Thursday, January 28, 2016

Its only seven more months are left for me to see the last day of my service to my organization that extended me with bread and butter for so many years. But I am not feeling happy right now as my organization rolls in tears as half of my colleagues are forcibly transferred to thousand miles far from their place of posting in the city of Kolkata. They are unnecessary blamed as incompetent and irrelevant to their present place of posting, hence transferred to other offices what could not be understood to how those persons could deliver result being so incompetent. Answer lies in the corridors of Delhi babus wielding whips at the behest of some political touts. Let my colleagues breath with pain. No matter. Let their vested interests be fulfilled. Let colleagues' families cry for fear of immense sufferings either to settle in an unknown environment or live as unwanted there. The bureaucrats are there to serve as a set of faithful spoons and nothing else. This is Indian culture, I am afraid.

My wife felt embarrassed to find my lead role even at this stage of service life as why I raised my strong objection to the above misdeeds when my contemporaries safe sided themselves, but I could not resist myself to come forward in support of my younger colleagues in the office today. I tried to pacified her that I was ready to face any eventuality to uphold the truth. I am ready to face anything that comes in my way even at the cost of life. I shall not allow few renegades to dominate those innocent but faithful people committed to their organization of which I am a part also. So, this is a part of ones life and one has to accept the reality without any hesitation.

Thursday, January 14, 2016


Yesterday Patridge Publication, a Penguin company wing rang up to me to hear an English man  to agree for my book publication. I heard it without any commitment. I am now in the mid of my autobiography that is likely to be scripted in a form of a novel. I don't know how far I will be able to pluck the scented flower from the garden. Let me now turn back to what I left during the golden moment of my life as I would love to call it through.

The organisation that not only blessed me with resource to look after my family but has gifted me with a dependable partner, my wife. I have been blessed with two male kids keeping a difference of eight years between the two. They are grown guys but have not yet found their own place to sustain in a tough competitive world despite acquiring academic qualifications. Yet they have their own stories to tell and I may be a dependable listeners of their stories during my jobless days at home.
I met her in the office as a colleague and soon became a good friend of her. The friendship later turned to a family of our own. The day she put her steps into our home, I trusted her with everything to look after well being of our family where I shall have no say. Even the money I signed to draw per month but received by her I was not aware of besides looking at the quantum of pocket money in the purse on a daily basis. The rest was her duty to do all and she did it to the best of her ability to manage in length and breath of the family needs. I felt a great amount of relief to build my knowledge base and its exposure here and there in the print media. In the race of the life, everyone in the family almost forgotten the day of my superannuation was nearing.
The better half is expected not to feel better while she would be entering the office, stay there and leave regularly without her trusted companion who will be away from her because of the retirement of her spouse. Yet the life has to go on one way or other as the earth goes on moving round and round. My lady was undoubtedly a moneyed person, but she never ever moved an inch in life without consulting me. Such a trust, such a dependence one has hardly found elsewhere. Hence, the days at home for a long hours without her during those days of superannuation would made me feel uncomfortable too as she would be unavailable for her daily office duty. Attending all my needs without waiting for a call from me will not be visible during her absence at home and I shall be missing her in various ways. Hence the half of my heart will be at the home and the rest be with her wherever she moves out of her own home.                                
The love I gained and lost during my tenure of service may haunt me the most during those superannuated days. In a moving train, passengers get up and get down to each rail station only to reach the destination. In the movement, one gets touches of many but do we recall and feel for all those touches? No. But few touches, yes, they come to our memory. The touches were able to touch my heart what I honestly admit and shall never deny those beautiful moments of life. The faces came in front of me and admired me and loved me much are unforgettable.
A bright and energetic black young guy was able to enjoy affection of a man called Pinaki babu, a die hard communist used to attend the office from Asanshole. He found his youth in me. He would put forward my case always ahead of others in our association. Pinaki da left the job and left the world prematurely. But the love and faith he had for me cant be erased from the mind. Another Subhas da (Roychowdhury), a pro-Indira Gandhi communist too liked me than many others in the office. The lesson for simplicity in the life style from Subhas da is to be recalled. He is also no more, but the way he loved to behave politely with his fellow colleagues simply can not be forgotten.
Among many seniors I found a man of extra ordinary quality was Durgapada (Agarwala), the guy was a Marwari but became a Bengali over the years. He found his lieutenant in me and bestowed upon huge task in the trade union movement in our all India office organisation. I was able to fulfill his desire to come true while I was able to take the art of TU leadership following his path. But Durgababu unfortunately lost his mental balance during his retired life. So other friends and guides I found in Sushil da (Mukherjee) and Bankim da (Gangully). They too left us many a year ago. Thus the list to recall would be too long to reproduce here. But none is left out of my heart.

