baggout Blogging Contest

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Rejection

REJECTION


Ma has to come. Kona declared. No, no, nothing doing, she hastily added as she saw Suresh opening his mouth. Lolita has given notice, she is leaving this Friday.

How can she leave so sudden! Suresh was exasperated. What does she want! Increase her salary, yaar!

She won’t stay. She is providing a replacement, her niece. But she is raw and has just come from the village. Knows nothing of city life and moreover, she is to be trained as a cook .

But why can’t you do that! Why call your mother on the drop of a hat. You know how I feel, Suresh sounded irritated.

Yes, so you say every time I call her .Pray tell me how I manage everything single handed! Tell me, na!

Teach the new maid everything including cooking. Prepare nasta for Birju. Prepare him for school. And who will be here to receive him when the school bus drops him at the gate, hungry and tired. A little boy, all alone in the flat, with a new maid, who knows what type she would be. Or are you suggesting I leave office and stay home to look after your home and son!.

So Mrs Malati Roy arrived with her baggage to the utter discomfiture of Suresh.



Didu , why are you leaving so soon! Please stay a few more days. Birju tugged at her pallu. Malati looked affectionately at the face she loved so much. The cute little nose, innocent eyes , and the full mouth, curled in a pout.

I have to go beta

But why!

Well, my house is empty. Your dadu is lonely. There are so many more things to do; but you don’t worry I will talk to you over phone from time to time! She tried to console the little soul.

Why did dadu not come? He whimpered.

Darling dadu had some work to attend to. Next time we would come together, ok!


. She had a lot to do in the beginning. Both Kona and her husband usually returned late from office. The maid was new and Tamil. She did not speak Bengali, nor did she knew how to cook, specially the Bengali dishes. Malati had a trying time teaching her the basic dishes like dal, sabji and fish curry,the Bengaly way.. To her relief, Christine, the maid, had picked up very fast and she turned out to be a good cook.

“Malati, have you noticed whether I have taken my medicines, I can’t remember” . Biman stood at the kitchen door looking lost and vulnerable. Malati missed a heartbeat, he is so helpless. They have traveled together such a long path. They got married very young, Malati was only sixteen and Biman twenty, when their elders fixed the match. From then on they have lived on and had become so used to each other that the thought of being separated, the thought crosses her mind very often these days, makes her extremely sad. Who says life loses its colour for the aged, that old people find life boring, that they just live life for the sake of living. Nothing is more wrong. Malati clings to life these days, these days of the twilight , she feels that she has not seen life enough, that she has not lived life in the full, that she cannot bear to be taken away from Biman. It was nearly a month and a half that she had come here. The Durga Puja, the most revered festival of West Bengal was due in October and Malati had a lot of preparations to make. The house had to be dusted, washed and cleaned thoroughly. Gifts for all are to be purchased. She felt happy to go back where she belonged.

She was lost in her thought when Birju came running –“Didu Didu, come see, there is another didu sitting on the steps. Birju was only about twelve years of age and he referred to all aged women as didu. So they came out in the small varanda of their first floor flat. There on the steps sat a lonely old woman. She had fresh but cheap cloths on her and had a small cloth bundle beside her. Malati noticed the woman was wearing glasses and a pair of chappals as well. Malati asked her what brought her here and whether she was waiting for some one. But the woman looked at her dazed and expressionless , obviously not understanding anything. Then it dawned on her that the woman did not know Hindi or English. Briju came to her rescue. In fluent Tamil the boy conversed with the woman The woman was a dalit widow with two sons and lived with her elder son and his family in Avadi in Thiruvallur district . The son was poor and without a regular job and had five mouths to feed including the mother. For some time the son had been coaxing her to go and visit his younger brother who lived in the city and so he helped her board a train with some money and advised her to get down at Chennai and wait for her son, who was supposed to come to receive her in the station itself. She waited for her son to come for the whole morning and then came out of the station and started walking. Her second son was also married with two children and he worked in an eatery near JJ Road It appeared that her sons had taken her for a ride and had abandoned her as an unwanted baggage. Malati, offered the woman some tea and biscuits. The woman seemed very scared and withdrawn and might be because of the trauma of being left alone in an alien place appeared a little disjointed too. Malati called her daughter and apprised her of the woman’s plight. Kona and Suresh arrived, irritated and distraught, why should your mother take the trouble for a complete stranger and she is not even a Bengali. There were others in the neighborhood, who were Tamils, but oh no , your mother…….

