Such
an advertisement had seldom appeared in any newspaper. In fact, I doubt whether
anything of the kind had ever been spotted by a reader looking for jobs.
“Money
and a house for my brains and personality, and nothing else… WOW!” Abhishek
turned the page over his morning teacup. “Man is nuts. Some weirdo playing
games. Weirder newspaper people to print that nonsense!”
In
another part of the city, Rupam’s wife had brought his attention to the
article. A consultant in a multinational, he had no current necessity to
job-hunt, but Soma, the epitome of bored rich housewives who dreamt of
financial independence to go with their dependent’s affluence, had discovered
the peculiar ad during her usual search for vacancies. Rupam laughed “Personality,
maybe, but you don’t have the brains to satisfy this man my dear!” Used to such
jeers and taunts, Soma cleared her throat and added in an undertone “I wanted
you to call him! But come to think of it, you may not have the personality”
Rupam was aghast for a second “You’re kidding, right?”
Komolika
had quite a different reaction. “Man is brilliant! Probably no kids. It’s like
adopting an adult”. Shreya laughed “You should go for it didi. Attractive literature student with a dream to start a school.
He’ll lap it up. He seems quite artistic if you ask me, only a true artist can
devise such a plan.” “Very funny, ha ha!. But seriously, maybe I will call
him.” With a twinkle in her eye Komolika shut the door behind her as she left
for her usual Saturday tuitions. Shreya re-read the ad.
“67
year old retired engineer based in Kolkata is looking for a bright and smart
youngster who can inherit his property and monetary assets. If you are between
18 and 30, and think you have the brains and personality to be an eligible
contender, call Mr R Choudhury at **********.”
The
words in boldfaced large font, surrounded by normal-looking advertisements for vacancies,
looked truly bizarre. Little did three young people in Kolkata know that their
lives were going to change only because they paid an ever-so-little amount of
attention to the strange ad.
*
Abhishek
came out of his boss’ chamber and swore under his breath. Salim, his colleague, patted his back “Relax
buddy. Verma is an asshole. Screw him.” But he could not quite shrug off the
continued insults like the others.” “Stupid guy from a third-grade university
has become my boss, and I must take his crap day in and day out”.
Only
last year he had been a bright class XII student. His HS marks were brilliant,
and his JEE rank was good enough to land him in a respectable engineering
college. But he wanted to be a doctor. And his medical rank had just been a few
short of the required one. There was a huge showdown at his Golepark residence.
His parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, family friends, even distant relatives and
acquaintances took turns and failed to comprehend why their brilliant
wonder-boy Abhi would not enroll himself in the prestigious engineering courses
that he had been offered. “You cleared the JEE with flying colours and now you
must go to college. Doctor, engineer, what’s the difference? It’s all science
isn’t it?” said his favourite uncle, Gopu Mama.
His mother shed very many tears, and finally his father let him know that it’s either
engineering or financial independence. Knowing that engineering meant saying
farewell to medical colleges forever, Abhi chose the latter. He got a
call-centre job and prepared to move out from posh Golepark to a cheaper
locality. But his typical Bengali mother prevented that. So he stayed, but paid
for his upkeep and started preparing for JEE next year. New trouble, however,
surfaced in the figure of Verma, his supervisor at the call centre, whose
expertise was in the field of wielding his authority by insulting entry-level
people. Nothing made Verma happy, and it was difficult for Abhi to concentrate
on his studies as the insults boiled inside his head. He could be studying mechanical
engineering in JU now, but instead he was being bashed for poor work
performance by someone with a degree from some college he had never heard of.
Today was especially tough. “Clearly there is a serious lack of grey matter
inside your head, Abhishek!”, had been Verma’s concluding line. Dropping like a
stone on his bed on reaching home, Abhi decided that now was the time for doing
something, even if it meant doing something insane. He picked up the newspaper,
took out his cell-phone, took a deep breath and dialed.