Friday, January 8, 2016

A talk on a superannuated life may not draw much readership, yet the talk should go on to unfold new mission of this phase of the life. The people who fought like anything to look after their family found hardly any time to look beyond earning money and meeting needs of their loved ones at home, it is unlikely they would find interests in spending time in cultural practices like average individuals visible here and there. Interestingly, these averages or the ordinaries are unfortunately the majority in work shops and offices who unless forced upon never liked to lay interest in trade union movement or take part in political activities. 

In sharp contrast to present day Bengal, in our time i.e. during 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, the white colour jobs produced many world class intellectuals having made their pen mightier than the sword. The communist progressive ideology inspired those intellectuals to contribute new thoughts in building a new human society free from exploitation from capitalist exploitation, free from religious vandalism and superstition and hatred among the human race. The faith was for building a new world order comfortable to all human race other than those few stooges of crony capitalism and imperialism. 

A bunch of young intellectuals was born to follow the path left by their predecessors. The readers started to hear stories and poetries in different form and content, the painters drew colours on canvas on a different stroke. The singers were able to change the taste of the songs and brought down the listeners from the unreal heaven of love to the loveless ones suppressed under existing repressive system of the society. In finer words, the golden period of Bengal had inspired and created a generation who learned to look beyond their petty personal interests of life. A new set of values came in our way to cherish. But those days are gone without bringing in any qualitative changes in thoughts process of the present generation. Yet a talk of post-modernism is displayed on the world of intellectualism. 


Monday, January 4, 2016

    The day next of the long awaited superannuation I would have no hurry to rush to the toilet and for a light refreshment and to run fast to find a place in a public vehicle as I  do this most of the days. The car is driven by myself only under emergency and not on a daily basis. I shall have no agony in reaching the office before the scheduled time and shall relax at home free from all tension. At my time, I may respond to have a cup of tea at the bed  and not to throw the newspaper after just having a glace on it to keep a close watch on the wall clock. The chair as set on the balcony of the 1st floor home would be unmoved for a long time having a retired man on it. The clock will follow me rather as the life will be slower than ever before.

    The passerby may ask how to pass so long hours in home without any job and I would keep my finger crossed in replying. Yet I believe I wont be able to talk or make fun with younger ones at home as they would be out of the home too either for their jobs or for a personal pleasure leaving an obsolete there. I may be expecting advice from some seniors to take refuge at the feet of the God to pass time nicely. Some would say why I should not be engaged with community service. The family would expect home service much more than I did it during my busiest office days. But perhaps no one would wait for my choice to live my own way and shall rather try to impose terms to live as per their choice. 


Saturday, January 2, 2016

The days of superannuation I am contemplating to pass

Its only 8 more months remain to bid farewell to the job I am assigned to. A big part of my life is associated to the organization that has paid me wages in exchange of undertaking daily duty that I will be missing in the days to come. But I am eagerly waiting to see the day I will be given a see off on the main entrance of the office that shall never see me again rushing in the early morning to record my presence. I shall leave memories behind its door.

Some friends and associates are found interested to know my next job and are rather found concerned whether a talent of my kind should be re-utilized to earn something more in addition to what pension benefits I am expected to accrue for the service rendered already. listening to the admiration my smiley face goes brighten. I endorse them with a shoulder jerk reaction and go off the scene. Perhaps, I shall not be able to dodge the family  I created and that shall kindly tolerate me to stay there without job. The reality would bite me regularly I apprehend.

During the long family life, not a single day was passed without any talk of money needed to do this and that, which is unlikely to vanish during those days of superannuation. It would rather enhance in terms of demand and supply as the resource would be less than the limited. With the elasticity of demand to be created with new members in by wedding of sons and their new born babies, the supply may be shortened with shortage of liquid cash in my purse.    

Even if sons become good earning guys, it is unlikely they will be sharing everything under the single unit family. The morning shows the day. The talk has not lost its relevance. When I see the kids fight for an exchange of a trouser or T shirt use, its hard to rely they would be sharing food from one kitchen by sharing the cost as much as they can besides looking after their parents in dire needs. 




