Aastha crosses Parth. She waves at Dev, an old friend of hers.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” She shouted.

“Phew! What an escape!” Parth hurried to his destination. “It looks like some meeting,” he murmured.

Dev got down from the vehicle and sped towards her.

“What are you doing here?” He enquired.

“Oh. I have come here looking for a job,” Aastha continued.

“We are meeting each other for a long time. Are you here for competitive exams or work purposes?”

“I am trying both. What about you?”

“Like many other students, I am trying my luck at work. I have applied to all the institutes in Mukherjee Nagar for a job. I visited a few, only to be disappointed.”

“Do you know about Aim Law Institute? You can try your luck there. They recruit freshers. Aim Law Institute is the second-best Institute in India for training in judicial services and civil services led by a renowned figure in law known by the name of Sebastian. The headmaster is known for his strict discipline. He is a tall, stout man in his late fifties and has a bald head, which shines in the sunlight.

“So that is how I can identify him?” She laughed.

“You don’t know how much mesmerizing effect he has on the students whenever he spoke. Being an excellent orator and having a good command of the law, he taught well.

“I must leave now. It is time for my class.” Dev hurries up to his class and bids goodbye to Aastha.

Upon knowing about the Institute, Aastha gets excited and heads towards the Institute to meet the man himself. However, she failed to secure an appointment. Mr. Sebastian Gonsalves was running heavy with his schedule and could not make time for anyone.

Soon before she decided to leave, they asked her to wait for fifteen minutes.

Browsing through the magazines, she finds herself immersed in her thoughts when she hears a voice.

“You can go in,” began his assistant.

Sebastian Sir was sitting beside a large bookshelf comprising law books, bare acts, and journals, all arranged neatly in order inside the room. He was holding her resume in his hand.

“So what do you want to do ahead in your life?” was his first question

“Sir, I want to prepare for the civil services,” she replied gleefully.

“Do you have experience of teaching?” he added

“No sir”

After a pause, he began. “Then you should try again after gaining some experience in teaching.” Saying so, he became busy with his work.

Aastha became depressed and hungry when her eyes trolled the surrounding market at Mukherjee Nagar. “It is the busiest hub of coaching centers”, she thought.

At once, an idea struck her. Immediately, she proceeded towards the wholesale market at the Old Delhi and purchased some diaries from a known vendor at a reasonable price from her savings.

No sooner than later, she started selling the diaries at a retail price. Two to three book shops running at the place allowed her a purchase. Her endeavor led her to the publishing house by the name of ABC Publishing House, owned and run by the mentor Keshav Sir. The manager of the book house informed her of a vacancy for freshers in teaching and training students at the Learner Coaching Institute. At the Institute, her interview was brief. It was a mere formality. They gave her a book titled “Magical Book series, Analytical Reasoning”, a preparatory book on the reasoning for various competitive examinations, like SSC, UPSC, CPO, LIC, GIC, and UTI, among others. A tensed Aastha flipped through the pages of the book and began -

"Sir, I have never read this book before".

“Then read it and begin your classes,” he roared. The mentor gave her a list of assignments for the next day and asked his coordinator to arrange her classes every week. She headed for her home, temporary home. Outram line, GTB Nagar, was her address for all professional and personal communications. Her room in the paying guest cum hostel was on the topmost floor. It was the largest room in the four-storied apartment, all owned by a family. However, the accommodation bore a cost for her. She had to manage a good amount of rupees four thousand as monthly rent. Her room came with an attached bathroom, a kitchen, and two doors allowing cross ventilation.

She had two prized possessions in the room, an idol of Shri Krishna and a workstation comprising a study and a small shelf housing valuable books.

Putting her thoughts on the paper never came easy to her. Despite a constant struggle to pen down the life events, she named her first story in her new diary. She was a regular writer and religiously filled the pages. She wrote -

'An Ordeal in faith'.

A string of faith is enough to stride over the oceans of turmoil.

Do I have a right to live my life on my terms?

It is the vital question that governs my life. I have lived my life for others- my family, relatives, and friends.’ My’ though does not imply ‘Myself’.

My birth is of no significance except that I was born into a conservative Sindhi family living in Kolkata. The family had a unique history of its own, which has been one of the originators of my pain.

I belonged to a joint family that met its fateful end for good.

I am the eldest daughter in the family and amongst all my siblings and cousins. The only haven I had was my residence being two flats 5CD at Mansarovar Building, a cooperative society.

My grandparents loved me immensely. I was their favorite until my uncle’s jealousy affected them. It was not soon that my grandparents started maintaining distance from me. My uncle’s jealousy manifested in many forms and affected me since childhood.

I still remember how he snatched a piece of chocolate from my hands and gave it to his daughter while my mother was busy serving food to other family members bereft of what was happening around.

I was very young then and could not understand why he did that. He was my dear uncle. I cried bitterly. It was my first impression of my uncle’s evil intentions and what was unbecoming him.

That was one day when my uncle took a piece of chocolate from my hands, and then there were many when he snatched my happiness...one by one.

My story has been a constant struggle to take back what my uncle and my destiny have snatched from me to bring justice to my family.

My father, Mr. Kishan Sidhwani, is the eldest in the family. In legal parlance, he was the Karta in the joint family and a partner in the erstwhile Partnership Firm, run on the whims and fancies of my uncle.

My father had no standing of his own. Nobody respected him in the family. The members of the family always ignored him.

The three brothers could never receive formal education as they were busy running affairs of the partnership business that was primarily involved in the sale of suits and dress materials at wholesale rates.

Despite being the eldest in the family, my parents were ill-treated and had to lead their lives at the dictates of my uncle, Mr. Kamal Sidhwani. 

Who knew that future had something else in store?

Who knew that a person would be born into the same family to fight the injustice meted out by my uncle?

It was me.

Incidentally, both of us are Arians. I was born on 3rd April 1984, while my uncle celebrated his birthday on 6th April every year. Let me introduce myself to you. I am Aastha, a person who was born with no line of luck in her palms but is destined to create one if not many.

Every person has their perspective on life. I claim to maintain none, as I was too busy sorting out the knots of problems in my life.

The knowledge gained was more from experiences than learning from school and college. It, however, had a price tag attached to it.

The price to be paid was “pain”.

My education was tough on me, though not in terms of my learning.

I was a bright student in my school and college days, as I took a keen interest in sports and studies alike. I passed my school education amidst tough times when the dispute had just started, and the first change in our life was making way for our future.

I liked all subjects of study, like humanities, science, and commerce, and the vocational ones like law.

LAW, this was one subject that prepared me for my future battle. 

I never had enough money to pursue the course. Even my family found it difficult to support my education.

But as they say, 'It is all fated'.

And she stopped writing.

Her thoughts drifted towards the various incidents of the past few days. Who could be the man in the cab who was staring at me? Why was he stealing looks at me? Did he know me? 

Various questions bothered her. The questions were, however, better than her reminiscences.

Little perplexed at the events, she expressed her gratitude to the almighty for getting a job in the Learners Coaching Institute and prays for a better tomorrow.