15th January 2025.
10:00 a.m. - 4:00 p.m.
Vigyan Bhawan, Central Secretariat,
New Delhi
Global Summit on Disaster Resilience and Response 2025
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Presentations by international experts on the topic were mind-boggling for her. The panel discussion that followed later was so knowledgeable that she was engrossed in it. This was something she was craving.
Making new connections, meeting experts from all around the world, and a certificate to add to her resume—this was a day well spent. After this hectic day, it was 4:30 in the evening when she finally left the auditorium, bidding goodbye to her old and new acquaintances.
Stepping out of the auditorium, she turned to her left as she started walking towards the exit through the corridor; her eyes were skimming through the paintings of historically important events and figures on the left wall. On the right side there were windows allowing the cool breeze of winter to enter the hallway. When her eyes finally drifted from the paintings to her path in front, she saw a man. A man in the olive green uniform of the Indian Army is in the distance. Not that the hallway was empty; there were people of all types. There were military men too, but everyone was busy moving, talking, and smiling. Overall, everyone carried a comfortable vibe with them.
This particular gentleman, who caught her eyes, was standing amidst the crowd moving around him, going through papers with tension creases on his forehead.
Jhanvi looked at him and could not help the pout that came out of empathy for him. She too was this stressed out this morning with forms when the conference was about to begin.
It was only when she walked in his vicinity that she noticed he was talking to himself and then suddenly let out a frustrated mutter loud enough for people nearby to listen: "Ah, form filling for approving the smallest of things—this is the real disaster of our country."
Jhanvi heard it, and the debate champion in her could not resist. She blabbered out immediately as she passed by him, "Careful, sir. This paperwork will protect you when your actions are questioned by the law." She glanced back to make sure he heard.
It startled Aditya; he was busy with his own chaos till then and thought no one was paying attention to him. He turned back to identify whose sharp voice just cut through his concentration. And he found a woman in a pink saree and white blazer looking at him with a sly smile and witty expressions. Before he could register anything else, she turned front and continued in her direction. He stared in her direction for some time before returning to his work, to process the uninvited intrusion of a stranger. He allowed himself to smile for some some time as he was skimming through the papers this time.
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It took her fifteen minutes to reach nearest cafeteria. The usual government food outlet you would expect. Year old structure, with years of painting it white again and again. When she entered, she found old wooden furniture and bright tubelights hanging from the roof, bright enough to distort the aesthetics. The cashier was having an argument with someone over change and counters were filled with sweets and namkeens on display. She saw a brown board behind the cashier with names of various eatables on it with prices which were re written a number of time throughout the years, yet affordable enough as it should be in a government outlet.
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Finally, after a long day of conversing with bureaucrats and officials, tolerating their tantrums like a pro, Aditya was tired and made his way to the cafeteria, where he had been when he came here last time. It looked the same as it did then. When he entered, he was ready to go straight to the beverages counter, which was separate on the right of the main counter.
There. That's when he saw the same pink saree and white blazer again near the main counter. The woman in question was there too, her head tilted towards the menu. That smile crept back on his face again, and before he could analyze anything, he was next to her, on her right. She did not notice his presence, searching through the menu too diligently, until he spoke.
"Choose anything but not the paneer wrap."
His voice broke her internal monologue, and she turned to face him. Surprised to notice his familiar face.
"Did you follow me? To know the importance of paperwork?"
"Nah, I just happened to be here. I was worried enough to let another person fall into the trap of paneer wraps."
She smiled. He noticed. He noticed her exhausted yet content expressions. She's been here a while, clearly. 'Official, maybe?' Then he saw the ID card—'Health' Department—of course.'
He added further, "And as for paperwork, it doesn't save lives; it just makes sure someone has a name to blame when things go wrong."
This made her raise her eyebrows. She did not expect straightforward philosophical answers from a stranger in a cafeteria.
"Ah, so you are familiar with the blame game. And what if I do choose a paneer wrap?"
If debating like school competition was something she had chosen, he was ready to prove his intelligence in wordplay.
"Sure, go ahead, and when that wrap kills your taste buds and destroys your mood, I'm sure the 'blame' will not be on me."
"It will be. I was not even thinking about them until you sneaked it into my mind through your comment." Jahnvi was not ready to let this stranger take an upper hand in this unofficial, unwanted debate.
"No, madam, your bill with paneer wrap payment will have your name on it. You see paperwork. It doesn't mean who said it; it's what is written that matters, isn't it?"
Agh. She could see that smugness on his face. He caught her there.
"Well, then, if not this, then what should I try out here without regretting my order? And yes, I want that in writing. Documentation IS important to me." She said, with passive aggression, to hide how she could not come up with a strong argument against his last remark.
The smile on his face widened, impressed with her stubbornness. He picked up a paper napkin from the counter and scribbled something on it, handed it over to her, and went to the chai counter.
Jahnvi could not pinpoint the emotions at the moment. There was irritation at losing to a random stranger in a cafeteria. She was impressed with him, though she will not accept it right now. She was annoyed at how he just left, without a formal greeting.
'Did he come to embarrass me?' She thought to herself. Her face spelled irritation in all caps. With a deep exhale, she diverted her attention to that napkin.
She then read what he had written on that paper napkin in his quiet, legible handwriting (it was beautiful, but she will not agree at the moment).
Tamarind rice.
Her frontal cortex told her to do the opposite of his suggestions. How can he tell her to do anything? Her intuition asked her to accept his advice. She was confused and annoyed.
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Five minutes later she was sitting at one of the tables with her tamarind rice. It was good. But she'd rather die than admit it.
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and then Add to home screen.