Ma continuously pestering me to join something which is more humane in working hours and to the society (guess affairs of a north Indian fella in a place filled with pretty coorgies and dark southern beauties are not that hidden even though mystifying to the core). I had to say good bye to a ‘life’ and move ahead. Knees jittering, and nails almost disappearing among the yellowing teeth I walked through the entrance to one of the conference rooms – a room with 3 glass walls. If I was nervous within, guess the poking eyes of anybody who crossed the room was making me sweat. Acting brave towards the recruitment female I complained of AC being down, she asked the office boy to get some water and at the same time chuckled to the comment I had just thrown. After a few moments a guy casually comes in and introduces himself as the QA manager (guess his rather calm reverie and attire helped me chill and finally relax after being in the ‘glass’ room for quite some time). The interview taking. Miho wanted the same change and saw the ordeal to come as being the bridge she must cross to achieve it. The hemp ropes bit into her skin as Miho tried to twist her body away from the intruder: It would be no use: She was bound fast. Calm, calm, she must control her body. The man was checking the tension in the ropes that bound her arms and thighs to the posts. They must be tight but not too tight. Only Miho's arms and the part of her legs were bound but it was enough to render her effectively immobile. The roof that covered the open porch was supported by five massive wooden beams, a foot wide at least. Each beam was supported by a pair of posts about a foot apart, one on either side. Miho was bound to the posts supporting the center beam, her arms laced vertically to the posts by hemp ropes that began at her shoulders and ran downwards to spread her legs at the thighs. As with all parts of Japanese life, there was metaphorical significance if it was looked for. The two posts might.
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