Free Bird Part 13

Read the previous part here

There are some people, some situations which scare the ghost out of the most courageous persons. Most of the times these are matters of the heart. That day Sneha casually ambled to receive the phone. Most of the times it was her father who received the calls on the landline. Sneha had pestered him to get a mobile phone. But his logic was that since he hardly ventured out of the house, the landline served his purpose. It was he who attended all the calls on the landline. But as luck would have it Sneha was passing through the drawing room when the phone rang and she picked the phone.

'Hello.' The caller said. There were butterflies in Sneha's stomach and her legs felt jittery on hearing his voice. Catching hold of the armrest of the sofa she slumped into it.

'Sneha, I know it is you.' The caller said.

'I will call Papa.' She said not knowing what to say.

'No, I want to speak to you. Read the feature on you. Congratulations, you have come a long way.' Raj said.

'I thought... you had forgotten me.'

'I may forget to breath Sneha, but I can never forget you.' He said.

Sneha felt a strange sensation course through her body. She wanted to ask him to fl doywn to India from Australia to meet her. She wanted to share her joys with him. She wanted to tell him how much she had missed her. She wanted to fight with him and ask him as to why he hadn't bothered to keep in touch with her. In spite of her greivances now she was content that he cared for her. That he was keeping track of her activities and wished to congratulate her.

'How did you come to know about it? She asked, not knowing how to start the conversation after so many years.

'Someone sent me the clipping as an attachment.'

'Who?' She asked.

'Well I have my well placed resources.' He laughed.

'Where were you? Why didn't you call me all these years.'

'Was a little busy.'

Sneha wanted to retort by saying that he had time to wish her father on his birthday but no time to call her. But the next sentence that he uttered made her melt.

'There are so many things which I want to tell you. Will tell you once we meet.' So Raj was eager to meet her. Sneha forgot that he had not kept in touch with her for years. She forgot that when she had called him a few times, he had avoided her. He had expressed his desire to meet her and Sneha had forgiven him once and for all.

'When are you coming?' She asked.

'Very soon, to taste your pickles.' He said.

Gaining a little composure she said, 'I can send a jar to Australia.'

'But I wish to have it from your hands.' He said.

Sneha blushed. That's when her father entered the room. 'Whom are you talking to beta?' He enquired. 'Papa, it's Raj.' Sneha said. Then she told Raj that she had some urgent work to attend and hung up. Later that day Sneha got angry at herself. She had always disapproved those spineless girls who were tongue tied in front of their boyfriends and agreed to all that they said. But today she too had replicated their behaviour. Does love that to a person? Sneha didn't know. She resolved, the next time Raj called her, she would tell him how he had wronged her, how he had played with her emotions and how much heartache he had caused to her.

Free Bird Part 12

Read the previous part here

It was not that Sneha received encouragement from all quarters. She received some opposition too. As it often happens the fiercest opposition came from her own relatives. They scrunched their noses when they heard of Pa's pickles. 'Such an educated girl and what she is doing, seasoning pickles in the garage. If she wanted to do the same, why did she waste her father's money and her time in college education.' Some said. 'She is a bold and daring girl. She should have joined the police or military force. Her valour would have been put to some good use.' 'Business? Do you know nine of the ten newly started businesses shut down in the first year itself.'

The relatives made it a point to stop Sneha on the road and lecture her. Those who otherwise didn't even bother to call her, phoned her and discouraged her from her plans. Their sermons ended with lines like, 'We have seen more world than you child. We are your well wishers. We care for you. That is the reason why we are telling you this.'

Given the kind of woman Sneha was, she was not going to give up so easily. Neither was she going to listen to her distractors and stop her pickle business which at that time was still in a nascent stage. But she was a little shaken up for sure. That night sensing her troubles, her father had said, 'Remember my child, every new work goes through three stages - ridicule, opposition and acceptance. Every success is like a child birth and you have to bear the labour pains.' Sneha nodded her head and worked extra hard to make her business a success. She was very particular of the quality of the products. The quantity of spices that went into the pickles was handled by her personally and no one knew in what proportions she mixed it. This was a trade secret which she closely guarded. She met various stores, offered them free samples, lured them by offering extra commissions and won them over. Soon Pa's business was going to places. There were hoardings displayed in the main market and in front of the busy railway station. Half page advertisements were booked in the newspapers. 'This is the age of marketing and we cannot shy away from it only to save money. In the long run the returns will be multi-fold.' Rupa had said and Sneha realized that now Rupa had indeed become an entrepreneur to the core, and was making some sensible talk. This is what happens when you venture out into the real world.

