Short Story "Interview or Date" (Part 2)

To read PART 1 "Click Here"

Ten minutes later.

“Mam, It’s your turn now”, said Aditi Singh , another placement coordinator, turning towards me.

Something shook me from within.

"Is it necessary to start from me?” I inquired.

“No, anyone can go in first. We don’t follow any order Mam”, she replied with a smile sensing my nervousness.

Neha offered to go in my place. It was a relief. Phew!

I was sitting on my chair, cross legged, head down, gaze fixed on the resume which was on top of the portfolio file kept on my lap. My left hand fingers were fidgeting with their right counterparts. My heartbeat pumping fast, I am sure it would be a high frequency sinusoidal curve if you plotted it against time.

Neha was followed by Shikha, Rohan and Prateek.

By that time, I had scanned my resume for the hundredth time, I swear. But God knows what I really read. It is a virtue of the human mind that it can go on reading the same set of words for innumerous times and not understand a single word. At such times it goes into a repeat mode.

Well, I am  going to be an engineer, ain’t I? A computer science engineer, to be more precise, I would be.

Just then an increasing sound signal entered my ears. “Hey dude, how’s everything here?” , interpreted my brain.

“Man, you are invisible since days. Where are you? By the way, all fine here”, answered Manish enthusiastically. I could recognize the voice.

Electric blue sports shoes, I saw.

I raised my eyes, gradually. Black denims, a casually tucked in white silk shirt, sleeves neatly folded to half, a fast track big round dial watch on the left wrist, nude right wrist, first button open, a French cut,  eyes covered with a pair of aviators , hair gelled into modest spikes.

Mr. French cut had really pulled me out of the repeat mode, as he passed by me to converse with Manish who was standing at the entrance of the Interview room which was just beside where I sat.

He had caught my attention. He removed his aviators, looked at me into my eyes, still talking to Manish. He had light green eyes.

The boys walked past me busy with their gossip and I resumed back to staring at my resume.

An impulse shot in my brain. Just a few seconds before, Mr. French cut had stimulated my neural circuitry to the extent that the current flowing through my nerves felt determined to disobey the Kirchhoff’s laws. The juices started f lowing out of the amygdala; amygdala is the emotion center of the brain. Probably it was signaled to do so by the sex hormones whose secretion must have increased by the visual input captured by the eyes.

 I wanted to stop this process from advancing further. Once the juices start intruding the frontal lobe of the brain, the logical decision making process will start diminishing. If that happens it would become difficult for me to analyze things logically. It was my interview. I ought not to let that happen. I spoke to myself.

All these thoughts crossed my mind at the speed of light. I looked up in anxiety only to find Mr. French cut gazing at me, sitting right opposite to me in a chair which he had taken out from the sequence. 

To be Contd...

Copyright © 2017 Anushree Kesarwani. All rights reserved.
For the next part, keep an eye on this blog "Random Access Memory"

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