Wednesday, April 29, 2015


                                     প্রেম                                   শেখর রায় 
জয়শ্রী তুই নেই কাছে। তবু এই নববর্ষের কঘণ্টা আগে অপ্রত্যাশিত ভাবে তুই এসে দাঁড়ালি বই পাড়ায় বিদ্যাসাগরের অবয়বটির সামনে। চারদিক থমথমে যেন কেউ বাতাস মুঠোর মধ্যে ধরে আটকে রেখেছে। পথে বাস ট্রাম নেই। অবাক।
সেই দঃ কলকাতার ডোভার লেন থেকে মধ্য কলকাতায় এলি কি ভাবে রে পাগলি?
বলে, কেন হেঁটে।
তোর ভয় করে নি?
আমার ভয় পাবার থেকে তোমার জীবন বাঁচানো অনেক জরুরী। তর্জনী নির্দেশ করে বলে, ঐ দেখো পিছন ফিরে দেশরক্ষকদের প্রস্তুতি। বিশ্ববিদ্যালয় ছাত্র আবাসনে দেশের স্বার্থে ধরপাকর করার লক্ষে আগুয়ান বাহিনী। কি হাঁদার মত পার্কের এক কোনে বসে বই পড়ে যাচ্ছ। কোন হুশ নেই তোমার। খবরটাও পাওনি যে ওরা তোমাকে জামাই আদর করবে বলে খুঁজে চলেছে। আর এক মুহূর্ত নয় এখানে। নাও, আমার হাত ধরো। কাঁধের ঝোলা দাও আমায়। একটু ভান কর যে তুমি খুব অসুস্থ। মেডিকেল কলেজ হাসপাতালে যাচ্ছ। আর মনে কর আমি তোমার বিয়ে করা ইস্ত্রী। (মুখে স্মিত হাসি।) তাই মাথায় দিলাম ঘোমটা।
আমি হতবাক এবং জয়শ্রীকে আত্ম সমর্পণ। তাকে নীরব অনুসরন। না, তবু পারেনি জয়শ্রী তার প্রিয় মানুষটিকে যমদূতের হাত থেকে বাঁচাতে।
পরদিন পয়লা বৈশাখ। শুনতে পাচ্ছি, রবীন্দ্রগীতি, 'এসো হে বৈশাখ, এসো এসো'। লম্বা লম্বা লোহার গরাদে হাত রেখে দাড়িয়ে ছিলাম মাথা অবনত করে। ভাবছিলাম, কি এমন দেশবিরোধী কাজ করলাম ! শুধু কিছু কবিতা ও দুচার লাইন গল্প ছাড়া আর কি অশ্বডিম্ব করিয়াছি প্রসব। হঠাৎ হাতের উপর আর এক কোমল অনিন্দ সুন্দর এক রমণীয় হাতের প্রিয় স্পর্শ।
আবার তুমি জয়শ্রী? কেন এলে এই মৃত্যুর কারাগারে?
তোমাকে একটা ছোট্ট কথা বলতে।
কি আবার বলবি রে তুই, হ্যা?
বকা দাও কেন। আমি তোমাকে ভালবাসি।            
এবারও হলাম হতবাক, শুধু ওর গ্রীক সৌন্দর্যের রোমান্টিক স্বেদশুভ্র মুখশ্রীর ওপর দীঘল টানা নীল চোখের দিকে অপলক চেয়ে থাকা। কতক্ষন মনে নেই। যার প্রতি কোনদিন মনোনিবেশ করতে পারিনি। শুধু যাকে চেনা মানুষ বলে ভেবেছি। তার পেটে না থুড়ি হৃদয়ে যে এই অনার্য যুবকের প্রতি এতো মমত্ব, এতো প্রেম। না না, মনে হয়েছিল এক দিবাস্বপ্নে ভেসে চলেছি। জয়শ্রী সুচিত্রা মিত্রের প্রিয় ছাত্রি। গরাদের ওপারে দাড়িয়ে গাইল তার মনের মানুষটির উদ্দেশে, "তোমায় নতুন করে পাব বলে, হারাই বারে বার"। না, আমি কোনদিন তাকে পাইনি আপন করে। কারন, বিনাবিচারে রাষ্ট্র দ্রোহিতার অভিযোগে বেকার এক রাজনৈতিক বন্দীর সাথে কেউ অমন সুন্দরী শিক্ষিতা মেয়ের বিয়ে দ্যায় নাকি। জয়শ্রী হারিয়ে গেছে। কিন্তু হারায়নি তার সুখ স্মৃতিটুকু। সে ফিরে ফিরে আসে নববর্ষের সাথে স্মৃতি রোমন্থনে।