Sneha's business was flourishing. She had become a celebrity in the town. A journalist had come to write a feature on her. 'You are an intelligent, educated woman. Why did you decide to venture into pickle business.' Meera, the journalist of New Times of India switched on the voice recorder and asked Sneha.

'Sometimes in life you take some decisions on an impulse, and those turn out to be the best decisions of your life.' Sneha replied.

The journalist had some other questions inter alia regarding Sneha's future plans, her message to the youth. When the interview was over Meera switched off the voice recorder. Sipping her tea she asked Sneha. 'Now that the interview is over, tell me the truth. How did the pickle thing come to your mind.'

'Believe me Meera, I meant what I said in response to your question. It just happened. I just listened to my heart.' Unconvinced Meera nibbled with the biscuits.

The demand for Pa's pickles was roaring and Sneha had her team struggled to meet the ever increasing demand. Sneha's work force had expanded from two to ten. Now that the venture was successful, Rupa had gathered both courage and confidence to tell her mother that she was a part of Pa's pickles and intended to quit her job at the electricity office and join the business fulltime. Surprisingly now Mrs. Sharma had no qualms about her daughter stepping into the world of business. She had read the featured article in the newspaper about Sneha and secretly wished that one day her daughter too will make it big like her. Success turns your critics into your fans and Mrs. Sharma was one such convert. She called Sneha over the lunch, congratulated her and told her that Rupa was privileged to have a friend like her. 'If you require any help from me, I am just a call away. You are just like Rupa to me.' Mrs. Sharma had said. Sneha smirked. Nothing succeeds like success.
Read the next part here

Free Bird Part 11

Read the previous part here

 There were wafts of ground spices emanating from the garage. Sneha and her two helpers were having a busy time - raw mangoes were cut, oil crackled into the wok, spices were added, samples were tasted and finally packed into the plastic containers with the name Pa's pickles on it.

When Sneha had asked her father to suggest a name for her business, he had suggested mother's pickle. He couldn't complete a sentence without reference to Sneha's late mother. Even Sneha had liked that name. But there was another pickle in the market with the same name. So Sneha came up with a new name Pa's pickles. It sounded trendy, served her tribute to her father and certainly stole some good will of mother's pickle. Strange, but shoppers couldn't easily differentiate between mother's pickles and Pa's pickle, and Sneha's business was soaring.

'We can't work like this. We will have to get automated.' Sneha said. Her two helpers didn't understand what she said and they continued with their work. The following week when the mixing and packing machine arrived in the garage the helpers looked at it in awe. They had never seen anything like that.

Sneha was so immersed in the activities of her business that she hardly got the time to chat with her father. Sometimes she felt terribly guilty for not giving him time. But before she could ponder over the said thought for longer, some or other issue relating to her business would crop up and she would be busy handling it. Running your own business is not an easy task. Sneha had realized it once she had plunged into it.

Rupa, unknown to her mother was a dormant partner in the enterprise. She had invested some money into it and was leaving no stone unturned to make the pickle business a success. She would daily post status updates on her whatsapp which carried her pictures with the pickle bottle in different angles. For the first time in her life, Rupa was doing something which she felt was right and not meekly following the commands of her mother. The fact that she was hiding her role in the business surprisingly added to her excitement. When she received her share in the profit in the first month itself her joy knew no bounds. 'Yeah, we have become successful entrepreneurs.' She had said. She had planned to buy a nice saree for her mother from the said amount. She asked Sneha as to what she was going to do with her money. Sneha had told her that she was going to plough back the money into the business. On being asked why, Sneha told her about the additions she planned to make to the existing business. Hearing her elaborately drawn plans Rupa was super impressed. She too decided to reinvest the profits into the business. She laughed at the fact how much she was moored into the 9 to 5 job mentality which made her spend all the money which she got as a salary immediately. 'Not that I have become an entrepreneur I should act like one too. I release my mental patterns of salaried job mentality.' She said and patted on her head as if she was turning off some switch in the head. 
Read the next part here 

Free Bird Part 10

Read the previous part here
'I hope that you have given up the thought of starting your own business.' Mrs. Sharma said as the mustard crackled in the pan.

