My first pay
cheque was of Rs 75/- as recompense for a short program I did at All India Radio,
Guwahati. In 1991, Seventy Five was no mean sum for a sixteen year old college
student. With that amount, I could get 37 boiled eggs in “Hotel
California” and still a rupee to spare at the nearby Bandhu’s shop. I remember
how lowly I felt when my mother informed me of the cheque bouncing back due to
insufficient fund at the AIR’s account.
Allahabad Bank, the lone bank branch at my village, merrily deducted
fifteen odd rupees from my already dwindling first deposit. Huffing and
puffing, next day, I arrived at AIR office much before the concerned official,
could get a fresh cheque issued and encashed without any further hassle.
In those days, I
used to write poems, articles, stories in the Assamese dailies and magazines
barring “Prantik” which twice refused to acknowledge the literary genius in me.
The shadow name – Ajoy Kashyap, which I adopted to write them, was in sync with
the two distinct yet diverging persons residing inside me. While Ajoy was tender,
emotional, impulsive, melancholic and lonely with traits of a vagabond, the
other one was in the contrary quite hands on with life. So, while the yawning
creative spasm induced Ajoy to the realms of literature, the practical guy in
me pressed harder to rush to the office of the magazines which found Ajoy’s
writings fit to publish to claim the writer’s small remuneration with
impeccable proofs to convince that Ajoy and I was indeed the same person. (Some magazines refused
under the pretext that remuneration was the exclusive right for the articles on
request only)
By the time I
finished my Engineering, the lure of moving out to the enchanting world outside
often made me restless. For quite sometime, thoughts of politics as a chosen
profession kept me captivated. I speak well to the public and carry the same family
surname of an honest ex Chief Minister of Assam which were told to be assets
for a budding career in politics. My self -appointed mentor saw a great future
in me and fixed an appointment with the most powerful man of the political
arena of that time in Assam. That wily politician was morbidly sick and his
voice was barely audible from across the table. Yet the spark of intelligence was
conspicuous even in that short meeting as he advised me to join the student
wing of his party. Today both that mentor and the powerful man are no more. Happy
that better sense prevailed and I didn’t join any political party. The kind of
deceitful and swindling acts a politician is required to do to climb the ladder
of success, it would have become quite wearisome, hurting my soul and conscience
every day.
As told earlier,
Ajoy had a natural flair in many fields other than Chemical Engineering. He
often used to utilize some of the cut and dried classes to write poetry or get
lost in his thoughts. Each day, he reminded me of the heavenly joy of doing
something dearer to one’s heart. He
wanted to see me to go close to the masses cladding a pair of kurta-pyjama,
chappal, a bag with pen and poetry. By that time, I had an offer from a leading
steel PSU after engineering with promise of almost a five figure salary. I was
the eldest amongst five siblings and we had enough for to buy books, eat good
foods but not enough to meet the increasing materialistic desires. The youngest one,
a small kid of 5 or 6 then, proudly used to tell his friends that I was doing a
“ big job” in Guwahati. The flicker of his eyes, when I used to give him the
coins, is still a pleasant memory and I feel the resemblance of that in the eyes
of my two sons. The responsibilities were far more forceful that the thoughts
of such adventure inspired by Ajoy. So, for the first time in my life, I
boarded into an AC-II compartment, travelled through the arid landscape of black
soil filled with smoke of coal and finally reached my destination.
I arrived at
Bokaro to join as Junior Manager (Grade-E1) at Bokaro Steels Plant. In those
days, Bokaro was quite in contrast to what I saw in Bihar with dusty roads and
small clay huts in that short journey from Jamshedpur to Bokaro by road. It had
all the amenities of a modern life, a fully equipped officer’s club, sports &
shopping complex with wide roads. We were around 300 newly recruited engineers,
who stayed together, dined together, travelled together and eyed on the roads
and in club together. The best thing that happened to me at Steel Authority was
to meet so many people with such varied background. But amongst all I met, Rajat
Pradhan stood out from the rest.
The last time, I
danced wildly on any street was way back in 2002 at Sambalpur, Orissa as a
“baraati”. It was Rajatda’s wedding and my joy knew no bounds. To me, Rajat da
was a friend, philosopher cum guide, all rolled into one at Durgapur. He is an
outstanding human being besides being good engineer and an event manager. Unknowingly,
Rajat da’s personality had an indelible clout on me too. He is one of those few
who made me indebted for life. Loneliness, abstract thinking, romanticism are
not pragmatic in the corporate life. As the influence of Ajoy Kashyap was
making things complicated for me each day, I decided to part ways with him for
good.
Each day, I noted
my encounter with Ajoy in my diary and its fallout. Each night before going to
bed, I reviewed all the cases. I was determined to be no-nonsense with life, go
out from the cocoon, mingling with the crowd, wanted to learn the tricks to smile
while I wished to alter the facial geography of the person in front. The more I
tried, further went Ajoy from me. With him, he took away my words, my poems,
emotion and instead instilled the sense of responsibility deeper in me . I often
falter today to apprehend the thin line between love and responsibility.
At 40, I have
almost reached the midway of my journey. Each day at my job, I meet different
people right from the Chief Executive to the lowly paid casual ditch cleaner.
The PSU Oil major, for which I work now, doesn’t pay well as compared to its
private peers but enough to have a house of own, social security for the rest
of me and my wife’s life, good education for the children and family trips
twice a year. It gives exposure too to the willing ones to work and gather
skill well enough to leave the company for greener avenues. I believe, I am
doing reasonably well at my job and from time to time invitations make me feel
I am still saleable even after 18 years of working at PSU. With a loving and
caring wife and two kids promising to become two fine gentlemen in future, surrounded
by a doting family and close friends, my life seems to be full and happening.
Yet, I am unable to fathom with the kind of feeling of incompleteness and the void inside which often
haunts me. I am a loner even in the midst of a crazy
crowd.
As the sky becomes
sombre after a hot August Sunday morning in Guwahati, I am sitting still at the
front of my company provided residence. A few drops of rain have kissed my
unruly hair and lips. A poignant symphony, heard long back, is coming alive
from a far distance. I know it must be Ajoy coming back to meet his old pal
after a long time. Once more, I feel like running to the rain to drench my
thirst, go wild dancing in the streets, shed off all the inhibitions and let
the rain drops trickle through my bare soul.
Once more, I feel
like falling in love with life again. (written on 2nd Aug,2015)
- Hotel California – A dhaba near Cotton
College PG hostel which I frequented during Cotton days
- Bandhu’s shop – The person named “Bandhu” was
friendly to all and ran a stationary shop near our hostel You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com
