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CES Days - The workplace I dearly miss.

CES Technologies was my first workplace as an employee, before that I had worked as an intern for a year or so. Coincidentally, the office where I worked as an intern was a vendor company which worked for a digitization project of the CES Technologies. Ohh! Before, I forget to mention what were my job profiles in these two companies, let me tell you that I worked here as a CAD Mapper. My work was to digitize the maps and attach data with them. Well, I won't bore the readers with the details of my job profile for that would take away the essence of my retrospection here. On the contrary, I would like to talk about my co workers of CES Technologies and the amiable work environment which prevailed there.

We used to work in two shifts, - morning and evening. The morning shift employees, mostly girls including me, started off working from 7 AM sharp and went on till 2 PM when the evening shift employees barged in and took over the work stations from us. Working was a great fun there. Sometimes, I hardly remembered that we were actually working on a tight deadline and we, too, had targets. The friendly banters continued while the mouses clicked away. Our faces smirked on the harmless bullying while our eyes were fixed on the screens to assure precision and perfection. There were friendly competitions too. When a coworker shouted out, "I have finished the pending three maps. Give me two more", rest of us would refocus on finishing ours too. Some of the workaholic ones would stay for the evening shifts too in order to make their cases strong for yearly salary increments. No, I was not among them. I was a laid back employee then as well as now. Working more than eight hours for mere money is still not in my constitution.

The office was set in a cozy location with food stalls all around. One such food stall was fondly named, 'Mesho r Dokan' rechristened in the google map as 'Mesho's Shop'. The Bengali word 'Mesho' is widely used to address 'Mashi's or mother's sister's husband. Now, which Mashi's husband was this 'Mesho' of 'Mesho's shop' remained unknown to us. We only concentrated on the delicious 'Kochuri - Chholar Daal' and occasional tea breaks here. Life seemed to come to a standstill when the steaming hot 'Kochuris' were served in front of us on a plate where the 'Chholar Daal' already swam in.

Talking about food, I must not forget to mention about the endless treats my coworkers, management and me gave to celebrate special occasions, personal as well as official achievements. The treats ranged from the humble 'Shingaras' to the elegant 'Special Mutton Biriyanis' accompanied with juicy 'Kebabs'. More than the food items or the share of food we had together, there was an environment of sheer happiness effervescent with the simple joys of life.

My last day in this company was a gloomy one. My coworkers looked sad as I announced my resignation. They were happy too as I got an opportunity to teach in a school as they knew teaching was my first love. When I left the office premises, I did not look back. I couldn't. Tears welled up and I quickly took a shuttle cab home. A few months ago, I heard that CES has become non functional. I never bothered to ask the reason. The good things always come to an end, so did CES. 

The Bard's Day

My acquaintance with the bard, kobiguru, as most people call him, dates back to my toddlerhood when my mother used to sit with 'Sanchayita' (An anthology of Tagore's well known poems) and recite one poem after the other. I enjoyed the rhyme 'Khantoburir Didishashuri' a lot. Gradually, I learnt most of the children's poems written by him thanks to my mother's persuasion and the elocution tests in my school.

As I embarked upon the journey of teenhood, I felt his poems seeping into me slowly. We had 'Sankalita' volumes as one of our Bengali textbooks. The best part of the 'Sankalita' volumes was that the poems were selected according to the age of the students. The poems like 'Samanyo Khoti', 'Poroshmoni', 'Nirjhorer Shopnobhongo' had an immense impact on me. Thereafter, I was introduced to his plays and novels, not to mention his songs which were the quintessential part of the mornings in our house. Frankly  speaking, I didn't find his songs as interesting as his novels and plays (excluding dance dramas), at first. They were no better than the opulent lullabys to me, the ones which the so called cultured people listen to. When people swore by the 'Rabindrasangeets' I was pretty content with revising and re-revising 'Chirokumar Sabha' and 'Tasher Desh', the plays which were filled with sarcasm and dark humour.