'I have given up everything mother.' Rupa said. But her words were drowned by the whistles of the cooker.

Mrs. Sharma turned the gas sim and wiping her hands to the towel emerged out of the kitchen. She was five feet two inches tall and was on the healthier side. The big rotund bindi which adorned her forehead made her look aggressive than she was.

'Rupa, I am your mother and not your enemy. We are middle class people and hence we can't take any risks. What if the business fails? All will be gone – the amount you will invest as well as the salary which you are drawing right now. How will we survive then?.' Rupa didn't speak a word. Sneha had already resigned and after much pestering she had shared her idea of starting her own business with Rupa. Rupa was damn excited about the whole thing.

'I want to be an entrepreneur Sneha. We will be our own bosses. What a wonderful thing it will be! We will be called to IIM's and IBM's to deliver lectures. We will be featured in glossy tabloids.We will make a lot money' She had squealed in excitement. Sneha had to hush her for she had not shared this piece of information with any other person. She told it to Rupa because she was desperate to uncover the secrets behind Sneha's regular disappearances during the lunch time. Besides Rupa was always special to Sneha. For the past two years since Sneha had joined the electricity board Rupa was her colleague, friend, elder sister - all rolled into one. She knew from the deepest of her heart that she could trust Rupa and share her dreams, her plans with her. Sneha knew that Rupa will be very happy to hear that Sneha was starting a business of her own. But she seldom thought that Rupa will come on board as a partner.

'I too will resign. Let us start our own thing.' She had said.

That day when she returned home she was buzzing with excitement. When her mother opened the door, she hugged her and jumped.

'You look so happy beta. Tell me what happened.' Mrs. Sharma said. No sooner had Mrs. Sharma heard about Rupa's plan than she threw a basket of cold water on her excitement and dampened her spirits. Mrs. Sharma was born in a family of teachers. Her parents were teachers and so was her late husband. She was unwilling to give up the comfort of receiving fixed monthly renumeration.

'You know what happened to Bali Mama.' Mrs. Sharma continued. Rupa had heard that story umpteen times. Bali was Mrs. Sharma's cousin. He too had started as a teacher. He was an excellent physics teacher. Students loved his teaching. He made complex concepts and formulae simple. He was undoubtedly the most popular teacher in the college. Then one day he received an offer from an IIT coaching classes. They were offering him a partnership in the class plus a salary of more than five times of the salary which he got at the government college. Bali happily resigned from the college and joined the coaching centre. Any person in his position would have done the same. All was hunky-dory for the first five years. But afterwards the partners forked out. They got separated. Bali tried starting his own coaching, but it didn't work. Teaching and business are two different things. Bali was a good teacher but a bad businessman. He sent fillers to the college where he taught expressing his desire to rejoin the college, but he received a cold shoulder. Depressed and dejected Bali took up drinking and a promising career was ruined. 'All because of jumping into business.' Mrs. Sharma would say.

'I know this is not your brain. I know my daughter very well. You are cut for a salaried job and not a business. Business simply isn't in our blood. It must be Sneha who implanted all these wonderful ideas into your head. Remember we are not as rich as Sneha and we can't squander savings of our life behind some business idea which is doomed for failure. Every house in Khandwa makes its own pickle. It is a scrupulously followed summer ritual. Who is going to buy your ready-made pickles in our town?'

