(9:00 AM)
The Tuesday morning rush in Chandigarh was always fast-paced. With only a week left for the project submission, two partners from the 'Future of Indian Startups' team were scheduled to interview a startup founder today.
Shubham, as always, was ready. He had been waiting for Rajat since 8:30 AM. He had a meticulous list of interview questions, which he considered 'non-negotiable'.
Just then, Rajat's call came through.
"Yes, Rajat! Where are you? We were supposed to leave at 9:00 AM. The interview is at 10:30 AM," Shubham's voice was laced with irritation.
Rajat's voice on the phone sounded weak and broken.
"Dude, Shubham... I can't make it..."
"What do you mean, 'you can't make it'?" Shubham rubbed his forehead.
"You know how critical the visual content part is!"
"Brother, I have a terrible fever! 102 degrees! My head is splitting, and honestly, I think it was those golgappas I ate last week," Rajat said in a tone of forced agony.
"Golgappas? You should be worried about the project, not street food!" Shubham almost yelled. "Now what? The entire day is ruined!"
Rajat whispered weakly, "Why ruined? I have an arrangement."
"What arrangement?"
"I called Tisha. She can handle the camera, and you... well, you're the 'Master of Questions.'
Please, buddy, for the sake of our friendship, you two manage it today.
I honestly can't even move," Rajat once again leveraged his 'innocence' to manipulate the situation.
Shubham's blood boiled. "Tisha? The Goddess of Carelessness? Rajat, are you out of your mind?
She will mess everything up! She can't focus for a minute!"
"Please, Shubham. She's creative, and she'll manage. Just for today, please!" Rajat tried to make his voice sound even sicker.
Shubham knew he had no choice. Cancelling the interview meant failing the project, and failure was unacceptable to Shubham.
"Fine! But if anything goes wrong, Rajat, you are finished!" Shubham hung up the phone and opened the door in a huff.
Shubham was waiting at the university gate. Exactly five minutes later, Tisha arrived on her vibrant, red scooter.
She wore a simple cotton top and jeans. She had a small bag slung over her shoulder and carried a large professional camera.
Tisha stopped the scooter and took off her helmet. Her face expressed a weary resignation.
"Hi, Mr. Shubham! I apologize, I really didn't want to come either, but Rajat is genuinely sick," Tisha stated matter-of-factly.
Shubham looked at her.
He was slightly surprised that she could handle a camera.
"Yes, I know. And I also know how terrible this idea is," Shubham replied without any politeness.
"I don't need your opinion," Tisha rolled her eyes. "So? What's the plan? Where is your car?"
"We'll go in my car. This interview needs a professional setup, not your... colourful scooter," Shubham said dismissively.
"Colourful scooter?
It's my life! And have you ever considered the poor mileage of your boring, black car?" Tisha immediately launched into a small lecture on environment and economy.
Shubham ignored her.
"Come on, stop arguing. I have 20 questions, and not one of them should be missed. And yes, camera angles and recording are your responsibility. If there's any technical disturbance in the recording, then..."
"Then what? I go to jail?" Tisha interrupted. "I know my job, Mr. Perfect. And you should also know that an interview isn't just a list of questions, it's a conversation."
With that, Tisha got into his car. Shubham took a deep breath and got into the driver's seat. He felt like he was heading into a war, not a mission.
The car's AC was on, but the atmosphere inside was icy.
Silence reigned for five minutes. Tisha kept looking out the window, and Shubham drove with intense concentration.
"Where is your list, 'Mr. List'?" Tisha finally broke the silence.
Shubham picked up a file from the side seat. "Here it is. Read them carefully. These are the 'key questions' that we absolutely must cover."
Tisha picked up the file. As she read each question, her irritation grew.
"What is this? 'What is your startup's revenue model?' 'What is your rate of return on investment?'... Shubham! All of this can be found on Google! Is there no 'creative' question?"
Tisha threw the file back.
"With your 'creativity,' we will lose our credibility! We need data, Tisha! Not emotions! This is not a story-writing competition!" Shubham slammed the brakes slightly.
"And you think a successful founder only wants to talk about the revenue model? They want to talk about their journey! Their inspiration! Their initial struggle! If I ask him, 'What was your inspiration?', he will answer from the heart.
And that is what will make the video a hit!" Tisha shot back.
Shubham looked at her. Tisha's face showed not anger, but passion. He sensed a strange honesty in her voice.
