Thanks!

Traffic jam. From my car, a metallic gray duster, I saw a lady standing on the other side of the junction. She must be heading for work. Wait, I will offer her a lift, will she say no? I stopped, she got in. 'Thanks!'

'Daku! How many times have I asked you not to offer lift to strangers, especially to beautiful ladies, but you won’t ever listen, huh?'

Mita, my ex-wife Madhumita would tell me with a mild irritation on her face, so dear to me, when I would recount my day in our late evening tea after work. Yes I was driving and listening to my favorite Frank Sanatra; ‘All or nothing at all’; I could see from the corner of my eyes that she was appreciating my well maintained car.

You cannot ding me anywhere I know. I am still a complete DIY when it concerns my car. Many times it so happened I cleaned it for two hours before going out, she would come, look at the car and simply go away saying the car wasn’t clean enough, then I would plead and ask her to point me the places, invariably she would be right, some unnoticed litter (damn it) here or a bit of dust there playing the spoilsport. Taking Mita as my helper was no help at all you know, she would use the looking glass as her mirror, just when I needed to have the rear view, I would invariably see it turned towards her. I would be mad at her but she would melt my anger with her heavenly smile all the time.

How many times this has happened! When I was speeding on a highway at more than 100, she would scream saying, STOP STOP, DAKU STOP, I would screech to a halt thinking there must be something seriously wrong; she would either point out to a flower smiling from an unassuming shrub, a lamb, or a cow carelessly crossing the road; at other times, she'd simply say, 'Daku…look at the Dhaba…let’s stop here and have tea!' 'Okay Mita, but don’t scream like that, you are my helper, my navigator, if you have to behave like this, go sit at the back.' She’d be sad until it’d be me pleading guilty, 'it’s all right Mita, you can scream… you can say STOP like the way you do,' and this would continue. I was complimented by her many times for my driving, I could drive, talk, sing, and do many more acrobatics in the car to impress Mita, she became a habit in my car. My favourite time was teasing her.

Where have all those days gone! I am alone now, Office-work-office, I know she does the same thing too. Modern life is so strange; you separate from your partners at the drop of a hat. My friends have the similar stories too. Corrine separated from her husband because of his parents, and Sujoy from his wife because she was not presentable, too old-fashioned. And Anirudhha broke off from Ishita because she was becoming fat… imagine, mother of three children Anish, Anita, Nita named combining both their names now abandoned just like that… he left all of them and is now living together with Ishita’s friend,  of course he is not my friend anymore.

We failed because we were always finding faults with our in-laws; why couldn’t we drive past those avoidable impediments I wonder. Now-a-days, you leave your partner for such trivial reasons why! We set out for a journey together, give up so easily! I was engrossed in my thoughts... wondered what she must be thinking of right now...I mean the lady who is beside me right now! We seem to perpetually in search of the ideal person, like a thirsty traveler in a desert taking a mirage for an oasis. I am not a writer, so my examples may not touch you, but I am a lover, I still love her, whenever I drive I miss her by my side. Why is everyone so horribly changing partners... like we change our clothes…what is the guarantee that the next and the next will not be free from their own baggage. This story of separation is fairly young, hasn’t begun more than twenty years. Mita and I were born at the wrong time it seems.

I was driving and thinking of my parents who would go out to be with each other just for half an hour because their house was full with people, my six aunts, my deranged uncle, and my ailing grand-parents. Since when did this change happen… no, if you say from the time ladies started looking out for jobs, I wouldn’t agree, my mother was never a housewife, it happened because of our unconsciousness, we cannot blame the West for everything bad, I am only looking at myself all the time from the looking glass maybe, and asking myself why I had to lose you Mita why! Can’t I be with her again?

'Thanks I will get down here', she said.

'Wait Mita, no problem. I will take you till your office, everybody knows me there'.


'Thanks Daku!'

Speak the truth

Speak the truth

‘Good morning all of you! A warm welcome to the Organization.’

‘Good morning Sir.’

‘No, no, please don’t call me sir; just because I am facing you from the wrong side of the table doesn’t make me your sir, and you are definitely not my students. We are all colleagues, although I understand you have all come straight from the campus and are still smelling college, but here, right from the word go, you are participants, not students, I am your trainer, not your sir, right?’

‘Yes sir. (class laughs)’

‘Seriously I am Samiran for you.’

