– Lies your glorious destiny…
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.” — Haruki Murakami
Anwesha Mondal’s reflection in the cracked mirror told a story she no longer recognized. The dull hum of the ceiling fan did little to distract her from the thoughts swirling within. Laid off — the words clung to her like a stain. Cost-cutting, they had called it. A necessary evil. But she knew the truth. A small-town Bengali honours graduate from a government college in remote Bengal had little sway in corporate boardrooms. No polished accent, no manicured charm. She didn’t belong to the crowd that spoke in measured tones and strode with borrowed confidence.
Despite her repeated attempts, rejection became her only constant. Interviews ended with patronizing nods, polite apologies, and the same refrain — “We’ll get back to you.” They never did.
She watched others — the metropolitan girls with their practiced smiles and effortless English, walking out of those glass towers with job offers in hand. The world wasn’t built for people like Anwesha, who wore ambition on her sleeves but lacked the lustre they demanded.
But one evening, as the sun dipped behind the rows of cramped houses, a decision stirred within her. She withdrew her modest savings — the result of countless compromises and canceled desires. If the world wouldn’t open its doors, she would build her own.
The nameplate on her rented one-room office read “Anwesha Merchandising” in simple black letters. No sooner had she spread the word than the calls began. Small businesses needed banners, branded stationery, custom uniforms — tasks she handled with diligence. Word traveled quickly. Her phone buzzed incessantly, and within weeks, she found herself negotiating with corporate houses. The same corporations that once dismissed her now sought her expertise.
Then, it happened.
A sleek envelope landed on her desk. The logo embossed in silver was unmistakable. The very company that had called her “ungroomed” had now issued a purchase order. A sum she once deemed unattainable stared back at her.
She traced the embossed letters with trembling fingers, a smile flickering at the corner of her lips. But there was no bitterness in her heart — only triumph.
Hours later, Anwesha stepped out of a swanky building at Salt Lake Sector-VII. The glass facade loomed above her, its mirrored surface reflecting the overcast sky. She clutched the purchase order tightly. The air was thick with the chatter of suited executives, but she no longer felt invisible.
“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.” — Maya Angelou
Anwesha took one final glance at the towering building before walking away. She was no longer the girl who sought acceptance. She was the woman they now sought — and this time, it was on her terms.