How I was taken by the 'opulent lullabys', I don't know. Maybe during a stage of infatuation when coincidentally somebody sang 'Pran chaay chokkhu na chaay' or maybe when I was spending a restless night after my mother's death and my mobile's playlist offered me 'Jete jete akla pothey'.

When people go overboard with the Rabindrajayanti celebrations every year, I quietly remember him, my quintessential guardian, through his songs, poems and those long lost evenings which resonated with my mother's consecutive recitations of Tagore's poems.

Happy Birthday in advance, my Bard! Your literary works are like an ocean to me, where every wave seems new, every single day.

#Snippets 5

As I recline and write in my room now, the sun outside is in its full might. The summer heat's trailer show promises an uncomfortable season ahead again and made me go back to my childhood swimming days. My father used to take me to the township's swimming club every summer evening since the time I didn't even knew how to swim. The first object there which attracted me was the water fountain. Invariably, after reaching the club I would run straight to the fountain and sit close to it. The water would gush out falling over me and I would be jumping with joy. All these childish trysts with the fountain and pool water underwent a massive evolution one day when my brother accompanied me to the swimming club. He took me to the mid of the 25 m pool and forcibly separated my hands from the supporting side rods designed for kids like me to perfect their leg strokes. For a few seconds I could see nothing. My only focus was to breathe properly. By the time I thrusted myself back to the surface of the pool, my brother swam towards me  smiling. I was angry. I refused to talk to him but then he quipped, 'Hey, you now know how to swim.' I beamed with a newly acquired confidence and swam the entire length of the pool with my brother before heading back to home together. For the remaining 10 years of my stay in Durgapur, I had been a regular in the pool. The joy of plunging into the pool waters in the scorching summer months then couldn't ever get matched to the calm days spent interiors with a super efficient AC machines now.

#Snippets 4 - The quintessential conversation of the May evenings just before the Report Card Day

The setting: Baba reading a book on his table and I fidgeting here and there composing my dialogues. Finally the impatience gets the better of me.

Me (making a goody and coyish face): Baba, Please tell me.
Baba (without looking at me): What?
Me: Baba, pleeaaaase, you know very well what I am going to ask you.
Baba (fake expression of displeasure): No.....What do you want to know now? I need to complete reading the book today. Don't you have any other work? Did you do your music riwaz today?
Me: Baba......I am tensed.
Baba (looking serious): So you wanted to ask me how you will fare in your annual result?
Me: Yes. Shall I pass and get promoted to the next class? What do you think?
Baba: Do I look like Nostradamus? How can I say?
Me: Baba, but whatever you say, that happens.....please say whether I will fail or pass?
Baba: What...how ridiculous! That's just a wishful thought..it might or might not be true....so did you write your exams well?
Me: Yes....but...
Baba: Which subject is the 'but' dear?
Me: Baba...I wrote well....but I am doubtful in Maths and Chemistry...I don't know whether I will pass in those.
Baba: Huh....those 2 problem makers...eh...aren't they?
Me (on the verge of breaking down): Yes.......I don't know whether I will manage the pass marks in these 2.
Baba (suppressing his laughter): I am also doubtful. Ask me tomorrow...I will predict then...
Me: No...no...I want to know today.......
Baba: What's the big deal....fail once..then you will know how many rice grains are there in how many paddy bundles..
Me: No, I don't want to fail.......
Baba (fake expression of anger and the voice tone pseudo-serious): You should have thought about this day before when you were whiling away your time reading storybooks during exams.
Me: Baba...I wasn't just reading storybooks..I was building up vocabularies....there's a difference...isn't it Baba? I hate these 2 subjects.....
Baba (laughing heartily over the honest confession): Ha ha ha ha...Don't worry, you might pass this time...
Me: Baba...why 'might'? Please tell me with full confidence, Baba.
Baba: Ok...mone hochhe you will pass...
Me: mone hochhe? thikthak mone hochhe to? 
Baba (suppressing another laughter): That I can tell you tomorrow...