*
For
Rupam, life had almost been a bed of roses. He had been a good student, and his
family had enough money to afford the best education. Family money combined
with diligence and brains had proved to be a recipe for quick success. After
acquiring a good management degree, he had started his career at a reputed MNC
at 24, and had begun working his way up the promotion ladder real quick.
Presently, at 28, he was looking at a great future. He had been married to his
long-time girlfriend Soma for a year now. Extremely pretty, fair, and slim Soma
was the dream trophy wife. But she did have her quirky tendencies, which she
proved, yet again, on Monday evening.
Soma
sensed her husband’s good mood as he had returned earlier than usual and was
whistling merrily as he changed out of his corporate attire. “Good day at the
office?” she asked. “Yes babe! I am looking at a huge raise very soon. What say
you to a vacation abroad this winter? Coupled with the gold bracelet you were looking
at perhaps?”
“Great!” Soma knew that now was the time to
break her news to him. “Listen, I called Mr. Choudhury…the guy from Saturday’s
advertisement.”
“Who?”
“The guy who wanted someone young to inherit
his stuff”
“What the… Soma that is very funny! Stop
joking around and please get me a cup of tea, will you?”
“I am NOT kidding. I called him. Told him
about you.”
Rupam stared. After a few silent seconds his
wife continued “He says he wants to meet you. He has asked you to call him this
Friday and fix up a meeting”
“Are you nuts? And why Friday?”
“Well of course he understands you will be
busy before the weekend. I told him what you do”
“Ok now you are seriously pissing me off! The
guy could be a fraud! For all you know he could be after our money! Did he want
our background information? Why the hell do you have to do these things!
Screwed up my mood completely.” Rupam threw his tie on the bed and walked into
the bathroom to wash up.
“He didn’t ask me much. I thought I should
tell him what your profession was. Tons of people know where you work. They
aren’t after you, Rupam. Anyway, I think you should call him. If you don’t like
him you may choose not to go and meet him, right?” Soma waited for an answer in
vain, and finally went to get his tea.
*
Komolika was in the final year of her M.Phil
in English literature. She taught English at a school on the side, and her
weekends generally involved tutoring school children in the mornings. She often
did things on impulses, like the time she had decided to study literature in
spite of trying out the sciences in high-school. To be fair, she had cleared
the entrance tests of quite a few good English Departments in the city. Hence,
her decision was not opposed by anyone she knew, but it did raise a few
eyebrows. Little did she care as she happily explored the amazingly rich realm
of words. Since she saw that advertisement she had had an urge to call, which
only increased with time. She knew what her mother would say. It could be some
psycho waiting for women to contact him, and then call them somewhere and have
his way, or worse, kidnap and ship her off to some sick little place full of
sick men. Komolika laughed aloud as she could almost hear her mother screaming.
She envisioned her very own school where children would learn to ask questions
and be allowed to disagree. Her parents envisioned her getting a PhD, joining
the faculty of a reputed school or college, and somewhere in the middle of
that, marrying an appropriate groom. Komolika managed to hold her desire for
two more days. On Tuesday, she called.
*
Exactly seven days later, these three young,
vibrant people found themselves in a well-furnished drawing room of a
two-storey house in Park Street. Soma, after all, was Rupam’s boss at home, and
her coaxing had made him call up the man he swore was some kind of a “nutcase”.
But, the voice of the old man had seemed stable, and a park street house seemed
harmless, so Rupam had turned up. He had not missed the sparkling car in the
garage as he had entered the house. Slowly, he could sense that he would not
mind owning all of this. “What if this is for real?” he thought.
They had been ushered in by a servant, asked
to sit on a comfortable sofa, and had been requested to wait. They had
introduced themselves to one another and, not knowing what to expect next, had
started discussing the strange scenario.
“It is a hoax by all means. I am ready to
call the police the moment I sense something weird”, whispered Rupam.
