In search of Ajoy - my long lost friend

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 2^nd 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