Fit For Life
It was my cell phone ringing for quite a sometime irrespective of time and place. A few days back company had offered me a new mobile set. I used to keep the mobile inside my office bag during train journey being afraid of pickpocket. There was such a rush on the train, getting down or getting up at any in-between station, especially at the office time, were horrific, besides getting squeezed. Though I had always been favoured by a group of ten-twelve regular passengers, who used to board the train before my station, and kept my standing space near the door, as well, they ensured my safe journey. They were Babuda, Ratanda, Asim, Krishna, Sahjahan, Biplob, Soumen, etc. Most of them were good readers and aware of my writings.
I passed my office bag to Krishna to hold properly so that I could pull the zipper to get the cell. I felt irritated as the call could have been from my boss or from Mr. Jhunjhunwala who had been promoted as Executive Vice-Chairman last month. Fortunately it was the P.M., Mr. Dayanand Thakur’s call.
I called him back. Attending it he hastily said, ‘Yes Prasantababu, good morning. Where are you?` His voice seemed cheerful.
There was a mess of noises in the train compartment, and hardly one could hear anything properly over phone. The train halted at Barrackpore, though we unanimously decided to call certain stations in codenames considering its character and significance, like Barrackpore as ‘Meri Aowaj Shuno`. However, as train stopped, it helped me to hear the other end. I screamed, ’Good morning Sir, on the way to office, in the train, Sir.`
‘Have you received the good news?`
‘About what Sir ?` I confused.
‘You know, your boss has been promoted to the Executive Director-Operation by the Board,` P.M. said.
‘Is it? Nice, it’s our pleasure.` I exclaimed.
Then, the promotion circular was circulated yesterday evening from the Executive Vice-Chairman’s desk after I had left office, I could not know anything about it before hand, I thought.
‘Come soon, let’s cheer it up together,` said Mr. Thakur.
‘Right Sir, it should be. Thank you for the information.` I said and disconnected the call.
So, the Executive Director! Fuck the Executive Director! More power, more corruption! I thought. I did not feel if I were happy at all. I had no choice. I was in tremendous work pressure. It saved me a bit as one surplus stupid guy Mr. Gopinath Das had been transferred to Mr. Agarwal’s office under me. The obtuse guy had hard time understanding the simple instructions, and was lacking cognitive ability. Still I could get certain worthless job done by him, like sorting out incoming papers, sending signed papers to the concerned departments or officers, filing hard copies, etc. Mr. K.P. Jhunjhunwala had given several circular insisting on e-filing and paperless world-class offices, but Mr. Agarwal always used to ask for hardcopies only. He knew nothing about computer systems, though ridiculously there was a costly laptop on his table, and he would keep it always switched on, which was only beautifying his table.
Mr. Jhunjhunwala himself along with his lady Secretary and the HRD people used to visit factory offices time to time to see the up keeping of the offices. But they never visited Mr. Agarwal’s office in this respect. I had had e-filing system of my own. According to product, departments and executives, besides
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LAN-in, I segregated files and folders. It helped me to find out any letter or data immediately as and when required for reference.
Gopinath was stupid but most obedient to me. He was allotted the chamber vacated by one Mr. Roy, retired. Gopi never dared to appear before Mr. Agarwal, rather he would watch surprisingly how I was facing and satisfying such a personality like Mr. Agarwal, a hypocrite.
The first half, up to the middle rod of the door of our scheduled compartment was occupied by our group. I stood at the corner of the door as usual. Passengers had to use the next half only for their climbing or ascending. It had happened to be customary on every compartment of office-time trains.
The train was slowly approaching to the “Aviman” station. I was not feeling well, but I could not figure out its specific reason. I felt distressed as I thought I grew old at the age of forty-two only. It could be quite impossible for me to travel by crowded train without help of the group I belonged.
Train passed next station “Chori Mera Kam”. I would get down at the station “Mujhe Zeene Do,” As it was approaching, Soumen held the gate, and said, ‘Sen-da, get ready.`
Just before train’s halting, he pushed back himself and created a gap. I immediately took the position accommodating me in the gap, and hanged on my toe grasping the nearest handle for a few seconds. Even though the train had not fully stopped, the crazy passengers rushed to the next half of the door to get up without missing a single moment, of course allowing nobody to get down. The mess of the crazy passengers with shrill cry and tangle with each other led to the hell. All those were a regular occurrence.