“Mighty brave of us to turn up at a strange
man’s house alone”, Abhi said, looking at Komolika.
“After I spoke to him and got his full name,
I looked him up on the net. According to Linkedin he is an engineer from REC,
Durgapur, and he worked at some reputed consultancies as well. Some other sites
also confirmed his identity and address. I took the chance”, she smiled.
Rupam wasn’t happy. Checking the net had not
occurred to him somehow. To prove his worth he added “Well he doesn’t have
kids. Has probably gone senile, lost his marbles and wants to give away his
stuff. It’s a kind of charity for the mad if you ask me. Insane, but not
harmful.”
The servant reappeared after about 15 minutes
and said “Mr Chakraborty, he will see you now. Please come with me”
Abhi got up and followed him to an adjacent
room with bookshelves and an elaborate wooden desk. At one end of the desk sat
a man who looked about 60, with wispy white hair, wheatish skin, sharp
features, expensive-looking spectacles, and dressed in what looked like a beige
Fab-India kurta. “Sit”, Mr Choudhury pointed at a leather-bound chair across
him.
19 year old Abhi sat down.
“I remember what you have told me over the
phone. Aspiring doctor. Almost made it the last time. You certainly have
brains, dear boy, and perseverance too, remembering that you gave up a good
engineering career. I might wonder if you have told me the truth, but I can
always ask you to bring me your results and talk to people you know. So let’s
discuss the actual thing. Why my money?”
The question hit him like an unexpected
bullet. Tongue-tied for a few seconds, he pulled himself together. “Well
honestly, so that I can quit my pathetic job, study harder, and hopefully pay
for my medical studies when I get through.”
“The last part of it does not make sense
Abhishek. Your father is an Indian, right? Once his son gets through medical
college he will forget everything and embrace you, and maybe even boast about
how you never gave up. Look at how he did not turn you out of the house despite
everything! You do not need my money to pay for studying”. The shrewd old man
smiled and kept looking at the teenager.
Abhi gulped “I shall not accept it. He did
not stay by my side when I needed him”
“Nonsense” chuckled Mr Choudhury “You stayed
in his house. You will take his money and forgive him in no time.”
Abhi grew a little red. Was this old fool
actually having fun? Maybe he wished to insult people and spend his retired
life. Well, he had his daily dose of insults from Verma. He did not have any
reason to take it from strange men who could not fire him.
“Let me ask you something then” Abhi fired
“Why give up your money to complete strangers? And also, the advertisement
talked about brains and personality. I think I have both and hence I am
eligible. In fact, you did not mention that I have to be needy. I may be
stinking rich and still want your money, because you only used adjectives like
smart and bright and brainy and young, all of which I am.”
Mr Choudhury stared coldly for a while, and
then broke into a smile “Well this is not your average interview so I shall
excuse your tone, and I shall answer your question too. As you know I do not
have children, or anybody similar I can be happy to leave everything, I have
worked for, to. In fact, anyone who is not my child will be nice to me and
promise to take care of me only because they want it all. But I do not need
such people. However, I cannot change the fact that one of the people who want
my money will eventually get it, so why not make sure, that the one be the most
deserving?”
“Isn’t there anyone you like among people you
know?”
“There are people I like, but I do not like
them enough. Don’t we hire completely unknown but deserving people to work for our
own company? It’s something like that”
“If you have something specific in mind
barring smart and young, do tell me then, and I’ll know if I am the one”
“I want my assets to be used well. If you can
do that, it’s yours”
“If you mean something like charity-work by
that, then I don’t know. The only noble work I shall do is when I cure people
as a doctor. And I do not plan to do it for free either. I want to be a surgeon
who is efficient and respected. I can help the poor now and then, but I do want
to excel as a doctor. I am ambitious in that regard”
“…and you may even go abroad to practice. I
get it Abhishek. You have the image of the hot, rich, successful doctor in your
head. Like they show in the thriller series on Star Gold and stuff… But I like
your honesty. You did not try to feed me a story about saving poor sick people
and opening a hospital in a remote village of West Bengal. I met a doctor
yesterday. That seemed to be his idea. Then I asked him why he wasn’t working
in a suburban hospital right now, instead of the extravagant nursing home he
works in.”
