Chapter 4: The Name Before the Face
Delhi announced opportunity the way it announced everything else—loudly, relentlessly, without pause.
Billboards promised futures. Offices promised stability. People promised certainty they themselves were still searching for.
Suhani Singh sat at the small study table in her childhood room, laptop open, window half ajar. The sounds of the city filtered in—vendors calling out, distant traffic, a temple bell ringing somewhere far yet familiar. On the wall above her desk hung a simple framed image of Lord Shiva, eyes closed in eternal stillness.
She looked at it often these days.
Not to ask for miracles.
Only for steadiness.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. This was her first job application—not an internship, not a recommendation-backed placement, not a favour wrapped in privilege. This was her decision, her leap, her risk.
She exhaled slowly.
“Just breathe,” she whispered to herself.
The job portals glowed with possibilities, but one listing had held her attention since morning.
**Seafigure Essence Private Limited**
*Delhi Branch*
*Position: Strategy & Market Development Associate*
She read the description again, as if the words might rearrange themselves.
*Candidates with exposure to international business frameworks, market-entry analysis, sustainability-driven strategy, and cross-cultural workshops preferred.*
Her heart skipped.
New York.
The workshop.
The case studies.
The questions she had dared to ask out loud.
It felt… aligned.
She scrolled further.
*Fresh graduates with strong analytical thinking and ethical leadership orientation encouraged to apply.*
Fresh graduate.
That was her.
Her stomach tightened.
“What if I’m not enough?” the thought came uninvited, familiar and sharp.
She closed her eyes for a moment and turned toward the small shrine in the corner of the room. She stood up, folded her hands, and bowed her head.
“Shiv ji,” she murmured softly, voice trembling despite her effort to steady it, “I’m not asking you to make this easy. Just… help me be honest. Help me be brave.”
The room felt quieter after that, as if something had listened.
She sat down again and uploaded her résumé—simple, clean, unembellished. Education. Workshop participation. Independent research work. No exaggeration, no borrowed confidence.
Her cover letter took longer.
She deleted three versions before settling on the truth.
*I am applying not because I am certain, but because I am curious. I believe strategy is not about domination, but direction…*
She paused, reread it, corrected a line, then clicked **Submit**.
The confirmation email arrived seconds later.
*Thank you for applying to Seafigure Essence Private Limited. Shortlisted candidates will be contacted by our Delhi HR team.*
Suhani leaned back in her chair, pulse loud in her ears.
It was done.
---
Seafigure Essence Private Limited occupied the seventh and eighth floors of a modern corporate building in **Connaught Place**, Delhi. The building itself was understated—glass panels, neutral tones, no aggressive branding. Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and paper, of professionalism without pretense.
The Delhi branch functioned with near-complete autonomy.
Hiring, shortlisting, interviews—all handled locally.
At exactly 10:30 a.m. the next morning, **Ms. Radhika Mehra**, Senior HR Manager—Delhi Operations, opened her inbox. Radhika was known for two things within the company: her precision and her intolerance for inflated egos.
She scanned applications quickly, eyes trained to skip unnecessary flourish.
One résumé made her pause.
“Suhani Singh,” she read aloud quietly.
No family name attached to power. No excessive certifications. But the workshop reference caught her attention.
*Global Strategy & Ethical Leadership Workshop, New York.*
Radhika clicked deeper.
The cover letter was… different.
Honest. Calm. Thoughtful.
“She doesn’t sell herself,” Radhika murmured. “She explains herself.”
She forwarded the profile to **Aman Verma**, Assistant HR Executive, and **Kabir Malhotra**, Strategy Lead—Delhi.
*Worth interviewing,* she typed simply.
---
Two days later, Suhani’s phone rang while she was helping her mother in the kitchen.
Unknown number.
Her heart jumped.
She wiped her hands quickly and answered. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon, this is Aman Verma calling from Seafigure Essence Private Limited, Delhi branch.”
Her breath caught. “Yes—yes, speaking.”
“Ms. Suhani Singh, your profile has been shortlisted for the position of Strategy & Market Development Associate. We would like to invite you for an in-person interview.”
For a second, she couldn’t speak.
“Ms. Singh?”
“Yes—sorry—yes, thank you,” she said, words tumbling. “Thank you so much.”
Aman smiled on the other end. He had heard that tone before—hope mixed with disbelief.
“We’ve scheduled your interview for this Friday at 11:00 a.m., at our Connaught Place office. Please carry a printed copy of your résumé and any supporting documents.”
“I will,” she said softly. “I really appreciate this opportunity.”
After the call ended, Suhani stood frozen, phone still pressed to her ear.
Her mother noticed immediately. “What happened?”
“I… I got an interview call,” Suhani said, eyes filling unexpectedly. “My first one.”
Her mother hugged her without a word.
That night, Suhani barely slept.
---
Friday arrived too quickly.
Suhani stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her formal kurta and blazer for the tenth time. Navy blue. Simple. Professional. Her hair tied back neatly. No jewellery except small silver earrings.
She looked at herself and tried to recognize the woman staring back.
“You belong there,” she whispered.
Before leaving, she stopped once more at the shrine.
“Whatever happens,” she said quietly, “thank you.”
---
Connaught Place buzzed with mid-morning energy. White pillars. Circular roads. Offices tucked between cafes and bookstores. Seafigure’s building stood slightly apart, its glass reflecting the city without absorbing its chaos.
Suhani entered the lobby, palms damp, heart racing.
At the reception desk, a young woman smiled. “Good morning.”
“I’m here for an interview,” Suhani said, voice steady despite the storm inside. “Suhani Singh.”
The receptionist checked the list. “Yes, please take a seat. HR will call you shortly.”
The waiting area was minimalist—grey couches, a low table with company brochures, a large window overlooking the street. Two other candidates sat there, dressed sharply, speaking softly on their phones.
Suhani sat down, clasping her folder tightly.
*You can do this,* she told herself.
*You don’t need to impress. Just be real.*
“Ms. Suhani Singh?” a voice called.
She looked up.
A woman in her late thirties stood there—confident posture, calm eyes.
“I’m Radhika Mehra,” she said. “Please come in.”
The interview room was bright, sunlight spilling through large windows. Aman Verma sat beside Radhika, laptop open. A third chair across the table waited for her.
Suhani greeted them politely and sat.
Radhika glanced at her résumé. “This is your first formal interview, isn’t it?”
Suhani nodded honestly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” she admitted, then added softly, “But I’m also very interested.”
Radhika smiled faintly. “That’s a good combination.”
The questions began—education, thought process, ethical dilemmas, market-entry scenarios. When they asked about the New York workshop, Suhani’s voice steadied.
“It taught me that strategy without conscience is just ambition,” she said. “And ambition without accountability eventually collapses.”
Aman looked up, impressed.
Kabir Malhotra entered midway, observing quietly. He asked only one question.
“If given a choice between fast success and slow sustainability, what would you choose?”
Suhani didn’t hesitate. “Sustainability. Because fast success still demands payment—just later, with interest.”
Silence followed.
Not awkward.
Evaluative.
Radhika closed the file. “Thank you, Suhani. We’ll get back to you.”
Suhani stood, thanked them, and walked out, legs slightly shaky.
Outside the building, she exhaled deeply, eyes lifting instinctively to the sky.
“I did my best,” she whispered. “The rest is yours.”
She did not know—could not know—that somewhere far away, the name **Seafigure Essence** answered to one man.
A man who had once introduced himself with just one word.
Dhruv.
