The Superannuated - 9

"Love me or hate me, both are in my favour
If you love me, I'll always be in your heart
If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind"
                                                         William Shakespeare

It was a winter day I met her in the office union room. She was a journalist having her sharp nose with lovely eyes. A doctorate in archeology from the famous JNU Delhi pulled out to join the new profession by her good looking husband who managed to attach her with a national financial daily having editorial office in Calcutta also. She paid a visit during a holiday after fixing appointment confirming I shall be there in the union room with other comrades to hold a meeting. She demanded to have some private chat and I acceded to her request with condition to finish it up by five minutes as I had to hold the urgent meeting next. My colleagues very graciously vacated the room to honour her request to meet the General Secretary alone. I hinted them to order for tea and snacks for us and that was served promptly.

The lady with pedigree had her father who served a deputy Governor of Reserve Bank but was grossly unattached with the affair of trade and industry. But she had a mighty pen to script English on anything she would like to have. She submitted before me to teach the affair for her new professional reason. Otherwise, she would be losing affection of her husband and her economist father. Hence, the trouble started brewing in the tea cup.

She sharted meeting me during my off hours in restaurants for the purpose she submitted. I thought of doing an act of kindness to save her from a family break up. Her husband met me and acknowledged my effort in fulfilling his desires. But the lady one day sounded her dismay with what was going on under pressure. She lambasted each and everything. She even abused her father and husband for this, but of course during their absence.

It was another day we were sitting over the desk on the top floor in a restaurant on the bank of river Ganga. She suddenly and presumably out of frustration came closer to me and started kissing me like a mad. I was at a loss to understand what to do and what not.

I said, Well, thanks for the kiss. But let me know why you did this?

I have started loving you from the day I saw you first sitting in an executive chair of the union rook. I don't know why, she spoke restlessly at me.

You see I'm a man of black complexion unmatched to a beautiful woman like you, dear. And unmatched to your good looking husband also.

I don't care, she refuted. I love you, that's all. Are you married Mr Roy?

No, not yet. But this will be a cheating with your family who had faith in me to coach you in the professional subject I am largely associated with.

Its my problem, none of you either, she shouted. Continuing in her accusation, she said, you know Mr Roy that stupid even doesn't even know how to sextually satisfy his wife.

I replied, u meant I should fulfill your area of dissatisfaction from now onwards ? And am I supposed to attend your second personal purpose other than one of professional journalism ?

Yes, yes, very much. Please Mr Roy. Lets go to somewhere we could meet privately, she sounded like a hungry dog.

I failed to meet her lust and gave her adieu, pleading for a pre-scheduled urgent official meeting and managed to leave her for the day. In the hired Taxi, I drowned into deep thoughts why not should I sexually exploit her taking undue advantage based on her blatant offer. Since then, I recieved no phone calls from the lady. After interval of about one month, her poor husband knocked my door and explained many things unknown to me. He sincerely apologised if anything silly happened with me done by his wife. They had a mutual divorce and he ousted her from his residential flat few days ago for her proven physical relation with one of his neighbours what she admitted loudly. I had no desire further to ask her whereabout. The gentleman departed for never to come back again to me and that ended a love and hate story I watched during my office days.

The Superannuated - 8

"If you learn correctly
To place your ear on earth
You'll listen to the silent resonance
Of their uprising".......................................Paresh Dhar.

The above lines of his Bengali poem was reproduced in my book as a tribute to the great musical maestro of Bengal during 1950s. An IPTA musician tuned to many favourite Bengali songs include one that was sung by late Hemanta Mukherjee. 'শান্ত নদীটির পটে আঁকা ছবিটি', the song is still in our memory. I was fortunate enough to have closely associated to Paresh da on many counts, the memory has not yet erased. It was Dhar felt the job I had been doing for my wage earning was a waste of my talent and should have quit it. I thought of doing so, but later refrained under domestic compulsion. Paresh Dhar is now resting in the heaven where he must be playing flute but his wonderful tune will not be relayed by All India Radio or Television as we used to hear on a regular course. 

Another fire brand communist party member and organiser of Indian Peoples Theater Associatin (IPTA) and a great Rabindra Sangeet singer Late Suchitra Mitra once visited our office cultural programme to deliver her best musical creations. The stories of party movement she privately narrated to me that made me speak to not listening to her. It was golden days of Bengali culture during 1940s, 1950s, 1960s. The time had produced lot of genius personalities and are unmatched till date. The same holds good for another noted singer Sumitra Sen who also paid her gracious visit to our office cultural platform and we simply enjoyed what now a days are missing particularly when I depart from the office forever. The prevailing situation in my present office is no different to the present degraded Bengali culture as a whole.

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.

.

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.

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. 

contd.....

    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. 

 contd......