Armed with a bachelor's degree in medicine, I left Jammu, my hometown, for Delhi hoping to find a good job. Those were testing time — I was 1 my resume at every hospital and clinic in the capital, and facing upsetting 2responses. These big-city folks seemed too busy to care about a 23-year-old, jobless girl. Then a friend told me about the “Technical Recruitment Cell”,3 near the Income Tax Office (ITO), where I could 4 for a government job.
The next day I reached the ITO area and 5 in the sun for an hour asking everybody for the Technical Recruitment Cell, but no one had any idea 6 it was.
It was 7 and the heat unbearable. I then reached a big book shop, full of books on law and finance. Maybe I'll 8 inside, I thought as I walked in and found a man aged about 40 busy at his PC.9him, I asked if he knew the address. Seeing me drenched in sweat (大汗淋淳)，he asked me to take a 10 and offered me a glass of water. He then googled “Technical Recruitment Cell”, but without 11. I must have looked frustrated.
“Don't get 12.” he said, as he continued his search. “We'll find it.” He'd spent several minutes searching when an older man who also 13 in the shop, came by and asked us what we were looking for.
“Beta, it might be the Delhi Subordinate Board,” he suggested. “They 14 people for government posts.” We searched for that and found it 15 — actually the Delhi Subordinate Services Selection Board. They then gave me a printout of the 16
“What do I 17you for the Internet time and the printout?” I asked the first gentleman.
“Oh, nothing. Good luck!”
“Thank you,” I said to the pair. The older man then told me the 18 of the bus that would get me there, the fare, even the best 19 to take, finally saying “God bless you!” as I walked out.
I was happy in the discovery that not all city folks are too 20to help other.
