ಕನ್ನಡಿ

The interview is at ten. Meghana is ready at 8:15, which gives her an hour and forty-five minutes to talk herself out of going.

She has rehearsed the answers. She has ironed the kurta twice. She has read the company's website so many times she could already work there. What she hasn't done is believe she belongs in that room.

The look

So she does the thing her akka once told her about. She stands in front of the mirror, stops fixing her hair, and just looks. Not at the pimple, not at the kurta. Into her own eyes, for one full minute, the way you'd look at a friend you're proud of.

It feels silly for the first twenty seconds. Then it doesn't. Somewhere around forty, her eyes say it before her mouth can: ನೀನು ಮಾಡ್ತೀಯ. You've got this.

The story in her eyes

She doesn't remember most of the interview. She remembers walking in with her chin up. The offer came on Friday.

Kannalle Kathe is for that look too, the one you give yourself. Wear it on the days you need to see who you really are.