Rupa wanted to say that perhaps they could sell it in other cities and towns. But she didn't wish to further enrage her mother. So she kept quiet. The pain you feel when someone gives thumbs down to your ideas, your dreams is the harshest of all.
Read the next part here

Free Bird Part 9

Read the previous part here
 A gleam of light entered through the window and illuminated Sneha's room. The room was now nicely lit up. All the cobwebs of yesterday's negativity had faded. Sneha got up from the bed, raised her hands and stretched her body. All the physical and mental weariness was gone now. The morning sun had brought new hopes and new dreams. Sneha was feeling much better now. She went out of her room. 'Good morning.' Her father greeted her.

'Good morning papa,' Sneha reciprocated.

'Ginger tea.' He said as he placed the cup in her hands.

'Thank you papa. I simply can't imagine my life without you.'

Sandip entered the room wearing only shorts. 'And how would be life without me?'

'Mowgli, life without you must be much better. Go inside, come out of your jungle book and wear a shirt.' Sneha reprimanded.

Sandip flexed his biceps for a few seconds and then went into his room.

'Papa I have a made a decision.' Sneha said. Her father didn't reply. 'Papa I said something.' Sneha repeated.

'Yes beta. I am all ears.'

'I don't wish to continue with this job. In fact I don't want to take up any other job.'

'That's nice.' Sneha's father unlike other parents, knew that when his children told him something, they wanted him to just listen and not to bombard them with questions.

'I want to start something of my own.' Sneha said. 'I will start from the garage and will not ask any money from you.'

'So you want become Steve Jobs and start apple from our garage?' Sandip said as he pulled the being coloured Being Human shirt below his stomach.

'I want to start a pickle business.'

'Didi, couldn't you think of anything better business? Pickle business. Just see how bad it sounds. Pickle business. Doesn't it sound like your are into a problem, into a pickle?' Sandip said and when no one responded he laughed at his own joke.

'One shouldn't laugh at other's dreams, particularly when you have a dream but are not serious in your efforts.' Sneha's father retorted.

That enraged Sandip. But he had no defense. What his father had said was true. He stomped his feet and went away.

'You don't take what he said to your heart. You know him very well. Tell me how do you plan to start your enterprise.'

Sneha then pulled out a paper, wrote a few things and started explaining her father the plan she had chalked out. She had a complete plan, right from raw material supply upto the marketing of the product. Yes, it was a rough plan and there were a few missing links. But she had a plan for sure. Her father nodded, occasionally posed some questions and some times offered a different opinion in a low voice, in a very humble manner. Sneha appreciated his point of view. After Sneha had finished, her father asked her again as to when she was planning to start her own business.

'I have to serve the notice period of one month before I start. But please papa...'

'What?' Her father asked.

'Don't tell about this to anyone.'

'I won't. I promise.'

The next few days were very hectic for Sneha. Now matter what she did she would be engrossed in making mental calculations about her business all the time. She had some money in her bank account. She decided to take a small loan from the bank as well. Every day during her lunch time she would visit some or other bank and try to convince them with her business proposal.

The intial responses were anything but positive. Pickle business for some strange reasons raised sniggers. It was not taken seriously. Sneha thought perhaps Sandip was right. Pickle business sounded a little awkward. The next day when she went to another bank, she said that she wanted to start a cottage industry and wanted a loan for the same. This time she was offered a seat by the manager and he patiently heard her presentation. At the end of it he said. 'I can't really promise you anything. But I will certainly give it a thought.' Sneha was happy that this time she was not laughed at.

'Where do you go during the lunch hours Sneha. I have to eat my lunch all by myself. I miss you so much.' Rupa said.

'Had got some work Rupa.' Sneha said with a smile.

'Work or got a new boyfriend?' Rupa winked.

'Will let you know at the right time.' Sneha said, logged into the computer and resumed her work.

'By the way what had you got in your lunch today?' Sneha asked.

'Today I didn't get time to cook the vegetable. So I got chapatis and pickle.' Rupa replied. Sneha smirked at the mention of pickle. She had at least one potential buyer.

'Why are you smiling?' Rupa asked.

'Nothing.' Sneha replied.

'You are behaving strangely Sneha. I am sure you are in love.'

'Yes, I am in love baby. But not with a man.' Sneha said. Then sensing the changed contours of Rupa's face, she clarified. 'In fact I am not in love with any person.' 
Read the next part here