Next morning, just in front of the school gate...
Me: Baba...you promised me that you will tell me what your mind is telling you about my result.
Baba: Just go in.....tenetune ebare utre jabe....(laughing again)

So, every year, I managed to pass somehow and Baba would award me by buying my favourite 'Nikhunti' sweets. I would carry the report card in one hand and would make tall promises again on studying well, preparing hard and so on. Baba would hear them, laugh again in his own distinct style as he could already foresee me whiling away my time with storybooks in the next session and say in his usual style, "Hey..did you complete the second volume of Rabindra Rachanabali? Look forward to finish the novels this summer." And I would nod affirmatively pacing down towards home together.

#Snippets 3

In the moments of anxiety and apprehensions, my mind tends to retrace back to the Durgapur evenings when my parents used to sit together to have tea and 'muri makha', their friendly banters, beaming faces and the Durgapur mornings when my mother used to roam around the garden watering the plants and my father would be busy mixing manures and soils.........those mornings and evenings reassure me of their omnipresence in my life..they reassure me that nothing has lost and brace me up for the new beginnings. My soul puts the faith back in me that my parents as well as guardian angels continue to shower their love and blessings on me, every single time....

The Lone Warrior

I can still remember the 10th of March three years ago. It was early in the morning, I woke up to go to my school but hesitantly sat near the kitchen table with a big mug of tea thinking about my ailing father who was still in coma. My mind was not allowing me to carry on the usual chores which I did before going to my workplace. Somehow, I gathered up myself and went to school only to prepare myself for another long, lone journey back to my hometown. My father had left us by the time I could even start my journey. As the train I boarded on ran passed the uneven plateaus dotted with blooming Palash trees, I remembered that how dear the red colour was to him, my Baba, as we called him. He remained a leftist throughout his life, in his mind as well as in his deeds. He lead a simple life untarnished by the capitalistic glitters we occasionally indulged ourselves to.

My thoughts were interrupted by a lame beggar dragging himself through the train floor and then a few moments from another black year came rushing to my mind. It was 1992, my father suffered a compound fracture in one of his legs and could not join his work for 17 long months. During his entire recovery period, he used to drag himself all the way to the toilet for his daily ablutions as he refused to wash himself in his bedroom. Such was his will power and sense of self respect. In those long 17 months, I had observed a different Baba, helping Maa in daily household chores, helping us with our studies while Maa went away to work. It was unusual for us to see Baba cooking and doing the dishes, but he remained undaunted. Infact, it was our nightmare to find raw papayas in every dish he cooked and we waited eagerly for our Maa to save us from the daily doses of raw papayas.

As I sat alone in the train compartment, I suddenly realised that I have grown old enough ever since Baba went into coma. While my brother kept a positive outlook about Baba recovering miraculously, I could sense the impending death quickening its steps towards Baba. The phone rang, my brother sounded apprehensive about my reaching time. I mechanically told him to start the last rituals as I won't be able to reach before evening. No, I didn't wanted to see him lying lifeless for he was so lively in his entire lifespan. I cannot remember a day when I haven't seen him joking around, yes during his plastered days too. It was really difficult for an active person like him to remain bed bound for about one and a half year, but he went through the ordeal by maintaining his usual jovial self.

I don't know whether he could accept my marriage and going away to another house, but he remained strong as he did the 'sampradaan' ritual. I could realise his immense love for his son-in-law, my husband, on the day he suffered the fatal stroke. As he was slipping into coma, slowly, he vigorously kept patting his son-in-law's back. Did he wanted to express how happy he felt meeting him after months? I don't know. I regret that I couldn't learn much from him. He had a sea of experiences to share but I became busy with my life and now, when I want to talk to him, spend time with him, he is no more. Though its a difficult journey ahead without a friendly guide like him, but, I have started along, with the memories of the instances of his strong will power and grit.

"চিরসখা, ছেড়ো না মোরে, ছেড়ো না।
সংসারগহনে নির্ভয়নির্ভর,
নির্জনসজনে সঙ্গে রহো ॥
অধনের হও ধন, অনাথের নাথ
হও হে, অবলের বল।
জরাভারাতুরে নবীন করো
ওহো সুধাসাগর ॥" -

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