Suresh called in the Police and they took her to the Police Station. Next evening they were informed that thankfully the Police could locate her sons, both residing in the city as well as in the suburb and called them at the police station. The sons arrived hanging their heads low in shame and after apologizing for their beastly behavior took back their happy mother with them.

Birju gave his parents tight hugs and declared “You are the best parents in the world”.

Suresh laughed and asked “why so generous Birju “.and pat came the reply” Because you are not cruel like those sons of the new didu, abandoning their own mother on the streets. You will never do that to my didu, will you ever?” He asked seriously.
“Of course not beta..” Their eyes met over their son’s head.


One night before Malati was to leave for Kolkata she felt Birju tossing and turning on the bed. Birju suddenly sat up and asked her in an urgent voice..
“Didu will you take me with you to Kolkata.”

Surprised, Malati said
‘of course, if you want to. But have you asked your parents”.

Briju shook his head vigourously:
‘I don’t want to tell them anything. I just want to leave them’ and putting his head into her lap started crying uncontrollably”.

Panicked and flustered Malati said
“What is it baby, what happened, shall I call your parents?”

Again Briju shook his head vehemently and said in atrembling voice ..”

“No please don’t tell them anything. Promise me you won’t”
“OK, but tell me what it is. “

Briju took out a crumpled paper from under his pillow and handed it over to her . Malati found to her surprise it was a letter. She switched on the bedside lamp and went through the contents. It was a letter from the Sarkarpool Mental Hospital, Kolkata to Suresh Dasgupta, dated 3rd October, 2008 , about a year back and it read as under:



“This is our third reminder of our letter dated 23/02/2005 no. SK/M/2034 regarding release of patient named Mr Abhoy Kanti Dasgupta. As you have been informed earlier, your father Mr Abhoy Kanti Dasgupta, aged 81 , who was admitted by you in our hospital on 05/01/1996 and was diagnosed as suffering from acute depressive disorder is now cured and can be taken home . The patient is 80% cured and once put under the loving and friendly family care, is sure to regain his normal self as far as possible in such cases. It is also seen from our records that the patient had no one visiting him for nearly three years. You should know that rejection by family members is dampening and quite a deterrent to the treatment of such patients. We therefore request you once again to please come forward and take back your father with you.”

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Words

Memories small and tiny
Joyous or sad,
I cradle in my heart.
They give me peace and solace
On happy days and turbulent nights ,
Words lost in time
Keep coming back ,
Making designs on my wall;

My heart aches that my words too
Will turn to ashes and be lost forever.
But I can’t let that be,
Come whoever you are listening
And I would keep them for you to read
And hope you cherish them as I do.

My wall I must clean of stinking and soggy sadness
And darkness of despair.
Let there be light, let there be song
And let there be love .
And with this mixture of juicy fluid
I put down my words for the world to keep.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Space and Time according to me

