I’m now a well-settled author, but when I first started writing, things were far from easy. I began as a part-timer for a generic English newspaper, eventually working my way up to writer and now editor. Back then, the real struggle wasn’t my lack of writing experience but the payment issues. You see, small newspapers only pay after your article is published, and writing an article isn’t just about the words—it’s about getting the pictures, fonts, headings, and everything else just right.
Handling all of this myself drained both time and money. To make matters worse, my supervisor seemed more concerned with font styles than the actual content! But the way people tend to focus on the less important things brings us to the next adventure…
The Engineer's Invisible Road
Mr. Munsichand was a brilliant electrical engineer,
There were no twists and turns of wires that remained unsolved in his presence.
Yet mysterious he was, not in the current and voltage of the electricity department but in the road department.
The answer to how and why is unknown even to the greatest of minds.
Despite his unexplainable posting, he was a very dedicated worker.
I cannot particularly say dedicated to the department,
For he was a master of self-interest, always ensuring his own reward,
His meritious work demanded a cut,
Just seventy percent to reward his vigilance,
As, of course, payment for his hard work.
Oh, of course, the salary existed, but again, his dedication demanded more.
This all resulted in the obvious:
That is, the presence of world-class roads that never existed.
Complaints echoed, but Munsichand's devotion muffled them.
Unluckily for Mr. Munsichand, clouds of darkness were wandering overhead.
His sunshine was now a flickering light,
For an inspection was yet to come.
What would they do to such a loyal, hard-working employee
If they became aware of his deeds?
Unlike anyone else who would be stressed by such an inspection,
Mr. Munsichand took it as a test of his dedication.
He decided he would do his absolute best work,
A masterpiece that even the Taj would bow to his brilliance,
But the road itself? An afterthought.
He brought the best of his men to the table,
To make decisions under the swinging light of inspection.
The group was made up of the brightest minds of the road department,
But I feel entitled to inform you that the brightest minds never end up in the road department.
Nevertheless, the committee was set, and all essential decisions were made,
Like where the samosas should be kept and where the jalebis should be.
All that remained was the construction of something some might call a road.
They then suddenly realized another important thing—streetlights.
I mean, how would the inspectors see their work without lights?
So the committee sent a tender for the best streetlights.
They bought the German streetlights since the British ones were not up to their standard.
Then they realized they would also have to make drains,
Or else the road would flow with them in heavy rains.
They then sent a tender for drains,
And selected the British drains since the French ones were too classy.
They then realized they needed a footpath,
Or else where would the inspectors roam?
So again they sent a tender,
But unlike the previous times, this time the committee made a difficult decision.
They selected the Indian tender since the others were too colonizing.
I never understood what they meant by it,
But, of course, they were the brightest of minds.
In accomplishing all these ventures, the budget of the road department was finished,
And so was the committee's work.
Everything was ready: the German lights,
The British drains, and the Indian paths.
All that now remained was something called a road,
But it did not matter to Mr. Munsichand since he had showcased his dedicated work.
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