‘Okay Samiran sir’ (some unsure voices chuckling, perhaps amazed at how naturally they say sir)

‘Come again please, this is also a part of your learning’

‘Okay Samiran’

‘Hmm…sounds better. Alright… In all these two months of your induction, there will be a lot of team work, so it is important to know each other, do you agree?’

‘Yes Samiran’ (a much animated one), some still said sir and corrected themselves, giggled like those streams of those brooks which sometimes chuckle hitting the stones on their ways and topple them with an awe-mix whimper and then a chortle or a guffaw; the first class with its unmistakable freshness, with that fresh innocent wind; Samiran adores that!

‘Okay, the first day we kickstart with an ice-breaker game called the dish game. I will explain. Listen carefully. I will say my name first, like Samiran and then the dish I like the most, it could be a dish I enjoy eating outside, or the one my mom cooks. Like this, Samiran chicken… (pointing to the next participant) what is your name young lady?’
‘Padma Sir, uff sorry sir…uff Samiran’ (smiles and almost withdraws like a touch-me-not)
‘So you say Samiran chicken Padma what…’
‘idli sir…sorry idli…’
‘thanks…so for you, it’s like Samiran chicken, Padma idli…’ he dexterously points to the third and there they go…’ but STOP…(the class stops)… there is only one rule…you should speak your heart out, don’t be ashamed to declare what you like to eat the most…like it can be dal-chawal or roaches, even frogs…(the class bursts into a chhiii).. no no seriously you never know where you will be posted, your base-branch may be Beijing, or Paris (there is suddenly this sound of awe in the class… and everybody’s body language changes) with globalization in, we need to be more inclusive, so this game has a lot of lesson… will discuss that after the break…so for now, say whatever you like…we are not going to eat you up… (smiles with the class)’

In a minute the class was vibrating with the music of the dish game; occasional slips, ah no's…I am not dum aloo, I like dum aloo, then it went like this…Samiran is chicken, Padma is idli, Abhay is dum biriyani…and at other times, pointing to people and saying the dish, like Chicken, Idli, Dum biriyani and it went on with the participants taking charge. Samiran is playing the musician, but he is also in the game. The first day of transformation, from campus to corporate had well begun.

Samiran would sometimes play the role of a trainer, at other times a friend, he has been doing this well over seven years, never got bored, everybody said he has a passion for what he does. For him, he feels lucky to encourage budding professionals who join his organization with hopes in their minds and dreams in their eyes. He thinks it is his duty to show them the right way, he is also called a stellar manager.

‘So now guys you know where you should take your friends for week-ends, don’t you?’

‘YES!’ (to this enthusiastic yes, Samiran says shh… lest the class beside didn’t get disturbed)

‘Tell me are you enjoying the game?’

‘Yes SAM’

‘Oho…already I am Sam for you?’

In his circle of colleagues, he is also known as Sam, some call him Samaritan too. He doesn’t mind as long as he is accepted in the game of life.

The dish game, this way came to the penultimate participant… he smiled wisely and the whole class was looking at him… like some others, he had the names written. Well Samiran doesn’t mind that, he has been trained to think that even when participants write down the names, they are engaged…he said all the names and the dishes flawlessly with occasional help because the chit wasn’t a foolproof one, he stopped after reciting everybody’s names, with his right hand quickly rubbing the nose (Samiran noticed that) said,
‘I am Barkat…hmm puri sabji’; after him was Suhasini who emphatically stood up, hers being the last, recited everyone's names and mouth-watering dishes and said,
‘This is Suhasini, I love Upma, I think my mom makes the best Upma in the world’.

At the end of the game, the whole class clapped, except one. Sam had taken note of it, but ignored, thought he would talk to the participant later. With his head hung, he appeared to be a loner, but Samiran is extremely kind and patient with loners and ensures they don’t become losers.

'We will go for a quick break and come back in 10 minutes, okay?'

‘Okay Sam.’ Everybody left. Except one; Barkat. Samiran approached him and wanted to know what the matter was.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes Samiran, I am good.’

‘Won’t you go for the break?’

‘Yes’, he looked him in the eye.

‘What? You want to tell me something?’

‘Yes,’ with a trembling voice, he hurriedly said, ‘my mom makes the best beef in the whole world Samiran’ and whisked away for his break.

Strain

It seems someone has plucked all the flowers from my garden. Yesterday before going to sleep I left the garden full with beautiful buds of Jasmine, Hibiscus red, blue and white, Lilies with their hues, Roses, Chrysanthemums, Lotuses, Daffodils, Dahlia, but now they are all taken away! There are no signs on the ground, is it possible for any one person to tonsure the garden in this way I wondered.

