Locking the screen, I allowed myself to think about Puneet; about how I could have been so preoccupied that I did not see he was cheating on me. He admitted to six women, and it was probably more, I thought. The familiar lump in my throat returned. My mind was at war with my instincts, to let go of the tirade of emotions pent up inside me. I turned my phone back over and put in my password. More than one thousand likes in five minutes. This could be quite a distraction, I thought to myself.

Looking up, I noticed how people were pushing and shoving for space. I remembered how, as a child, I would take the bus with my parents. I would always end up squashed between the two of them, probably to stop me from getting lost or being pulled out of the bus by the departing crowds.

‘Stand close, Jhanvi, don’t let go of my hand,’ my mom used to say before we would get on the bus. I hated the bus but craved the physical touch of my parents, and in those moments, I would use the crowds as an excuse to nestle in close to them. I wondered if I should let my parents know that my latest relationship wouldn’t end in marriage. This would be yet another disappointment in a long line of disappointments for them.

Quickly, I decided against telling my parents anything. Trying to explain my life and why I could not forgive Puneet just wasn’t worth the aggravation.

The man in the suit next to me opened his briefcase to put his papers away; one paper drifted to the floor of the bus. I caught the name on the top right corner, BusinessForward, before the suit picked it up and meticulously placed it back in his briefcase. He got up, clutched his bag to his chest, and pushed his way to the front of the bus before getting off and disappearing into the distance. I opened my phone again, knowing I had some time before I would have to push my way to the front. My post was doing well.

I scrolled through to my messages. Selecting Kavya, I typed a quick message. ‘He says it’s all my fault that he can’t keep it in his pants.’

An older woman sat down next to me, and I couldn’t help but feel like my space was being invaded. I moved over slightly, trying to guard my privacy as much as I could. Three dots appeared on my screen. At least my friend was loyal.

4

ASHRAY

Hard work. Perseverance. These are things we can control, and with enough of it, success is inevitable. Or at least that is what we are told, and, in this instance, it certainly seemed to be true. Luck and being open to opportunities are, of course, a part of it, but without the hard work, without drive and perseverance, luck and opportunity mean nothing.

The interview went well, I mused as I waited for the bus home. I opened my phone and sent a quick text to Maa to let her know that I was on my way back, and that the company director had been really accommodating.