments after subjecting them to horrendous interviews that smacked of gang rape. But somehow, magically enough, they’d woken up to their folly and remembered me! After over a year of wait, they had sent my appointment letter! It meant I had not performed that badly at the interview.
    “These organizations take us for granted,” I said to mother. “After a year they assume I'm still waiting for their offer. A year is a long time. As if anyone would remain unemployed for so long.”
    “Aren't you?” she pointed out archly. “You don't have a job yet.”
    “But I'm doing a very good programming course,” I defended lamely. “I can any day earn higher than the salary they've offered.”
    “Don't boast till you have something to show. Now, will you please call up your father and inform him