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Nirbhik “Bhola” Senjee was born on 3rd June 2012 in a large, bustling household nestled in the heart of South Kolkata. The house, painted in faded cream and bordered with iron railings, had stood for over a century. It was home to four generations grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, and at its very centre, Bhola. Though named Nirbhik meaning fearless the boy earned the nickname Bhola early in life for his innocent, wide-eyed ways and unflinching trust in everyone around him.

His world revolved around his joint family. The mornings were filled with the sound of clinking cups, newspapers rustling, and the strong aroma of South Indian filter coffee prepared religiously by the maid, Renu. Bhola’s mother, a senior bank manager, would leave early, dressed in crisp cotton sarees and armed with files. His father, the general manager of a logistics company, would follow, giving Bhola a quick kiss on the head before disappearing into the chaos of Kolkata traffic.

Bhola grew up amidst stories and secrets his grandfather reading aloud Tagore’s poems under the neem tree, cousins pulling pranks, his grandmother’s ritualistic Friday prayers, and laughter that echoed down the long corridors. It was a loud, loving home, one where food was plenty, rules were fluid, and everyone had a place. Bhola loved every inch of it.

But the warmth of joint families often hides the slow-burning members of change.

In 2024, when Bhola was 12, tragedy struck. His grandmother the quiet anchor of the household passed away peacefully in her sleep. Her death unravelled more than just memories. It loosened the threads that held the family together. Cousins, once inseparable, moved out as their parents sought independence and quieter homes. The sprawling ancestral house, once brimming with people, began to empty out.

Then came the unexpected transfers. Bhola's mother was promoted and posted to Delhi, while his father was relocated to Bangalore. Both were high-ranking officials with careers they had built over decades, and the opportunity was too significant to pass. But Bhola was in the middle of his schooling in Kolkata, and moving cities, especially amid the recent emotional turbulence, didn’t seem right. And so, a painful decision was made.

Bhola would stay back in Kolkata with his 92-year-old grandfather and Renu, the family’s lifelong maid. His parents promised it was only temporary two years, maybe less until things settled. Bhola, though heartbroken, didn’t protest. He was always the obedient one, the understanding child who nodded instead of arguing.

But nothing could have prepared him for the silence that filled the house after his parents left. The laughter, the noise, the chaos all gone. His grandfather, once a sharp and jovial professor, was now slow-moving and often forgetful. Renu tried her best to keep the house running, but Bhola missed the warmth of his mother’s hands on his forehead, his father’s evening stories, the fights over television remotes, and the simple joy of being surrounded by his own people.

He began to drift not visibly, but quietly. School felt heavy. Friends noticed he was quieter. Teachers saw a spark fading. He tried to focus on studies, but distractions loomed large. Sometimes it was the loneliness, sometimes just the overwhelming silence of the home. His grades began to slip. When he sat for his Class 10 board exams, he knew he hadn’t done well. And the results confirmed it an average score that brought him shame, self-doubt, and a new nickname at school: “Google Bhool gaya kya?” they mocked, a cruel play on his dream to work at Google one day.

But fate, like stories, has a way of turning.
In the summer of 2027, after three long years, his parents returned to Kolkata. The first thing they did was hug Bhola so tight that he cried for the first time in years. His father didn’t ask about his Class 10 marks. His mother didn’t scold. Instead, they simply said, “Let’s start again.”

And so, they did.
With his parents now back and his home slowly feeling like home again, Bhola entered Class 11. He chose the Science stream not out of pressure, but passion. Somewhere, buried under the pain and disillusionment, the old Bhola still dreamed of building things, of coding, of creating solutions for the world. His father bought him a used laptop. His mother helped him build a routine. And Bhola, determined not to fail again, studied like his life depended on it.
He found solace in Physics and joy in Mathematics. He watched YouTube lectures at night, solved problems till dawn, and when he got tired, he’d talk to his grandfather, who shared old stories from his days as a physics lecturer. Renu would silently leave plates of fruit and warm milk outside his room.
The boy who once struggled to stay awake during classes now studied with a fire that surprised everyone even himself.

His hard work bore fruit.
In 2029, Bhola cleared the JEE Advanced with an impressive rank and secured admission into IIT Bombay, Computer Science the most coveted branch in the country’s most prestigious institute.
It was a moment of redemption. His father wept silently. His mother held his face and said, “You did it, Bhola. You found yourself again.”

And he had.

(To be continued...)