When I watch a movie in a theater or in the television; or suppose watch a video clipping of a family gathering, I have a strange feeling, as if these images are there and will remain there in the universe, independent of the cds or the reels or of the viewers, for ever and ever into the eternal space and time. It is a kind of feeling that comes back to me day in day out, as if there is a super computer encompassing everything, all images comes from it and melts into it. I get confused about the relation between a thing and its image. An object can have its image, even before it comes into existence, in the creator's imagination and the image would remain even after the object is destroyed, in so many ways , like a picture, a video or simply as a memory. Does it not sound strange and self contradictory. But , on the contrary, we know space and time exist and they are eternal....but can we imagine what it really is.....
Space and Time is only a concept which engulfs everything in the universe. If the universe is a reality then space and time must also be real; but then, is a concept as real as a physical object. But some philosophers say that the universe is only a hallucination but the question bothers me is whose hallucination is it! If there is a brain that can imagine the universe then is it that the brain is independent of its imagination/hallucination, i.e. the universe.
But space is relative to the object that occupies it. We talk of space that we occupy or that which separates us, then how can we say that space both limited and endless.
Each moment in our life we are inching towards death, the only logical end to life, the ultimate truth and oh it is so contradictory. We are born , so we should die. Anything that is made is perishable but how can it go ad infinitum there must be something that was not created, some intelligence that was not created, something without a body. I feel so strongly that there is this intelligence governing every thing, all pervading, all pervasive and all knowing intelligence. The feeling is so strong that it almost becomes tangible at times, the feeling, I mean. Look at the universe, look at science, think of the infinite space, don't they all point to a super intelligence that is working through it all. The design, the perfection, the intricacy , each points towards an intelligence that guides it, that created it and put such a design in it's creation that one day it would automatically lead to its destruction.

Every thing in this universe points towards a dichotomy, like life and death, white and black, true and false and most prominently He and She, the route to all creation. She creates the baby and holds it inside her but not without His help. So it seems the intelligence alone could not create the universe, unless it is , as the Vedanti's says, only a Maya or Illusion. But even then it remains to be answered - Maya to whom, illusion to whom and the dichotomy begins. So it seems the illusion which appears before me is "my illusion" and therefore there need be only "I" for the experience, the illusion being a non entity. So we may presume that "The Universe" including us is only an illusion to the one and only intelligence. But it is rather hard to digest. So I would now take rest and try to think logically that I am only an illusion and that to an illusion to me only.
It is strange that anything that we have is limited but without the concept of unlimited, how can there be limit. I go on thinking and thinking on this 'unlimited' concept and it appears that I can only believe or accept it as a true concept and can not really reason it out, as we ourselves are only limited being with everything about us being perishable and it seems only natural that everything can never be destroyed for out of nothing something could not come out and something can never become completely and absolutely nothing. Whoops... if we burn a tree , it becomes ash and particles and of course it's form changes but science says it does not become "nothing." When and if, the whole universe is destroyed, what would remain of it ! more specifically what of the infinite space and infinite time, to which the universe belongs. Scientifically speaking the universe, if destroyed , would only change its form and would remain in some form or other in the infinite space and time. And many many billions and trillions of years later may be new universe would emerge, but , we would have to admit, throughout all these process of being, destruction and recreation, runs a design, that needs an infinitely intelligent and scientific consciousness and every steps, every minuscule point is detailed to perfection and how can that be possible if there is no intelligence running through the process!!
And one more thing to ponder about, the infinite time and space, we must remember space and time are there so long there is something to occupy space and time; and once everything is destroyed, so would be space and time, but the fact remains according to science that nothing is absolutely destroyed but only changes it's form only -so even if the universe , at a point of time, is totally destroyed, it would still remain in some unknown form and that form would require some space and also some time as well to continue in that form until it is transferred into some other form and ad infinitum and thus goes on infinite time and space.I do not know why I should write and why should I want people to read it. It might be quite natural to try and keep in writing the various thoughts that crowd my mind, so that, in a different space and different time I may go back and re-experience what I felt once upon a time, but the deep urge within to share it with strangers points to our inherent insecurity for this fragility of life. We know we will be here for only a limited time and we definitely do not want to vanish into oblivion once we become none entities and thus we wish to be remembered through our words our writings, our stories and poems. Is it all? Isn’t there some thing more to it? Only creative people, politicians or serial killers are thus subject to public exposures ' but what about the rest ! Do they not hanker after some sort of permanency ! But ofcourse they do, and may be that is why they become fathers and mothers to be remembered through their offsprings. It is no secret that the enlightened, the seers don't really care for recognition or publicity of any kind. Why is that - how can they be so stoic ; what have they seen that gives them so much peace, so much satisfaction, so much bliss that makes them so great ! I wish I knew ! But at the same time I am afraid of knowing something that would make me indifferent to all the pleasures that life offers even indifferent to life itself. It might sound like "grapes are sour..." but really, believe me , that is exactly how I feel. I feel awe whenever I think of this vast universe with its infinite space and time engulfing us, like grains of sands, yet appearing so important to ourselves. The universe is so magnanimous to allow us to feel so important, however small we are, giving us everything in abundance. In comparison, how selfish and how smug we are that we consider us superior and godlike and treat the ants and insects, with disdain and scorn at our mercy, forgetting that a man and an ant are the one and the same to the universe excepting that a man has a brain, all the more reason to realize that there is no place of pride considering his own
humble condition.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

