<p>Employment was not easy for engineering graduates in the 50s. So, when I saw an ad for a central government job, I was thrilled. It asked for no experience. The basic pay was a hundred rupees. I applied straight away and waited with 29 others for a memorable interview. We stood in line, three rows of ten each. After a few minutes, an army officer came and scrutinised us. </p>.<p>“Diploma holders, three steps back,” he announced. Twenty young men stepped back. “You will be called for another interview. You may now please leave.” They left silently, disappointment writ large on their faces. The remaining ten of us were next grilled by an HRD official who checked our degree certificates and asked for details of our extracurricular activities. </p>.<p>That night, I quickly glanced through my textbooks on electrical engineering. The ten of us were back the next day in the office of the General Manager. The office was impressive with photographs of Gandhi, Nehru and Subhas Chandra Bose adorning the walls. The GM waved me to a chair and fired the first question.</p>.<p>“Do you have any experience in acting?” he asked.</p>.<p>“No, sir,” I stammered. Had I entered the wrong room, I wondered uneasily. </p>.<p>My interlocutor continued calmly:</p>.<p>“Would you like to take part in one?” he asked. </p>.<p>“I can try, sir” I answered in a weak voice. I would have done anything for the job. </p>.<p>“Okay then. Report to Mr Sen at once.”</p>.<p>The interview was over. I was sure by then that there was a mix-up. </p>.<p>Mr Sen was an amicable gentleman who told me that I would be given a small role in a play staged in a leading club in Bangalore. I just had to wheel a young boy to the centre of the stage, point to a distant object and tell him loudly, “There is the post office,” and move him on to the other side of the stage.</p>.<p>On the day of the play, I stood in the wings waiting for the director to give me the signal. The moment of truth had come and I was determined to do my best. When he signalled, I pushed the boy in the wheelchair to the centre of the stage at full speed. I shouted at the top of my voice, “There is the post office.” The whole of Bengaluru must have heard me. Then I raced the wheelchair out of the stage. There was tremendous applause. I was complimented on my excellent performance. Some even said that I had a bright future in theatre. This was my first job and my last appearance on the stage.</p>
<p>Employment was not easy for engineering graduates in the 50s. So, when I saw an ad for a central government job, I was thrilled. It asked for no experience. The basic pay was a hundred rupees. I applied straight away and waited with 29 others for a memorable interview. We stood in line, three rows of ten each. After a few minutes, an army officer came and scrutinised us. </p>.<p>“Diploma holders, three steps back,” he announced. Twenty young men stepped back. “You will be called for another interview. You may now please leave.” They left silently, disappointment writ large on their faces. The remaining ten of us were next grilled by an HRD official who checked our degree certificates and asked for details of our extracurricular activities. </p>.<p>That night, I quickly glanced through my textbooks on electrical engineering. The ten of us were back the next day in the office of the General Manager. The office was impressive with photographs of Gandhi, Nehru and Subhas Chandra Bose adorning the walls. The GM waved me to a chair and fired the first question.</p>.<p>“Do you have any experience in acting?” he asked.</p>.<p>“No, sir,” I stammered. Had I entered the wrong room, I wondered uneasily. </p>.<p>My interlocutor continued calmly:</p>.<p>“Would you like to take part in one?” he asked. </p>.<p>“I can try, sir” I answered in a weak voice. I would have done anything for the job. </p>.<p>“Okay then. Report to Mr Sen at once.”</p>.<p>The interview was over. I was sure by then that there was a mix-up. </p>.<p>Mr Sen was an amicable gentleman who told me that I would be given a small role in a play staged in a leading club in Bangalore. I just had to wheel a young boy to the centre of the stage, point to a distant object and tell him loudly, “There is the post office,” and move him on to the other side of the stage.</p>.<p>On the day of the play, I stood in the wings waiting for the director to give me the signal. The moment of truth had come and I was determined to do my best. When he signalled, I pushed the boy in the wheelchair to the centre of the stage at full speed. I shouted at the top of my voice, “There is the post office.” The whole of Bengaluru must have heard me. Then I raced the wheelchair out of the stage. There was tremendous applause. I was complimented on my excellent performance. Some even said that I had a bright future in theatre. This was my first job and my last appearance on the stage.</p>