Abhi smiled and breathed a little easy.
“My only concern, Abhishek, is that, you
shall never amount to what you are promising. What if you never make it? And
continue at that job of yours?”
Abhi looked at the old man in the eye “I have
hope and confidence, Mr Choudhury. And my past record also states that I am
capable. But still, let’s say that I turn out to be a complete loser as you are
implying, then I do not know what I’ll do. I shall make plan B only when plan A
has no potential for materializing. And since you seem to agree than I have the
brains, I am sure you know I shall figure something out. Because, whatever
happens, I shall always have my brains and my personality”
*
It was Komolika’s turn next.
“I must say, of all the people I have spoken
to, you seem to have the noblest plans for my riches” smiled the old man.
“Well I cannot add to that. Thank you.” A
genuine smile appeared on Komolika’s serious face.
“So you want a school that focuses on
interaction and wants to break the rigid education system so students can
easily choose what they love. That is all very well. But don’t international
schools in the city already do that?”
“They do, maybe. But those schools are
expensive. Also, why embrace international standards instead of tweaking our
own standards to improve them? And frankly, Mr Choudhury, how many of our kids
need such international schools? Only those who can pay to go abroad right away,
maybe. Students from our boards do reasonably well and enter respectable Indian
colleges every year. I am one of them. I would not dream of going to an
international school. I would merely have been happier if the answers we wrote
in school had allowed a little latitude to use our own ideas, that’s all.”
“Impressive” Mr Choudhury sat up in his chair
“if you open a school you must remember you have to conform to the boards that
are present”
“But I can control the teaching methods. The
teaching will be more liberal, interactive, encouraging, and with a scope wider
than the prescribed syllabus. The board comes in only during examinations.
Armed with a liberal education the students will pass with flying colours.”
“That is hopeful. I really like it. What I
don’t like, however, is what may happen to you soon. How old are you?”
“25. And what do you mean?”
“I understand that you are from an educated
and liberal family, Komolika. But that does not mean that your parents will not
want to marry you off. Going by today’s trends, you’ll be married at around 28,
which is fine. But what happens if you are happily married to a great guy,
continue teaching at that school you work in, give up all noble hopes, and
decide to spend my money on yearly honeymoons abroad?”
“Hahahaha” Komolika laughed a little too
hard.
“Don’t be amused my dear” laughed the old man
“what I said happens more often than not. But then I suppose you could say that
you’ll still be smart and great and what not, which dear Abhishek told me a few
minutes back”
“I shall marry, definitely. But I can assure
you that I shall not let go of my plan ever. And who knows, I may have even
started my school before I am married. And I don’t think I need to give you a
list of women who did great stuff even if they were married with kids. Mr Choudhury,
I could have gone for a science, even an engineering degree, and bagged a job
that pays thrice as much as my school does. I gave it up for the love of
literature. You can be sure that I would be able to give up romantic vacations
for my dream.” She paused.
“And what makes you think my husband will not
be able to afford vacations?” she added with a naughty smile.
*
Rupam sat down and looked at Mr Choudhury. Rich old fool, he thought, but he’ll love me. Am I not successful like
him? He eyed the bookshelves. Volumes of English classics on one wall, some
science and engineering books and magazines on another, and a prominent section
full of Bengali books – classics and contemporary.
The prudent old man had not failed to miss
Rupam cursorily examining the entire room.
“I love to read, as you may have noticed. Got
more books in my bedroom shelf. But let’s talk about you. You are by far the
most settled and well-to-do person I have met today.”
