Manasv Nandeshwar, Class XI E
We were supposed to meet the new intern at the big buffet. I waited along with the director, talking about the recent falls in the market and how it would affect our company. The intern arrived, apologizing for being late. He clearly wasn’t doing well. He was trying his best to hide his crumbled, curry stained shirt with the loose suit that he had probably rented.
We started discussing the project he had been working on. He was a bright young man, with immense potential. But clearly, he couldn’t find himself much work. I especially felt bad for him, when he wrapped some chapattis in a tissue paper, and slid them down his bag. He seemed a little embarrassed, but his lean built and edgy cheekbones seemed to justify it.
We later went outside, to walk the director to his car. When he had gone, we stayed a little longer and talked. He was very young to wander around in a city so big searching for a job. He wanted to work at a law firm and provide justice to the society. He believed it was about time that the multinational companies stopped intoxicating our beautiful country. I liked talking to him. He was full of humility and was extremely friendly. Actually, I think I liked talking to him because it was easy to do so.
It was getting late and I offered him a ride home. He refused, saying he didn’t want to trouble me. However, he allowed me to help find him a rickshaw. We found one in no time. He thanked me for the evening. He took out his wallet and asked me how much he owed me for the dinner. I could only see a couple of hundred rupee notes and some change in the old purse. I didn’t want the young man to feel bad, so I took a fifty rupee note and thanked him. He did realize though, that the dinner must’ve cost much more, but he stayed quiet. We shared contacts and waved each other goodbye.
Just when he was about to enter the rickshaw, I saw a man snatch his wallet and run towards a dark, narrow road. Without taking much time, the young intern ran after him. I was surprised to see him chasing the thief. I mean, who would put their life in danger for a couple of hundred rupees.
I immediately picked up the bat from under the passenger seat in my car and ran for the narrow road. I held the bat firmly, ready to strike. I saw a shadow and shouted for identification. I heard a familiar voice. There he was, the brave teenager, standing with his wallet. “Are you crazy?” I asked. “Why would you put yourself in danger just for some money?” He smiled. “It’s not about the money you see.”
We came back to my car, and sipped water to dilute the adrenaline running through our blood. He turned towards me, and turned his wallet upside down. There came down some seemingly useless things; an old broken comb, a crumpled one rupee note, a family picture, a heart-shaped pendent and lots and lots of memories. That is when I realized, he is much wealthier than me, or the director, or Bill Gates.”
