After regaining consciousness, I found myself lying on a couch. It seemed that someone had nursed my bruises. I was barely able to move as my entire body was hurting. A deep, baritone voice inquired from behind, "Are you feeling alright, son?" It felt to be a familiar voice. Soon the speaker stood right in front of me. It was none other than famous cop-turned-politician Kiran Bedi, who happened to be my mentor.
Me: "Ma'am? How did I reach here?"
Kiran: "Someone was frantically calling me. When I received the call, he told me that this number was saved as an emergency number in your phone. After learning about your condition, I immediately sent my PA to safely bring you here."
Me: "Yeah...ahh...Actually you are the only one whom I know personally in Delhi. Hence..."
Kiran: "Good. But what are you doing here in Delhi?"
Me: "I came here to attend Enrique's concert."
Kiran: "What...which concert?" (I could notice an expression of disapproval on her face.)
Me: "Enrique Iglesias..."
Kiran: "What's that?"
Me: "Ma'am...it's a person. He is a world famous Spanish singer."
Kiran: "What?! Sid, I didn't expect this from you. I thought you were sensible." She further added, "You should've quietly come back from there. See...they attacked you."
Me: "But...ma'am...it was always my dream to meet Enrique. I only went to gift him a portrait and say a 'hello'."
Kiran: "Son, I get that you're fond of this person (Iglesias). However, there is a time and place for everything. You could've met him at some press conference or a promotional event. See...focus more on your career rather running after these concerts. Become a famous journalist first. Then this fellow would come calling on you. It is not you who should run after him!"
Taking that sound advice from Dr. Bedi, I resolved to focus more on my career goal— to become a "famous" journalist.