“Well, thanks! I hope you look at it as a
good thing”
“Certainly, you are made of stuff to be proud
of - a great student, an IIM passout, and now at a great post. Good personal
life too. I gather you have a rather industrious wife, and you are here because
she wanted you to.”
The man’s piercing gaze and last words made
Rupam uncomfortable. Soma is an absolute
idiot! Couldn’t she have made me make the first call? Why did she have to call
him? Shit!
“It is ok to listen to your wife Rupam. I
never had one, but once or twice I have lamented the lack of someone who would
tell me what to do” Mr Choudhury startled him. Is this man a thought-reader?
“Anyway”, continued the strange man “we are
digressing. As I was saying, you are well-settled. In fact, I don’t think I
have anything you will not be able to afford now or in the near future. Can you
tell me if there is anything I may have that will entice you? Barring the fact,
that the entire thought of getting a house and a lump of money is enticing in
itself.”
“Well…” Rupam thought hard “you are right. I
can buy most of the things you have…but I love your car. And technically, I do
not own one. The car I drive belongs to dad. He has two. He gave me one when I
got into IIM. But I am smart and successful, and you…”
“Yes yes I know all that” Mr Choudhury cut
him short “I know what I said in my advertisement and I know you are all of
that. But you see, I have met people who are struggling to pursue the education
of their choice, people who want to start their own new kind of school… My
money will only add on to your own lavish lifestyle, while the lack of it will
not harm you. Why do you think you should be the one?”
Rupam flashed a smile. He knew, this time,
what to say. “Yes, but I have inferred that charity is not what you exactly
want to do. Or else there are numerous educational institutions and orphanages
waiting for people like you.”
There was a long pause.
“You have caught me there. I don’t want anything
to go to an institution, where I’ll never know how many and what kind of lives
I have influenced. For all you know, I may have influenced the life of some
corrupt official. I want to know exactly to whom my money is going, and how he
or she will use it.”
“I know I am not needy in the least Mr Choudhury.
But I use my assets well. And honestly, if you did have a son like me, would
you not be perfectly happy to leave all your stuff to him, rather than hunt for
students or dreamers who may or may not succeed?”
“You are getting personal Rupam, but yes, if
I did have a son or daughter like you, I wouldn’t think twice. I also wouldn’t
think twice if he or she were a complete failure. But that is not the case, is
that? I do not have a child, and thus I must choose wisely, because I can
afford to choose. With a child, you do not have the luxury of picking and
choosing.”
Rupam was a little taken aback, as what he
had considered to be his best point was refuted so aptly.
“One thing intrigues me though. Why aren’t
you settled somewhere in the UK like most of your kind?”
“I never wanted to settle abroad. I love this
city. I have travelled onsite quite a few times and will continue to do so, but
settling down is not an option. Also, my parents live here, and I don’t want to
leave them behind.”
“That is good to hear! Talk to me about your likes
and dislikes and your life in general, Rupam, Since you have nothing to prove
as far as academics and career are concerned. Let me see what kind of a person
you are.”
“Well I like photography. Still go out early
in the morning at times to take photos. I also enjoy watching movies –
thrillers mostly. I like travelling. I make sure we take one vacation a year,
no matter how heavy the workload. I do not read much though. My wife is into
that.”
“Well maybe she should have called for
herself” smirked Mr Choudhury. “She must be smart, considering she landed you.
And I quite liked our brief phone conversation. Although giving my things to
you will mean she is getting it all too…”
Not sure how to react, Rupam smiled feebly
and waited.
“Well you fit the bill perfectly. And if
there were no other contenders at all, I would be happy to see you as my heir.
But I must think. Leave your name and email ID there and you’ll hear from me
soon.”
Rupam drew the writing pad. He could see two
names already. Abhishek Chakraborty
and Komolika Sen.
*
The three hopefuls returned home quite happy.
The first two felt that they had argued their cases really well.
