Trivardhan woke up late again—as usual. The previous night, he had gone to bed determined to wake up early, mentally tuning himself with resolve. Yet somehow, he failed again, just like every other day.

“Oh no, I forgot to wake up early again,” he muttered, rising for his usual morning routine. Today was different though—he had an interview scheduled, and he didn’t want to miss it just because he overslept.

He wolfed down his breakfast at breakneck speed, barely tasting the food, and burned his tongue on the hot meal.

As he stepped outside, he suddenly remembered he’d forgotten his mobile phone and rushed back to fetch it. When he came out again, he glanced at his wristwatch—only half an hour remained until the interview. He broke into a run toward the bus stop.

Trivardhan usually walked faster than most people. He believed he was exceptionally good at it—along with a few other things in life.

Thanking God, he boarded the bus. But just a few meters ahead, traffic came to a standstill. Fortunately, an ambulance arrived, prompting angry traffic policemen to clear the jam. After a few chaotic minutes, the road was open again.

In this region, a green traffic signal doesn’t always mean movement—stragglers often linger in the lane. Eventually, the bus resumed its journey toward the destination.

Trivardhan reached the KA office with just five minutes to spare. As he ran past the security gate, personnel intercepted him, demanding his details. They were furious at his forced entry, and he lost two precious minutes in the security check.

When he saw the building, he was awestruck. It was a magnificent 50-storey structure with a massive company logo. Its glass windows, sharp edges, and ultra-modern design made him anxious. Fear gripped him—as it often did when facing something new, grand, or involving large crowds—as he entered the lobby.

The receptionist greeted him casually, eyeing him with mild interest. Trivardhan blurted out, “There’s an interview scheduled for me at 10 AM today.”

She replied in a sweet voice, “Take your seat. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

Trivardhan sat on the lobby sofa, feeling frightened. He placed his backpack on his lap—it offered him some comfort.

By 10:15 AM, he was truly distressed. His legs shook involuntarily, and he couldn’t control his anxiety.

Suddenly, a loud whoosh echoed as a man entered. He was of medium height, had shoulder-length hair, a lean frame, wore Puma shoes, and sported a fat wristwatch that resembled an old GPS tracker—with an antenna.

Trivardhan wondered whether he should stand out of courtesy. He was certain the man worked for the company. The man looked flustered, glanced at Trivardhan, and headed toward the lift.

The receptionist stood up when the man entered and, after he left, informed Trivardhan to go to the 51st floor in two minutes.

Trivardhan stood abruptly and shuffled toward the lift, walking quickly but slowing down when the receptionist gave him a strange look. He jumped into the lift as it arrived. But when he looked at the panel, it only had buttons up to the 50th floor.

Wondering if he’d misheard, he pressed the 50th-floor button. As the lift ascended, he suddenly remembered his first lift experience at age ten. He had gone to a movie with his father’s friend, Madhava, who later took him to a client’s office. It was there he saw a lift for the first time. As it rose, he felt his stomach drop and his body stretch upward. When it stopped, the sensation vanished.

He felt the same stretchiness now, accompanied by an irritating female voice playing a welcome message with old-fashioned music.

When he reached the 50th floor, he saw a huge glass partition. Inside, important-looking people were busy with their routines. Trivardhan was confused. Should he enter the glass area or return to the receptionist to ask again? There seemed to be no way up.

After a few seconds, he cautiously approached the glass door. Just then, a handsome man with a beard, ponytail, and spectacles opened it. Trivardhan stepped back and asked spontaneously, “Hi, where is the 51st floor?” immediately regretting the question.

The man replied, “Oh… there’s a door to the 51st floor next to the lift. Didn’t you see it?”

Trivardhan nodded, “Yes, I see it now. Thanks,” feeling embarrassed. He went to the door next to the lift and stepped out into the open.

It wasn’t exactly an office space—more like a balcony with a chair, table, and a neat shelf filled with books and files. The rest of the area was whitewashed floor, pipes, antenna dishes, and someone whispering “Narayan” The sun was bright, and at first, Trivardhan didn’t notice the man sitting in the chair, writing with intense concentration.

The man had a light build, short cropped hair, a clean-shaven face, and bright eyes. He exuded a subtle radiance. He looked up and gestured for Trivardhan to sit. The nameplate read “Rishiraj” on top and “CEO” below, in golden letters.

Rishiraj finished writing, set his journal aside, and said, “Shall we start the interview?”

“Okay, sir,” Trivardhan replied meekly.

“This is very simple,” said Rishiraj. “I’ll ask three questions. Just answer them honestly. Based on your answers, I’ll decide on your job. Also, look directly into my eyes while answering. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Trivardhan said, already dreading the questions.

“Here’s the first question: What, if controlled, leads to no regret?”

“Spoken words and the mind, I think, sir,” Trivardhan answered tentatively.

Rishiraj stared at him with smoldering intensity, then asked the second question: “What is the most precious and valuable possession?”

After a pause, Trivardhan blurted out, “Knowledge”

Rishiraj sighed and continued with the final question. “Now tell me honestly—no lies. Just say what comes to mind. If a person met with an accident and no one was nearby, and you came upon the scene, what would you do?”

Trivardhan gulped. “Sir, I’m afraid of accidents. I’d probably freeze at first. But once I recover, I’d call an ambulance, try to give first aid, and help the person as much as I can.”

Rishiraj stared at him as if reading his mind. Trivardhan tried not to blink. At last, Rishiraj said, “Okay, that’s done. Shall we take a break and have some coffee?”

“No sir, I usually don’t drink coffee or tea,” Trivardhan replied.

“Anything else?” asked Rishiraj, walking to the coffee machine.

“No sir,” Trivardhan said quietly.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Rishiraj answered it, then turned to Trivardhan and said, “You may leave now. Regarding the position, our receptionist will inform you via phone or email. Good day to you.”

Trivardhan returned home and waited anxiously for the result.

_{This scene is part of a broader narrative I’ve been exploring. Does it spark curiosity or raise questions for you? I’d really appreciate your insights in the comments.}