For a moment, Shubham dropped his rigidity. "Alright. You can ask your three 'creative' questions at the end.
Provided our key questions are covered."
Tisha smiled. This was the first time she had gained a concession from Shubham. "Deal!"
Meanwhile, at Rajat's apartment—
Rajat, who had claimed to be sick, was enjoying his forced break, lying in bed with chips and a laptop.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Ritika and Isha walked in. Ritika's face was furious, while Isha was smiling.
"Hey, Ritika! Isha! You two! Come, sit! How did you get here?" Rajat quickly pulled the blanket over himself and tried to weaken his voice.
"You liar!" Ritika put her hand on Rajat's forehead. "102 degrees? You don't even have 98.6! Is this your 'framing,' Mr. Funny Guy!"
"No! No! I really have a fever! Look, my body... it's all because of the golgappas..."
Ritika snatched the packet of chips from him.
"Fever patients don't eat chips! You made an excuse so you could send Tisha and Shubham alone! Do you want them to fight and ruin this project?"
"Yes, yes! I do! So they can get to 'know each other' well! You two always say that Opposites Attract. I'm just helping the Universe!"
Rajat chuckled mischievously.
Ritika rolled her eyes. "You're a devil!"
Isha laughed. "Ritika, calm down.
He really is a devil. But yes, it will be fun to see how Shubham and Tisha manage."
Ritika picked up a textbook from the table. "You think you're smart?
What did you think? Why did we come to your place? This is your punishment! From today until you are completely well, Isha and I will stay at your house to do the project's data entry and report writing."
"What? No! My house... this is my private space!" Rajat protested.
"Now it's our 'Data-Entry-Room.' Get up and give us the laptop," Ritika commanded.
Rajat thought to himself: Oh God! I only wanted to trap Tisha and Shubham, and I've trapped myself!
But at the same time, seeing Ritika's concerned worry, he felt a strange happiness inside.
The interview was taking place in a tech park. Tisha set up the camera.
The interview began. Shubham asked the first few questions—precise, data-driven, and slightly boring.
The founder, looking somewhat bored, gave short answers.
Shubham had mentally checked off his questions one by one.
Then Shubham looked at Tisha. "Now, your three 'creative' questions."
Tisha turned the camera on and smiled. "Sir, my name is Tisha. I want to know, when you first failed, did you ever consider giving up?"
The founder's eyes lit up at the question. He pulled his chair closer.
"Giving up... Yes, Tisha. Many times. When my wife told me to shut it all down... when all my savings ran out... that moment..." The founder began narrating a story.
It was a story of struggle and passion.
Shubham was amazed. The interview had suddenly become lively. The founder was now speaking from the heart.
Tisha's third question was: "If you had a magic power, what would you change about your startup journey?"
The founder laughed. "I would change people's habit of 'giving up'."
The interview was fantastic. After the recording, the founder praised Tisha. "Very good questions, young lady. You reminded me of my toughest journey."
On the way back in the car, Tisha was silent. Shubham was driving, his mind still on the interview.
"Your questions were good, Tisha," Shubham managed to say with difficulty.
Instead of smiling, Tisha looked at him. "Thank you. I knew they would be."
"But that doesn't mean you're right.
Your 'passion' is useless unless it is supported by our 'data.' I still believe that data is king," Shubham immediately put his 'perfect' armour back on.
"Yes, yes. You are always right. And I am always 'careless' and 'just for decoration'," Tisha said angrily.
The Seed of Misunderstanding:
"Why do you always have to take everything so personally? I'm talking about the project," Shubham said, exasperated.
"No, you are talking about me! You always try to prove that I am 'incapable' because I don't read books all the time like you! You believe that I am not your equal, don't you!" Tisha shouted.
Shubham abruptly stopped the car. "Yes, I do! Outside of this project, you are not my equal anywhere! You always need someone to support you, while I can manage everything myself."
This statement pierced Tisha like an arrow. She felt that she couldn't prove all her hard work and creativity to Shubham.
"Fine, Mr. Perfect! From now on, I don't need any of your 'support.' As soon as Rajat gets well, I will do this entire work alone. You don't need to interfere in my part!"
Tisha opened the car door and got out onto the middle of the road without a word.
Shubham was stunned.
He felt he had said something too harsh. He was about to shout to call her back when Tisha immediately flagged an auto to reach her scooter.
Shubham leaned his head on the steering wheel. What have I done?
This first 'solo journey' didn't bring them closer, but pushed them further apart.