Good morning, Ravi Prakash here! Buckle up, as I take you on the third chapter of my life’s rollercoaster. Spoiler alert: It involves a government jeep, a reluctant dad, and more career twists than a Bollywood plot.
Once upon a time, in a small plywood factory, I was a humble typist earning a princely ₹60 a month. My father, a self-proclaimed anti-urban crusader, warned me against city life but begrudgingly celebrated my small triumphs. Fast forward a bit: I passed my senior shorthand and typing exams, and—cue dramatic music—landed a state government job at just 18 years old.
Here’s where it gets spicy. Imagine a government jeep showing up at my modest home every morning. My mother’s joy was like that of a cricket fan spotting Dhoni in their living room. Little did I know, my role as a PA (Personal Assistant, not Prince of Awesomeness… sadly) made me a mini-celebrity in local bureaucracy. The respect? Palpable. The power? Real. The typewriter? Always by my side, like a loyal sidekick in a superhero movie.
But life is no static typewriter ribbon. One fine day, I found myself at Bharat Electronics, Bangalore, facing an IAS officer in an interview. His first question wasn’t even in English—it was Kannada, as though to test if my roots were strong despite my city aspirations.
Analogy Time: My career was like a government jeep—unexpectedly pulling up, offering adventures, and occasionally bouncing over potholes.
To wrap it up, life’s been a series of surprises, from my father disappearing into thin air to my mother’s delight over a jeep. Through it all, I learned this: even a typist can type their way into history, one keystroke at a time.
Signing off,
Ravi Prakash
P.S. Remember, life is like shorthand—quick, unpredictable, and best mastered with a bit of humor. Keep your typewriter ready!
Share this post