Digant Saha (Class XII)

Part-2- Bhola from IIT to GOOGLE

(Published on 5th February 2026)

Bhola’s arrival at IIT Bombay marked the beginning of a new chapter a far cry from the

echoing hallways of his ancestral Kolkata home. Powai was alive with ambition, surrounded by

the quiet hills and lakes that cradled the premier institute. Students rushed to classes, attended

hackathons, argued over algorithms, and dreamt of startups. Among them, Bhola stood quietly,

carrying his past like an invisible weight.

His first few weeks were overwhelming. The pace was relentless. Every student seemed

brilliant, every professor intimidatingly sharp. Doubts crept back. “Am I good enough?” he often

asked himself late at night, staring at the ceiling fan in his hostel room. But then he would

remember his lonely nights with textbooks in Kolkata, the quiet encouragement from his

grandfather, the warmth of his parents’ returned presence. And he’d push forward.

Computer Science became his escape and his obsession. He learned Python and C++, built small

projects, failed, debugged for hours, and then smiled like a child when something finally

worked. His favorite was a voice-controlled reminder app he developed in his second semester,

dedicated to his grandfather — who often forgot when to take his medicine. It wasn’t flashy,

but it worked, and it made a difference.

By his second year, Bhola had found his tribe three close friends: Zayaan from Lucknow,

Reeva from Pune, and Madhav from Chennai. They were as different as chalk and cheese, but

together, they shared ramen noodles, coding sessions, laughter, heartbreaks, and midnight

walks by the lake. They became his new family, and in many ways, healed the scars of his

loneliness.

Yet, Bhola never forgot where he came from.

Every semester break, unlike many of his batchmates who traveled or interned abroad, he flew

back to Kolkata. The ancestral house was quieter now his grandfather older, frailer but

still filled with memories. Bhola would sit beside him, feeding him dinner, playing soft radio

music, and narrating tales of Mumbai life. He always made time for Renu too, who now called

him “Babu” out of habit, still treating him like the little boy who used to hide behind her saree.

In his third year, Bhola bagged a summer internship at a tech startup in Bengaluru. It was

intense 12-hour workdays, relentless deadlines, a steep learning curve  but Bhola thrived.

He learned what textbooks didn’t teach: real-world problem solving, team dynamics, and the

power of believing in ideas. His manager once told him, “You don’t just code, Bhola. You care.

That’s rare.”

By the time placement season arrived in his final year, Bhola had built an impressive resume:

high GPA, solid internships, and a few open-source contributions. But more importantly, he had

a story one that recruiters remembered.

It was a cold December evening when he stepped into the interview room for Google. The

panel of five was polite but sharp. They grilled him with questions  data structures,

algorithms, system design. Bhola kept his cool. He didn’t rush. He explained each approach like

a teacher, with clarity and purpose. Then came the final question.

“Why do you want to work at Google?”

Bhola paused.

“I don’t just want to work at Google,” he said slowly. “I want to be in a place where ideas

matter, where the problems we solve help people , just like one grandfather

remembering to take his medicine on time. For me, it’s always been personal.”

There was silence. A small smile passed between two panelists.

He walked out of the room with shaky legs, heart pounding. Two days later, an email arrived.

Subject: Offer Letter Software Engineer, Google (Mountain View, CA)

He stared at the screen, unmoving. Then, without thinking, he called home.

“Ma,” he whispered, tears in his voice, “I made it.”

Bhola’s move to California was surreal. The wide roads, the orderly traffic, the diversity, the

quiet it was nothing like Kolkata or even Mumbai. Google’s Mountain View campus felt like a

dream cafes, nap pods, bicycles everywhere, and buildings that seemed to hum with ideas.

His parents moved in with him a few months later, along with his grandfather and Renu. He

rented a cozy two-bedroom apartment close to work. His mother retired early, choosing to

focus on health and home. His father took up a consultancy role with an Indian company that

had branches in the U.S. Renu, older now, still made parathas and reminded Bhola to take

breaks between work.

His grandfather’s health had declined, but he was happy  always sitting on the balcony,

watching birds, humming old tunes, or chatting with neighbors in broken English. Bhola made

sure to be home for dinner every night, no matter how busy he was.

Despite living in America, Bhola never cut ties with India. He regularly attended family functions

back in Kolkata, funded the renovation of the ancestral home, and started an online mentorship

program for underprivileged students preparing for JEE. “They shouldn’t feel alone,” he once

said during an online session. “No one should have to find their way through the dark.”

One day, during a casual chat at work, his manager asked him, “Bhola, where do you see

yourself in ten years?”

He smiled.“Happy, grounded, and useful.”

(To be continued...)