When I saw no hindrance before me on the platform, I jumped without delay. I had cultivated this practice under my control years back after my regular struggles.
I was crossing rail tracks to go to the Westside rail gate. An over bridge is also there, remains almost unused. There is a market of fruits, vegetables, flowers, etc. in between rail tracks at the wide space of platform No. 2 and 3.
I met Sujit Bose, an engineer, holding the post of the Manager-Purchase(Wagons) of our company. The guy used to come from Ichhapur. Bose greeted our meeting with smile. I smiled too. I was happy to see him. We were uneven good friends as he was younger by 7 years to me, but age was no bar.
‘Why didn’t you board our compartment?’ I asked.
‘Oh! I was late, ran and got the back one somehow,` he said.
‘You guy, resides near the station and unable to reach in time. Why does it happen?` I playfully asked.
‘Yes, it happens,` he smiled and said again, ‘Oh! Yes, forgotten, congratulations!` he raised his hand.
‘But what for?` I asked and raised my hand also for shaking.
‘Don’t you know the latest development?` He gazed in a glowing face.
‘Agarwalji’s promotion?`
‘Right, it’s you too have been promoted. Don’t you?`
‘It seems to be childish,` I muttered.
‘Your designation is now the Secretary to ED(Oprn.), not that?`
‘Fuck the designation, what’s about my increment! `
‘Yes, it’s a sad affair,` Bose said, and walked to a roadside stall to buy cigarette.
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He was not a regular smoker, but during drinks he used to take puffs with every sip. We had had several occasions to sit together at his newly purchased vacant flat near B.T. Road, station “Hamse Barkar Koun Hai.`
Bose offered me cigarette. I regretted as I had just taken puffs coming out from station. Still he insisted, and eventually I had to accept.
The road led to B.T.Road near our factory. It took hardly eight to ten minute time to reach on foot. Bose called for a rickshaw. I never took rickshaw only for that much of walking distance.
I said sitting on rickshaw, ’How have you got this promotion stuff, I think it was circulated in the late evening?`
‘Well, Banerjee-da had to stay late by eight at the office, he conveyed.`
‘It’s sad, he didn’t inform me. I’ve got it from the P.M. this morning only.`
‘He could’ve rang you either!`
Mr. Debu Banerjee was also in the Purchase department with Bose. He was the Senior Purchase Officer – Structural. I had a very good relation with him. Every day he used to come to my office to meet me, or to give some information to Mr. Agarwal.
It was 10 to 9. I had sufficient time to reach office in time. A huge crowd was rushing towards B.T. Road to scatter throughout Kolkata. Our rickshaw was moving slowly.
I guessed, Mr. Agarwal’s high rise would invite punishment for me. ‘It rather startled me!` I muttered.
‘What’s up?’ Bose said.
‘The hell promotion stuff, you know, it will increase my job responsibility badly. I could figure it out. The Board Meeting stuff is a damn thing.`
‘Are you afraid of that?` Bose stared at me.
‘Not like that. Some damn additional responsibility will be added.`
‘Take challenge. You’re capable. Not that?` Bose tilted and gazed at me with smile.
I couldn’t smile, but felt distracted.
‘Hi, Sen-da, leave it. Let’s talk something more important.`
I paused, could not follow him. Bose said, ‘So, anything new, any new story…poem?` exhaling a long puff in the air, he said.
Immediately I had to appear interested. I smiled and said, ‘It’s okay, going on.`
‘What’s about your new publication?`
‘Waiting for a phone call only, may be today or tomorrow I’ll get the confirmation.`
‘That’s nice, we’re eagerly awaiting for your book,` he seemed to be crony.
‘Compliment?` I said with a smile.
‘Not yet, but you’re a good writer, let me read the whole book.`
‘Most of the stories you’ve already read, I think.`
‘Still, a collection will bring home to the author.`
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‘Is it ?` I smiled.
We reached at staff gate. Patra paid the rickshaw fair. I took out my I-cum-Attendance card. Security saluted. I hung my I-card by the neck after making incoming punch on the clock. I looked at the slogans like every day posted at both the sides of the gateway. – ‘Blessed is man that has found his work. One monster there is the world the idle man.` ‘The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty.`- All the bogus, old and rotten, I thought.