When the coward wins

The post man had just delivered a bi-monthly English journal; the editor of which had requested Manasi for a short story.
Manasi stood before the mirror holding the magazine in her hand, studying her reflection. Yes she was attractive and why attractive, to be frank, she was beautiful, with a heart shaped face , a straight nose, dark , frank and big eyes, a head full of shiny black hair and a dimple on each chick, on the other side of 35 , mother of two , she still looked young enough to be mistaken as a college student. She dresses beautifully and had the curves at the right places. Yes she was very attractive to the other sex. But was that a crime?
A host of conflicting emotions were crushing against the closed walls of her tender heart like waves of blue and salty water that the ocean within her held, that should have been pouring out through her eyes. But she hated tears and she hated to cry in self pity even more.
She joined the Eastern India Regional Office of a renowned educational institution about ten years back and had with the passage of time become extremely attached to both her workplace and her colleagues. When she joined, she was the only lady staff in this office comprising of meager staff strength of about thirty staffers and three officers and a handful of class-IV employees. Most of the employees came from the suburbs of the city of Kolkata and to be frank; in the beginning they eyed her with distrust and a fair amount of disdain. With a typical male chauvinistic mentality they held the view that women were best suited at the kitchen or at most in schools and colleges and definitely not in offices rubbing shoulder with the men folk. Not only they held this opinion in their head and heart but they made it a point that such opinion reached her through their emissaries, the peons who liked Manasi a lot as they did not have any hang-ups. Manasi never really minded , considering the back-ground they came from, it was only natural there should be some resistance in accepting a convenient educated, well dressed, well groomed upper class lady among themselves as their colleague and superior to them in rank. Manasi joined as a Junior Apprentice Officer. Manasi was by nature jovial a good talker and without and by any standards, extremely good looking.
In the beginning many of her colleagues had mistaken her outspokenness and free mixing and responded in manners that she found both embarrassing and insulting but she tided over these situations with so much élan and ease that her colleagues, in spite of there reservations, started admiring her and approve of her demeanor. After all, men would be men and having such a beautiful young lady as their colleague it was but only natural that ultimately all their resistances would be broken. In these ten long years Manasi had been accepted warmly into their fold, sharing their pains and pleasures alike, both in the office as well as at their home front. But it was also true that many of he male colleagues nurtured secret romantic crush for her in different phases of her career and at times it was difficult even for Manasi to overcome such advances without being offensive; but some how she managed, as she was a warmhearted and a genuine person and never held their weaknesses as weapons against them. They were her friends and she accepted them as they were. Excepting a few rough elements Manasi was generally at ease with most of her colleagues.

