His phone beeped with a message from Radhika. ‘Are we still on for tonight?’

‘I am sorry. It’s not possible,’ he replied. He ate the ice-cold paranthas while working on the final module. It was only once the employees on the night shift had started trickling in that Vinesh came to his cubicle and said, ‘You may leave now. Hand over the module to one of your team members.’

Madhav was surprised to see Vinesh still in the office. He handed over the documents to a teammate who told him, ‘Vinesh doesn’t leave until eleven or so, and no matter how early you come in, he will be here before you. He basically lives in the office.’

It was ten by the time Madhav left. ‘I won’t even get a beer right now,’ he muttered to himself. ‘It’s times like these that I miss Meera.’ He checked his phone. Radhika had sent him a message. ‘Call me when you get home.’

His day had been completely fucked up. As he entered his house, he walked straight into his room, ignoring his mother’s call for dinner. He immediately lit a cigarette and went out on to the terrace. He looked up at the stars and mulled over his day. He loosened his tie and called Radhika.

‘Hello, Mr Analyst,’ she teased, but he was in no mood for jokes and merely grunted in response.

‘Someone’s tired,’ she said.

‘What should I do, Radhika? I can’t spend another day of my life in that place. They are all robots. They come in, they work, they eat, they work and then they leave. I can’t have such a mind-numbing existence.’

‘Then resign!’ She chuckled.

‘Come on! Please don’t make fun of my situation.’

‘Madhav, I love it when people have to face such situations in life. This is one of the most important phases in your life. You stand at a crossroads and you need to decide which direction your life should take. Only you can determine this. Nobody else.’

‘But they’re paying me well. How will I earn a living if I resign? I can’t live on my dad’s money forever,’ Madhav said as he tossed the cigarette off the terrace. He went back into his room to undress, putting the call on speakerphone.

Radhika was painting while she talked to him, a nightly routine that helped her de-stress.

‘They are not really paying you for your skill or your intellect, but for your time, which is priceless, Madhav. If you recognized the true worth of your time, you wouldn’t spend it in the frivolous quest for money. Instead, you would spend it on what you love. If you write for a living, you might earn less, but you will go to sleep happy. There might be hunger in your stomach but not in your heart.’ Radhika rambled on in her usual fashion.

‘That’s easier said than done.’

‘No, Madhav. I know that if you continue working there, you will come back and crib about the routine every day and feel that your life is getting wasted,’ she said. She fervently believed in doing work that came from the heart. But Madhav knew all this—he just couldn’t overcome the voices that obstructed the path to his true passion.