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Outside the window cut into the brick and stone, tall eucalyptus and Ashoka trees were swaying. The ground looked like how it does after good rains in a dirty city -- a thick brown gravy road with Brittannia Good Day (Have a good day! ting ting ti ting!) packets as milestones and once-dry-now-wet leaves surrounding them like travellers eager to note down how many miles they have covered. Inside, she sat, first with both her legs apart and then she remembered somebody telling her that crossed legs send signals of confidence. She imagined rays of light streaming from her thighs to the person sitting opposite. And giggled. The heart had not yet started thumping so light-hearted banter even if it was only with herself, was still possible. What was rather difficult was indeed to cross her legs in that tight jeans and tighter purple kurta, the only decent one she had, despite its little unnoticeable tear near the thigh. Somebody else had told her, no, she had read somewhere that big bags can hide more than a mere fabric tear. They can hide your love handles and unsightly waist bulges as well if you hold them close enough, the article had smugly said.  She didn't agree. She also didn't think the writer of the piece had any love handles herself. Which fool would think that just because there is a big bag sitting on your waist, your waist is smaller? Stupid magazines! And stupid writers! What did they know!

And so she waited, imagining herself as the writer of that piece on big bags. She saw herself wearing her favourite red heels and trotting inside a steel-gray office, throwing her oversized bag on the chair and sitting stylishly on the edge of the table to make small conversation with her colleague. She giggled again and sat up straight; her shoulder blades were not tense at all -- her body was displaying more confidence than she felt. Maybe she would get it right this time.

She turned her attention back to the trees which had now stopped nodding and were expectant just like her; or so she thought. She was idly wondering when was the last time she saw a completely blue sky when they came in. They were not the bad sort; in fact her mind had already decided who they resembled. They were like Mole and Ratty, the mild-mannered doughty looking friends from that children's classic 'The Wind in the Willows'. They made her comfortable; they even asked if she would have tea. "No, no tea, thank you." "Are you sure?" "Yes, yes." (Oh start it now please!)

It was when her hands started moving rapidly up and down, back and forth, the thin bony fingers flailing as if they were trying to catch truant beads falling from a mischievous sky that she realised that she was being spectacularly foolish yet again. She had felt this before and had examined the feeling thread by embarrassed thread. She also had come to a conclusion. Feeling spectacularly foolish, she had concluded, wasn't such a bad thing if that feeling was only known to her. It had happened many times before with her that at the precise moment when she was feeling grandiloquently silly, she would lift her head up and notice a spark of affection or admiration in another's eye. That would amaze her enough to keep her snug for days.

Her troubles, like now, began when she distinctly realised that Mole and Ratty, sleek in their thinking, perfectly worded in their speech, had noticed the spectacularity of her foolishness. It was this signal her heart was waiting for and thump! thump!! Blop! That was already a two-feet fall. She felt it thumping somewhere below her stomach. The  last bit of drama was still left. The little tick next to the down-turned mouth started to twitch. In a swift movement she brought her hands down and laid them straight on her lap. Her fingers felt the purple fabric and began stealthily rolling the edges of her kurta. Her breath came out in short gasps and she spit out what she had to say with her throat constricted and her words like playground hoops -- connected and yet cutting into each other. She was afraid she would be stopped right there and then. She sneaked a glance but Mole and Ratty were only nodding. They even looked faintly interested.

"Is there anything else you would like to know?" Mole leaned forward. "No,that's it for now." she said swiftly. Shit! That was too swift. "Er.. I think" she added. Desperation started welling up from somewhere below the navel. Shut up! No, say something idiot! No shut up! Uff, say something NOW! She finally gave in. "Er..umm.. nice place this." Wan smile from Ratty. "So much greenery around." Wan smile no. 2 from Ratty. Mole looked around as if he was noticing his surroundings for the first time. "Yes yes. Good...Right then." He extended his puffy hands and she took them in hers lightly and mumbled. "Good, Good."

Another interview had come to an end.