Bose entered in to his department, beside the road. I would have to go further into the shop floor.
As I reached inside the shop, a mess of intense sounds arrested me. It was the job hazards. One had to bear this violence working on the shop floor.
Mr. Agarwal could have had a well furnished chamber in the administrative building near to staff gate. But he was always favouring his office in the shopfloor, the reason was known to him only.
I reached the office five minutes early. It was five minutes to nine. Office bearer was dusting table, computer, etc.
‘Good morning sir,` said Muskan Ahmed.
‘Good morning bhai, has he come?`
‘No sir, he is in the shop, driver brought his bag.`
I took my seat and released my exhaustion. Bearer kept a glass of water on my table. I gulped it immediately. Room temperature was not perfectly cool. It was the new split AC planted in my office. I said the bearer to get the temperature a bit low. Gopinath kept my computer opened. I advised him to keep my computer ready for me, so that I could see the incoming mails immediately as soon as I reach the office.
There were sixty five mails entering one by one from the server. It would take time due to certain big sized mails. In between I used to go to washroom, but I felt tired and did not want to move. Gopinath entered and said, ‘Good morning Senbabu.’
‘Good morning.`
Gopinath stood opposite to my table keeping his hands hanging together like the most obedient one to know if I had anything to advise him.
I felt irritated for his gesture. I said, ‘Go now, do your work, if I require I’ll call you.`
It was one day I started out of my bond-slave life. I sold that way my nine-ten hours time everyday to the company on contractual agreement. It required another four hours for to and fro journey. So, you moron, you had no time for your own, as no spare money to save. If I had some money, certainly I would get myself released from that slavery. I thought a lot. I could not think of it anymore! I could not! I felt fatigue. One after one, again and again, it was a flow, work flow, never ended. Even, ten, twelve, fifteen projects were running at a time. Tender, works order, process cycle, production target, dispatch, day after day, months, years – no end, never mess of sounds of riveting, grinding, hammering, etc. ended. Never furnaces extinguished. Gas-cutting, welding, prototype, mass-production, efficiency, more efficiency, much more efficiency, target increasing day to day-- ten, twenty, fifty, hundred percent, do or get out, It as being an era of globalization. For viability of the company, for survival in competitions, high skilled labour in minimum wages were required. CNC machines were being installed. Diversification was must. – Never ended such tremendous turmoil.
5
Since last fifteen years, I had been doing such a challenging job. How did I do! I wondered. But as I saw, slum people, farmers, etc. were much happier than me. The regular orders, discipline, ‘now itself, abhi chahiye!` sigh on the neck, the hell stuff was not tolerable any more. I used to keep a resignation letter in my pocket, but never could submit. I said Dipika, my wife, all about these bullshits I down with. Dipika frowned and said, ‘Are you kidding?`
‘Do you honestly think that we’ve got such a sanctity in our relations?` I smiled.
Dipika scornfully exclaimed, ‘Don’t utter evil talks! Think about our only daughter’s wedding.`
I said, ’Well Dipika, all the people in the world are not employed, are they?`
Dipika annoyed and said, ‘Hah! What the hell will you do then? What else are you fit for?`
‘That’s true. I thought and turned to stare at her. I had to take a pause, then whispered ‘Yes, I have nothing to brag about, obviously useless!`
‘So, rather try to make yourself fit for life.` Dipika said with a grimace.
‘Sahib coming! Sahib coming!` Muskan muttered, and looked at me, then immediately kept open the first door by the stopper. I had nothing to say though it was an AC room, besides tremendous sound emerged and polluted the room. Mr. Ararwal himself would not open the door. He used to enter in his office like a mini edition of Hitler.
Muskan was waiting like a most obedient servant standing outside on the porch keeping an eye on the way of Mr. Agarwal. But the stupidity of the bearer that he might have seen Agarwalji only at bay No.2 or 3. Moreover, obviously he would meet some managers/superintendents on his way, and would speak to them in relation to production or so. So it would take another 15/20 minutes to come if not much more.
In fact, after about twenty minutes, Muskan again whispered, ‘sahib coming!’
He pushed the door of Agarwalji’s chamber and held opened. It meant that Mr. Ram Avtar Agarwal was ascending through staircase.
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