With gates wide open, a shiver ran down my chest imagining silent footfalls of unwanted visitors inside my house. The house that was built by my husband years ago, the one that saw my children grow up.

From yesterday, a familiar melody, a Tagore song, was ringing in my ears, I wasn’t able to get the lyrics, only the tune floated in my head, came and went away; my barren garden as I see now helps me recall a sense of oneness with the lyrics but no, I am fooled by it. Home alone, I never felt so insecure. Is this a premonition? Then why is the tune acting like a burglar. I have been suffering from excruciating pain in my right knee for a long time, like an unwanted guest. I overlooked the two baskets of flowers disappear from their place; when I noticed, trying to touch my knee, I broke down into tears, O God today is a Thursday, Lakshmi Puja*, (uff, I can't write footnotes for you all the time, it is a puja offered to Goddess Lakshmi by every woman, mostly married, well I am a widow, but I am doing this on behalf of my daughter-in-law, who is not with me at the moment... did you understand?) how will I do without the flowers and the leaves, can somebody help! Who would have come, wait a minute… have they also taken other things from the house; how many times have I asked Papon to surround the garden with a wall, I had this image of a beautiful green ivy falling from the boundaries, but no, my healer of a son says thieves will come if you build walls, if you leave the garden open, no one will come, same reason why he asks me not to buy medicines for my knee, he says if your medicine box is full, diseases will come and refuse to go; and it so happened, years ago when Papon was in his teens, the day I bought Dettol, a household name for antispetic, Papon had a fall and bruised both his knees…but does that establish anything…for my knees, he came the other day after his office and whispered a mantra in my ears, ‘My knees are pain-free now and forever’, ‘I have zero pain’, and asks me to chant the mantra and use my hands as healers, visiting, patient doctors on my knees slowly touching them and chanting the mantra… I was really angry at this, but couldn’t say anything because within a week’s time I felt my knees were healing…he told me that all our mental pains could be resolved like this, even the bigger pains like tension between neighboring countries…O shut up!

He and his silly thoughts! Now what… why did the thieves come and plunder my garden on a Thursday, have the walls been made…uff… the tune again…it came and sat on my mouth like a fly and went away! Where! To Darjeeling?! Oh my God, PAPON! Are you all right? My darling TIKLI…I hope nothing has happened to my grand-daughter! Oh no! Something bad must have happened to them, why did they go to Darjeeling! Fourteen thousand times I asked them not to!! With all these thoughts running up and down, I somehow saw myself walking upto to my Pujor ghor (room of worship) like a somnambulist, I screeched O MA GO (O God), nearly swooned to see the axe lying on the ground and some muddy footsteps! No utensils, those expensive ones and no…all my idols made of pure gold… missing… all stolen… on a Thursday! PAPON!! TIKLI!!! There must have been some landslide or a terrorist attack in Darjeeling, I ran to my room to call Papon, surprised to see him calling as his name flashed on my mobile he gifted to me on my last birthday, but listen, I really don’t have the heart to talk about my birthday now… PAPON TIKLI are you guys okay?!

‘Thammi (granny), it’s me don’t worry, we are all right here…Baba has booked a very nice hotel, how are you? I am so happy Tikli was made to say Baba and Ma and not Mom and Dad, I was very strict on that and so was Papon and Purnima. Hearing her tender voice, I got my body and soul together and said, 'Give to your father.’ And no sooner he held the phone, I recited the panchali to him (the book one reads on every Thursday to Goddess Lakshmi for wealth, here it means all that happened). With his usual calm he said, ‘Wait a minute, you are telling me you came running to call me from the Puja room…bravo Ma… you knee-pain is gone it means' Papon, will you never be serious, is this the right time for all this, I snapped, he hanged up telling me not to worry. He has nothing of me in him, his Baba was exactly like this, I didn’t talk to him for months when he told not to brood over my lost diamond wedding ring; it was stolen, my pretentious sadhubaba of a husband thought that the burglars needed it more. I remember he apologized on my birthday and gifted me another ring, but never asked me why I lost the ring, and how! The call from the Police Station woke me up from my sleeping past. ‘Mrs Dasgupta, we will be there in five minutes, do not move, there is a terrorist on the loose in the neighborhood and we had been alarmed, we will be there.’ I kept the phone with an O MA GO…terrorist! My overwhelming fear did not acknowledge Papon’s prompt action at all. He may talk silly, always with his usual quacks, but he is efficient too… my strain and stress overlooked that at the moment. Oh there comes and goes the tune. Again?

