My manager, despite his strictness, would often accompany me part of the way home, taking a taxi to Aminjikarai to ensure I got on the bus safely—only to return to his own home in Triplicane. His kindness puzzled me, and as soon as the bus left, I would get off at the next stop and head to my typewriting class. 

Returning home past 10 p.m. was challenging, especially since the buses stopped running by then. Walking alone from the bus stop to my house was a nerve-wracking experience. A group of stray dogs would bark at me every night. I was terrified, hoping each time for a passing cyclist to offer a lift, but no one ever stopped. Eventually, I would gather my courage and walk through the barking pack. Later, I discovered they were harmless—just clicking my fingers and offering a biscuit would turn them into wagging companions. 

Although my manager’s strictness led to some conflict, he did help me get the bank job. When the time came, he even relieved me immediately with a predated resignation letter. In a way, he too was a godsend. 

During my commute, I met another fascinating individual—a story writer who worked for a multinational advertising firm. He boarded the bus a few stops ahead of me, and we soon became friends. If Pickwick were real, this man would be his twin—charming, humorous, and full of life. He had just finished writing a popular series for Kumudam called Vaalgal and later started another titled Emangal, in which he gave one of the characters my name! 

Despite his shyness, he once wrote a story about himself, titled Miss GK, humorously portraying his struggle with shyness. On April Fool’s Day, he boarded the bus with a blood-stained bandage, claiming he had accidentally hammered a nail into his hand. The next day, he revealed the prank with a grin, leaving us all in stitches. 

Another memorable figure was an Anglo-Indian foreman from the Exide workshop across from our office. A lively character, he was full of witty advice, like, “Starve a fever and stuff a cold.” I still remember his pride during his farewell party, a picture etched in my memory. 

These were the god-like individuals who enriched my life during that period, each in their unique way. 

Contd. 340. Lose to Gain