A Question · The Quiet Exam · Pulse Beat
Her father came into the shop one afternoon in November, and the whole mood changed. He was a heavy, stern man in a pressed shirt, a retired railway officer, and he stood in the doorway taking in the…
Her father came into the shop one afternoon in November, and the whole mood changed.
He was a heavy, stern man in a pressed shirt, a retired railway officer, and he stood in the doorway taking in the shelves with open disapproval. Meera, behind the counter, went rigid.
"Baba."
"So this is what you do." He did not raise his voice. "Four years, Meera. Four years of coaching. A hundred and eighty thousand rupees. And you sit in a shop selling novels."
"I'm working, Baba."
"Is this a job for a doctor?"
"I'm not going to be a doctor." It was the first time she had said it aloud, and she looked as if she had stepped off a roof. "I failed. Twice. I'm not going to try again."
The old man stared at her. Dev, in the back room, held his breath. Then, to his astonishment, Meera's father pulled out a stool and sat down heavily, with a long sigh.
"Your mother," he said, "has been telling me for a year that you hated it." He rubbed his face. "I did not want to hear."