Wonderful! My knee is much at ease now; maybe because of the running around it had done coupled with other scary thoughts! Then is the pain in my mind real? Does everything stem from thoughts… no…can’t be; I am much too occupied with the loss, my idols, my utensils and also the flowers… flowers… I am shattered…but what would a terrorist do with flowers… you never know.
Somehow with the assurance from the Police, and on hearing about the well-being of Papon and Tikli, I wasn’t feeling alone and helpless. I walked upto the Pujor Ghor again and what I saw now was completely different from what I apprehended; saw with my clear unafraid eyes, the most beautifully decorated Pujor Ghor I have not seen for a long time. In such a short span of time! How long was I with the phone... God what is happening…have you come to me; I haven’t seen this type of shaaj (Oh I know you don’t know what shaaj means, it means dressing of idols with flowers and leaves) for years on! No one other than Shanti can do this, has she come, it must be Shanti…Shanti, Shanti I called… but they are in Hyderabad… after their marriage in 2007, she has never ever come.

We do get to see her family, with two loving children on whatsapp and Skype… (I also have two more grandchildren, I was only thinking of Tikli all this while, a feeling of shame and guilt overwhelmed me…why…is it because Shanti is not my biological daughter… because we adopted her when she was violated and thrown in our neighborhood to die, until we found her… and my remarkable husband readily accepted to adopt her, but was she ever our own…then why did I forget my own grandchildren…what a shame, at least once I seek your forgiveness, please do not mind my irritation explaining you things, else how would you know). Hers is really a story we tell everyone. So one more time sharing it with you will not hurt for sure. She went to Hyderabad with her college friends to do a research on the Golconda Fort, in August 2007; and on one fateful day when they all went to Gokul Chaat shop to have chat (an Indian dish with lots of spicy things with potatoes and vegetables) there was this bomb blast on 25 August when Shanti was enjoying chaat with her fellow research associates. In an instant, out of nowhere, the horrendous storm of terror and yowling spread blue horrors in the eatery first and then in the entire neighborhood, trotted around the world through various medias as breaking news; but while she would have died that moment, she found herself shielded in the lap of Shahid, now my son-in-law (or my brother-in-law who cares), who rolled over the ground with her, protecting her and taking on the blow; bleeding profusely; he was senseless but never left Shanti, then a complete stranger to him. 

We immediately flew off to Hyderabad, found them and several others wailing for life at the hospital; it took months for them to be out of danger and trauma of rubbing shoulders with death; but even in this disgusting whirlwind of hatred and mindless killing, there was also this magical merry-go-round of Shanti in the hands of Shahid, and love triumphed; they experienced near-death and love at the same time. While the spirited Hyderabad came back to life in a couple of days, it took time for them to heal; but these souls were determined to marry each other. No one, literally no one from either families objected to it; feels strange how situations change our visions; in any normal circumstance, this would have raised conservative eye-brows, but their folks (we and all of us) were overjoyed at the victory of love, no one could imagine love to be born out of such a shameful act. Such is the power of love. Magic and miracle…all at the same time! Ah! At last! The words ran into me, I got the lyrics!! ‘Pushpo bone pushpo nahi, ache ontore’ (Okay…I know you don’t know…I will explain… it means ‘flowers may not merely be found in the flower-forest, they bloom and rest in the heart’).

 I turned and saw Shanti coming with heaps of washed utensils from the Koltola (uff it’s the place where utensils are washed...you firangis and lesser Indian readers, you don’t even know that, don’t mind my words, I am only kidding, don’t I know I exist because of you!), I looked down and saw Raushan, her five-year old son and Ruma, her four-year old daughter, my loving grandchildren coming with their mother, I thought of calling Papon..in my mind…’Papon, next time please take me to Puri… the knee-pain has disappeared’ to her ‘I have to tell you a thousand stories and get to know a thousand from you, something that whatsapps cannot do…a slight push… Why didn’t Shahid come, huh? After all these years, he let you come… okay let me see (I touched her tummy)…she smiled ‘O didi, no not again’. (right from the day we adopted Shanti, when she was nine years old, never called me ma, always didi, I conceived two months after she came into our family…now how’d you define these things, everything doesn’t really fit in, life is full of questions and doubts, fears and worries, but it is also full of magic and miracle, of faiths and trusts, it is more of love..life exists because of love, isn’t it?)