A few months from now a new Manager had joined their organization and Manasi was placed directly under him. Mr Abhoy Roy Chowdhury, the new manager, was quite attractive and quite young but a little overbearing. Any way Manasi hated to be dominated and she tried to be at her ease. While comparing notes Manasi would look up feeling his eyes on her a little too insistent and she would look back hard and would be surprised to find faint hint of amusement in his eyes. Manasi would find him too near behind her back to be comfortable while helping her take out a file from the closet. But she could not be sure as otherwise he was very courteous. This gentleman, Manasi found, was much too flamboyant for her liking. Although he was a few years junior to her in age, officially he held a much more senior post and Manasi could not deal him as easily as she dealt with her other colleagues. After a few weeks though, Manasi became accustomed with his ways and even started liking him for his forcefulness and for his ability to take decisions, for his ability to manage difficult situations. He appeared to Manasi, as having a very strong masculine aura about him, which she found vaguely disturbing and at the same time drawing her towards him. The employees regarded their new Manager with awe and respect.
Abhoy was a picture of English etiquette, offering a lift in his own car whenever Manasi had to stay back for office work , opening the car door for her or handing over the flower bouquets to Manasi which he would be receiving in his own capacity while they attended meetings and seminar. He would always offer Manasi a seat first before taking his own. In many other small matters Manasi was highly impressed with his thoughtfulness and curtsey. But lately Manasi started feeling slightly uneasy with Abhoy. Manasi could not be sure, but she felt his eyes following her all the time even in a crowd and strangely enough she was increasingly finding it a pleasurable experience. She felt guilty inside . Abhoy had an extremely masculine voice and when he talked Manasis , could not but appreciate his tone and temper. Whenever alone, Manasi would try to analyse her own feelings towards him. Manasi was a happily married woman with two lovely kids. She wondered what was it that was drawing her towards him ! Manasi was on the other side of thirty and at this age any woman would feel flattered if such a young and attractive man started paying her extra attention. It was simply satisfying her ego, so she thought. And she could not possibly be angry with any one for openly admiring her, she argued.

The employees were busy organizing the biggest day of the Institution, viz. Silver Jubilee celebrations to mark twentyfive years of its existence. It was a Sunday and quite a few employees had reported for duty, though not all, as it was otherwise a holiday. At about 1 O’clock, when most of the staff was resting after a lunch provided by the office, Abhoy called Manasi over the intercom. “Manasi, could you please come over to my chamber. I would like to show you a few corrections that I made in your design for the souvenir to be distributed among the paper-writers.”
What happened there came as a l thunderbolt to Manasi. Manashi went and Abhoy showed the corrections that he would like to be made and handed over to her the file. As she was about to leave the room , she felt his eyes on her and she looked up and saw him giving her a slow and deliberate wink. He was sitting upright and rigid in the chair and with a fixed stony eye he kept on looking at her, the other eye closing ever so slowly, giving an impression of a sadistic maniac. She had never seen anything like it before. Even to Manasi, a wife and a mother, not exposed to the filthy world of lust and degeneration, it was plain and clear that he was trying to convey something lousy and nasty! She stood routed to the ground, not believing her eyes, and then turned back in disgust almost running out of the room. Once seated in her place she took some time to compose herself. What should she do now? How could a gentleman , a person occupying such a high chair, could stoop so low! What was there about her that prompted the beast to take her to be a woman of questionable moral values! And she thought he was a true gentleman and was so long felt so elated that he held her in high esteem to shower her with so much attention before all. How wrong she was, how very vain not to recognize lust at its lowest degree. How foolish she was to take his attention as flattering while it was just the opposite. She now understood that he was so long, trying in various ways to lead his newest prey to his lair, or otherwise why should he try to flirt with a much married woman. But vanity made her blind to the obvious and she tried to believe that he liked her for her looks and her qualities and held her as his equal. This was no gentleman and he belonged to that hateful category of male population who treated all women, excepting their own wives, mothers and sisters, as an object of sexual gratification.