Rupam felt that being the epitome of success,
there could be no question of his being the one. He was the only one with whom
the old man would immediately associate his own class and achievements. Mr
Choudhury was a professional like him who had spent almost the whole of his
career abroad. He would not want that great house, the car, and the money go to
some call-centre employee or school-teacher, no matter what he said.
In a better mood than Soma had ever seen, he
sipped his tea with his arms around her and told her what had taken place. Soma
seemed to like the sound of Abhi though, pointing out that Abhi could easily be
equally successful in a few years time, and he was from a classy family as
well. And what if Mr Choudhury had liked Komolika’s idealistic harangue?
But Rupam brushed her fears aside. “The
teenage boy will take another ten years to prove his true worth, no matter what
he does. The old man is already 67, he wants to see someone flourish right now.
And only I fit the bill. And that girl is fine in terms of education and
everything. But old Bengali science people will never completely like her kind
unless she was already a well-known journalist or professor or something. She
is just one in a crowd of teachers who want to change the system but marry well,
and live happily ever after. You would have had a better shot at it than her.
And from what I saw, the crazy old man is way too sharp to be victimized by
feminine charm. Our wealth is about to be double honey. And you’ll have a huge
collection of books very soon.”
Abhi could not stop thinking as he gulped
down his dinner. He had done a good job of convincing, he thought. He finally
dared to think what the consequences of his being the one would be. Freedom
from the job he did not like, and more importantly, freedom from Verma. Enough
money to relax and study without worrying about anything. Maybe he would even
move into the house. He would not listen to Maa
this time. This wasn’t some one-room flat in a cheap locality. This was a
two-storey mansion in Park Street, larger than their own house. His friends who
ridiculed him for his decision would be so damn jealous of him…the family
members would try to get back into his good books. Abhi trembled with newfound
glee and compulsively checked his e-mail every five minutes.
Komolika had just finished telling the story
to her parents and sister over dinner. Her mother had opened her mouth but no
sound came out of it. Her father was not too impressed either “This is all
gibberish. Do not pursue this, Kumu. And do not return to that house. God knows
who he is and what he wants. These people say nice things on the first day. You
should not have gone to start with!” Komolika didn’t reply. Her sister gave her
a “don’t-listen-to-them-you-are-awesome” kind of wink and continued eating in
silence. Komolika knew in her gut that the old man was not trouble. Had she
seen two more young women instead of men, it might have been fishy, but he had
seemed so genuine. She would get it. Why would he make the rich MNC guy richer?
And the teenager was simply not to be counted on. He had proved nothing yet.
She, on the other hand, had a great post-graduate degree, and was going to get
another soon. She already taught at a school, and she had huge potential to do
a PhD and become a full-fledged academic. Her family was affluent, but not
wealthy enough to invest in a new school. She was smart, young, educated and in
need of funding for her great idea. She was just perfect.
*
A week passed and the tension and anticipation
grew beyond the bearable threshold. Abhi had started losing hope as he trudged
to work each day. Komolika had started faintly believing her father. And an exasperated
Rupam had gone back to his “fraud” theory.
At his Park Street residence, Mr Choudhury
sipped coffee while watching his Saturday sitcom. After that he walked over to
his study and turned his computer on. His travelling reservations had been
made. He was keeping enough money to last him for the next two or three months.
According to the doctor he wouldn’t last that long anyway. He had decided to
spend the last few days of his life at a secluded villa he had rented in the
serene setting of Musoori. He could not forget how beautiful his first vacation
there had been. He was going to go away to college, and his parents had decided
to spend a nice holiday in the hills before that. He had loved the place – cool,
green and peaceful, and way better than Darjeeling. Anyway, it seemed to have
happened centuries back. He would revisit the place for the last time and never
come back. He had spoken to his lawyer to finalize his decision regarding his
property. The papers were ready, and the formalities would be complete in
another week.
After checking the e-mail drafts he hit
“send”, then another “send”, and after a pause, the final “send”.