 ‘Let me go and quickly close the gate, Shanti…I am just coming’. I was as light as a feather.
‘Oho…so you have come’, I threw those unworried words gently at the two Policemen trying to enter the gate, I continued, ‘no nothing to worry anymore, it’s my sister-in-law who has come with her family; sorry to bother you.’ (now what would facts like she is actually my daughter but calls me didi do here I wonder, in a scripted world that sees one plus one leading as two, not as one, these facts rest in peace, I remembered my hero of a husband’s dialogues, never understood it then)
Wonderful! So for records, can we have their names please…
Okay, it’s Shanti; you want the children’s names too? (a nod), they are Ruma and Raushan.
What? Raushan…what is her husband’s name?
Shahid… the Policemen exchanged looks in a way to let me notice their astonishment, and just because of that, I ignored. (I am an expert at this, déjà-vu with many of my in-laws, the most notorious one I remember was when my mother-in-law tried instructing me with her stern eyes to touch the feet of a scoundrel of her uncle whose hands touched me in all the wrong places, like a potential terrorist, or a rapist…much later when I explained this to her, she never understood and threw me an Oh I see, but you should have been careful!) But I would let them do their work, how can I ignore that, in view of what the family witnessed in 2007?
(Silence)
Okay for now, this will do… but we may come back to you should we need any further information.
What information, I snapped…
No nothing, but as I told you Mrs Dasgupta, we have information… um…has your brother-in-law come?
No.
Why! (again that expression and doubtlessly followed by my expert overlooking!)
I don’t know I will have to check, but why do you ask? Do you know how they came in together?!
How? (I narrated the whole story, but it didn’t seem to have any impact. All I could read from their faces was the same Oh I see)
How would you spell his name? Is it S H A H I D?
Yes
We will bother you only if it’s absolutely urgent Mrs Dasgupta. Bye… and off they went.

Disgusting… the names frighten them…the names… I thought once of the countries, God what have they done to each other…why they…what have we done to each other; fighting mindless battles 50 years ago, will do so 50 years later (yes I learnt all these dialogues from my husband in the unending and indolent morning tea we enjoyed for years). As I was closing the gate, I took another look at the garden, saw signs of buds in most every tree… preparing to groom the garden again as a loving bride for no reason at all; the phone rang…sure enough it is Papon. Yes it was him…narrated the whole story… I was on speaker, I feel so important when they put me on speaker; Purnima, Papon’s wife was happy to know about Shanti, said they’d return next Wednesday and celebrate the Lakshmi Puja in a grand way.

 ‘Where is Pishimoni (paternal aunt), Ma?’

 She is in the Pujor ghor. Oh I will call again after some time.’

 I kept the phone, and re-started singing the song that was troubling me for long and hurried to the Pujor ghor, hugged Shanti, kissed my grandchildren.

 Didi do you remember you used to teach me this song…  I nodded and continued to sing, the kids were also singing with me and Shanti (Gosh,when will Tikli sing like them, when my husband sang, time stopped; so that runs in her blood, she should also sing like this…look at me!!! O Mind! Look at what you are singing!! Unpardonable, I almost hanged myself at this pettiness, hugged the children, and said sorry myriad times, kept on singing with them).  To Shanti I said, may be, and kissed my grandchildren again…it felt as if the whole house was responding to the song, a strain it was looking for me, with me since yesterday.

 For us, it didn’t take one minute to get back into our lost comfort zone; it felt I never left them! (Strange….doesn’t it happen to you too? Oh I know I am in a perpetual monologue with you, but you know what, I like to step out of the script and talk to you… I have this enormous desire to know what exactly you think when you read the lines, strange, isn’t it?)
‘The children are also learning the ‘Shahaj Path’ didi (book of rhymes for children, written by Tagore…shahaj means easy, path means study, I am paraphrasing all of this for you, so you understand me, not misunderstand because I speak another language and eat differently, ha ha ha!). You will be surprised when you see Shahid in a day or two, he has picked up Bengali so well, from books, TV, from Bengali friends; he can even cook ‘macher jhol’ (fish with spicy gravy)’.

 ‘What a loving boy, I thought. O I forgot to tell you, Purnima will call anytime. Just then the phone rang…
Hello?’

