“Once this project is over, I think the risk will reduce,” Swami said, as he sipped his coffee. “Raichand has said that next quarter onwards, things might get better and our jobs will be safe. Though one never knows,” Swami continued.
Jigneshbhai munched into his muffin with a smile, while I wondered why Swami was worried about his job again.
“Why the sudden worry?” Jigneshbhai probed with a wink.
Swami looked at us and shifted slightly in his seat. “Well, the times are tough. Uncertainty all around,” he said.
“Hmm,” Jigneshbhai remarked. “When will certainty come around?” he asked.
“You tell me. You are the expert,” Swami replied, referring to Jigneshbhai’s investment advisory business.
“It depends on what kind of certainty you are looking for…If you are..,” Jigneshbhai started but Swami cut him.
“Oh, don’t talk like those TV anchors,” he interjected. “This depends on thing is the tough one. So I have to somehow manage for the next few quarters.”
“Manage what?” Jigneshbhai asked Swami again.
“Well, manage my job and my boss, what else? By the way, why are you picking on me today?” Swami got irritated. I could understand. He was talking about his job.
“I am not picking on you,” Jigneshbhai replied cheekily, though I knew what the reality was. “You asked me to tell when the uncertainty will end. You said I was the expert,” Jigneshbhai retorted, this time not taking things lying down.
I felt like my friends were in for a tussle today. So I stayed silent, as always, and hoped that it would pass. Swami stared at me for a few moments.
“I meant how long will this uncertainty last? How long will this dark phase last?” Swami asked, almost pleading for an answer.
But there was none that Jigneshbhai could offer. He sipped his coffee and took another bite of the muffin. Swami and I knew something was cooking. We waited for him to speak.
“Well, the uncertainty will last till everyone is certain that it’s enough,” he replied. “The darkness lasts till someone decides to switch on the light,” he said, after a brief silence.
A small frown made its presence felt on Swami’s face. Before it turned into a scowl, Jigneshbhai continued.
“How long can you live in the fear of uncertainty? How long can anyone live in the fear of the dark?” he asked.
Swami and I pondered over it for a while before Swami spoke.
“Well, I have to somehow see through the next few months. I have to keep Raichand happy till then,” Swami said, taking his mind back to the more mundane activities of his job.
“That should be a piece of cake for you. You have somehow managed for so many years. You have kept Raichand and other bosses happy in so many jobs,” Jigneshbhai said.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Swami grinned, regaining some confidence that he had lost since we met today. “So I guess I should be able to manage, if you say so.”
“I always knew you could. But that’s not the question,” Jigneshbhai retorted this time holding his cup.
“Then what’s the question?” Swami asked this time confused. So was I. When the answer seemed clear to Swami, Jigneshbhai said that was not the question. Both of us looked at him in eager anticipation. He was staring in blank space.
“The question is what are you looking for after that?” Jigneshbhai asked. Swami scratched his head when he heard the question. He had forgotten what he had asked, as usual.
“That’s a good question. But what after what?” Swami asked.
“After managing for a few months?” Jigneshbhai reminded.
“Oh, That I don’t know,” Swami pondered. “Just looking for someone to switch on the light I think, as you said,” he remarked and laughed out loud.
“Once the uncertainty goes, enjoy the certainty, I guess,” he added. Jigneshbhai and I joined in the laughter.
“And once the darkness goes, enjoy the light, I guess,” Jigneshbhai said, shrugging his shoulders.
That is when I saw that the wealthy old man had walked across the café and moved closer to our table. He stood next to me and Swami and tapped me on the shoulder. I don’t know how he manifests himself all of a sudden, but he does it every time. And he leaves us with something to ponder over every time too. This time was no different.
As Jigneshbhai and I sipped our coffee, he tapped Swami again and said, “Don’t live so much in the fear of the dark. It is better to love the light.”
He walked off and left us pondering even more as he turned back and said, “The switch is in your hands.”
***