Rejected by power, redeemed by time

The urge to return to one’s homeland can manifest in many ways in an individual’s life. No matter how good the workplace may be, the mind often drifts towards returning home for good. In the early 2000s, I started my career as a senior officer at Mangaluru Electricity Supply Company. The job was rewarding, and Mangaluru itself was charming. But it was not quite like my native, Bengaluru. Over the years, homesickness deepened and eventually drove me to look for greener pastures in Bengaluru. I applied to three government organisations.

My first interview was at a public sector behemoth. There were nearly 30 aspirants, and, while waiting for my turn, I felt like a novice among them — a David among Goliaths. 

The interview panel comprised experts from various fields. There were many rounds of interviews, and, by 3 pm, the crowd had dwindled from 30 to 10. Until then, I had managed really well. 

As the clock struck 4:30 pm, only five candidates remained in the penultimate round—including me. When the results of that final round were announced, euphoric relief washed over me. I had made it this far. I felt like a man emancipated. I could sense Bengaluru on the horizon.

Thereafter, a senior officer escorted me to the CMD’s cabin, which itself felt uncanny. The CMD was a grouchy-looking man in his late fifties, seated with an aura of royalty and power. He did not so much as glance at me and appeared dismissive of my presence. It became quite evident that he did not want me, despite my having been selected. All he remarked was that I was too young, brushing aside my past credentials. His body language suggested he had someone else in mind. “I’ll get back to you,” he stated firmly, indicating that the conversation was over.

More than me, the senior officer accompanying me seemed disheartened. I could hear him speak in the background: “Sir, one chance you could have given to the young man.” Those words reverberated in my ear for many days afterwards.

The very next week, I received call letters from two public sector undertakings and was selected in both. Eventually, I opted for the better of the two.

A few years later, after I had settled down in Bengaluru, one fine morning while sipping coffee and catching up on the news, a headline caught my eye and made my heart race: “CMD Arrested for Bribery and Fraud.” At first, I could hardly believe it. Memories of our tense meeting came flooding back, and I felt a strange mix of emotions — relief, indignation, and, above all, vindication. Karma, it seemed, had finally taken its toll. 

Only later did I discover that I had in fact been the legitimate candidate for the position but had been overlooked in favour of a politically preferred appointment. An official from the chief minister’s office had swooped in, and the decision had ultimately been driven not by merit, but by opportunism.