 ‘Calling from the Police Station, Mrs Dasgupta… um…’



©Supratik Sen

Scattered script

Scattered script

There is this tree which looks very similar to any other tree. Green and brown, it receives the same energy from the sun, breathes the same air and drinks the same water. However, it serves more as a decoration piece; it remains illuminated at night, every leaf is neat and clean, branches have a disciplined movement. Birds do not nest in it because of light at night, and also because the tree, despite the endless flow resources, doesn’t reap, grow or decay any more. Every leaf seems lifeless; as if escaped death. Its shadows look and function just the same, but the tree smells different. Life under it grows and goes on.

January 20..

-       --  But your salary is far too high!

-        

          -- Then please reduce my salary. Demote me to SSE. I have a family to fend, please do not throw me      out Kamala. 

     

    -- (Smiling) Why do you always think of the extreme? Who can throw you out just like that, without any reason? Besides, you are a very experienced employee. So please don’t think like that. How can we reduce your salary or demote you, it doesn’t happen like this in MNCs. It is true that your salary is way too high compared to other translators, but don’t worry, we will work it out.

-        

         --  Thank you so much. But if the question is about losing job, you may consider changing your system, reduce my salary or demote me. It’s far better than losing my job you see. At this age, it will be difficult for me to get another job like this.

-    

        --  Your coffee is getting cold. Relax (smiles). We’ll try to give you more responsibilities and see how we can justify your salary. Please resolve your issues with Atif, he’s your supervisor, just remember that.

May 20.. 

--   'Atif, I have tried to explain this to you many times before, in simple English...’ This is the most insulting email I have ever received. You are sitting with HR now...can you explain?

-         

      -- But he has also written like this to me before.

-          

      --What?  Can you show?

-         

      --No. I don’t store mails. I have no business creating issues.

-         

      --You have to give proof, and we have proof here.

-          

             -- Who’s we?

-          

      --Meaning? Okay you can leave now.

September 20..

-         

       --Yes Sundar, tell me.

-          

      --Why did you change my career counsellor Kamala?

-         

      --Are you questioning me? (Smiles)

-         

      --No...I am sorry, I know I shouldn’t do that. But I am curious.

-      

          -- Relax Sundar, I was just kidding (smiles). You can certainly ask. We changed because your earlier CC was not very communicative. This will be for your good. Don’t worry.

-          

      --But he was the only one who spoke on my behalf. Can you make Atif my CC?

-         

      --What? You don’t like him! And you want him to be your CC?

-          

      --Who says I don’t like him? He is such a dedicated supervisor and he’s doing so much good for the department, and how’d I not like him. We’ve had issues, but we get along well most of the time.

-       

         -- Good. Excellent Sundar! This is what we expect from a very senior person like you. Please relax. There’s nothing to worry. Atif is like Snape, you will see he’s not a bad person after all in the end, ha ha ha!!

-         --  This is one reason I love to talk to you.

January 20..

-         

      -- I cannot handle this anymore, why don’t you manage my attrition?

-         

             -- Why do you refuse work? You have refused work to a very senior SE. Can you explain?

-   

      -- I did not refuse work. I told Atif I would want a laptop during my visit to Pune. For client presentation, you need a laptop, I did not want a laptop for good unlike most Team Leads, I wanted it only for two days, I said I’d return it to him the moment the presentation was over. I told the SE that my going depends on my supervisor, that’s all.

-          

     -- ‘I cannot go to Pune because of personal exigencies’, You have written this, I can read Sundar.

-     

        --   Bidhan, can I have someone who can speak on my behalf too...HR and senior managers and all of you are on one side.

-          

     -- Okay you can talk to your CC and get back to us with a proper explanation.

-          CC? Who? Prabha? I don’t think so, She and Kamala are best of friends.

-     

       -- What? Do you know what you are talking about? You are bringing an allegation against our very senior leaders?

-          

      -- Tell me Bidhan, what happens if I fail to give you a proper explanation?

-         

      -- We’ll see what we can do.

May 20..

-        

          --  Congratulations Sundar! You have done a wonderful job. Your productivity and precision were both high. Clients have praised you. We have a problem now, they only want Sundar, ha ha ha!! We want you to take charge of all the projects on translation and localisation. Why don’t you train others as well so they can also come up to your level?

September 20..