*
On reading the mail, Abhi turned to stone. He
was free at last. It was sinking in very slowly. Then he got up and let out a
victorious howl!
Komolika re-read her mail thrice. Oh my god, she thought. She had hoped
for this and a lot more, but it was hard to believe that something had actually
happened. Taking deep breaths she calmed herself. Then she got up to call her
family.
Rupam had to re-read his e-mail too. He had
reason to smile, but the disappointment turned his lips upside down. Bloody old fool! Stupid nutcase! “Soma!
Come and take a look at this”, he shouted.
On the “Sent Items” folder in the old man’s
e-mail account stood the three letters, happily co-existing, one after the
other.
Dear Abhishek,
You remind me about
my own young self in ways more than one. I saw the vigour and rebelliousness of
my youth in you. I saw my brains. FYI, I got through engineering and just
missed medical by a few ranks. I never wanted to study medicine, and was more
than happy to join REC. But you made me wonder what if my situation had been
reversed? What if I had missed the benchmark for engineering and made it to the
medical student-list instead? The thought of cadavers make me shudder. I would
never have gone, and would probably want a BSc. My father, who was incidentally
a doctor, wasn’t like yours. He would have kicked me out of the house, or
worse, disowned me.
I have decided that a
young man of your caliber should not work where you work, and should lead a
life suitable for his intellect. I am freeing you Abhishek, knowing full well
that you have all that it takes to do it yourself in the near future. Along
with the material possessions that I’ll give you, I am leaving you a huge lot
of hope - that you will not misuse the wealth. Use it well. I don’t mind if you
even utilize it to go and study or practice abroad. But be thankful, and give
something back to the world. Do not work for free, but do not unreasonably
charge people who cannot pay.
I have chosen to
leave you quite a large percentage of my money. You do not need so much of it,
but still.
Wishing you all the
best
Rajatava Choudhury
………………..
Dear Komolika,
I admired your
spirit. You seemed a down-to-earth, ambitious, and accomplished young lady. I
repeat what I had told you – you have the noblest intentions among the ones I
met. I also liked the fact that you love literature. I am an avid reader
myself, and though I do not possess any literary prowess of my own, I can
certainly appreciate a good piece of writing.
I hope you realize
how idealistic your dream-school sounds. I am not saying that things will not
change, but they will not happen overnight, but you must know that. I had a feeling
that you were a good teacher. I would suggest you open a tutorial to start
with, hire teachers you like, and see how it goes, and if luck permits, you can
expand it to a school someday. But I know a mere suggestion will not be enough.
And I have decided to make the arrangements.
You shall be getting
my house, which you can use as your tutorial-cum-experimental-school. I am not
leaving you a lot of money, but enough to buy the necessary furniture and pay
your recruits to start with. If you flourish, then you can take care of future
expenses yourself.
Wishing you all the
best
Rajatava Choudhury
………………
Dear Rupam,
You were the most
exciting guy I met. Handsome, young, successful, well-settled, and gliding
through life with the ease you deserve. You were the complete package if you
ask me. I can almost feel your thrill, as I think about my early career. The
sheer happiness of making so much money, and the unimaginable exhilaration of
being promoted, or going abroad at the expense of the company. I was there
once, and I enjoyed it to the fullest. Having experienced all of that, I can
assure you that you’ll have an amazing life, more amazing than mine I’m sure,
because you have a family.
I was truly at a loss
when I tried to decide what I would do with you. Leaving you more material
possessions seemed a useless waste, but I could not leave you nothing, because
I have taken a liking to you. I had to give you something.
The first thing that
I have in mind will not be of any consequence to you. I have decided to leave
all my books to your lovely wife. She can pick and choose the ones she wants. I
am assuming she will find the engineering magazines a little dull and probably
skip those. And finally, I leave you something that you liked. A successful man
has not enough of these. Consider it a congratulatory gift from me for doing so
well at such a young age. As you can understand by now, I leave you my car.
Wishing you all the
best