She could not take this insult lying down, she must protest, how cunning how obnoxious, how demeaning. But she had to satisfy herself that she was not mistaken and next time she chose to enter his chamber when there were others present and he tried to behave normal as if nothing has happened but Manasi could see he was not at all at ease. He deliberately avoided making eye-contact with her and when she asked him about a particular point that needed his explanation, he tried to clear the point with his eyes glued to the paper on the table and she noticed he changed colour visibly to a shade between ashen blue and purple; making it amply clear that he had realized that he had blundered and his ploy had misfired. It was no doubt he was a habitual flirt but why should he pick on her, was she a flirt, was she cheap? Manasi brooded over it the whole day and the day after telling nothing to anybody not even to Bipin, her husband. After two days of mental agony Manasi, determined to make a protest, even if belated, went to his chamber. He looked up from the file that he was studying and looked at her. Manasi mastered all the courage she had and blurted out
“Why did you wink at me the other day?” The next few minutes were nightmare Manasi wanted to forget. He stood up from the chair, towering over her and shouted
“Winked? How dare you tell lies. I have never done any such thing in my life. What is behind your mind Mrs. Ghosh? Have you gone mad. I warn you to be very careful in future. I won’t let go …. making accusation…. , get out of my room at once, I say.”
Manasi came out of his room drenched with humiliation and anger, an utter fool.. Once outside she realised everybody was looking at her, they have obviously heard the Manager shout. Manasi looked at them and said •
“You must have heard what he said but I will tell you what happened. The day before yesterday he winked at me slow and steady like I have never seen before, quite simply like telling me ‘I Want to …. You.’ I came to protest , won’t you support me and ask him to apologize” she pleaded but her heart sank even before her appeal fell flat, she saw most of them looking down.
Mainak. A relatively new incumbent, said
“But Mrs Ghosh, how do we know you are telling the truth. We have seen him dropping you home quite a few times. If he was that type why did you allow him? You have never said anything about him. How do we believe he has become a lecher all on a sudden and how do we know that you have not led him on?
How typically mean & foolish - Manasi felt like slapping him.
“Shut up Mainak. Think before you speak” said Jibanda and added “Manasi. You must have been mistaken”
“How could any one be mistaken on such a matter Jibanda!” Manasi wailed. “Why should I accuse him of such an act if it was not true; what do I stand to gain from it, tell me?” She added fuming.
Mainak murmured “It is your problem; you should sort it out yourself. Why drag us into all these vulgarity?”
Atin chipped in “This is the problem with women; they create complications anywhere they go. When walking along the street, often bad elements make nasty remarks. Is it not true? Do you fight with them? Why make a hell of a noise on such a small issue, that too in the office floor.”
“What rubbish!” Manasi exclaimed. “A rowdy in the street and a manager in the office are not the same thing, you fool.”
“Then go and tackle him. You can’t expect us to stick our necks out on such a flimsy ground. Winking at you indeed in the office,.. not a soul is going to believe I tell you. Where is the proof that he did so !”

Manasi looked at others but every body avoided her eyes. She could not believe her ears, these men were her colleagues, and they had worked together for almost 10 years now. The manager had joined for 5 months only and still they were not to take her words against his. How could it be possible! And she even quarreled with her husband for these spineless creatures. She believed they were her friends. She regretted all her association with them, all their togetherness, and friendship seemed loathsome to her. What a fool was she, believing that she and these people were like minded! What a stupendous error of judgment on her part to have faith in them.
What would she do , where does she stand, now that she had been befooled by the Manager, betrayed by her colleagues, should she fight for justice and make him apologize - if only there was an inbuilt camera- she thought. The manager was a coward and not man enough to be bothered about and her colleagues were a herd of sheep and Manasi would have to accept the situation as it was and go on working under this beast and go on mixing with her colleagues as before but she could never be the same person embracing all with an open heart; believing in the inherent goodness of things. She realized none was going to risk his neck for her sake and draw the wrath of the Manager. Who knows, may be in their heart of hearts, they were all guilty of nurturing some kind of unhealthy desire for her! She did not trust any body any more. What a situation to be in ! But should she have remained silent? Could she have respected herself if she did ? Not all her humiliation could have made her remain silent, even if it happened twice in her life.
She had to speak out even if people never believed her; even if her colleagues made fun behind her back for her foolishness; even if the management blacklisted her for the rest of her tenure in the organization for daring to speak against one of them. She wanted to speak about it just to clear her inside of the black and venomous fume that was instilled there by the men she trusted and cared for. Atleast she can warn other young girls entering into this world of vultures to be always on their guard and never trust the attentions from the opposite sex as mere show of respect and regard. She was so utterly devastated emotionally that she made the typical mistake of judging all men with the same yardstick, which was though, quite natural in her present state of mind.
Manasi thought of the proverb that the pen is mightier……and decided she should write about it………