-     

      -- You have been appraised by your clients many times, and we really appreciate your for streamlining many of our projects. If it’s Sundar it’s going to be successful. Good going Sundar, way to go. But the only thing is that your team members are not very happy with you.

-          

-   - And what did you say to Atif the other day? That you worked in his career level 10 years ago? Even if it’s true, why do you hurt his ego like this all the time?

-      

       --    I am sorry, but does it warrant termination?

-    

         --      No way...how? I am not saying that.

-      

         --    But I have this feeling you are going to throw me out.

-      

           --    Why don’t you look beyond then? Anyway, I think we are deviating...

-        

         --  Yes, I tried to tell Atif he needed to give importance to the points I highlighted to mitigate some risks in one of the projects. But no, nothing justifies my saying that.

-      

        --    Sundar, it will be good if you said sorry to him...no no you don’t have to send him a written apology, but say sorry, if you can.

-     

       --   I will send him a written apology, and I will also try to sort differences with my colleagues.

-        

       --  Great!

January 20..

-    

         --      Your chargeability is very low.

-     

       --     It’s because most of the time I am idle, I have not been assigned any project since long. I have only been doing odd jobs, I don’t get to use any charge code. Can you please put me on bench?

-     

         --     What? Why? We cannot put people like you on bench, you are not a technical person.

-      

          --    Then what should I do? Atif has stopped giving me projects.

-       

          --   It’s because no one wants to work with you. Your quality of work is also poor, can you explain.

-     

       -- You see the jobs I do now are without any charge code, clients ask me to churn the documents through the tool because they are in hurry.

-          

    -- And like this you have given proof of your poor quality of work, do you understand?

-          

-   -- What does this mean? That this is reason enough for me to be thrown out?

-    

       --   No Sundar...relax (smiles). You are such a valued employee and we do not want to lose you. Just resolve your issues with Atif and other team members and we’ll see what we can do. You may be very talented, but if your behaviour hurts others, then you need to think again.

-        

         --   I am not able to understand how am I hurting so many people when I do not even talk to them. What about me being hurt? I am without any project, I come and go, my chargeability is poor, and you are saying others are hurt. I am sorry but I really don’t understand who the victim is.

-      

         --    (Smiles) Sundar! Just relax! We’ll work it out, don’t worry, you have not done anything that calls for a termination of your service. All I am requesting is to talk to your colleagues, try to be familiar with them and see that they are comfortable working with you.

May 20..

-      

         --    You need to be conscious while sending personal texts to your female colleagues..

-    

      -- But that was just a simple text. You know I have my own blog. I asked her to read what I wrote. Besides, I did not text it to her alone. I sent it to Ahalya, Susmitha, Anirban, Animesh, Arjun and Anirudhha.

-          

    -- Can you prove it?

-     

         --     Yes I can.

         

         --    But you have sent the text at 11.30 pm? Why!

-      

         --    I am sorry for that.

-      

        --    Sorry! Her husband has taken serious exceptions to that, threatened to divorce her. Most important is that she has complained, and we can do nothing if anyone complains.

-    

      -- You are labelling me as a person who is capable of doing this? If such husbands who doubt their wives for such simple things and threaten to divorce their spouses for this, then it’s good you know.  

-        

          --  Whatever you say

-       

        --   So this means I will be losing my job for a heinous crime I can never imagine doing!

September 20..

-     

         --     I am sorry I have not connected with you so far. You are my CC.

-     

      --     I know Sundar why you have come to me now, but there’s very little I can do. You may be from an urban background, but she is from a very conservative background. She felt very embarrassed.

-    

        --      But I was more embarrassed than her. She stopped talking to me. I requested Kamala to change my facility from HED3 to HED1.

-      

         --    But you said you need to work from there because of your personal problem. Now you are saying all this!

-     

       --     What do you mean? If you want to match the time with my transfer, you will see it has been done during the same time. Time doesn’t lie.

-          

      -- Okay Sundar, if you’ll excuse me now.

-       

        -- This could be a ploy, she has become friends with a lot of managers as far as I can see. I am sorry, but I can explain. You see...

-        

        --  No, no Sundar, who will do this? What do you mean? Of course she has every right to complain and I can completely understand her. Bye Sundar (leaves the chat)

December 20..

-      

    -- You have 50% mistake in the 20% text we have corrected so far. I am sorry but we have zero tolerance for underperformance. Your English and French are very poor and per the test, you have not been able to frame one sentence correctly.

-        

         --  Really! Who has taken my test I pray! You are calling me a poor performer, but just a year ago, you appraised me for my quality.

-       

        --   You also remember you had issues with Ahalya and Susmitha. And we have zero tolerance on that as well.

-     

        --     So what is my fault? Underperformance or sexual harassment? Can you justify?

-     

       --     Justify! We’ll see what we can do. Don’t worry we’ll work it out.

-    

       --      What are you going to work out?

A week later

-    

            --      Is today my last day?

-         

      -- Yes. We’ll have Srikanth to escort you out.

-         

         -- Escort me out? Why! Am I a criminal!

-          

      -- It’s just a process. Post your resignation letter, this process will be followed.

-         

      -- But I am not going to write my resignation letter.

-         

      --Then we will take legal action against you.

-         

      -- What? You will take legal action against me! I think you can do that, and still be the best employer.

-          

      -- What? You want me to escalate that? We have enough proof against you Sundar. But we don’t want that; you should maintain your dignity now.

-          

   -- O yes, losing my job on grounds that assassinate my character and candidature, I should indeed maintain my dignity. Okay, I will write.

The tree appeared sad to Sundar.

Where will he go!

At this stage?

But no he can manage.

A zombie in falsities and truths

Despite figures and proofs

He is strong, he needs to know.

...

Scattered script

But I know their hunt is on

To write some structured text

Craft a plan on the comical next

He will also die, is he still born?

But the hunt is on

Who’s next, to be gone!

I don’t have to take on the labels

People give me

They must have their reasons

I cannot see

But the hunt is on

Who’s next, to be gone!

My dead enlightened tree

Under you there are these scattered scripts

Brown fallen leaves

I will collect them and stitch them as prayer beads

But the hunt is on

Who’s next, to be gone!

Wish that the hunt ends here

With me, that the Hunter

Drops the gun

Stops firing at those terrorized sheep

Checks on points to paint them black

Wish they took an experiential leap

And changed the system with holes and cracks

But the hunt is on

Who’s next, to be gone!

I look at the helpless tree

Its leaves are clean

Barks neat and clear

With chains of brightness, a prisoner

Its standing wide shadow, frozen with fear

Let it be reborn, let it be free

But the hunt is on

Who’s next, to be gone!

But for heaven’s sake let this end with me

As it had, with the outcast tree

-          I will not get into a victim mode. Victims are cruel and insecure. Yes you knew how I disapproved of your type of discussions. You are managers representing an organisation that encourages diversity and respect for individuals. I was always silent with you, and now I know why you interpreted silence as violence. But does this change anything? What! My perception on women? No way. Here I am a victor; I connect with women more than I do with men; women empowerment is slowly seeing light, real light, not synthetic lights; similarly time is coming when there will be worker empowerment, civilized and really enlightened people are now talking about servant leadership. So mangers without genders, you are defeated, you have not been able to change the way I look at women empowerment, despite hiring some ladies for firing me! I have always written and believed how horribly women were subjugated by men. In every walk of life, women are excelling; it’s a pity that they are still are violated and objectified. Times you men, times you managers, times you terrorists!!! You think firing is natural; you don’t even understand what you have done. If you thought my support for gender equality would be compromised by your orchestrated effort, you need to think again. I look at my situation like this: women have always been the second sex in society; their role per Simone de Beauvoir was glorified and restricted to mère-mari-maison (mother-husband-home) since time immemorial. You have buried and burnt them alive, you have lapidated them to death. Now, after waiting for eons of years, they succeeded in getting there well-deserved acceptance in society. It is their turn now. So in this episode, one or two cases may be unjust towards men, but so what. I must be proud that those two women could walk over me, at least for once. It was a victory for women, so it was my victory too. Here’s wishing women all the very best. I think I am a victor here.

Sundar joined another organisation on contract in three months, from where he was terminated in 25 days; he was considered a poor performer there. However, he maintains that he was being evaluated on something his candidature did not offer.

Years later, he is busy collecting scattered scripts from others, from here and there. He is trying to write more intensely now, sees a forest of opportunities in front of him. He is also a counselor and helps people get out of their victim mode. He is filled with kindness for all, even for those managers. He is beginning to appreciate and accept and, therefore, feels light and illuminated. He is happy abandoning the tree for good, the tree that was deserted by birds, fruits and flowers tortured by plastic lights. He has a forest now; wild smell, challenging opportunities, unending warmth and freshness.



©Supratik Sen